Roads and Dreams
The lull of the music seemed to call to Lin. The small banter carried on between Roary and Fiona made a pleasant counterpoint, and soon the words melded with the pipes and bass, forming waves as consistent as the ocean breaking on the Irish shore and she succumbed to sleep. If Roary and Fiona noticed her head lolling on the back seat, it was only with a nod of mutual pleasure to see that Lin appeared to be finding some brief solace. As the car continued to eat along at the miles that separated them from their destination, they endeavored to keep their voices low in an effort to extend her slumber.
Lin found her dreaming self wandering in a field of green, her legs taking long strides that seemed not the least encumbered by the heavy skirts she wore. At her side was the setter she had adopted in college. Grainne paced her, the flowing red-gold of her pelt striking a jewel-like contrast to the green of the field. She laughed as the dog scented something and went to point, forming that strong and beautiful line that designated the direction of the game she had found. Lin lifted a hand to shield her gaze as she tried to find what Grainne was seeking. The lithe animal took off, her speed breathtaking for she was at her side in one moment and hundreds of yards away in what was only seconds. A brace of quails, startled by the setter's sudden appearance, flew up from the grasses. Grainne turned in circles, happy to be so free to run. Lin lifted her skirts and took flight as well, finally reaching her pet. She gave no thought to her dress as she threw her arms around the setter and rolled to the ground laughing and growling with her. They settled there, the dark-haired woman and fire-haired setter, enjoying the sun and the sky and the freedom of being together. The deep bellow of a horn interrupted their reverie. Grainne lifted her head from Lin's shoulder in question of the call, then stood. Sensing that the moment was over, Lin stood and straightened her skirts and hair as best she could. The setter took off in the direction of the horn's call and she followed curiously.
They walked up the long slope and through a grove of tall trees; as they broke the cover she found herself staring at an image from the pages of her old childhood book of tales. It was the castle of Cormac D'Art, High King of Ireland. She was at Tara. Suddenly she found herself surrounded by any number of cackling women, young and old, and being hurried inside. Grainne managed to weave herself in and out of the group as if she knew her place within this company. The women pushed and prodded Lin, leading her to a chamber where she was stripped of her simple dress and encouraged to don a more elaborate gown of green and gold. She was practically forced to sit as they began to comb her hair and weave it with ribbons. Through all of this, Grainne stayed comfortingly at her feet. She found herself beginning to pick up on some of the scattered conversation. Tonight was apparently a big feast. The High King had finally agreed to host Fionn MacCumhal and members of the Fianna. This was followed by giggles and blushing. A question was directed to her. She was too stunned to answer. They had called her Grania. She glanced down at the setter, whose eyes were liquid with knowledge. The dog at least knew who truly carried this ancient name. Lin smiled. This made all of the women breathe more freely. Apparently satisfied that she had answered their question, they finished preparing her and left. Lin tried to unravel what she could remember of the tale that had inspired her to give her pet its name. She was interrupted in her musings by a summons to come to table.
The High King, Grania's father, introduced her formally to the leader of the Fianna, Fionn MacCumhal and to the higher ranked members of the Fianna he had brought with him. To be truly honest, Lin was not really paying that much attention to the names of the men she was introduced to as she had just finally caught on to the reason for the gathering. She caught the name of MacCumhal's son, Oisin, but that was all that she remembered though the host was not that large. It seemed that this was a betrothing dinner for herself and MacCumhal. She kept finding herself looking back at the man who was clearly older than Cormac. What would possess someone to marry off a young girl to such an old man? It was not until they were seated and she looked across the table from herself that she saw him. In that one gaze she felt her heart fairly stop. His eyes were a strange shade of blue, for when the light caught them one way, they were almost grey, yet when caught in another they were so blue it was like looking at the sky. His hair was a wild mess of curls. His chin was square and hard, but it was his smile made that made the room stop. She knew then that she could never marry the old man, and felt certain the real Grania would not either.
She called to one of the women who had helped her at her dress that evening. Without even understanding how she knew what she was asking for, she bade the woman bring her the largest jeweled cup from Grania's dowry. Lin filled the cup with her own hands from the wines that were available and added a powder from the locket she wore. She took it to Fionn, who was well pleased that she offered it to him first. Then she made the round of the table, leaving only the core of the Fianna before she approached the blue-eyed man. Speaking boldly she told him that she loved him and asked him to accept her geasa to take her from the castle this night so that she might be his and never suffer the marriage to Fionn.
Diarmuid, for that was the name of the man she had approached, was completely torn. He was a loyal member of the Fianna. Yet with one look he had known he loved the Princess Grania deeply. He asked several of the men in the Fianna in turn and each agreed that such a geasa could not be ignored. They urged him to go, but to remember that Fionn would hunt them 'til the end of their days, such would be his anger at the loss of his prize and the wounding of his pride. And so it was that Lin found herself leaping the high wall of the castle that night with Diarmuid, her only regret leaving Grainne within the walls.
Oisin, bound by his love for both his father and Diarmuid, could do no more than secure two good horses for them. These they found outside the castle. They rode hard into the night and when the horses could travel no more, Diarmuid used them one last time to lay several false trails before he and Lin set off on foot. The sun rose and still they traveled. It was not until the moon bade them welcome on the second night that Diarmuid took her to wife.
Roary and Fiona noticed that Lin's dream seemed to be moving into more troubled areas as she moved restlessly in the seat behind them. Fiona moved as if to wake her, but Roary held out a hand to stop her. "Sometimes it's best if we work through the worst in sleep; it leaves the soul a clear head in the mornin'," he noted. This seemed to be enough for Fiona though the troubled look remained on her brow.
In the dream, the faces of Diarmuid and Roary seemed to slip and shift replacing each other, until the shaft of light fell upon her and she found Grainne's muzzle on her leg. Diarmuid moved quickly. "We mus' go," he said in the Gaelic tongue. "Surely Oisin has sent your pet ahead as a warning to us. They canna' be far behind." They made haste to leave. A few moments of tension occurred as Lin tried to convince him to let her keep Grainne with them. But it was clear that this was dangerous for the couple as well as for the setter. She kissed the dog and sent her on her way.
When the dog returned, Fionn was furious. It was clear to him that someone had sent her out as a warning. The dream wove together as a patchwork quilt from then on. Brief visions of bright days and laughter, warm languorous nights and flashes of danger. Lin was taken from a fort by Angus Og to Brugh na Boinne, and protected within the arms of the Tuatha de DaNaan, as Diarmuid had been his foster son. Diarmuid had leapt over the heads of Fionn's own militia and danced his way back to her. When the mercenaries had come to support Fionn's search for them, Diarmuid had bested them by challenging them to three feats. They had lost over thirty men trying to replicate his balancing of a barrel on the cliff's edge, standing on the tip of his pike and walking the edge of his sword. After this he had revealed himself to the remaining twenty and cut them down like wheat.
Still Fionn pursued them. Finally, Diarmuid found a place of refuge for them in a forest guarded by the Tuatha de DaNaan. Each of these triumphs were pieces of the dream that led Lin full circle back to the Castle of Cormac where she found herself, older and riper, yet still living with the square-jawed hero of her dreams. "Rath Grania," she whispered and smiled in her dream. She was preparing a feast; the Fianna was to be there. Diarmuid had gone out to hunt. There was something, something that Lin would know and Grania would not. Something she needed to tell this man about the day. He should not go. She could not remember what it was. Lin could see him there in the forest, his pike at the ready. She saw from above, as if she were a bird, a wild boar crashing through the wood. She remembered then. "Run," she screamed. It came out only as a loud caw. She had remembered. He was under a geasa from his time at Angus Og's court. He could only live as long as this boar. It was another old tale, and it twisted through her like a knife.
As the boar charged out of the wood and the tusk drove into Diarmuid simultaneously with his pike driving into the boar, Lin woke. She was sweating and breathing hard, then tears came, unbidden and unstoppable.
"Lord, how I miss that dog," was all that she said aloud.
Fiona caught this last statement. There were only three dogs she could recall that would cause her daughter such grief; each had held a very special place in Lin's heart as they had in hers. But only one could be tied directly to this land, to Ireland. Grainne. They were heading toward a place that centered around the stories of the original Grania. "Could this somehow tie into what Darby had been talking about?" she wondered. Putting this thought aside, she suggested that Roary find a place to stop so that they could stretch their legs and refresh their pallets and spirits. Seeing the tears rolling down Lin's face and feeling completely helpless, Roary readily agreed.
As Lin stepped from the car, she stopped and gazed at Roary. Her look was so long and intense that it made Roary shiver under it. Whatever the dream had been, it had not given her comfort or rest. It appeared to have left her with more questions and uncertainties.
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