Andrew Offutt - The Sign of the Moonbow

There was no avoiding it: Sinshi was most attentive to Cormac mac Art, and so to Samaire was Findhu of Daneira. Other unwed Daneiran maids made kings of Wulfhere and Brian, whose head was soon turned. Much ale flowed. Sinshi kept Cormac’s carved, enameled cup of satin-smooth walnut ever full, while the two who flanked Wulfhere and saw to his cup were far busier. The capacity of the gigantic foreigner with the vast beard of flame and eyes like the sky would be legend in Daneira for many years.

Samaire shot green-eyed glances at Cormac and at Sinshi-who returned them with an apparent sweet guilelessness that Samaire saw as arch mockery. Yet so close was Findhu, and so charming and obviously charmed by the woman of Leinster, that Samaire was able to endure the younger woman’s competition.

“Tell us of the Tuatha de Danann,” Wulfhere said when his belly was full of food if not of ale-already he’d made one trip outside and there were wagers as to how long ere either he went again or his eyeballs turned amber.

A harper plucked and strummed and a poet of Daneira recited the old history that many of Eirrin now thought mere legend.

Long before the year that would be called 1000 BC, the Fir Dhomhnainn or Tuatha de Danann came to Eirrin-Eiru. There before them were the Fir Bholg. It was at Moytura the Danans put final defeat on the Firbolgs, and Danu ruled in Eirrin; she who was also the battle-goddess called Morrighu, and who may have been Diana, and who was to become Bhrigid and Bridget. The Firbolgs went off muttering, for they had been defeated by a people uncommonly skilled in crafts-one of which was necromancy. The Danans gained thus a name for sorcerous powers.

Long after came the sons of Mil, a few centuries before the birth of the carpenter’s son of Judaea who was to become the god of the New Faith, Iosa Chriost who was hanged by the Romans as a seditious rouser of the rabble-the Dead God. None knew whether there had been a Mil or Miledh, which the Romans and Romanized Britons called “Milesius.” Likely not. Likely he had been Mil Espaine-the Eirrish version of miles Hispaniae: soldier of Spain.

It was Celts he led, whatever his name, and Celts who had departed long ago to, pass through Greece and Spain and perhaps even Egypt, so that they had gained hair of colour other than red or blond, though their eyes remained blue or grey and occasionally green. They were the Gaels; Gailoin or Gaedhel, and it was at Bantry Bay they made landing.

Naturally the de Danann made resistance, and the war was joined.

Somehow the Gaels prevailed, despite the wizardry of the smaller defenders. Yet it was not quite a definitive victory; the Danans were neither slain to the last man nor forced to depart Eirrin. A bargain was struck, and it was strange indeed. The Danans went into the land. Their kingdom became a subterrene one, with the Gaels retaining control of the surface. Later many claimed that the Danans, the little people, were working their magicking on crops and livestock. The Poet of Daneira swore this was not true-though some Danan renegades may well have sought a harrying form of vengeance on the surface dwellers.

Above the tunnel of descent of each of the de Danann kings was erected a high sidh or fairy mound, and to the Gaels as time went on the Danans became the Sidhe . ‘Twas said by the Gaels that the Sidhe mocked them by crying out when one of the Gaelic number was to die. This was the fearsome wailing cry of the ban-Sidhe: the Banshee. With time, the Danans slid into Gaelic legend.

By their sorceries the Danans or Sidhe transformed the underworld into a place of beauty suitable for human habitation, and they throve there beneath the earth.

There was among them a source of constant contention: ever there were those who spoke out for their returning to make war on the Gaels, to reclaim their land. These agitators pointed out that the Danans were becoming even smaller in size and more and more pale, living forever without the sun. Aye, the wizards among them, the Servants of Danu, had created a moon for the goddess and to shed light on her people-but its light resulted in no tanning of the skin. Many among the Danans were ill and frail.

Gentler and more reasoned thoughts prevailed, for few doubted that were the Danans to attack those above, the Gaels would not stop this second time until there were no more of the de Danann on all the ridge of the world, north or south, east or west.

At last the Danans decided upon a more peaceful rule-of women, that there might be end to talk of war on those Gaels above, whom had become the Eirrish. It was an enormous step, long debated and decried by many.

Some among them continued to disagree, and could not reconcile themselves to the new way. At last they were sufficiently opposed to the gynecocracy to leave Eirrin. Here to this paradisic isle they journeyed, with a few animals and seeds and much hope. Daneira was founded at about the same time that a short dark man named Caius Julius Caesar led his hawknosed soldiers onto the shore of what to them was a new land: Britain. Here was founded the “city” of Danu of Eiru: Daneira.

As the poet recited the old story, heads in the hall of King Uaisaer came round and wide eyes exchanged looks. Excitement ran through the companions of mac Art like wind through a field of grain, stirring every head.

“Then… it’s possible there be de Danann yet, beneath fair Eirrin?” Samaire’s voice had risen in her excitement.

“Aye, o’course,” she was told, for why would there not be?

Art muttered.

“A crowned woman…”Wulfhere Skull-splitter muttered.

“Aye.”

Aye!

And Cormac told of the means by which Thulsa Doom could be lain to rest, and Cathbadh nodded agreement. The knowledge passed down from one Servant of Danu to the next confirmed the Gael’s belief. Cathbadh rose.

“Ye be friend to us, Cormac mac Art. Friend to the People of Danu. And the Tuatha de Danann, wherever they be, shall recognize ye as such by the necklace ye wear. An ye would seek out our cousins ’neath Eirrin and their queen-do so, in knowledge that welcome will be extended.”

Cormac frowned, fingering the pendant he wore on its silver chain-which tonight he wore outside the scarlet robe pressed upon him by his hosts. “But… Thulsa Doom too wears one…”

“The Moonbow on his chain is downside up, Cormac mac Art. Think ye I chose them not with care? His brands him in your control-and an enemy of humankind!”

“Blood of the gods! Then-it is possible after all. Thulsa Doom’s foul un-life must be ended-and it can be!”

“Cathbadh,” Samaire asked, quietly though with intenseness, “where be the Tuatha de Danann in Eirrin?”

“Aye,” Cathbadh said, “ in Eirrin, not on. There are Doors, lady Princess of Leinster, that lead to the subterrene demesne of the people of Danu. These Doorways are disguised and invisible, no longer truly beneath the mounds called sidhe, for all do know the Danans possess powers of magic never shared with the Gaels… who, after all, drove our people from their lands, though it be long and long agone and all here be friends. One such Doorway lies within the two long, mounded hills in the southwest…”

The wizard-priest described the place, and suddenly Samaire knew whereof he spoke.

“The Breasts of Danu! I know those two hills-it’s the Breasts of Danu they be called, to this day!”

Cathbadh smiled and exchanged a look of some pride with Uaisaer; the Danans and their goddess were hardly forgot, in Eirrin that had once been theirs!

“Another of the Doors,” Cathbadh said, “is in the hill of Bri Leith-”

“Long-ford,” Cormac snapped. “The hill at Long-ford! Why-it’s but a day’s walk and less from Tara Hill that Long-ford lies! Cathbadh: how find we this… Doorway, to the land below?”