Monthly Archives: May 2019

Knockety knock…

 

*

“The door-knocker, Herr Doktor, is misnamed,” said Herbert, giving the door three resounding knocks with his knuckles, “…door-knockers, rap!”

He demonstrated his contention and the door-knocker rapped-out three sharp retorts in marked contrast to the previously administered knuckle-knocks.

“Anyway, there doesn’t appear to be anybody home,” concluded the Doctor.

“More’s the pity,” grinned Herbert eyeing the elaborately designed door-knocker with evident relish.

The two men turned to leave.

Just then the door opened and a long, leathery-tongue wrapped itself around the Doctor’s ankle and dragged him within.

Herbert walked on, his mind elsewhere, oblivious…

*

Caladur: Desire…

*

…”How can I, that is neither, be both

an old man and a boy?” said Ewan.

*

“Is not every man that which was

and that which shall be,

and should not a man,

one day, see the face of his desire?” said the boy.

*

“Tell me, then, what is my desire,” said Ewan.

*

And Ewan heard an answer but that answer

was spoken in an unknown tongue and as he looked,

the strange, green-clad child faded from his sight,

and when he stooped to examine the place where he had been,

there was only long grass and thistles which waved in the wind…

*

Caladur: Questions…

*

…Then Ewan stood and looking down

on the laughing child was amazed,

for the face of the boy was like that of an old man.

*

Ewan stared for awhile, disbelieving his eyes,

but then he said, “Who, then, are you?”

And the boy replied, “Answer me first the same question.”

*

“Why must I answer first?” said Ewan.

“Because you already know what you would answer,

and your answer, is my answer also,” said the boy.

*

 

 

Caladur: Face to Face…

*

…Ewan climbed the open wold and the boy

climbed with him, though they spoke no word…

*

At the height of the slope Ewan turned,

to look down upon the realm of Fulnay;

appearing small and clear in the mid-day sun,

it looked like it lay in a past time.

*

Down the broad trackway which ran to it,

the dust was rising like smoke,

and within the dust clouds,

a great company rode two, by two.

*

The Lords with their appointed business were arriving…

*

Ewan turned, and ran quickly, out of sight, over the high ridge.

Once there he collapsed, in the long grass, and lay laughing.

The strange, green-clad child lay laughing with him.

*

 

 

The Hobbler’s Hovel…

*

… “Strength of my sword-arm,” continued Fiachna, “destitute and decrepit though I now am, I have a treasure hidden away. I never dared dream I would live to pass it on to Cuill’s son.”

“Fine will be the gift of one who honours my father. Describe it to me.”

“It is the spear that Cuill stole from the Crafty Ones. I secreted it away wrapped in its cloak of darkness even as Goll and his clan sacked your father’s dun. I buried it and built my hovel over it. Tonight, should you wish it, it shall be yours.”

“Fiachna, my father-friend, with that spear this night I hope to win back my birth-right. It is in my mind to test my might against Alain, son of Mithna.”

“Terrible that spear, son of Cuill, I would not tempt you to your death with it.”

“My mind is set with or without the spear. Tonight I shall stand guard over Tara.”

“You have a chieftain’s way with words, Fin. Hasten to Tara now. Say nothing of the spear. I will bring it to you when you have chosen your ground.”

“Fiachna,” said Fin, “if I win victory tonight, I will be your foster-son.”

“Win victory for Tara, son of Cuill, and think no more on me. Win victory for your father and all his broken men.”

“For Cuill,” said Fin, and set off at pace along the High-Way to Tara.

*

Falling into Step…

 

*

… “Fiachna, son of Conga,” shouted Daatho, “there is a man here who wants a word with you.”

“Let him who wants a word with me, fall into step with me, replied Fiachna.

“Spoken like a true champion,” said Fin, falling into step alongside the old man.

“A name before a word,” said Fiachna.

“I am Fin, son of Cuill, son of Trenmore, son of Bassna,” said Fin.

The old man stopped in his tracks then and his hands began to tremble and to shake.

“Do you say this to mock me?” he asked.

“I speak truly,” said FIn, “do I not resemble my father?”

The old man looked more closely at Fin.

“You have Cuill’s eyes,” he said, “but if you are his son then you will know what mark he wore upon his sporran.”

“The mark on the threshold stone of the Brugh na Angus is on his sporran,” said Fin.

“And how is the sporran marked within?” asked Fiachna.

“It is marked with the secret name of the Four Treasures,” said Fin.

“May the sun and moon protect you Fin, son of Cuill,” said Fiachna, “and may the earth open up safe passage for all your wanderings. But do you have the sporran of Cuill?”

“I have the sporran,” said Fin.

“Then I have a gift for you,” said Fiachna. …

*

to be continued