The veil of Aisling

                         County Mayo, Ireland - June 1971

Ciarán Donnelly gazed out across Lough Beltra, his thoughts drifting back centuries. He could almost hear the voices, see the shadows of those who were no longer. Times like this, just after the sun had reached its zenith and begun its descent toward the western horizon, highlighted the memories and magnified the small empty hole that still existed in his heart.

A gentle mist engulfed his thoughts, drawing him back through time, and he could see it all again: the ancient oak trees and hawthorn bushes, the soft lapping of the lake upon the shore, the subtle babble of the distant brook, and the sweet song of a lark. But what was Niall doing there? He hadn’t thought about the man in . . . well, in centuries, he supposed. A memory nudged his consciousness, vague, no more than a whisper, and he surrendered to it, releasing all cognizance of the present to embrace the spirits of that summer day so long ago. He was there again, meandering along the shaded path, the sun warm upon his face where it filtered through the towering oaks. This was the countryside of his birth, inhabited by the Túatha de Uí Fiachrach in the ancient kingdom of Connachta, Ériu.

“Niall, why are you hurrying so?” Ciarán ran to catch up with the tall, dark-haired cleric. His friend Aodhán scurried along by his side, a baby bird cradled against his breast. Even though Niall was fifteen years older and had already embarked on the path to full priesthood, he always managed to find a few moments for them. Today, though, something seemed different, something terribly amiss. Ciarán reached out and tugged on the man’s cloak, causing Niall to spin around, a look of fury in his cerulean-blue eyes, or perhaps it was fear.”

Ah, it is only you, mo dheartháireacha beag. I did not see you there. I’m afraid I cannot take time to play today.”

Ciarán frowned. That was not like Niall at all. “It is because you have become one of the Filidh now, is it not?”

A smile spread across the man’s lips, the anger or fear or whatever it was that had filled his eyes moments before melting into a pleasant twinkle. “If that were the case, a leanbh, why did I not act so last year or the two years before that?” His smile widened, and he knelt down before Ciarán and Aodhán. “You are both growing so.”

“We have nearly eleven years now,” Ciarán said, feeling as if he had grown six inches on uttering those words. “Do you think we should no longer be playing?”

Niall chuckled, his eyes sparkling even more than before. “Of course not, a leanbh. One should never cease to find time to enjoy life.”

“Why, then, do you not wish to play? Are you on a special mission for Master Domnall?”

“No, it is nothing so trivial. I fear I am not in good stead with the elders at the moment, the master included. Were either of you to be seen with me, they may take their disapproval out on you as well.”

“But what could you have possibly done?” Ciarán said. “Master Domnall always seems happy that you spend time with us. He says you can teach us much.

“Perhaps once, but I have done something that will cause him to look at me in a harsher light, and that is why I am not able to spare a moment, even to play with you. I must leave this place in haste. Even our master will be able to protect me once my transgression is revealed.”

“I cannot believe you would do anything so wicked that Master Domnall could not grant you clemency.” Ciarán was not about to let him leave without finding out what he had done. Surely, Niall’s fears were unfounded. “What could it possibly be? Please do not go without telling us.”

Niall tousled Ciarán’s hair and laughed. “You are too inquisitive, a leanbh. I fear it may lead you to trouble one day as well. As for myself, I do not believe what I have done is wrong, but . . .” He took a deep breath. “The precepts of the priesthood forbid it. The goddess of our túath will demand I be punished accordingly. I have no wish to be sealed in Tuamaí Dearmadta, and so, coward that I am, I will attempt to flee.”

“You are no coward,” Aodhán said. “I would flee as well. Domnall has taken us there and told us what would happen should we betray the goddess.”

“But Master Domnall says that Tuamaí Dearmadta is only for those priests who have betrayed the goddess.” Ciarán was proud of himself for having recalled that point. “You are not yet a priest, but only in training as such.”

A sadness filled Niall’s eyes, and yet he smiled. “You are wise beyond your years sometimes, mo stóirín, but you tend to hear only what you wish. Tuamaí Dearmadta is a fate the wayward guardian must face for his betrayal as well.”

“And you are a guardian who has done something to betray the goddess,” 

Aodhán said.

“I fear I have, a ceann beag, though it was not my intent to do so. Regardless, I shall be punished accordingly if I am caught.” He started walking toward the woods, Ciarán and Aodhán still following along. “It is not death itself I fear so much, but the prospect of spending an eternity of torment within those accursed tombs. Would that they might give me the trifold death and end my life, but no, they will not harm a hair on my head. Instead, the Veil of Aisling shall be my shroud. Once that is done, my fate will be sealed forevermore. And yet I cannot fault the goddess of our túath for being angry with me.”

“What is the Veil of Aisling?” Ciarán said.

“Still more questions, a leanbh?” Niall touched Ciarán’s cheek. “You know it as the Veil of Cinniúna, the Veil of Destiny, a more accurate name, in my opinion. The elders, though, refer to it as the Veil of Aisling, a cruel irony, for the dreams it portends are in truth more never-ending nightmares.”

“But if what you say is so, will the goddess not follow you wherever you go?” Aodhán said.

“I cannot say, a leanbh, but there are other tribes who have their own unique gods and goddesses. Perhaps I shall come across one who will forgive my transgressions and keep me safe. Such tales are not unheard of in the annals of our túath. And so I must at least try, for I’ve no wish to live for all eternity within those frigid caves, my fate left only in the hands of the goddess of our túath.” 

“Will we ever see you again?” Ciarán hated the thought of losing his friend, either by his departure from the túath or his demise. 

“I will always live in here, mo dheartháireacha.” He placed his hands over Ciarán’s and Aodhán’s hearts before pulling them into a hug. “I will miss you, my little brothers.” After kissing them both on the forehead, he stood and took a deep breath. “But now I must be on my way, or I will live forever in those wretched tombs. Either way, I will be no more than the wisp of a memory. Master Ruadhán will see to that.”

Ciarán cast a glance down the path. He could hear the beat of horses’ hooves against the hardened dirt, but when he turned back to speak to his friend, Niall was gone. 

“What are you two doing out here alone?” Lochlainn said. He was head of the high council’s guard and thought himself far more important than he was. Ciarán did not like him at all. “Do you not have lessons?”

“Master Domnall said we could do as we pleased this afternoon, and so we thought to study nature. See, Aodhán has an injured bird. We would not wish to fail the test when it comes time for us to be raised to the priesthood.” Ciarán could see the flash of anger in the man’s eyes, for the high council’s guard was made up of just that, those who had failed to withstand the vigorous testing to become a full priest. The words had barely passed Ciarán’s lips when the brawny man grabbed him by the collar.

“I’ll be keeping my eye on you, little one. Master Domnall may favor you, but even he will not be able to hide all your transgressions, so you’d best watch your tongue.”

Ciarán squirmed; his teeth clenched. “Let me go!”

“Release the child,” Ruadhán said, his voice steady but firm. “Is this who I sent you to capture?”

“No, master, but the fili spent much time with these two. I’ve no doubt they have knowledge of where he is.”

“Stop frightening mere bards and do what you were sent to do. Find the fledgling priest.” Lochlainn nodded and rode off with his men, while Ruadhán turned his piercing gaze on Ciarán. “Do you know where your friend Niall has gone?”

Ciarán could feel Ruadhán rummaging through his mind, like a wild boar searching for a fresh rabbit. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep him out, but perhaps he could misdirect him. After all, Niall hadn’t said where he was going. He rubbed his head, attempting to ease the ache Ruadhán’s search was causing. “No, master. He told us only that needed to leave.”

Ruadhán stood for a moment, his eyes cast down the road, no doubt waiting for Ciarán to say more. After a while, he sighed. “But you did speak to him.”

“We did, but it was quite a while ago, and perhaps it was over by the waterfall.”

Ruadhán chuckled. “You will be a challenge when you grow older. Now, however, I can see the game you are attempting to play, but never mind. Where you last saw him is of little import. Niall would not have divulged such information to you. Treacherous he may be, but he is no fool.” His eyes narrowed. “You would do well to be careful who you admire, however, for he has betrayed the goddess of our túath and is not the sort you should seek to emulate.”

Ruadhán’s expression hardened, and at first Ciarán feared the high priest had managed to uncover some mischief he had gotten into, but then he heard them. Lochlainn and another of the high council’s guard came riding toward them, a smug look on their faces, and there trailing along behind them, his hands bound and the rope tied to Lochlainn’s saddle, was Niall.

Ciarán felt ill. If he hadn’t stopped him, perhaps Niall might have gotten away. His friend must have seen what was in his thoughts. He could feel him there, not like the wild boar that was unleashed when Ruadhán searched his mind, but a golden eagle. 

“Please,” he said when he was brought before Ruadhán. “Give me a moment with them. You know how close we have become.”

“Why, so you can fill their young minds with more of your traitorous ideas?”

“I simply wish to say good-bye and warn them not to follow my example. When you are finished with me, they will not even recall my name. I’m sure you will see to that.”

“You are not wrong there. Go, but I shall give you no more than a few moments.”

Niall walked over to Ciarán and Aodhán, bending down beside them. “I do not want you to fear my capture is your fault. Lochlainn rode upon a horse, while I traveled on foot. They would have caught me regardless. Master Ruadhán will do his best to wipe all thought of me from your memory, as he has removed any recollection of . . .” He shook his head. “But that is not important. You have both given me a gift I can never repay. I shall hold you in my thoughts always, and through the torment that lies ahead, that gift shall warm my heart and give me hope.”

“Enough!” Ruadhán pulled him away, but Niall managed one last smile before they dragged him toward the sacred lakeside glade. 

They were barely out of sight when Ciarán turned to Aodhán. “Come, we must hurry.”

“Hurry where?” Aodhán narrowed his eyes. “I know you will not try to enter the sacred precincts, but don’t tell me you plan to watch from our hiding place. I do not want to see them prepare Niall for the tomb.”

“Nor do I, but we can make sure the goddess has no choice but to allow him the peace of death so he can go to Tír na nÓg.”

“How can we do that?”

“You heard what Niall said about the Veil of Aisling. It is that which the goddess uses to keep her betrayers from passing to the otherworld. If we steal the veil and hide it, she will surely release him from torment. It was that he feared more than death.”

Aodhán ran after Ciarán, stopping only when they arrived at the small gorse grove where they could gaze into the sacred temple. “You are going to get us entombed as well.”

“You need to pay more attention. Do you not recall the words you yourself spoke but moments ago? Only those who have achieved the status of priesthood could face such a fate.”

“Or those who are guardians.”

“And we are neither, so we will not be entombed, even if they do catch us.”

“No, we will be banished and left to wander the countryside without food or drink. A line shall be placed through our priestly marks so none will risk evoking the ire of their goddess by helping us.”

Ciarán brushed aside his friend’s concerns. “Well, it does not matter since I have no plans of being caught.”

“You never do,” Aodhán said, “and yet we are consistently punished.”

“We will not be caught if we act quickly. The temple is empty now. The priests are busy preparing for the ceremony.”

Aodhán frowned but followed Ciarán, crawling in among the gorse bushes, where they could peek through the branches to see all that was happening. “And how are we to get the veil? Surely they are not going to leave it lying about unattended.”

“That is exactly what they will do. Two members of the Filidhare even now preparing for the ceremony. I’ve watched them do it before. When they are finished, they will leave for a time to lead the prisoner into the glade. That is when I shall climb through the bushes and grab the veil. Think of somewhere we may hide it, for they must not be able to retrieve it, or our efforts shall be in vain.”

Before his friend could protest, Ciarán ducked beneath another of the bushes and within moments had returned with the veil. “Have you thought of a place?”

“Yes, but what if they do not go through with the ceremony without it?”

“Then we have saved Niall either way.”

Aodhán nodded and led the way deep into the forest, to a quiet clearing beside a rambling brook. “There is a knothole high up in that tree. If you give me a boost, I can reach the branch and pull myself up to it.”

Ciarán did as Aodhán suggested, and moments later the shimmering veil was concealed within the trunk of the ancient oak tree. “Now, at least, Niall will find peace and be able to cross the western sea to Tír na nÓg.” A heavy mist had begun to cover the forest floor, for the sun was nearly beneath the horizon. Ciarán could feel himself being whisked through the haze of time. 

“What are you looking at, Dadaí?” Aisling squiggled up on Ciarán’s lap, yanking him back to the present.

Ciarán blinked to gain his bearings. “The clouds. Where’s yer brother?” 

“Fionn went for a walk with Mamaí. Why are you looking at clouds?”

“With Mamaí and Michael?” 

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, Dadaí. But why are you looking at the clouds?”

Ciarán laughed. Not only did his daughter look like her mother, but she had picked up quite a few of her mannerisms as well. “All right. I’m looking at the shapes of the clouds. Ye see that one there?” He pointed to one right in front of him. “I think it looks like a sheep.”

She tilted her head. “Or a furry dog. Can we get a dog when we go home, Dadaí?”

That question had come up a lot lately, but with their busy schedules, he wasn’t sure it would be fair on the animal. “I don’t know. Yer Mamaí has her hands full already, especially now that Michael’s come along.”

She bobbed her little head a few times, the auburn curls bouncing along. “Dadaí, how come Michael wasn’t a sister?”

“Because he’s yer brother.”

She rolled her eyes, and Ciarán had to bite his lips to keep from laughing. She was definitely her mother’s daughter. “I know that. I meant why couldn’t Mamaí have brought home a girl? Weren’t there any girls left in the hospital?”

“I suppose they were all out at the time. Don’t ye like yer wee brother?’

“Yes, but it would be nice to have a sister too. Next time you go to the hospital store, could she bring home a girl?”

“Ummm . . .” Ciarán heard laughter over his shoulder and looked up to see his brother, Aodhán. 

He bent down by his niece’s side. “I think yer Mamaí and Auntie Niamh are coming with ice cream.” 

Aisling clapped her hands and jumped from her father’s lap but stopped a moment. “You will remember next time you go to the store, won’t you?”

“I’ll do me best, darlin’.” Ciarán frowned at his brother, who was clearly stifling a laugh. “As if I had any control over it.”

Aodhán sat beside him. “Well, as ye say, ye’ve no control over it, so no need fretting about it. Besides, we’ve a bigger issue at the moment.” 

“What are ye talking about? Sure, no one’s been messing up round the caves. Ruadhán and Dáire are dead.”

“Well, Ruadhán is, but . . . we’re not so sure about Dáire.”

“Not so sure? We saw him on his funeral pyre last year; dead as a doornail, Dennis would say.”

“The thing is . . . Steve and I had some free time this morning, and we decided to take another peek.”

“Take a peek? And why would he want to be doing that?”

“Ye know Steve. He wanted to check the condition the body, see if it was progressing according to his expectations or if the elixir had some sort o’ preservative qualities.”

“And what did ye find?”

“That’s just it, we didn’t.” Aodhán gazed out across the lake, concern filling his eyes. “He’s gone, brother, and I don’t mean he rotted away.”

***Just a note: Italics are missing here and there because the template wouldn't let me put them in the center of the text. This is also a rough draft, so there may be an occasional typo. It hasn't gone to my editor yet, but I wanted to give you a quick look. Hope it peaks your interest. 

Thanks,

Andrea