Hounds and Holes:
The day at Coole started out magnificently. The air was sharp and clear, the scents carrying themselves so pungently that they seemed to be able to bring forth all the memories shared by those who had labored here to urge a merging of the cultural past with the chaos of the then-present political concerns of the country. These peaceful grounds seemed to froth with the energy of all those who had struggled with outer and inner turmoil here.
After making their way through the guided tour, they followed Nana around as she made her notes for the travelogue she would eventually write for the literary-minded public. The boys eventually grew tired of the slow pace and the constant camera flashing. Asking permission to investigate on their own, they took off together to delve more deeply into those areas that interested them most. Lin reminded them that they were their brother's keepers, the idea being that they should always stay together. She hoped they would remember the recent events with Sean and stick close together, but she feared their differing interests might not keep them on track. Despite her misgivings, she knew they needed the freedom to explore. She watched them disappear around the tall hedges, hoping that there was little trouble they could find on the estate. They were to meet back up at the copper beech in just over an hour, little enough time to find too much trouble, she mused. She excused herself from her mother and set off to find a quiet place to enter her thoughts into her notebook. Fiona waved an absent-minded hand in her direction; she was absorbed in her project. It was good to see her Mom so happy and involved. Wandering through the estate sent a sort of energized thrill through Lin. She had studied the work of Lady Gregory, Yeats, Synge and the others who had worked to bring the Irish National Theatre into being. It was something of a treat to be here at Coole for her. She made her way to the autograph tree and curled up on the ground where she could view it. She could not make out the carvings from where she sat, but she could see the rough edges of them. She pulled out her notebook and began to write.
Sean and Ian stayed together until they reached the edge of the lake. Ian was disappointed; he had hoped that the bed would be dry. He had wanted to search the dry bed for the swallet. The best he could do now was check out the vegetation and make note of any that was typical only to turloughs. It was not a highlight for him. He trudged up to a rise and found a place to sit. Pulling out a pad of paper and a pencil, he began to sketch the area. With his head tucked down and engrossed in his drawing, he did not notice when Sean, bored with the current location, walked on.
Sean loved the feel of the air. It was sort of electric. It wasn't unpleasant like the static that builds up on your socks at home, it was a tingle that wandered all over your skin making you want to wiggle and giggle at the same time. He felt sort of silly, but, it made him want to smile, a huge silly smile. Noting that he was alone, he did just that. He was not the kind of kid that whistled or hummed, but he found himself humming along and almost skipping as he made his way along through the tall grasses. It was such a fine day. He found himself on the edge of a small turlough, not even really big enough to be called a lake. He dipped a finger in, it was icy cold. Sucking on the finger, he found the taste of the water was somewhere between fishy and sweet, not exactly appetizing, but not too gross. He put down his bag and laid back with his head on it. He supposed he should be doing something important, like writing down his thoughts or trying to document the space in some way. He just did not feel like doing anything more than lying here and enjoying this great place. He watched as the clouds danced around the sun beams and, smiling, drifted off to sleep.
Ian was surprised when the old man sat down next to him on the small rise. He had not even heard him approach. He guessed he must have been really into the sketch, though looking at it now, it did not seem like he had gotten very much down on paper. He had only managed a bare outline of the place and the hint of the way the light struck the water. The man sat there quietly, as if waiting for Ian to notice him. Finally, if for no other reason than it seemed the polite thing to do, Ian said, "Hello, I'm Ian."
"Hello, Ian," replied the Old Man. "I don't suppose ye come here often, do ye?"
"No, we are only just touring through," replied Ian.
"Well, then," said the Old Man, "What would ye most like to know about?"
The question caught Ian off guard. Who was this man that he would ask something like that? Was he a curator for the estate? "Do you mean about Coole?"
"No, I mean about anything," said the Old Man. "What animal draws you the most from all the old Irish tales?"
"Well, that's easy," said Ian. "I've always liked the tales that have the Irish Wolfhounds in them. I guess the stags are cool, and the one with the magic fish, and of course that one with the wild boar."
"Well, that's more than one, but we can start with the first one you mentioned," said the Old Man. "Would you like to know more about why the wolfhound was so important to the Chieftains of the land?"
Ian turned to face the Old Man, definitely intrigued. His pencil rolled from his hand into the tufts of weed near his knees. "Yes," he replied, "I think I would like that very much."
"The story is not that hard to tell. Ye see, young Ian, wolfhounds are animals of great loyalty and strength. Their strength is in their body, their character and in their heart. Once ye bind a wolfhound to ye, he will’na’ break that bond and all that he does will be to support the one he calls his own. So ye see, these beasts became prized of the Chieftains. It was the High King Conor who brought them to their lofty level. He kept them, many of them at his fireside. It is said that he loved his hounds more than his Fianna. The hounds lived in the main hall and were treated to the best of the best. Many criticized the King for this. Then there came a time when the lands were threatened. The people were ravaged and many members of the Fianna were lost in battle. When the King learned of the fighting, he led his men from the keep and took his hounds with him. Again the people laughed at him. But this would be the last time they laughed. That day on the field of battle, there were those that watched as the battle raged and those hounds defended what was theirs. They defended with all that they were, with their strength of body, of heart and of character. They rose as a pack, stronger than the strongest wedge of the Fianna. It was the hounds that led the wave that broke the enemy's back and sent them literally hounded back into the sea. And so it was from that day forward that all the leaders of the land sought to have such prizes of loyalty and strength tied to support them. Of course, ye will hear other stories of his hounds, but that is for another day."
The Old Man smiled and tapped Ian on the back.
"If I were an animal then, that would be my choice, to be loyal and brave and strong like that," said Ian.
"Lad," said the Old Man. "It's a good thing ye think that way, but probably not wise to be speakin' it out loud in these parts, faery land and all." He chuckled good naturedly and rose to his feet, pulling a gnarled stick up with him. "I had best go find my supper now. I enjoyed passing the time with ye."
Ian realized how late it must be and jumped up, dropping his pad. "I enjoyed it too, Mr.?"
But the Old Man had already started down the path and did not answer. Ian scooped up his pencil and pad stuffed them in his pack and began calling for Sean. He couldn't believe how much time had passed. Sean was nowhere in sight. He could not go back without him. He ran back to where he had seen him last. He could just make out some breaks in the tall grasses. Trying to think like a tracker, he followed what seemed like a drunken sailor's path. He found Sean asleep at the side of a small lake. He shook him awake and urged him to hurry. Sean pulled himself together.
He did not seem to understand the urgency, but followed his brother anyway. Why Ian always had to be in such a press just did not seem to register with him. When they got back to the beech tree, Nana and their Mom were patiently waiting.
"You're back early, that's a surprise," said Lin. "Well, that should make the evening drive smoother, let's get going."
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