The King of Sleep (15 page)

The air within the ring was fresh and cool in the afternoon sun. There was a soothing serenity to the place which settled the soul. For the first time in many seasons he sensed the stillness within himself. His heart was light. All his kingly troubles seemed mere petty trifles to be easily dealt with.

Eber had not felt so safe since he was a boy. Indeed it was as if he'd suddenly become a lad again without any worry or responsibility to disturb his sleep. His
mind raced through all the experiences of his childhood and youth as if his whole existence from cradle to this moment were being played out in his memory.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he was overcome with gratitude for having been granted such a rich life. Fond faces came to him, folk he hadn't thought of since he was very young. Intense waves of emotion began to wash over the king. His knees felt weak. They quivered beneath him as if all strength had suddenly been sapped from his legs. He turned on his heel, feeling light-headed and drowsy.

It was then Eber Finn noticed hordes of tiny mushrooms all around the inside perimeter of the circle. They were gathered close to the stones as if they were keeping the gray rocks from falling over. Each had a long cap and a stem of milky white.

Fried in fresh butter, mushrooms were the king's favorite delicacy. But these were a species of fungus he had never seen before. The temptation to pick a few to take home overwhelmed him and he took ten steps toward the edge of the circle.

But then he realized how strange it was to see mushrooms so abundant at this time of year. He had seen none in the fields beyond. This multitude of little fungi was growing here under the protection of the spirits of the stone circle. They were not being cultivated for food but for the secret seeing rituals of the Druids. To eat them unprepared would be to tempt either madness or death.

Eber swallowed hard, realizing that he was feeling
absolutely no fear at all. This wasn't natural, he told himself. He was obviously falling under some enchantment and beginning to feel as if the world in which he usually dwelled was slipping away from him.

It was then he noticed the bright sunlight being quickly blotted out by a muffled foggy haze. The haze soon spread into a mist which brought a deep drowsiness down upon him like a great weight. Still no fear disturbed his heart, only wonder at the transformation. The green of the grass darkened before his astounded gaze. The gray of the stones turned to a tone that was cold and yet intensely beautiful.

The mist grew thicker with every moment until Eber could perceive nothing beyond the enclosing circle of roughly hewn stones. Even the bodies and branches of the guardian trees were no longer visible to him.

The king felt an overwhelming urge to remain here in this place forever. Some unfamiliar voice whispered to him that he would be welcome to stay, to take refuge from the troubles of the world and rest his weary soul.

Eber was not disturbed to hear this disembodied voice. Indeed he felt privileged the spirits of this circle had given a sign of welcome. But his head ached with a numbing intensity now. His throat was dry and he felt he could sleep forever.

The voice spoke up again and told him to stretch out upon the grass and sleep away until his soul was refreshed and ready for the world again. He would be
watched over and safe no matter what befell the world beyond the stones.

He was so tired. The lawn in the center of the circle looked so soft and inviting.

“Sleep,” the strange voice beckoned. “Sleep away your cares and we will watch over you.”

With bowed head the King of the Gaedhals began to succumb. But first he decided it was important he express his gratitude to the unseen guardians of this place. So he made his dreamy way back toward a flattened swirl of grass in the center of the lawn. There he knelt to offer up a prayer of thanks. And before he knew what he was saying he was addressing the inexplicable powers that had shaped his life. He couldn't name them because he'd never acknowledged their existence before.

“Thank you for the hunger which set my heart to searching,” he offered. “Thank you for the ocean wave which carried me through storm and tempest to this shore. Thank you for the wind that tore my sails and tried to send me home. Thank you for every misfortune great and small that has held me back and frustrated me.”

In that instant he knew there was really no such thing as hardship. Every trial was just a strengthening process which enhanced his life with the wisdom it imparted.

“And thank you for the lessons I have learned along the way.”

Eber raised his arms and the mist departed before
his unbelieving eyes. Suddenly he felt the sun on his skin once more. He closed his eyes and turned his face toward its warmth.

“I thank you,” he went on, “whose face is too terrible to look upon, whose light brings life unto the world. My thanks to you, the source of all things, who brought fire into the darkness, who created every living thing and grants new life each day.”

Then Eber got to his feet. The air vibrated with an ecstatic enlivening energy but he felt the opportunity to remain in this place had passed. He bowed reverently to the four corners of the Earth.

When this was done he quickly made his way to the edge of the circle. The feeling of peace and serenity did not leave him when he stepped over the stones, so he decided to indulge himself and enjoy the elation he was experiencing. In the shade of a young oak tree which grew within a stone's throw of the sacred enclosure Eber Finn lay down and stared at the circle with awe. After a while he closed his eyes, still experiencing the intense peace within his soul.

His thoughts were buzzing with pleasant memories and warm recollections. He hummed a little childhood song to himself and smiled. And above all he felt refreshed, as if he had slept for a week and woken to a new world.

Gradually, however, the mood began to pass and Eber's worldly concerns began to press in on him. His brother's demands filled his thoughts.

In the first few seasons after the treaty with the
Danaans was settled Eber Finn had not dared to defy his brother. He had been working hard to secure his own position as King of the South. Too many of the southern chieftains had close friends or kinfolk in the north, and Eber depended on the support of those chieftains to retain his office. However, he had continued to push for the chieftains to build the war-chariots, presenting the Danaans as the real threat. And all the while he had been hoping to foster good relations with the Danaan court.

He wondered what the chieftains would say when they discovered he had been quietly planning to forge an alliance with the very people he had told them were untrustworthy enemies.

The king grinned. What would old Máel Máedóc say when he found out? He congratulated himself on his wily deception, the fruits of which would soon come to maturity.

“What better ally could the Southern Gaedhals have,” Eber reasoned proudly under his breath, rehearsing his speech to the council, “than a people who possess the secret of immortality? The kinfolk of Danu will help us defeat the threats from my brother in the north.”

By the end of the coming winter Eber incorrectly reckoned he would have perhaps thirty of the war-carts at his disposal. The kingship of the whole island would soon be within his grasp.

Now it was time to put the next part of his plan into action. It was time to announce his intentions and
forge a stronger alliance with the Danaans, an alliance based on mutual obligation in time of war. But Eber was aware he had to be careful to retain the loyalty of his chieftains.

Of course Eber had no way of knowing that his task was hopeless. He had no true understanding of what had really taken place when the Danaans had retreated into the Otherworld. The People of Danu would not stand beside him because they had traveled to a place beyond the cares of this material realm.

The king looked up to the sky as he imagined himself as the first Gaedhal elected High-King of all Eirinn.

“I will father a clan of leaders,” he muttered to himself, “who will honor my name forever. I will be the first High-King of the Gaedhals.”

“You have grand expectations of yourself,” a woman's voice cut in mockingly.

Eber was snapped out of his daydream as surely as if a cauldron of cold water had been thrown over him. In a second he was on his feet and scanning the area. He shuddered with fright when he could see no one else around. It was then he missed his sword.

“Are you looking for this?”

The tall, red-haired woman seemed to step out of nowhere as if a door to the Otherworld were concealed nearby. Now she was standing in front of Eber, smiling sweetly as she offered him his blade.

The king knew her immediately and quickly calmed himself. He was shaken by her unexpected
arrival but he didn't want her to think he was unsettled by her strange ways.

“Isleen? Where did you spring from?”

“I'm visiting the holy stones,” she explained. “This ground was not given to your people. Why are you trespassing here?”

“Why must you always sneak around like that?” he countered. “Can't you announce yourself like everyone else? It's usually considered the polite thing to do!”

“I'm sorry if I surprised you,” she soothed. “I noticed you were meditating. I didn't mean to startle you.”

She took a step closer to hand him his weapon and Eber snatched the hilt out of her grasp.

“You didn't startle me!” he hissed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked again. “This is Danaan holy ground. You have no rights here. That is the agreement you made with our folk.”

“I was curious.”

“Don't be. There are spirits dwelling in this place which you can never safely approach. Not even if you were to undergo initiation into the mysteries. Your curiosity will serve you better if employed to more worldly tasks. There is still a lot of work to be done if your dreams are ever to come true.”

“I have had a strange experience,” he admitted. “I feel so much closer to my goal.”

“You have been lulled by the spirits of the circle,” Isleen countered coldly. “Only a fool would carry the
elation felt within the safety of the stones into the outer world where greed reigns and mortals chase ambition.”

“I know I'll be High-King.”

“If you listen to my advice and do not question me, you will have whatever you desire,” she assured him. “I've told you that many times before.”

“Why are you helping me?” Eber asked suspiciously. “Why are you betraying your people to aid my cause?”

Isleen smiled but she didn't answer.

“Why are you afraid that Fineen the Danaan Druid will find out you are dwelling with me? Why don't you want my own people to know that you have been acting as my adviser?”

“You have a suspicious mind,” she chided. “That's a good thing for a king. Especially an ambitious one. As a matter of fact I don't see my collusion with you to be an act of betrayal at all. As for Fineen, he has his reasons for mistrusting me. Well-founded reasons, I might add.”

She stepped closer to the king, close enough to run a finger down his cheek. “You see, my dear king, one day I intend to marry you. One day I will be your queen. What do you think of that?”

The Gaedhal breathed in a deep draught of her sweet scent. It reminded him of lavender mixed with a delicate touch of early morning dew in the springtime.

“I like the idea,” Eber grinned, as intoxicated as if
he'd swallowed a measure of mead. The soulful sparkle in her deep green eyes always enthralled him and he silently surrendered his spirit.

“You must realize that I've gained a few enemies during my life,” Isleen went on. “Folk like Fineen would rather see me banished than wed to a king.”

Eber frowned, wondering what crimes she had committed that would inspire such hatred from her own folk. Isleen saw the concern on his face and spoke before he had an opportunity to give voice to his doubts.

“I don't want to wed a weak ruler,” she warned. “I want a king who truly is the lord of all the land. I want to live in luxury. I want to feast until I'm full, and sleep sound in the knowledge that no man would dare attempt to take this life away from me.”

“You shall have that assurance.”

“But how?” Isleen shrugged. “How can you promise me such security while your brother is arming for war? As we speak he's planning to come here and take your hard-won kingdom away from you.”

“If Éremon marches into my kingdom I'll be ready for him,” Eber stated.

“Will you? And will you rely on your own young warriors to defend the south?”

“It was always our plan to bring your people in to help me,” the king reminded her. “I've already invited Brocan to the midsummer feast. I plan to win his confidence then and gain his aid.”

“There's only one way to ensure an alliance with
the Fir-Bolg,” Isleen countered. “And that is by bond of marriage.”

“I'll gladly marry you to forge that bond.”

The woman laughed out loud, laying the palm of her hand against his chest to steady herself. Eber relished her touch and smiled back, utterly captivated by everything about her.

“I am nothing to my people but a wandering Druid,” she explained. “Marriages of alliance are not forged with the daughter of a homeless poet. The woman you wed must be of noble blood, preferably the offspring of a war-leader or a king.”

“I thought you said you wanted to marry me?” Eber frowned.

“And so I will one day when your first wife has served her purpose. For a while we will have to continue to conceal our feelings for one another. Do you think you can do that?”

Eber nodded. Isleen smiled. That is what they had been doing for the last three winters.

“I very much doubt you will be able to keep your intentions to yourself indefinitely,” she scoffed mischievously. “But we'll worry about that problem when it arises.”