Books: AE in the Irish Theosophist
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George William Russell >> AE in the Irish Theosophist
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"Whither must I go with you, strange woman?" asked Cuchullain.
"To Mag-Mell."
"I will send Laeg with you," said Cuchullain. I do not care to go
to an unknown place while I have my duties here." He then went to
Laeg, asking him to go with Liban.
"He is longing to go," thought Laeg, "but he mistrusts his power
to get away. He has forgotten all he knew and did not wish to
appear nothing before a woman. However, it can do no harm if I
go and see what they do."
Oh, marvel not if in our tale
The gleaming figures come and go,
More mystic splendors shine and pale
Than in an age outworn we know.
Their ignorance to us were wise:
Their sins our virtue would outshine:
A glory passed before their eyes:
We hardly dream of the divine.
In world may come romance,
With all the lures of love and glamour;
And woesome tragedy will chance
To him whom fairy forms enamour.
There slain illusions live anew
To stay the soul with coy caresses;
But he who only loves the True
Slays them again, and onward presses.
For golden chains are yet but chains,
Enchanted dreams are yet but dreaming;
And ere the soul its freedom gains
It bursts all bonds, destroys all seeming.
IV. The Maidens of the Sidhe
"Yes, I'll go with the maid in the green mantle," muttered Laeg to
himself; "but I'll don the crimson mantle of five folds which it
is my right to wear in the land of the Sidhe, even though my earthly
occupation is only the driving of a war-chariot."
He began chanting softly; a golden gleam as of sunshine swept
circling about him; then as the chant ceased a look of wild
exultation came to his face, and he threw up his arms, so that
for an instant he had the aspect he wore when guiding the great
war-chariot of Cuchullain into the thick of battle. His swaying
form fell softly upon the greensward, and above it floated a
luminous figure clad in a crimson mantle, but whose face and bare
arms were of the color of burnished bronze. So impassive and
commanding was his face that even Liban faltered a little as she
stole to his side. Cuchullain watched the two figures as they
floated slowly over the dark expanse of the lake, till they suddenly
disappeared, seemingly into its quiet surface. Then with his face
buried in his hands he sat motionless, absorbed in deep thought,
while he waited until the return of Laeg.
The recumbent form of Liban rose from the crouch where it had lain
entranced. Before her stood the phantom figure of Laeg. All in
the house save herself were asleep, but with the conscious sleep
of the Sidhe, and their shades spoke welcome to Laeg, each saying
to him in liquid tones such as come never from lips of clay:
"Welcome to you, Laeg; welcome because of her who brings you, of
him who sent you, and of yourself."
He saw about him only women of the Sidhe, and knew that he was in
one of the schools established by the wise men of Eri for maidens
who would devote their lives to holiness and Druid learning;
maidens who should know no earthly love but fix their eyes ever
on the light of the Sun-god. But not seeing Fand among them, he
turned with an impatient gesture to Liban. She read his gesture
aright, and said:
"My sister dwells apart; she has more knowledge, and presides over
all of us."
Leaving the room, she walked down a corridor, noiselessly save for
the rustle of her long robe of green, which she drew closely about
her, for the night was chill. An unaccustomed awe rested upon her,
and to Laeg she whispered:
"The evil enchanters have power tonight, so that your life would
be in danger if you had not the protection of a maiden of the Sun."
But a smile wreathed for an instant the bronze-hue face of the
shadowy charioteer, as he murmured in tones of kindness near to pity,
softening his rude words:
"Till now nor Cuchullain nor I have ever felt the need of a woman's
protection, and I would much rather he were here now than I."
Drawing aside a heavy curtain, Liban entered her sister's room.
They saw Fand seated at a little table. A scroll lay on it open
before her, but her eyes were not fixed on it. With hands clasped
under her chin she gazed into the vacancies with eyes of far-away
reflection and longing. There was something pathetic in the
intensity and wistfulness of the lonely figures. She turned and
rose to meet them, a smile of rare tenderness lighting up her face
as she saw Liban. The dim glow of a single lamp but half revealed
the youthful figure, the pale, beautiful face, out of which the
sun-colours had faded. Her hair of raven hue was gathered in massy
coils over her head and fastened there by a spiral torque of gleaming
gold. Her mantle, entirely black, which fell to her feet, made her
features seem more strangely young, more startlingly in contrast
with the monastic severity of the room. It was draped round with
some dark unfigured hangings. A couch with a coverlet of furs,
single chair of carved oak, the little table, and a bronze censer
from which a faint aromatic odor escaping filled the air and stole
on the sense, completed the furniture of the room, which might
rather have been the cell of some aged Druid than the chamber of
one of the young maidens of Eri, who were not overgiven to ascetic
habits. She welcomed Laeg with the same terms of triple welcome
as did the mystic children of the sun who had first gathered round him.
Her brilliant eyes seemed to read deep the soul of the charioteer.
Then Liban came softly up to her, saying:
"Oh, Fand, my soul is sad this night. The dark powers are gathering
their strength to assail us, and we shall need to be pure and strong.
Yet you have said that you feel no longer the Presence with you;
that Mannanan, the Self of the Sun, shines not in your heart!"
Fan placed her hand upon her sister's flaxen head, saying with a
voice mingled joy and pathos:
"Peace, child; you, of us all, have least to fear, for though I,
alas! am forsaken, yet He who is your Father and Yourself is even
now here with you."
Liban fell on her knees, with her hands clasped and her eyes uplifted
in a rapture of adoration, for above her floated one whom she well
knew. Yet unheeding her and stern of glance, with his right arm
outstretched, from which leaped long tongues of flame, swordlike,
into space, Labraid towered above gazing upon foes unseen by them.
Slowly the arm fell and the stern look departed from the face.
Ancient with the youth of the Gods, it was such a face and form
the toilers in the shadowy world, mindful of their starry dynasties,
sought to carve in images of upright and immovable calm amid the
sphinxes of the Nile or the sculptured Gods of Chaldaea. So upright
and immovable in such sculptured repose appeared Labraid, his body
like a bright ruby flame, sunlit from its golden heart. Beneath
his brows his eyes looked full of secrecy. The air pulsing and
heaving about him drove Laeg backward from the centre of the room.
He appeared but a child before this potent spirit. Liban broke
out into a wild chant of welcome:
"Oh see now how burning,
How radiant in might,
From battle returning
The Dragon of Light!
Where wert thou, unsleeping
Exile from the throne,
In watch o'er the weeping,
The sad and the lone.
The sun-fires of Eri
Burned low on the steep;
The watchers were weary
Or sunken in sleep;
And dread were the legions
Of demons who rose
From the uttermost regions
Of ice and of snows;
And on the red wind borne,
Unspeakable things
From wizard's dark mind borne
On shadowy wings.
The darkness was lighted
With whirlwinds of flame;
The demons affrighted
Fled back whence they came.
For thou wert unto them
The vision that slays:
Thy fires quivered through them
In arrowy rays.
Oh, light amethystine,
Thy shadow inspire,
And fill with the pristine
Vigor of fire.
Though thought like a fountain
Pours dream upon dream,
Unscaled is the mountain
Where thou still dost gleam,
And shinest afar like
The dawning of day,
Immortal and starlike
In rainbow array."
But he, the shining one, answered, and his voice had that melody
which only those know whom the Sun-breath has wafted into worlds divine:
"Vaunt not, poor mortal one, nor claim knowledge when the Gods know
not. He who is greatest among all the sons of evil now waits for
the hour to strike when he may assail us and have with him all the
hosts of the foes of light. What may be the issue of the combat
cannot be foreseen by us. Yet mortals, unwise, ever claim to know
when even the Gods confess ignorance; for pride blinds all mortals,
and arrogance is born of their feebleness."
Unabashed she cried out:
"Then rejoice, for we have awakened Cu, the warrior-magician of
old times, and his messenger is her."
Then he answered gently, pityingly:
"We need the help of each strong soul, and you have done well to
arouse that slumbering giant. If through his added strength we
conquer, then will he be the saviour of Eri; beloved by the Gods,
he will cease to be a wild warrior on earth, and become a leader
of mortals, aiding them on the way to the immortals. Wisely have
you awakened him, and yet--"
He smiled, and such was the pity in his smiling glance that Liban
bowed her head in humiliation. When she raised it he was gone,
and Laeg also had vanished. She arose, and with a half-sob threw
herself into the arms of her sister. So they stood, silent, with
tearless eyes; for they were too divine for tears, although,
alas! too human.
Slowly the chariot rolled on its homeward way, for Laeg, seeing
the weakness and weariness of Cuchullain, held the great steeds
in check; their arched necks and snorting breath resenting the
restraint, while the impatient stamping of their hoofs struck fire
from the pebbly road.
"Well," said Cuchullain moodily, "tell me what happened after you
went away with that woman of the Sidhe."
Briefly and without comment of his own Laeg stated what he had seen.
Then long Cuchullain pondered; neither spoke, and the silence was
broken only by the stamping of the steeds and the rumble of the
chariot wheels. Dark clouds drifted athwart the moon, and the
darkness gave more freedom of speech, for Cuchullain said in measured,
expressionless tones:
"And what do you think of all this?"
"What do I think?" burst forth Laeg with sudden fire; "I think
you had better be leaving those women of the Sidhe alone, and they
you. That Fand would lose her soul for love, and the spell they've
cast over you is evil, or it wouldn't make a warrior like you as
helpless as a toddling babe."
In letting loose his pent-up wrath Laeg had unconsciously loosened
as well the reined-in steeds, who sprang forward impetuously, and
the jolting of the car was all that Cuchullain could bear in his
enfeebled state. Recovering himself, the charioteer drew them in
check again, inwardly upbraiding himself for carelessness.
Sorrowful and broken was the voice of the warrior as he said:
"On the morrow, Laeg, you shall bear a message to Emer. Tell her
the Sidhe have thrown a spell of helplessness upon me while deceiving
me with false visions of my aiding them in their war with the evil
enchanters. Ask Emer to come to me, for her presence may help to
rouse me from this spell that benumbs my body and clouds my mind."
Then Laeg sought to console him, saying:
"No, no; the Sidhe wrong no one. Their message to you was true;
but their messengers were women, and you were a warrior. That is
why the mischance came, for it is ever the way with a woman to
become foolish over a warrior, and then there is always a muddle.
And when Emer comes--," he checked his indiscreet utterance by
pretending to have a difficulty in restraining the horses, and
then added confusedly: "Besides, I'd rather be in your plight
than in Fand's."
"Has Emer come?" asked Cuchullain, drawing himself up on his couch
and resting on his elbow.
"Yes," said Laeg dejectedly; "I have brought her. She has been
talking to me most of the journey. Now she'll be after talking
to you, but you needn't mind; it isn't her ususal way, and she
isn't as unreasonable as might be expected. She puts most of the
blame of your illness on me, though perhaps that is because it was
me she was talking to. Insists that as I can go to the Plain of
Fire where the Sidhe live I ought to be able to find a way of curing
you. She has expressed that idea to me many times, with a fluency
and wealth of illustration that would make a bard envious. Here
she comes now. I'll just slip out and see if the horses are being
properly cared for."
He had not overstated the case, for the sweet face of Emer was
clouded with wrath as she approached the sick-bed of her husband.
Bitterly she reproached him for what she claimed was only a feigned
illness, and expressed her conviction that no theory would account
for his conduct save that, faithless to her his wife, he had fallen
in love. But Cuchullain made no answer, for not only was he
invincible in battle, but also wise in the matter of holding his
tongue when a woman warred against him with words.
"You are looking stronger," said Laeg, when next he saw him alone.
"Yes," he returned, "the speech of Emer has roused me a little
from my torpor. I have been thinking that possibly we were wrong
in disregarding the message brought by the women of the Sidhe.
They surely have power to break this spell, and doubtless would
have done so had you not fled from them so inconsiderately."
"I was thinking the same when Emer was coming here with me," observed
Laeg. "Her speech roused me a little too."
Cuchullain was silent awhile and then said reflectively:
"Do you think we could find Liban again?"
"There would be no difficulty about that," Laeg replied drily.
"Then," said Cuchullain with sudden energy, "let us go once more
to the rock of the visions."
Our souls give battle when the host
Of lurid lives that lurk in Air,
And Ocean's regions nethermost,
Come forth from every loathsome lair:
For then are cloudland battles fought
With spears of lightning, swords of flame,
No quarter given, none besought,
Till to the darkness whence they came
The Sons of Night are hurled again.
Yet while the reddened skies resound
The wizard souls of evil men
Within the demon ranks are found,
While pure and strong the heroes go
To join the strife, and reck no odds,
For they who face the wizard foe
Clasp hands heroic with the gods.
What is the love of shadowy lips
That know not what they seek or press,
From whom the lure for ever slips
And fails their phantom tenderness?
The mystery and light of eyes
That near to mine grow dim and cold;
They move afar in ancient skies
Mid flame and mystic darkness rolled.
Oh, hero, as thy heart o'erflows
In tender yielding unto me,
A vast desire awakes and grows
Unto forgetfulness of thee.
V. The Mantle of Mannanan
Again Liban stood before them, and her eyes were full of reproach.
"You doubt the truth of my message," she said. "Come, then, to the
Plain of Fire, and you shall see the one who sent me."
"I doubt you not," said Cuchullain quietly; "but it is not fitting
that I should go when the message is brought by a woman, for such
is the warning I have had in vision from Lu Lamfada. Laeg shall
go with you, and if he brings back the same message, then I shall
do the bidding of the Sidhe, and wage war against the evil enchanters,
even as when a lad I vanquished the brook of wizards at Dun-mic-Nectan."
"Where did Liban take you this time, Laeg? Have you brought back
a message from the Sidhe?"
"I have seen the Chief," said Laeg, whose doubts had vanished and
whose whole manner had changed. "Cuchullain, you must go. You
remember how we went together to Brusna by the Boyne, and what
wonders they showed us in the sacred crypt. Yet this is a place
more marvelous--thrice. Well indeed did Liban call it the Plain
of Fire, for a breath of fire is in the air for leagues and leagues
around. On the lake where the Sidhe dwell the fishers row by and
see nothing, or, mayhap, a flicker of phantasmal trees around the dun.
These trees are rooted in a buried star beneath the earth; when its
heart pulsates they shine like gold, aye, and are fruited with ruby
lights. Indeed this Labraid is one of the Gods. I saw him come
through the flaming rivers of the underworld. He was filled with
the radiance. I am not given to dread the Sidhe, but there was
that in him which compelled awe: for oh, he came from the homes
that were anciently ours--ours who are fallen, and whose garments
once bright are stained by the lees of time. He greeted me kindly.
He knew me by my crimson mantle with five folds. He asked for you;
indeed they all wish to have you there."
"Did he say aught further?"
"No, he spoke but little; but as I returned by Mag Luada I had a
vision. I saw you standing under the sacred Tree of Victory.
There were two mighty ones, one on each side of you, but they seemed
no greater than you."
"Was Fand there?" asked Cuchullain.
"Yes," said Laeg reluctantly; "I saw her and spoke to her, although
I did not wish to. I feared for myself. Ethne and Emer are beautiful
women, but this woman is not like them. She is half divine. The
holiest Druids might lose his reason over her."
"Let us go thither," said Cuchullain.
The night was clear, breathless, pure as diamond. The giant lights
far above floated quietly in the streams of space. Below slept
the lake mirroring the shadowy blue of the mountains. The great
mounds, the homes of the Sidhe, were empty; but over them floated
a watchful company, grave, majestic, silent, waiting. In stately
procession their rich, gleaming figures moved to and fro in groups
of twos and threes, emblazoning the dusky air with warm colors.
A little apart, beyond the headland at the island's edge, two more
commanding than the rest communed together. The wavering water
reflected head-long their shining figures in its dark depths;
above them the ancient blue of the night rose as a crown. These
two were Labraid and the warrior of Murthemney restored to all his
Druid power. Terrible indeed in its beauty, its power, its calm,
was this fiery phantasmal form beside the king of the Sidhe.
"We came to Eri many, many ages ago," said Labraid; "from a land
the people of today hold no memory of. Mighty for good and for
evil were the dwellers in that land, but its hour struck and the
waters of the ocean entomb it. In this island, which the mighty
Gods of Fire kept apart and sacred, we made our home. But after
long years a day came when the wise ones must needs depart from
this also. They went eastward. A few only remained to keep alive
the tradition of what was, the hope of what will be again. For in
this island, it is foretold, in future ages will arise a light
which will renew the children of time. But now the world's great
darkness has come. See what exhalations arise! What demons would
make Eri their home!"
Away at the eastern verge a thick darkness was gathering; a pitchy
blackness out of which a blood--red aerial river rolled and shot
its tides through the arteries of the night. It came nigher. It
was dense with living creatures, larvae, horrible shapes with waving
tendrils, white withered things restless and famished, hoglike faces,
monstrosities. As it rolled along there was a shadowy dropping
over hamlet and village and field.
"Can they not be stayed? Can they not be stayed?" rang the cry of Fand.
The stern look on Cuchullain's face deepened.
"Is it these pitiful spectres we must wage war against? Labraid,
it is enough. I will go--alone. Nay, my brother, one is enough
for victory."
Already he was oblivious of the Sidhe, the voices of Fand and Laeg
calling him. A light like a wonder-mist broke dazzling about him.
Through a mist of fire, an excess of light, they saw a transcendent
form of intensest gold treading the air. Over the head of the god
a lightning thread like a serpent undulated and darted. It shed
a thousand dazzling rays; it chanted in a myriad tones as it went
forward. Wider grew the radiant sphere and more triumphant the
chant as he sped onward and encountered the overflow of hell. Afar
off the watchers saw and heard the tumult, cries of a horrible
conflict, agonies of writhing and burning demons scorched and
annihilated, reeling away before the onset of light. On and still
on he sped, now darkened and again blazing like the sun.
"Look! look!" cried Laeg, breathless with exultation as the dazzling
phantom towered and waved its arms on the horizon.
"They lied who said he was powerless," said Fand, no less exultant.
"Cu, my darling," murmured the charioteer; "I know now why I loved
you, what burned within you."
"Shall we not go and welcome him when he returns?" said Liban.
"I should not advise it," Laeg answered. "Is it to meet that fury
of fire when he sinks back blind and oblivious? He would slay his
dearest friend. I am going away from here as fast as I can."
Through the dark forests at dawn the smoke began to curl up from
dun and hamlet, and, all unconscious of the war waged over their
destinies, children awoke to laugh and men and women went forth
to breathe the sweet air of morning.
Cuchullain started from a dream of more ancient battles, of wars
in heaven. Through the darkness of the room he saw the shadowy
forms of the two daughters of Aed Abrait; not as before, the
mystic maidens armed with Druid power, but women, melting, tender,
caressing. Violet eyes shining with gratitude; darker eyes burning
with love, looked into his. Misty tresses fell over him.
"I know not how the battle went," he sighed. "I remember the fire
awoke. .... Lu was with me. .... I fell back in a blinding mist
of flame and forgot everything."
"Doubt it not. Victory went with thee, warrior," said Liban. "We
saw thee: it was wonderful. How the seven splendors flashed and
the fiery stars roved around you and scattered the demons!"
"Oh, do not let your powers sink in sleep again," broke forth Fand.
"What are the triumphs of earthly battles to victories like these?
What is rule over a thousand warriors to kingship over the skyey
hosts? Of what power are spear and arrow beside the radiant sling
of Lu? Do the war-songs of the Ultonians inspire thee ever like
the terrible chant of fire? After freedom can you dwell in these
gloomy duns? What are the princeliest of them beside the fiery
halls of Tir-na-noge and the flame-built cities of the Gods? As
for me, I would dwell where the great ones of ancient days have
gone, and worship at the shrine of the silent and unutterable Awe."
"I would go indeed," said Cuchullain; "but still--but still--:
it is hard to leave the green plains of Murthemney, and the Ultonians
who have fought by my side, and Laeg, and--"
"Laeg can come with us. Nor need Conchobar, or Fergus or Conail
be forgotten. Far better can you aid them with Druid power than
with the right arm a blow may make powerless in battle. Go with
Laeg to Iban-Cind-Trachta. Beside the yew-tree there is a dun.
There you can live hidden from all. It is a place kept sacred by
the might of the Sidhe. I will join you there."
A month passed. In a chamber of the Dun the Yew-tree, Fand,
Cuchullain and Laeg were at night. The two latter sat by an oaken
table and tried by divination to peer into the future. Fand,
withdrawn in the dark shadow of a recess, lay on a couch and looked on.
Many thoughts went passing through her mind. Now the old passion of
love would rise in her heart to be quenched by a weary feeling of
futility, and then a half-contempt would curl her lips as she saw
the eagerness of her associates. Other memories surged up. "Oh,
Mannanan, Father-Self, if thou hadst not left me and my heart had
not turned away! It was not a dream when I met thee and we entered
the Ocean of Fire together. Our beauty encompassed the world.
Radiant as Lu thy brother of the Sun we were. Far away as the dawn
seems the time. How beautiful, too, was that other whose image in
the hero enslaves my heart. Oh, that he would but know himself,
and learn that on this path the greatest is the only risk worth
taking! And now he holds back the charioteer also and does him
wrong." Just then something caused her to look up. She cried out,
"Laeg, Laeg, do you see anything?"
"What is it?" said Laeg. Then he also looked and started. "Gods!" he
murmured. "Emer! I would rather face a tempest of Formorian enchanters."
"Do you not see?" repeated Fand scornfully. "It is Emer the
daughter of Forgall. Has she also become one of the Sidhe that
she journeys thus?"
"She comes in dream," said Laeg.
"Why do you intrude upon our seclusion here? You know my anger is
no slight thing," broke out Cuchullain, in ready wrath hiding his
confusion. The shadow of Emer turned, throwing back the long, fair
hair from her face the better to see him. There was no dread on it,
but only outraged womanly dignity. She spake and her voice seemed to
flow from a passionate heart far away brooding in sorrowful loneliness.
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