Fantasy fiction; Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Mythology, Celtic -- Fiction
The years passed, and the child grew from childhood into boyhood and
from boyhood into manhood, and from being curious about all things
he became busy with strange and subtle thoughts which came to him in
dreams, and with distinctions between things long held the same and
with the resemblance of things long held different. Multitudes came from
other lands to see him and to ask his counsel, but there were guards set
at the frontiers, who compelled all that came to wear the feathers of
the grey hawk in their hair. While they listened to him his words seemed
to make all darkness light and filled their hearts like music; but,
alas, when they returned to their own lands his words seemed far off,
and what they could remember too strange and subtle to help them to live
out their hasty days. A number indeed did live differently afterwards,
but their new life was less excellent than the old: some among them had
long served a good cause, but when they heard him praise it and their
labour, they returned to their own lands to find what they had loved
less lovable and their arm lighter in the battle, for he had taught them
how little a hair divides the false and true; others, again, who
had served no cause, but wrought in peace the welfare of their own
households, when he had expounded the meaning of their purpose, found
their bones softer and their will less ready for toil, for he had shown
them greater purposes; and numbers of the young, when they had heard him
upon all these things, remembered certain words that became like a fire
in their hearts, and made all kindly joys and traffic between man and
man as nothing, and went different ways, but all into vague regret.
When any asked him concerning the common things of life; disputes about
the mear of a territory, or about the straying of cattle, or about the
penalty of blood; he would turn to those nearest him for advice; but
this was held to be from courtesy, for none knew that these matters were
hidden from him by thoughts and dreams that filled his mind like the
marching and counter-marching of armies. Far less could any know that
his heart wandered lost amid throngs of overcoming thoughts and dreams,
shuddering at its own consuming solitude.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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