Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

Excerpt

“Ah, my dear friend. It takes many strong men and much skill to travel up stream,
where the waters run faster than a raging buffalo. Our boat would not last on the
running waters or over the deep falls. It is impossible to travel this way until the
summer has calmed the river spirits to make them safe for men. It would take us
many weeks to build a wood boat strong enough to resist the sharp rocks that wait
on the river’s belly and hidden turns. We must walk across the land to reach my
home. One day, our home river will carry you on his back to visit other peoples.
Then you will learn his ways.”
That night, Fire Maker spoke about the Great Floods. “In the ancient days, there
were two great floods. The first flood was long before men and women came to this
land. In that time, the animals spoke to one another as we do today. Bear spoke to
fish. Fish spoke to birds. They ate plants and berries and grew fat on the land. They
saw themselves reflected in the waters. The animals saw how beautiful they were and
became proud and boastful. Each one thought he was more beautiful than the other.
So the Creator decided to punish the animals for their conceit and wash the arrogance
from their faces.”
Ari stirred the embers and watched the end of his branch catch fire. He held it up
until the feeble flame died, sending curls of blue smoke toward the stars.
Fire Maker knew the young travellers enjoyed his stories as much as anyone,
though they grew restless as the evening progressed. He continued with a smile.
“The waters came pouring down so hard that some lost all their colour and became
very plain. Others, like the blue jay, found shelter in the high trees and kept their colour.
Because the animals had been so boastful, the Creator even washed away their
speech. Now many animals are unable to understand each other when they speak.
Wolf eats deer and bear eats fish. The Creator made us all to be brothers. But some
forget or do not know how they should be.”
Father Finten wanted to share his own story of the flood from the Book of Genesis.
But he knew his stories paled in the telling, compared to the storytelling skill
of their host. So the missionary priest continued to lose opportunities to make converts.
To him, it seemed as though the chief was already converted. The stories he
told made much sense for the people of this land and Finten found the Native creation
story very beautiful.
Father Finten struggled with what he judged to be a heresy forming in his mind:
Perhaps God shines through to all the different people of the world in many different
forms. If our Christian God is true, and all other gods are false, must I take their
god away to give them mine, when all the gods are one and the same True God?
He wished there were some theologian around, with whom he could confide. If he
lost the Faith and his missionary purpose, what was left? Finten tried to stop his
thoughts as Fire Maker’s words continued hypnotically.
“One day, the Creator made man. He gave his newest creature everything to be
happy. But man too became proud and wanted to be greater than the gods. So the
Creator of all things sent another flood. This time, the waters washed the colour
from many men. The most proud became almost white.”
At this, the six white men looked at one another and Bjorn burst into a hearty
laugh, and his companions joined in.
Finten remarked, “Yes, we have indeed been too proud. Much too proud.”

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562826

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763106

The Unquiet Land

Excerpt

eating itself—has proved too much for him.”
“The poor man. What a horrible thing to happen at a time like this.” Father Costello then remembered the congregation in the church. “Dr Starkey, if you go back out there and try to restore a measure of calm, I shall prepare to celebrate Mass and marry the young couple. They especially will need some encouragement, poor children. I myself must try to make up to them this unfortunate delay in their happy ceremony.”
At the end of the ceremony, as the guests moved out of the church to make their way to the house of Michael and Caitlin Carrick, Father Costello and Dr Starkey both returned to the sacristy. Padraig was sitting on the bench, his head in his hands, staring at the floor between his feet.
“Are you all right, Padraig?” Dr Starkey asked.
Padraig looked up. His face was like a skeleton’s. “So I had another seizure?” he said.
“Yes,” Dr Starkey replied. “A bad one. How do you feel?”
“Tired. Very, very tired. And my head is throbbing.” Padraig looked up at the old priest who stood tall as a maypole. “Did you say Mass for me, Father Costello?”
“I did, Padraig.”
“And the wedding?”
“It went very well.
“Ah, that’s good.” Padraig lowered his black eye-sockets from the tall priest’s face and stared at his own moist, clasped hands. “I never could have done it, you know. I’m glad I asked you to come in my place.” His almost fleshless head jerked round towards Dr Starkey. “I’m so tired, Dr Starkey. I don’t think I’ll go up to the house. Will you apologise for me to Caitlin? And to Michael and the others?”
“I will, Padraig,” Dr Starkey promised. “Now you had better get to your room in the rectory. And I’ll stop by later to see you.”
“Thank you, Dr Starkey.” Padraig stood unsteadily. “All I want to do now is sleep.”
The three men left the church together. A few parishioners who remained in the church, talking in subdued voices, watched them go. Padraig entered the rectory with Father Costello and climbed the stairs to his room. There he rolled over on to his side on the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

Excerpt

“Are you forgetting, Father, some of us might still like to find a way to get home?”
Finten had not forgotten about Éirinn and Derry and his home monastery, but
the fear of crossing that wild ocean was more than he could bear. Nor could he
endure the threat of marauding Viking pirates and slavery. “No, Brother, I have not
forgotten.”
Finten lied. He had not listened to anyone else’s wishes but his own. His days had
been filled with new discoveries; attempts to tell the Natives about the Christian God
had been unsuccessful.
“Brother Keallach, we have sworn to God, as missionaries, to spread the Gospel
and baptize. We must move on.”
“May I suggest, Father, missionary work takes great patience, and prayer. Perhaps
we are lacking in both.”
With that, Keallach hurried off to join the Native children in a game of ball.
Finten approached Fire Maker with the proposal that he and his companions
travel to the Mandan Nation. Fire Maker did not appear enthusiastic to have Finten’s
company.
“A man only makes such a journey once or twice in his lifetime. The journey to
my land might last five or six seasons. You will meet warriors on the way who will
not always be friendly. Some will threaten to take your life. They might succeed in
doing so.”
Fire Maker paused for Finten’s reaction. When there was none, he continued. “Are
you able to walk over mountains and through snow and cold water? If you are able
to keep up from sunrise every day until the sun goes to bed, then you might join us.
If you get tired or sick, we will leave you behind.”
“My God has brought me this far. He wishes me to travel farther, even five
seasons.”
Fire Maker shook his head but Finten had made up his mind and would not be
deterred.
The priest pondered informing the Brothers of his decision. What if they argued
to stay where they were? Would they even refuse to go with him? He decided to wait.
He’d tell them when the time came.
When winter turned to spring, Fire Maker and his daughter Yamka prepared to
leave. Rordan, Ula and Yamka began to talk of ways that they could remain together.
Rordan had grown more attached to Yamka than he’d ever wanted to admit. Ula
was like a sister to him but Yamka was so much more. Only when he faced the prospect
of her leaving did he begin to realize how much he couldn’t stand the thought
of losing her.
It was time to make a momentous decision. He had to inform Father Finten and
Brothers Keallach and Ailan that he was in love with Fire Maker’s daughter. Worse
still, he had to tell Ula. But of course, Ula already knew. How could she not? But then,
he had not even told Yamka. He’d only realized the truth when Yamka told him she
and her father would soon be leaving.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562826

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763106

The Unquiet land

excerpt

“Beware of pride, Caitlin,” Padraig admonished. “‘Pride goeth before destruction.’ Learn another lesson from your father. He was a proud man. He sought self-sufficiency and in doing so displayed spiritual pride, what the Greeks called hubris. They warned—and no one knew this better than Finn MacLir—that hubris was certain to attract the gods’ disfavour. Hubris is the sin of sins, the primal cause of sin. It consists in man’s belief that he can lift himself to the level of the divine. Beware of that, Caitlin. Only by recognising our complete worthlessness can we find salvation, entirely through God’s grace.”
Caitlin looked steadfastly at Padraig. Then she said slowly, as if weighing her words, “If you thought you could ever win my father to Christianity with a message like that—recognising our complete worthlessness—you must be very, very stupid, Padraig. No wonder my father had nothing but utter contempt for your beliefs.”
Caitlin could see from the narrowing of Padraig’s eyes and the tightening of the muscles in his jaw that her words had hurt him; but she was relentless. “He scorned your God, Padraig. He scorned all the gods. You call it hubris, the sin of sins. Finn MacLir was guilty of it, blatantly guilty. Yet he defied the gods to the very end. And even in the clutches of death they could not break his spirit. He was a man, Padraig, a proud man, and proud to be man. And I am proud to have been his daughter.”
Caitlin rose angrily, strode out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
҂
She brushed the small heap of dust into a shovel and tossed it outside through the door of the cottage. The cool evening breeze whirled it away towards the stone wall by the head of the loaney. Michael would soon be coming up the loaney from the house, and Caitlin looked for the big, familiar figure, his shoulders almost as wide as the rough path between the walls, his hair almost as yellow as the flowers on the whins. But he did not appear. He had gone to the village to talk business with Joe Carney, the skipper of Finn’s fishing boat, the Drumard Maid. Michael wanted to sell the boat, and Joe wanted to buy. Perhaps they had made a deal and gone to the Harbour Bar to seal it.
Caitlin’s gaze shifted from the shadowed loaney to the direction of the harbour at Corrymore, far below her, and the ruins of Killyshannagh Church. Below the green sod and the dark earth down there, unseen from…

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

Savages and Beasts

excerpt

Anton felt as if he was sitting on burning charcoals since
he still didn’t know what to do with Dylan’s diary. Two days
had passed since the killing of Father Thomas and things in the
School had almost returned to normalcy except for the ones
who knew certain things others didn’t know. Anton’s wonder
was mostly based on his perception of what a Christian should be
and how a Christian should behave and the church people who
should always discern between good and evil and should always,
as was expected of them, choose good, and follow good, and do
good, which stood opposite what had transpired within the walls
of the mausoleum. This was Anton’s most basic wonder why these
atrocities and abuses had to occur in such a place and under the
authority of the most powerful Christian entity of the country.
Yet he also knew that people are always people and they always
behave in such an unjustifiable way and a person with common
sense feels so disappointed by such behavior.
Anton had his supper with his parents. His dad, discerning
certain emotional stress on his son during their supper and after
he sat by the window he called him to come and sit close to him.
“What is it that bothers you son?”
“I’m puzzled. I don’t know what to do with the diary. The
old man said I’d do what is best, but what’s that best?” Anton
replied.
His father looked at his son’s eyes, seeing the uncertainty
that was surely obvious and since he wanted to calm him down,
undoubtedly that was his concern at this moment, he said, “perhaps
you could let it be and trust that your heart will give you
guidance soon” to which Anton smiled, his father would always
say something vague and philosophical which eventually, on
second thought, would make sense. For this he didn’t ask anything
else but he got up saying…

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763602

Blood, Feathers and Holy Men

excerpt

Fears and Frustrations


Brother Keallach was a good listener when Rordan needed to vent his frustration
and Rordan definitely needed to talk now.
“I just cannot understand why Father Finten has such a distrust of my interest in
medicine. Well, perhaps I do know why. Father Gofraidh was the same.
“I travelled for two years with a physician before coming to the monastery. In
my travels, I met many good doctors who had studied with the Moors. But because
those healers were not Christian, their works were forbidden. ‘What is not of God is
of the devil,’ Father Gofraidh preached to his novices.”
Rordan whipped at branches as the Brothers walked. “The Moors have a wonderful
knowledge of medicine and mathematics and astronomy. But do not tell this to
the Church Fathers. Only by chance was I able to learn the little I know about herbal
medicines from an ancient Italian monk who had learned his craft from a healing
woman in Italy. The healing woman was later condemned as a witch and put to
death. Can you believe that? Put to death for helping people. Corn Mother knows
more about herbs and medicines than anyone I have ever met in all my travels. And
Finten does not want me to associate with her.”
Rordan grew more agitated as he walked faster until Brother Keallach had to stop
to catch his breath. Rordan stopped and turned to face his companion but continued
speaking even as Keallach held his chest and breathed like a bellows.
“Because of this mistrust, the knowledge we have is hidden away and forbidden.
Did you know, Brother, the Church in Éirinn has more learning locked up in monasteries
than anywhere else in Christendom yet illness is still regarded as being caused
by sin? Even babies are only allowed healing by prayer. I believe in prayer, but this is
cruelty. It’s ridiculous; bloody ridiculous.”
Rordan picked up a small rock and threw it forcefully into a high arc. Then he
continued striding.
“An infected throat or a bad cough has to be treated with blessed candles and
prayers to Saint Blaise. Saint Roch is invoked to cure the plague. Saint Nicaise does a
poor job of protecting against smallpox, and kings are called upon to cure skin diseases
with the Royal Touch, so commoners are seldom healed of shingles or leprosy.”
Rordan stopped and sat on an ancient tree limb. His companion, thankful for the
pause, plopped down beside him.
“Despite all the knowledge available in our monasteries, monks are still forbidden
to perform any kind of surgery. Cutting into the ‘temple of the Holy Spirit’ is a sin of
murder. In the words of the late Father Gofraidh, ‘Surgery of any kind imperils the
souls of both surgeon and patient.’ So barbers and charlatans cut people open for
profit because real physicians are forbidden by Church hierarchy.”
Rordan put his hands on his head, exhausted from his outburst.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562826

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763106

Arrows

excerpt

That was just like Infante, to find a way to turn the tables. So I was
being accused of insensitivity, failing to honour the memory of my
slain friend.
“Exactly what I was trying to do when you interrupted me,
Infante,” answered Losada.
“It is not the place of Friar Salvador to decide the security of this
city,” Infante said. “That is my job. I am sure, Friar, you would take
equal offence if I was to start leading us in prayer.”
There was a good deal of chortling at this remark. I was appalled
by Losada’s lack of control. What was going on? Why did Losada
accept such a tone from his subordinate?
“Friar Salvador, please tell us why are you so sure they are
seeking peace and not our demise?” Losada said.
“I told you. Their morale has been shattered. I can assure you they
are convinced they cannot win. They want to secure the survival of
their people. Some have opted for peace. Others are staying away.”
“Where? Away where?”
“I told you I didn’t come here to lead you to their villages. I
couldn’t if I wanted to. I don’t know where they are.”
“But you know their language, I presume,” Infante intervened.
“I do.”
“I, in the captain’s boots,” Infante said, turning to the others,
“would interrogate the caciques with Friar Salvador’s aid to secure
the safety of the people in the city.”
A murmur of approval spread among the onlookers.
“I will do as I must, don Infante,” answered Losada, indicating
his leniency for insubordination still had its limits. I didn’t like
Infante’s obsequious tone or Losada’s conciliation to it. There was
something going on between the two.
“We are sure you will, don Diego,” Infante conceded. “Our lives
are in your hands.”
Infante bowed and the others followed. It was mockery rather
than respect. This bode ill.
I left Losada disappointed and afraid. Not one day among the
Spaniards, and already I smelled unshed blood.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562848

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073522

Constantine Cavafy

If and Since He Had Died
“Where did he retire? Where did the Sage disappear to?
After his countless miracles,
and the fame of his teaching
that spread over so many nations
he suddenly hid, and no one learned
with certainty what happened to him
(nor has anyone ever seen his grave).
Some said that he died in Ephesus.
But Damis didn’t record it; nothing was written
by Damis about the death of Apollonios.
Others said that he vanished in Lindos.
Or perhaps the story
that he ascended in Crete is true,
at the sacred temple of Dictynna.
However, we have his exquisite,
supernatural appearance
to a young student in Tyana.
Perhaps the time has not come for him to return
and appear to the world again,
or perhaps he is roaming among us
incognito. But he will reappear
as he was, teaching the right things, and then of course
he will reestablish the worship of our gods,
and our refined Hellenic ceremonies.”
This was the way he mused in his poor house,
one of a few pagans,
one of the very few who remained
after reading Philostratos’
On Apollonios of Tyana—
In any case, an insignificant
and timid man, on the surface
he played the Christian, and he, too, went to church.
It was the era when in utmost piety
the king who reigned was the aged Ioustinos,
and Alexandria, a god-fearing city,
abhorred the miserable idolaters. On the Ship
Certainly, this small sketch,
in pencil resembles him.
Done rather fast, on the deck of the ship,
one enchanting afternoon.
The Ionian Pelagos all around us.
It resembles him. However, I recall him as handsome.
He was sensitive to the point of suffering,
and this lit his expression.
He appears even handsome to me
now that my soul recalls him out of Time.
Out of Time. All these things are old,
the drawing, the ship, and the afternoon.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562856

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763823

The Unquiet Land

excerpt

“For both of us, of course. And for Michael and Mother Ross.”
They had been standing in the main street. Now they began to walk slowly down the hill towards the square. Caitlin felt easier when Padraig could not look into her eyes and read the secrets there.
“Caitlin, I do not believe you can answer for your father anymore,” Padraig said. “A rift has opened between Finn MacLir and me that will be difficult to close. I was once like a son to him. I am a stranger now. And the love we used to share is all on my side.”
“Padraig, please don’t say that. Finn MacLir could never disown you. He’s not a vindictive man.”
“He’s a proud man. With a hatred of religion,” Padraig argued. “I represent religion. I preach the truth of God that Finn despises. As he denies God, he denies me. As he despises the truth of God he despises me.”
“You are taking everything much too personally, Padraig.” Caitlin felt herself becoming angry with the priest. She thought he was being unreasonable. “My father doesn’t despise you. He loves you, Padraig. In many ways he still regards you as the son he never had. You even more than Michael. There was a bond between you and my father that is still as strong as ever. He admires your achievement, Padraig. He gives you full credit for everything you have done. But he is disappointed that you chose to be a priest. You could have been a doctor, a lawyer, an accountant. You could have gone into any of a dozen different professions. But you entered the priesthood and you can’t expect a man like my father to be pleased about that.”
“I did not choose the priesthood, Caitlin,” Padraig said. “God chose me to be a priest. He has work for me to do. And I believe that part of that work is to save the soul of Finn MacLir. God sent Finn to save my life for Him. In return I must save the eternal life of Finn MacLir. God wants him, Caitlin. God is the good shepherd fretting over the loss of one sheep. He has sent me home here to bring that lost sheep to the fold.” Padraig grew excited. “That is my mission, Caitlin. To bring Finn MacLir to accept Christianity. And not Finn alone. I am hoping that you too will reaffirm your faith in God. You must, Caitlin. You cannot continue to live in darkness, in hopelessness.” A fanatic gleam shone in Padraig’s wild, dark eyes. “Could that be what is troubling you?”
They stopped again in the village square.
Caitlin realised that she was standing in Padraig’s shadow. It was a normal shadow, elongated by the lowering sun, but not monstrous, not threatening. Out of the shadow truth had come.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562888

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203

The Unquiet Land

excerpt

“That ideal has died, Padraig. The light has gone out. It goes out for many of us, I’m afraid. Because it’s only an idea, not a reality. The Greeks first had the idea when civilization was young. Didn’t they believe in the human community as commonweal? Didn’t they tell us we were all free equals linked by a shared concern for the common good? Come on, Padraig, you know more about these things than I do.”
Padraig swallowed a mouthful of wine and thought for a moment. He wondered if he really did know more about these things than Finn. “You mustn’t overlook the Christian component of your humanitas, Finn: humanity as a moral ideal rather than a biological fact. From Christianity, not from Greece, comes that conviction you mentioned that human life has value. Man was created in God’s own image and was precious enough in the sight of God for God Himself to become man. This is what gives human life its value, Finn, and human life must be protected, must be saved at all cost and returned to God transmuted into spirit, pure and undefiled.”
“Another ideal.”
“Another aspect of the same ideal.”
“But equally unrealistic.” Finn leaned forward and held Padraig in the grip of his eyes as the Ancient Mariner held the wedding guest. “You are still young. The torch you hold aloft to light your way through life still burns with the fierce brightness that youth demands. You are just starting out. But as your journey proceeds and the day wears on, the idealism that fuels your torch burns lower. The light grows dimmer, Padraig, till you no longer see your way with clarity. And you stumble and fall. And every time you stumble or fall you spill some of the fuel you still have burning. And the light grows even dimmer. Long before midnight it’s all gone. And you can’t see your way anymore. You look back for some idea of where you were heading, and of course it’s all darkness there too. The light is gone. The darkness reveals the idealism for what it was: a figment of the human imagination, a fiction born of the unique human capacity for creative thought and nourished by the unique human need to believe.”
“It’s too pessimistic, Finn,” Padraig argued. “The light that guides us really burns; it really exists. You can keep it burning brightly right to the end if you have faith. Faith is the fuel, Finn. Pick up your torch again and find the faith to relight it and keep it burning. It will show you freedom, truth, justice, goodness. It will show you love. It will show you God.”
Finn smiled. “As I said, Padraig, you are young. You have a fire in your head and in your belly. I am old. My head is cool, and my belly …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1926763203