Gwalchmei

“All he has to do is guide that young King back to our way, and the balance will return.” The Skilled One said. 

“What makes you think this chosen one can and will do what you’ve tasked him, dear nephew? Your record as of late has not been… How do I put this?” The hooded woman paused to think.

“Do not say another word Morrigan. I know exactly who you speak of. My child did what he was supposed to do. His task was fulfilled, and you know very well the pain I still feel for his loss.”

“Only a part of it, nephew. His death has proven to be a critical blow to our belief. Year after year prayers and sacrifices to us dwindle more and more. Why do you think this so-called ‘Christ the Son and Father’ has been able to reach our shores?” From the depth of the darkened hood, a bitter smile appeared.

“Do not fret, he is but a fledgling, an upstart. We have seen many seasons, Morrigan, and we will see many more.”

“But his father? It is said he is as old as our Great Mother. Over a thousand years of worship dear nephew. That is an ancient power behind this so-called ‘upstart’.” With the smile vanished, nothing but the deepest dark is seen of Morrigan's hooded face.

“This is unlike you Morrigan. You know just as well as I do, that this Christ has only but a few hundred years of worship behind him. Not all that worship his father follows him. Many deny and believe he was and is false.” The Skilled One turned to Morrigan and pierced her darkened hood with his knowing stare.

“Which is exactly why he is a worry, Lugh. In five-hundred years his followers have whipped out nearly all of our cousins' followers on the mainland. Turning them to his flock. Two hundred years ago the foolish Roman’s kneeled to him, and now these Christians spread like a disease.”

“I am in no need of a history lesson Morrigan. I know very well that his church has and is whipping out our most ancient groves. They decimate our fields, our rivers, all because our people worship us there.”

“Which is why your chosen one must lead Arthur back to us. Arthur has forgotten who and where he comes from. That old fool Myrddin has failed in his duty. He has only driven Arthur into the Christian queen's arms.”

“Forget about that old fool. He does nothing but petty tricks. Gawain is of my blood, and will do what is needed Morrigan, do not fret on this matter.”

“Will he though? He has spent much time with the Christianized Roman’s. Do you not fear he too has forgotten us? Sétanta’s blood may run through him, but will he prove to be the hero his ancestor was?”

At that moment the earth trembled under the two god’s feet. Lugh, the Skilled One took a step towards his aunt, the Morrigan, and another quake shook the earth. His once calm demeanor changed in an instant to fury and rage, and his golden sun-like hair flared to a raging fire. Morrigan did not flinch nor move from her position, she simply smiled a wicked and mischievous smile.

“I told you to not speak another word of my son dear aunt. Was it not your trickery that brought his downfall? Do not think I have forgotten such matters. Speak no more of this matter or I shall find my restraints vanished. Now, what of your champion? It seems all she has done is drive people into the arms of Christ.”

“Morgan’s faith in us is not the one in question dear nephew. She gives rites to each and every one of us, and holds strong against the unliving Christ. It is not she who drives them into the Christian churches, it is their lack of faith. Which,” the mischievous smile turned to malice, “started with your son's death.”

In a flash of lighting, Lugh hurls a powerful bolt through the air, searing ozone to nothing. Smoke and debris exploded from where the Goddess Morrigan stood. With a simple gesture of his hand, a gust of wind blew the screen of destruction away revealing Morrigan having disappeared.

Far above, gliding in a stream of air, triplet ravens cry out in mockery. From his position on the earth Lugh the Long Handed peers into the blue sky and sneers at his aunt. With his rage spent, Lugh’s brilliant hair fell around his shoulders as a calm golden ray of sunlight. Stepping away from the destruction, Lugh vanished from where he had met with his aunt Morrigan.

***

The first rays of May’s warming sun pierced through the last of April’s clouds revealing a brilliant azure blue sky. A hawk's cry soared through the calm air as the bird of prey descended upon an intruder. Unaware of the descending defender, a red kite is taken by surprise by the powerful grip of the rocketing hawk. Thrown into a death spiral the two birds of prey battle for their life.

Feathers and blood spray from the hurtling birds of prey as they plummeted towards the earth. Far below them a young knight in training practiced his sword maneuvers unaware of the deadly battle far above him. Drenched in hard earned sweat, Gawain sheathed his sword, unhooked his belt, and laid on the grassy hilltop. Placing his sheathed sword next to him Gawain peered into the warming May sky.

With the sun's fiery rays evaporating the clouds, all Gawain could see in the sky was a black dot. For a brief moment it seemed that the black spot in the sky stood still against the azure blue. Until Gawain noticed the smudge plummeting rapidly towards the earth. Then, the dot separated into two, with one of the dots flying away with a triumphant cry, and the other falling lifeless towards the hilltop.

As the bird fell to the grassy hilltop Gawain stood and approached the lifeless corpse. Reaching it Gawain noted the gashing wounds across its torso and torn flesh. Bending down to scoop the red kite into his arms, Gawain said a quiet prayer for the slain bird.

“Oh Mary, Great Mother of Christ, please see that this bird's soul is watched over.” With a quick gesture of the holy cross, Gawain gently placed the bird onto the soil at his feet.

“So, you have been taken by the upstarts faithful. It seems Moriggan had just reason to spur me on. That wretched crone hadn’t need be so cruel with her words though. Dredging up ancient memories like that.”

A deep and somber voice echoed all around Gawain as he set the tip of his blade into the hilltop to start digging a burial site. Startled by the sudden appearance of a stranger's voice Gawain dropped his sword and looked all around. To his great surprise a brilliant man appeared standing directly in front of him. 

Light as bright as the radiant sun shone from the strangers entire being, bringing Gawain to his knees. Unable to directly peer upon the stranger's image, Gawain lowered his gaze. Looking at the unknown man's feet. The stranger wore a magnificent pair of shoes decorated in golden embroidery. The gold shimmered as if in the height of summer's sun.

“Please, there is little need for such formalities. Stand and be courageous young Gawain. Blood of my seed.” The shining stranger said with a calm and familiar tone.

As if controlled by an unseen force, Gawain stood without hesitation. The radiant glow of the stranger dimmed to a hollow shine. Tall and beautiful, the stranger reminded Gawain of the heroes of ancient tales told to him by his mother Anna. His hair curly and golden as the sun’s rays lay neatly around his shoulders. He wore a magnificent robe of the deepest green that was clasped close by a brooch of the finest work Gawain had ever seen. A white silver masterpiece depicting the image of a mighty stag.

“Do you know who I am?” The radiant one asked.

“Our Lord and Savior.”

“Ha, not quite. Though you are on the right track of thinking. Only, older, much older. Think, my progeny, you only need to think.”

Although the stranger had been weaponless, in the blink of Gawain’s eyes a terrifying spear materialized into the man's hand. Casually, as if using the spears shaft as a cane, the glittering man rested his weight onto the spear. Taking in the image before him, Gawain found himself remembering the many tales his mother had told him. The ancient stories of heroes and gods from a time long ago. 

A time from when Gawain’s mothers family had still lived upon the island of Airlann to the west. When her greatest ancestor, a hero by the name of Cú Chulainn, the son of a mighty god named Lugh had lived and fought on behalf of his entire people. A bloody civil war had broken out and Cú Chulainn was the only warrior able to defend his home land of Ulster.

With the remembrance of the ancient tales came realization. The man who stood in front of Gawain was in fact no man at all, but a god. A god his people had once worshiped before the coming of Christ. A god Gawain knew his mother, in secret, still worshiped, and believed to be the progenitor of her family, and thus Gawain himself.

“Aw, so you’ve realized who I am. Good, now say my name.” Lugh, the shining god demanded.

“Lugh, the Long Armed, the Master of All Arts. Lugh, the god and leader of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”

“It is so very nice hearing it spoken in the open like this. Now, I’ve got a task for you young Gawain.”

“A task, for me?”

“Yes. You’re mother, she has a half-brother by the name of Aruther who is a king in the south does she not?”

“I believe so yes, wait, a king you say? No, her half-brother is only a general of a band of warriors, more of a warlord than a king.”

“Nonetheless,” Lugh waved a hand as if to dismiss the semantic differences between the words. “You, my child, are destined to join him in his quest to unite the peoples of this island, and ultimately the world. If he is to succeed he has great need for you. A war of the grandest scale is coming, and Arthur will find himself the center and most pivotal piece of its outcome.”

As Lugh spoke Gawain found himself becoming weak in his knees, and fell to the ground. Unable to completely grasp or comprehend what was occurring to him, Gawain felt the world around him begin to unravel. His father, King Lot had raised him as a faithful believer in the Lord Christ, had even sent Gawain to the Holiest city in the world, Rome. Where Gawain learned the ways of Christian knighthood and chivalry.

Now an ancient Pagan God stood in front of Gawain. A God his mother told him, as a child, was the great progenitor of their ancestry. A God he had, moments ago, not believed to be real. Just a fantastical character for stories told to children. 

“But you’re not real. A myth! A story told to put children to bed.”

At that Lugh’s demeanor changed from calm and relaxed to deadly serious. The dimmed glow of his existence flared to a blinding intensity. Heat seared the air all around Gawain, and the earth trembled. Then as if a storm had passed, complete silence and calm fell all around.

With his sight restored, Gawain looked around and saw the utter destruction of the hill top he had been practicing his sword maneuvers upon. Lugh stood lazily relaxing upon the shaft of his horrendous spear as if nothing had occurred. A wicked smile rested upon his beautifully dreadful face. His hair had returned to its radiant golden curls from a state of fiery rage.

“Not real you say? A myth and story only told to children? Well, I’ll be sure to inform my family that we are all but myth. We’ve got a lot of rearranging to do. After all, we must not disappoint.”

Unable to hold his humor back, Lugh began to laugh harder than he had ever in his long life. Tears of joy began to fall from his handsome face. As his tears fell upon the scorched earth fresh flora rose to life, spreading out to the land around them turning the once grasslands into a flourishing forest.

In awe of what was occurring around him Gawain began to cry at the divine powers demonstrated in front of him. His body trembled in wonderment at the supernatural  phenomenon before him, and his tears ran freely. Waiting for Gawain’s baptism into his new faith to end, Lugh smiled to himself at the birth of a new believer.

“What do you need from me my Lord?” Gawain said more as a prayer than a question. “I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

“First,” Lugh said, placing a comforting hand onto Gawain’s shoulder, “do not call me Lord. We Tuatha Dé are not nearly as supercilious as Yahweh, the father of your Christ.”

As Lugh placed his hand onto Gawain’s shoulder, the sun rose to high noon. Gawain’s strength was not only fully restored, but had increased tenfold. An energy ran through Gawain’s body he could only attribute to his new found God. An energy that felt as pure and powerful as the sun’s rays on the clearest of days. With his new found strength, Gawain looked upon his forefather, Lugh the God.

“Second, I need you to go to Arthur. Do not allow him to discover your true identity, you must first prove yourself to him. In time your identity will reveal itself, and your bond will be ever greater for it. Become his closest confidant, his most trusted friend and be always loyal to him. He will need it more than either of you will ever know. Most importantly, when in his greatest time of need show him the way back home Gawain.”

A brilliant light emanated from Lugh’s being, more powerful and radiant than the sun itself. Yet Gawain looked upon the God of his people, and did not flinch. Standing, Gawain faced his forebear proudly. With a pleased gleam in his eyes, Lugh clasped Gawain upon his shoulders and nodded knowingly.

“Good, then from this day forth you shall be known as Gwalchmei, the Hawk of May. Go my child, fulfill your destiny and bring harmony and balance back to us all.” With that Lugh vanished as if he had never been there in the first place.

Now standing in the middle of a thick and seemingly ancient forest, Gawain drew his sword and swore an oath to his new found faith. “I, Gwalchmei, swear to the great and noble Tuatha Dé Danann, that I shall bring balance back to this land.” Once again placing his sword back in its scabbard, Gwalchmei turned south and began his journey to find his uncle, Arthur.

***

“So, you’ve done it. Your chosen progeny is one of ours. You know that does not guarantee our victory, we must stay vigilant. This upstart as you’ve called him, has pushed our relatives' ancient belief into the shadows. Their followers are slain for being what is called heathens. Do not let your guard down nephew.”  Morrigan said as she appeared shifting out of the form of a great raven.

 Lugh turned to his ancient and powerful aunt. He knew, had she wanted the seat of power among the Tuath Dé she would have it, and none of his relatives would be able to do a thing about it. If they even wanted too. He wasn’t sure himself if he would even try to contest it. After all, she was the wisest and most powerful in the ancient ways of all of the Tuath Dé.

“He will not fail in his duty. I have foreseen it. It is not a short game I am playing here Morrigan. I am fully aware of the underhandedness of our opponent. Which is why I am playing the long game.” Lugh stood from his resting place, and took a single step towards his powerful aunt.

“As my chosen has just shown us, we all must be willing to change. Shift, and adapt to the unknowable future. If we do that, unlike our relatives on the continent, we will not fade into the forgotten abyss of time. Now, let us relax, and watch a legend that will become larger than any of us can forsee, unfold in front of us.” Having returned to his resting place amongst the majestic forest of his abode, Lugh looked to Morrigan and smiled a most mischievous and knowing smile.

The End