Druid E-Book

alastair macleod

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

"That night there was talk in the Dun, of strangers. A traveler had brought word of the great metal army, like a snake, wending its way north. It was nearing the Dee. "Rhodri’s spies say they are headed for Ynnys Mon.” “Who are they dada?” Daffydd said. “Romans,” replied his father. “They control Brittany and much besides. Now they have invaded Britain.” “What will we do?" said Daffydd . “The war sign is out, the tribes are assembling. This will be a bloody battle. Daffydd I don’t want you mixed up in this. You are to go to Ynnys Mon tomorrow. Nothing should interrupt your training.” "But father,” protested Daffydd. “You chose your path, swore the oath, 'tis with the Druids you must make your stand, to protect The Knowledge. Celynn, your master will go with you.”

Leseprobe

Alastair Macleod

Druid

"And the magic harp, hewn from an ancient tree, yet spoke to the people of the clans; of The Way, and of The Knowledge, and of Isis."BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 Munich

Druid

“It is AD 60; across the water, from the ancient land of Gwynned, you can clearly see the sacred green island of Ynnys Mon (Anglesey).”

The white clover was on the small fields on the hills. A cuckoo sang out from the oak wood. A sure sign. Summer had come.

Daffydd sat under the hawthorn reciting the poem. Around him in the shade sat his sheep, for the day was unusually hot. From here he could see right across to the dark groves of the island of Ynnys Mon.

He would lead his flock down to the stream later in the afternoon. That stream was so cold it chilled the body if you bathed in it.

From the mountains behind it came, tumbling down from the heights, to be shaded by rowans and aspens in ravines, then by willows and ash in the valley.

He was eleven and already had begun his training. He was memorising the phases of the sun over a certain range of hills

“When the sun rises of a morning over Caer Idris it is mid winter, when it rises over the valley of Istimmon it is Gwanwynn, when it rises over ……

He stopped, for down by the stream he glimpsed pack horses through the trees wending their way up towards the mountain pass to his right.

It would be the men of Bodior, a fierce lot and they had to be. Gold traders from Anglesey carrying Irish gold to the royal duns of tribes inland.

He had seen them before and had been warned by his father to keep out of their way.

He thought of his own way. His Druid master Celynn, had said,

“Now you must begin the way. A human is threefold, Body, Mind and Soul.

You will teach your Body through gymnastics, exercise and war feats. Your Mind will exercise through poetry, numbers and music. Your Soul by worship of the Great mother in nature and through meditation in solitary places.”

Before his eleventh birthday Ithel, his father, had said he must chose,

“Farmer, Warrior or Druid, which shall it be?”

“Druid.” replied Daffydd.

His father had known the answer to this question for some time. For his son already watched the heavens, revelled in numbers and words, and studied nature to discover its secrets. He yearned for The Knowledge.

His father had explained it might be a difficult life. He would have to leave home and travel to the hedge school, he would have to go to solitary places, sacred islands, into the sacred grove, learn to master his own mind.

But Daffydd was not daunted by his father’s words; if anything it made his path seem all the more interesting.

Another year and he would go to the island. His first Druid master’s function was to train him and test him to see if he was fit for the way. And not all of the sacred knowledge was to be revealed at once, but unfolded to the apprentice as the adept became more illumined.

He returned to his recitation. He had to have this off for tonight.

In the spring of the first year he had had to take an oath.

He had stood by the immortal yew and said “By Isis the Mother of us all, by the oak and the ash and the holy rowan tree, I swear allegiance to the way and to reveal no secrets to those outside of the sangha*.”

This was one of many oaths he would swear on the way for at each level an oath was taken. Another Druid had held burning rowan leaves under his nose; he had began to feel light headed, then his surroundings seemed to dance before his eyes, the trees around him glowing faintly with a blue green light.

In that first year he had had to meditate in the woods, where the holly grove was, for a whole summer month, living off berries and leaves and stream water and what else he could catch; fish or game. Later he also had to run and complete warlike gymnastic feats, and now, they were testing his memory for knowledge about the sun and the moon.

He would be twelve this January. If he passed the final test with his own Druid master here, he would cross to Ynnys Mon to the Druid College.

In all before him lay 12 years of study. But he was delighted. He had enjoyed the early tests.

The warning call of the blackbird sang out. Then all was quiet. Something had disturbed it. He saw the flash of light on armour in the valley.

That night there was talk in the Dun, of strangers.

A traveller had brought word of the great metal army like, a snake, wending its way north. It was nearing the Dee.

“Rhodri’s spies say they are headed for Ynnys Mon.”