Chapter 9: Clan Sgathach

“I’ve devoted half my life to Danu, brother. Why should she give you so much help in return for one paltry offering?”

My sister Ruth had me at a disadvantage – a double disadvantage, as a matter of fact. It was only the third time we had spoken and the first where the thorny subject of an ancient Celtic goddess could be aired. When she contacted out father asking for her share of the inheritance, he asked me to contact her as a detached but interested neutral. It was surprisingly easy to convince her to give me a hearing.

Ruth’s actually my half-sister but, until last year, I didn’t know she existed. We got on well from the outset perhaps because I was like her other siblings but without the baggage of their shared history. When I discovered that my daughter Aine was being fed pills to delay the onset of puberty by the man I thought was her grandfather, I decided to pull him down.

Aine and I threw the pills into running water thereby invoking the goddess Danu; less than a week later Humphrey Goldsmith was in custody awaiting trial. Police Scotland, alerted by Ruth, had been seeking evidence against him for years without success until I took a hand. The police and most of the lawyers on both sides ascribe my success to luck but Aine is convinced that Danu accepted our offering.

I’m a forty-year-old businessman inclined to scepticism but when an old man mending his nets directed me to a man who turned out to be my half-brother James, even I begin to question my disbelief. It’s either a massive coincidence or the ancient gods reminding us that they should not be forgotten. Ruth joined Humphrey’s cult on her sixteenth birthday, inadvertently releasing Aine’s mother, my wife Emer, from eight years of abuse by the man she believed to be her father. Seventeen years later, his hold over Emer was so strong that he made her give the pills to Aine.

Aine had been making prophetic statements for some years and Humphrey had the idea that this ability would end when she became a woman. I didn’t approve of the prophecies, but I took a fairly detached attitude to both my wife and daughter. I convinced myself that I was giving them the freedom to run their own lives, but the truth was that I didn’t want the bother of being involved. After all, if you refuse to make judgements you can never be accused of getting them wrong.

It was only when I found out about the pills being administered behind my back that I began to understand that my attitude was utterly selfish. When I discovered a copy of the ingredients and found that one of them could do long-term harm, I vowed to take action. It was in that mood that Aine and I threw the pills into the stream close to our home and scattered the torn scraps of the recipe to the winds.

“Aine needed help from Danu more than you ever have,” I wheezed out, in reply to Ruth’s question.

That was the other disadvantage I had. Not only did my sister know more about Danu but she was rather fitter than me. We were climbing a steep hillside in Wales during the conversation, and I was struggling for breath. Neither of us was dressed for hill-walking; I had on slacks and casual shoes with a short-sleeved shirt; Ruth, still answering to her cult name Aithe, was wearing a long robe in un-dyed sheep’s wool, which she had hitched up under the belt to leave her legs bare to the knee, and open sandals.

“It could be just a whim. Danu always had the reputation for perversity.”

“Is it really perverse to help a child who believes in your power rather than an adult who thinks your day would be past if it wasn’t for your faithful adherents?”

It took me several breaths to get that out and I was gasping for air when I finished.

“I’ve heard that theory before, expounded by better men than you, Jack. I willingly concede that you and Aine had a strong case to put before the goddess. I know you think I’m jealous but it’s more than that. What she did for Aine is fine but some of the other things simply don’t sound like Danu at all.”

Up until the episode with the pills, Danu was just a name used from time to time by my wife and daughter. I had paid no attention in secondary school, choosing to get my education from the internet instead and it wasn’t until we had invoked her assistance that I looked up the ancient Celtic goddess. There is no historical evidence for Danu but there is a great deal of material that has persisted for millennia. A water goddess of that name is mentioned from India to Ireland. She is particularly associated with rivers from the Danube to the Dnieper.

She is also an aspect of the earth goddess, turning up in Greece as Demeter, mother Da, and in Ireland where the people were the Tuath de Dannan – the Children of Danu. What is not so clear are the characteristics of the goddess in her interaction with humanity. The tiny scraps of ancient evidence have been developed by modern people trying to re-establish reverence for the ancient deities; there is more wishful thinking than science in the ‘evidence’ I’ve seen. There seems to be general agreement that the way to gain the attention of Danu was to cast valuables into running water.

There are areas of ancient waterways where precious objects have been recovered. The offerings range from jewellery to swords and battle axes suggesting that Danu would be willing to help human enterprises from romance to war. A woman might cast into the stream a gold armlet to win the love of a swain while a king might sacrifice a favourite sword to gain a victory over a foe. We still throw small coins into fountains ‘for luck’ unconsciously sacrificing to Danu.

We had now reached the top of the slope and were looking down into a shallow valley loud with the complaints of a great many sheep. They were penned inside walls built from the local stone, moving restlessly under the watchful eye of men and women. Ruth removed her belt and shook out the folds of her habit, so it now covered her from neck to ankle. She re-tied the belt of plaited fabrics and re-did her hair in a bun secured by a barrette made from twigs of rowan.

I find myself troubled that she pays so much attention to the outer forms of her cult – her religion, she would call it. Her long gown in un-dyed wool, the belt without a buckle and the wooden device to control her hair all carry significance for her and her followers. Humphrey used these same devices to hide his evil intentions and horrific deeds. It is forbidden for Ruth, as the cult’s Aithe, to wear any metal but I find it difficult to understand that even a dress-makers pin left in the garment by accident could affect the purity of her thoughts. One of the old Roman pontiffs wasn’t allowed to come in contact with metal – Julius Caesar held the post for some years.

After my recent experiences I’m ready to be convinced and I do understand that many of her beliefs have a history stretching back before recorded time. There is likely to be value in a belief that survives for so long a period. I was aware that what was happening below me was in itself a survival of a bygone age. The clothes worn by the workers had changed and the little stone hut had a galvanised roof, but King Arthur would have seen the same activity if he had ridden up with Gawain to the spot where I’m now standing. It wouldn’t be so strange if the gods of our ancestors still held authority in a place like this.

This is the last of the spring gatherings. The lowland sheep have already been dealt with and it is now the turn of the hardy beasts that roam the heights; they produce less meat, and their fleeces are thin but they are one of the very few animals that can survive the harsh climate. The men and women work for a number of farms, coming together to share the work of gathering and tending the beasts. At the end of the day, the members of the cult may put on their robes, but they work in jeans and t-shirts like all the rest – in fact there’s a fair sprinkling of shorts in response to the warm spring sunshine.

It took me a little time to make sense of the activity. Three or four people are in the pens with the sheep; they grab one by the neck and take it to the open area in front of the shed where three men and two women are using shears to remove the fleece; once it has been removed, it is carried to a table where it is inspected before being assigned to one of two huge bags suspended from the lintel. It was only when a head appeared above the neck of the sack that I realised someone was in the sack tramping down the wool.

Every so often one of the shearers would call over a couple of men standing idly by. There followed a close inspection and a discussion, sometimes heated, before action was agreed. The two most common problems with the mountain sheep are maggots and foot rot; damaged hoof or flesh is carefully pared away, and tar applied to seal and disinfect the wound. The shorn sheep is handed over to a man who pushes the astonished animal into a bath, using a crook to ensure that the beast’s head goes under. I recognised the muscular build of the man dipping the sheep.

“Is that Cu Chulainn down there trying to drown the sheep?”

“Don’t be blasphemous, but it is, as you say, Hamish Smith,” Ruth replied, trying to appear stern but blushing like a sixteen-year-old.

The police and most of the legal representatives on both sides considered that I had the luck of the devil in bringing Humphrey to justice. The one exception was Hamish Smith who had learned from his Granny Ross that there really were more things on heaven and earth than were dreamt of in his philosophy. Of course, it may simply have been that he fell instantly in love with Ruth. He was known to be rather susceptible but, to the amazement of all who knew her, Ruth returned at least some of his admiration.

When Humphrey was arrested there were forty-four others living on the Island of Pabay. One of them, Claude Pennifeather was charged with complicity in the abuse, four were arrested on existing warrants for a variety of public order offences and thirty-nine were charged with possessing cannabis. The police were happy to drop charges against the thirty-nine if they could be found a good home. Eight of them returned to their families but the remaining thirty-one wanted to remain with the cult. Claude is on bail while the Procurator Fiscal decides what to do with him.

Ruth was willing to accommodate them, and Hamish was delighted to solve the legal problems as they arose, bringing them into almost daily communication. He arrived the previous evening to spend a two-week holiday on retreat; he is an enthusiastic rugby player and it’s very likely that he considers man-handling sheep a relaxing occupation, rather as I would feel about drinking a cocktail or two on a sandy beach. From the look on my sister’s face, his unorthodox approach has taken him a step or two closer to winning her heart.

There is no sign that Ruth is considering giving up her place as leader of her clan, as she calls her group. I’m undecided what I should do next. I’ve spent so much of my life leaving other people to get on with their lives without me; having discovered how wrong that was when I had people close to me who deserved much more from me, I’m afraid that I will overcompensate. Humphrey found followers amongst folk who had unfulfilled needs; he ruthlessly exploited their need, corrupting them without mercy.

When I helped to bring him down, I imagined that his misguided followers would take the opportunity to return to the life they had before joining the cult. I was shocked when so many chose to remain in the cult under another leader. Ruth sincerely believes in what she teaches but I wonder if any person can be true to themselves when they are the object of veneration by others. It troubles me that so many adults are seemingly prepared to surrender control of their lives to others. I admire my sister, but it would be impossible for me to accept her views without heated debate, at the very least.

“You’re a better person than me, Sis and you have every right to resent me interfering...”

“Why do it then, Jack?” she interrupted, laying her hand gently on my arm to remove the sting of her rebuke.

“I care for you and, I suppose, I feel responsible for landing you with the refugees from Pabay. You may not want to hear it, but they drain your resources with their need for constant guidance. Hamish would give you something in return.”

“I think we both know what he’d like to give me,” she laughed.

“True enough,” I grinned, “But there’s a lot more to him than that, and you know it.”

She didn’t reply but she nodded her head and took my arm, urging me down the slope to join the others. I couldn’t let the subject drop without one last prod:

“Even if it was purely physical between you, Danu would surely approve, her being a mother goddess.”

We spent the remainder of the day amongst happy people doing a job they enjoyed and were good at. It was only after the work was done and the cult members put their robes on for the journey home that you could distinguish them from the farmers. Before Ruth and I arrived, the lambs had been tagged and marked with dye. Now the mothers had been sheared, dipped and turned out onto the open hillside where noisy reunions took place with their offspring.

Ruth walked back chatting to some of the older cult members while Hamish was the centre of a group discussing the merits and faults of Welsh and Scottish rugby: they were almost as noisy as the sheep. We separated about a mile down the road where the vehicles were parked. Hamish looked wistfully across at my sister before he proposed that I walk with him back to the farmhouse. I had time to spare since it would be at least another hour before Emer and Aine would arrive.

I had been delivering stock to Welsh shops for a couple of days before coming to the farm on the Friday morning; my wife was driving over after picking up Aine from school. Ruth and Emer had been on the same side during the trial of Humphrey, but they were not easy with each other. In different ways, they had been raised in the cult, but their interpretations of the underlying meaning were quite different. They agreed that Humphrey had distorted something that was fundamentally good, and this weekend was arranged at my suggestion to allow each of the two women to explain her vision for the future.

Hamish was acting for Emer in a dispute over the ownership of Pabay and for Ruth because he made no secret of his personal feelings for her. Our walk home from the shearing gave us a chance to talk over the possible outcome of the summit meeting. We agreed that, left to the pair of us, we would settle the dispute in time to spend the evening in the pub; we didn’t openly acknowledge that women are difficult to understand but we came perilously close to it.