The House that Fish Built: Cave of Cruachan…

*

…So the heroes of Albion set out for the Cave of Cruachan…

Through the Gap-of-the-Watch,

over the Plain-of-Two-Forks,

across the Ford-of-the-Morrigan

into the Rowan-Meadow-of-the-Two-Oxen

by the Meeting-of-the-Four-Ways they drove

before a dim, dark, heavy mist overtook them…

*

In the Cave of Cruachan, Very-White-Clear-Sight sat in meditation, “Mother,” she said, “I see a chariot coming over the plain.”

“Describe it,” said Sweet-Mouthed Maeve.

Said Very-White, “truly, I see horses pulling the chariot:

two stormy dappled greys

alike in colour and shape;

nostrils wide

heads erect

ears pricked;

manes flowing

of full slim-girth

their tails curled;

galloping side by side

bounding apace

they career along.

*

A chariot of fine wood,

the high frame’s wicker-work

creaks above its two black wheels:

its curved yoke is silver mounted.

*

In the chariot

a dark, melancholy man:

his eyebrows jet

his face pale

cheeks ruddy;

his blue mantle is

held across the chest

by a salmon brooch.

A three-pronged javelin

gleams from his shoulder.

An awning of bird plumage

waves from his chariot frame…

*

…“I recognise that man,” said Maeve,

“an ocean fury:

a whale that rages in the crash of battle,

like the back-stroke of waves against the land;

in face a man

in mien a hero

in heart a dragon;

swift, as the speckled trout

on sand stone is cut, the red

hand of Connor Cruel-Crest…

*