Dainéal’s Dream

A Thaisce (My Treasure)

Consider the flowers of the field
In their beauty
More lovely than even the clothes of a king
Consider the birds of the air
Flying high, flying free
You are precious to me

Where your treasure is
There is your heart

The o' Murchadha home...

“Have you seen yer brother?” Eamonn turned to Liam.

“He ran out after….I’ll go look for him.” Da shook his head.

“No…I’ll get him…” He sighed deeply and walked out. A moment later he discovered the boy asleep in the flowerbed. Dainéal stirred and looked up at his Da.

“I’m sorry…I’ll....” The boy wiped the crust out of his eyes. He had been asleep for nearly an hour and he looked and felt guilty.

“What fer?” The man pulled the boy to his feet and slapped him lightly on each arm.

“I…Ma….cryin’….I’m sorry.” The boy put his head down, ashamed one more time for disappointing his father; his grief was magnified by what loomed so large as to be an almost pointless sacrifice.

“Never mind that, lad. Just come inside and get some sleep. Plenty o’time to sort things out.” No mean feat for the man to set aside years of habit, but still the boy felt nearly nothing as he followed his father into the house.

Two days later...after the funeral...

“Mornin’ Dainéal,” Moira stood at the front door, looking very tired herself.

“Mo…Mornin’,” the boy said, his face was lined with tear stains and he barely lifted his head.’’

“Where were you? You were supposed to be takin’ care of Ma….wha?” Dainéal’s voice was tinged with only a little anger that dissipated quickly as he quickly said,

“Oh, I’m…sorry. I din’t mean to get angry. It’s just that…..”

“Oh, Dainéal…don’t mind….I heard about yer Ma…I’m so sorry.” The girl went to hug him but he shied away.

“Where were you….I woulda thought that it was important…What was so important to ye that you din’t feel the need to come to take care of Ma?” He shook his head, and try as he might, he was unable to hide his disappointment as his eyes filled with angry tears.

“It wasn’t what I needed…it was what…” Her voice trailed off and she put her head down. She began to shake slightly; a ‘gesture’ with which the boy was all too familiar.

“He’s….I thought he stopped.” Dainéal’s eyes widened as she shook her head, and he refocused.

“You hafta tell someone besides me!” He lifted her chin and saw that she was weeping. He was upset for her but she wasn’t crying just for what she had said.

“Listen…” She stammered. She wiped her face with her sleeve and continued.

“Yer Ma? I would rather live one day havin’ yer Ma as mine….even yesterday.” She stopped and sobbed. He went to console her but she held her hand out.

“NO…lemme finish. Yer Ma, God rest her soul, was the nicest person I ever met. She…she listened to me…one time she….she let me lie next to her in bed an she held me like I was her own.” She struggled to keep from crying; mostly with success apart from stifled sobs.

“Me Ma? I told her what Uncail Néall was doin’. She looked at me and just told me to leave it be. Leave it be??? ” She shook her head.

“Jesus n’ Mary forgive me, but I wish it had been her that died instead of yer Ma” She looked at the boy, and found no condemnation, but understanding. She fell into his arms and sobbed as the two cried over grief neither child should have had to bear.

Sometime later...

“Da? Moira had a family thing…a problem…she couldn’t get here. She’s awful sorry.” The boy seemed to plead, but his father nodded.

“Tis alright, child. I can understand. Tell her when you see her that it’s okay; God knows how much she’s helped you with yer Ma these past two years. An bein’ here wouldn’t have changed anything. Tell her thank you for me and yer brothers, alright?” He smiled in a way that Dainéal had seen only a few times in his life.

“Da…I need to talk to ye, aye?” Father-son talks to this point had been nothing but harsh rebukes and disappointed sighs, but the look on his father’s face helped the boy open up.

“Somethin’ wrong? What’s goin’ on?” Eammon tilted his head, and the boy realized that his father truly was interested.

“Moira….it wasn’t a family….problem, but it is.” Dainéal winced slightly but his father reached over and put his hand on the boy’s arm.

“If you know of somethin’ wrong, lad, ye hafta say….I …..go ahead.” His father looked away, partly for the confusion he felt since helping his son was almost foreign to him. But he also looked away in shame, sad that his son was so frightened of his response that he literally shook as he waited for his reply.

“Her….her Uncail Néall….” The boy couldn’t continue, and burst into tears. Da shook his head.

“Ye don't hafta say more, lad….”Eammon hardly knew the girl’s family, but he knew Néall. His face grew red and he spoke again.

“I don’t doubt yer word, child, but I have to be sure! Did the girl talk to anyone?” He gritted his teeth.

“Aye…her Ma…and she….she din’t do anything!” The boy nearly scowled.

“I understand yer feelings, Dainéal, but I seem to remember her Ma is not well, herself. Can you have Moira come over here? Will she talk to me?”

“I think so…If I tell her, yes….” The boy nodded eagerly and smiled, realizing that he and his father had made a connection unlike any other in his lifetime. Something odd about the way he had said ‘child.’ And he used the boy’s name, which he seldom did. It was either boy or lad or some epithet.

“Get her over here where we can talk, aye?” Da didn’t know any details, but he remembered the girl’s Uincial as being self-centered and perhaps even a bit mean. He didn’t have to hear what happened to know what was going on, and for once in his life, Eammon o’ Murchadha’ got angry for all the right reasons.

A short while later...

“Liam…you an yer brother take a walk….” Da nodded as the young men walked out of the house, leaving him with Moira and Dainéal. The girl waited until they had left before speaking.

“I don’t know what to do, Da. I have nowhere to go to…Me Ma is too…she won’t do a thing, and he just…just.” Finally, with no constraints or peril, the girl's defenses disintegrated swiftly, and she began to sob. The boy went to console her and Da put his hands out and down in caution.

“Hold her, child, but let her cry, aye?” He smiled oddly as Dainéal looked at his father.

“We’ll put our heads together, but for now, I want her to stay at your Aintin Fiona’s home. We’ll work out what else to do soon enough, but let’s get her safe.” He looked away and sighed.

“But what about her Uncail….It’s not fair…she havin’to go and him stayin’ and all! It’s not fair.” The boy burst into tears; a reaction completely unexpected, but the demeanor of the boy was no surprise to Eammon. He breathed out a breath and spoke, abandoning years of habit to speak with a tenderness the boy had never known.

“Never, you mind, child. We’ll set things aright. I promise!” He brushed a stray hair from the boys face and kissed his forehead.

Later that day...

The brothers had been moving Moira’s things into the lorry when her Uncail Néall came rode up to the house on his motorbike.

“An where do you tink yer goin’, you fookin’ whore?” He shouted at the girl. Dainéal stepped between the two and folded his arms.

“You stay away from her!” He rose up and practically shouted.

“Never you mind, you little queer! Get outta my way!” He went to push Dainéal aside, but the boy stood his ground. He balled up his fist and hit the boy in the side of the head, knocking him down. Liam was in the lorry and didn’t see the exchange, and his brother and Da were back upstairs helping Moira’s mother.

“NO!” The boy shouted from the ground as Néall went to hit his niece. Dainéal grabbed the man’s ankle and used his fingernails as claws as he dug through the socks into his flesh.

“Fook, let go, you little fag….let go.” The man struggled to break free but the boy would have no part of it, and held on. Neill put his fists together and crashed them down upon the boy’s head, knocking him back to the ground as he broke free. But in pulling away, his momentum propelled him sideways and he hit his head hard on a sharp corner of the brick steps coming from the front door of the house. Everything went black…

Somewhere else....some other time...

Néall woke up and found himself in a forest. He heard soft music and looked around.

“Yes….you have come this place; my kingdom.“ He looked in the direction of the voice and saw a tall woman, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She wore a dark green gown that shimmered to an almost black. Her feet were shod in black slippers and she wore a gold crown upon her head, with black and dark green jewels embedded in the circle.

“Am I to be here? Am I ….” Néall stopped as he patted his arms. He seemed solid enough.

“Dead, in a way you are. And that is why you have come to my kingdom. Here you shall gain your reward!” Néall l couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A reward after a life like his? Whatever justice there was in Meadhbh’s kingdom, it was foolish and weak, just like his sister and exactly like the boy who had tried to stop him. But he didn’t succeed, did he. After all, what a wonderful place to spend eternity. He looked around and saw beautiful women, small and slight, moving closer.

“Are these your servants, O Queen?” He bowed his head as the woman nodded. As they drew closer, he noticed that they were smiling in welcome. He smiled back

“These are fairies, aye. Me mother told me about them…which kind are they, O Meadhbh.” The woman shook her head and began to moan softly even as she spoke.

“I am not Meadhbh, man! I am one of my race....Caoineadh…what you call keening. “ Even as she spoke her voice seemed to turn into one deep moan…. A lament that brought Néall to tears, but he didn’t know why. He found out a moment later as the women who surrounded him changed slowly. Gone were the pretty faces and pretty gowns and in their place he saw old mean looking women in drab clothes. They joined their voices in a high pitched wail.

“Here is your reward, man! You have come to our kingdom, and here you will stay. You have met my friends; may I introduce them. They are fairies, yes, after a kind. They are bean sidhe’, and their lament is for you. I am sorry, but you brought this on yourself.

“Bean sidhe’? That sounds like…..no, god help me, no…”

“Yes, “ the woman said as her countenance grew darker and her lament grew louder as she wept bitter tears over the waste of the life before her, but it was as she said; it was his reward. And wept she did, since it was what she did when welcoming the dead to her realm; she was the Queen of the Dead, and Neill had met his fate. The crowd closed in on him as he screamed; one might even say in bloody terror as the Banshee engulfed him.

“That’s right, sir. He was upset because the girl was movin’, and when he pushed my son to the ground, he lost his balance an hit his head.” Eammon looked over at Moira, who was consoling the boy sitting on the front steps.

“He was upset? An why would he be put out, Eammon o’ Murchadha? Just why?” The Garda officer shook his head and looked over at the two.

“Let’s just say he didn’t want her to go because he…cared too much.” The Garda looked at him and shook his head again, mumbling something under his breath before saying out loud,

“Bloody hell.” He grimaced as he finished,

“An I expect that’s where he is right now; fookin’ bastard!” Eammon breathed out a heavy sigh. Má¡irtá­n and Liam had brought most of Moira’s things back into the house. The neighbors were consoling the girl’s mother, who seemed relieved if confused. And the two friends talked.

“You came back for me….you came back.” The girl was kissing the boy’s cheeks, which were already red from the confrontation, and grew warmer with embarrassment.

“You…could have stayed…but you came back….I can’t ever repay you for this.” She sobbed, but it was the first time in nearly two years for both of them to shed happy tears.

“I….I knew I had to come back….no matter what.” He looked down at his body and frowned as tears continued to fall.

“It….I just had to...like it says...where your treasure is, there will yer heart also be?” No matter what he might have told you, there was never any doubt about what he had to do. He had a mission….a calling, he felt, and the hesitancy was in how he would deal with a life-long disappointment that seemed to promise mocking and teasing forever.

“You gave up your life for me, Dainéal…I owe my life to you.” She pulled him close and kissed him on the lips. A feeling of warm wonder mixed with sadness as he pushed her away.

“I’m sorry, Moira…I can’t ….not this way….It’s not right.” He pointed down to his body.

“Don’t give up hope. My Da used to say, Don’t be too quick to give up hope! You will find that what you know to be true may not always be so or may never have been true at all.”

The words were too familiar, and his body seemed to underscore the irony. He shook his head and ran down the steps toward home, leaving a very grateful friend who would be his salvation.

How much more does the Father above
Have a heart full of love
For the children that He calls His own

Where your treasure is
There is your heart

Next: Creideamh, Dá³chas Agus Grá¡ (Faith, hope, and Love)

Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May
1909 by John Willam Waterhouse

Treasure (Reprise)
words and music by the performers
Iona
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMppT0MdWMg