Delaney. Part XXV
When the grove of druids is assembled near Blackrock that evening there is a steady rain so that no ritual fires can be lit. It is a small community of not more than 40 druids. Men and women who occupy all stations of life living and work around Dunleer, Dundalk and Drogheda. Most are in their 20s and 30s but there are several older druids who carry the history of this grove tracing its roots back to pre-Christian times, but there are large gaps in the timeline and most do not believe there is any sort of uninterrupted legacy that connects the groves through the ages. The druids believe they are bound to earlier groves through time via the earth – this plot of land on the coast of the Irish Sea. Even if there have been lengthy periods without any druidic grove in the area, the land remembers, and she carries the history from the ancient groves to this one.
The children of the adult druids have assembled in a nearby barn and the older children manage the younger. They are mostly left to play without supervision in the hay loft, but some older children teach younger ones a few druidic harvest chants in anticipation of the upcoming harvest rituals.
The area known as Blackrock is so named due to an abundance of obsidian and because of the dark, craggy bluffs jutting up along the Irish Sea. There is one bluff in particular claimed by the druids. The tallest. Many eons ago a tectonic shift created a two-tiered formation upon the face of the bluff, so that one can walk from the flat top of the highest point and descend step by step upon to another level. In the center of that second level there is a small rock formation much like a podium, so one may stand with their back to the sea and face the semicircular rows of steps leading to the top. It is in this natural amphitheater that druids have gathered through the centuries to worship and to call forth the mysteries of the natural order in their incantations.
Lord Pan stands at the stone podium as the grove of druids gather before him upon the steps, a cold rain falling lightly on their hooded wool cloaks. While not comfortable conditions for meeting outdoors on this Irish night upon the threshold of autumn, they consider the midnight rain a favorable omen.
“My friends,” Lord Pan begins, his voice rising above the murmur of raindrops falling around them. “The time has finally come for our goddess to ascend her rightful place.
“The prophesy which the gods overseeing her childbirth wrote upon the arm have been gradually coming to pass.
“In a house of murder, grows her wealth
In the darkness blooms her cunning
The smell of Blackthorn upon the goddess
Cultivate her fate and prosper, poison it and be destroyed
“Years ago, these same gods saw fit to position Alex Cosgrove as lord over a Murder Factory. When he married, he took for himself a wife named after the ancient goddess Brigid and she bore him a daughter. But it was not this girl whom the gods had chosen, and so her life was taken, and the womb of Brigid was closed until the fullness of time.
“Years later the Cosgroves took in a young man from the Friary, and the fates began to move everything into place, taking our goddess from the convent in Dunleer and moving her to the very Friary from which the Cosgroves sought a young helper to work the earth.
“But there were forces standing in the way of the fulfilment of this destiny. And so, the fates began to shift the watercourse of the universe toward the purposes they willed. The young man working the soil passed away, along with the Friar who stood in the way of our goddess’ destiny. An opening in the universe made space for the child to step into the role of earth worker. ‘Cultivate her fate and prosper, poison it and be destroyed.’
“It was at this moment that the vacancy in the hearts of the Cosgroves attached itself to our goddess, and they brought her into their lineage. This angered the forces working against the prophesy. And a power seeking to remove the goddess arose, calling her across the sea. The nun who delivered the child sought to poison her fate by sending her away, and she was repaid for her efforts, turned to an imbecile.
“Finally, just other day, another advance occurred in the flow of the fates. The Murder Factory was bequeathed to our goddess. In the event of Alex Cosgrove’s death, his wife Brigid becomes the benefactor of the Murder Factory. But in the event of both their deaths, their only living relative, our goddess Delaney, comes into her destiny!”
There are howls from the onlooking druids, most of whom have been waiting since the discovery of the tattooed child ten years ago. Others, like Lord Pan, have sensed the rise of a great queen several decades ago and have been watching for her to be revealed. And so, while they shiver under a cold drizzle without a bonfire, they are warmed in the euphoria one feels when drawing near to the realization of a long-awaited dream.
“Her destiny will not be forestalled!” Pan shouts. “The watercourse of the universe will not be stopped. Her name ‘Delaney’ means child of dark defiance. Even the nun who named her has bowed to the forces carrying her toward this destiny. And her family name, Cosgrove – means victorious. Our victorious child of dark defiance! Mortals have no power to oppose her. They may only cultivate or attempt to poison the desinty. But in the end, she will receive the reward of her calling. Daughter of the great and ancient goddess Brigid! Ruler of the House of Murder! Planter of the Blackthorn hedge! Our queen, Delaney!”
And in a state of ecstatic exuberance, the grove of druids chant her name, working themselves into a frenzied elation.
****
Jackson has a glint in his eyes when he speaks to Shelly Monday morning. He wants to show her something. Ash and Magdalene are intrigued by his oblique references to “a place you’re going to love,” and “you need to promise to keep it a secret,” so that they beg to accompany them.
“I’ve already discredited myself to the corporation,” he tells them. “I would hate to see Ash’s record sullied by being seen in such a questionable establishment.”
“OK, now I’m hooked. I’ve got to come along.” Ash announces. And Frank and Adrienne are likewise lured in by the mystery.
“Delaney is working a shift this morning.” Frank says. “I think I’d like to visit this den of corporate iniquity you speak of.”
And so, with a few more dire warnings from Jackson, they pile into an open carriage, Jackson up front with the driver. He shows the man a piece of paper and the man shrugs. Apparently, it is a place he’s unaware of or unsure about, but he snaps the horses into motion all the same.
They leave the town limits of Drogheda northward and after an hour pass by Dunleer. Finally, they come into an unincorporated town by the name of Readypenny with just a few houses and a couple of buildings. The driver stops a man on the main road to show him the piece of paper Jackson has provided, and the man points further down the road. They travel in that direction but can’t seem to find the location they’re looking for, so they stop a woman. She shrugs and shakes her head dumbfounded and the chatter in the open carriage between Shelly, Magdalene, Ash, Adrienne and Frank mounts. They are all guessing as to what strange place might be the bane of the City of London Corporation in this small town.
Finally, Jackson holds his hand up to them as he steps off of the driver’s bench and walks up to a two-story home, one of the largest in this small town.
“Just a second, let me check this first.”
A man comes to the door and chats with Jackson. From aboard the carriage they see a broad smile take over his face.
“This is it,” he shouts waving them over. “Come on in.”
The dismounting company look to one another in curiosity. Surely this could not be the home of some sort of debauchery. My goodness, Jackson wouldn’t bring a Franciscan Friar and a nineteen-year-old youth to such a place, would he?
When they enter the home, they see that nearly the entire first floor has been turned into a massive library. Frank stands before the threshold to the great room beaming.
“This, my friends, is a covert library. In here you will find some books that are common in the corporate run libraries – economic texts or books from the prior age deemed of value. But, if you look carefully, you will also find many works which you cannot be found in any corporate libraries. Texts which promote other economic systems or ways of governance that are anathema to the corporation.
“Shelly, I’d like to show you some of the texts which were brought to England from Ethiopia by a crew of Ethiopian Orthodox. They planted the seeds of revolution among the Bengalis in the Tower Hamlets of east London. They describe the educational systems, farming, and community organizing practices which have served as the foundation for the Bengali Autonomous Region. And Frank I believe you may find religious texts from a woman named Dorothy Day or from Catholic clerics like Oscar Romero who promoted the rights of workers in the Americas.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Ireland’s only unauthorized library!”
The band of visitors look to one another with a mixture of morbid curiosity and clandestine glee. Jackson takes Shelly by the hand and pulls her to a section of books with the subheading – governance and community organizing, while the others fan out.
Ash asks the man who opened the home to them, “Do you have any books in braille?”
“I have a few.” He says. “A Bible, of course, and the Iliad, along a few works from the mid-twentieth century.”
Frank and Adrienne wander inquisitively from bookcase to bookcase until Frank happens upon their religious section. He finds an ample bookshelf devoted to a group of authors he learns were liberation theologians.
Adrienne wanders nearby in the smaller “other religions” section of the library. She pulls a few books from the shelves, fans the pages, and puts them back. Nothing strikes her fancy until she comes upon an old worn book as big as a dictionary. It’s all she can do to lift it from the shelf and hold it open while balancing on her crutches.
“Hey Frank, come here!” She calls. He sets down a book titled, We Drink from Our Own Wells: The Spiritual Journey of a People by Gustavo Gutierrez and wanders over to her.
“Look at this.” She says and holds up the ancient book she’s been perusing.
Druidic Runes and Their Meaning