Chapter 8 A Little Bird Told Me...

 

Section 2 LEATH…
Chapter 8 A Little Bird Told Me

In which Cúan must fight for his life against Maedhbh’s first warrior.


Ferdy was sitting on the bench in the home side’s dressing room and his left knee was jumping up and down with nerves before the match. Cúan was sitting across from him nearly fully togged out and looking at his boots asking himself the old question studs or no studs before taking to the pitch? He watched Ferdy remove his spectacles and put on the prescription goggles his parents ,the doctors Ferguson, had insisted he wear while playing hurling. They made him look even more geeky if that were possible. Ferdy had highlighted his hurl in luminous yellow highlighter which he claimed was easier for him to see through the goggles. He had nicknamed his hurl ‘ the yellow peril’.


This scene was old territory to the two friends who had hurled together from primary school. Cúan looked over at Ferdy thinking how lucky that they were playing for the same school and club. “Surely you’re not worried about playing against the Ballygun Kickham’s Ferdy ?” Cúan mocked. “ Well yeah,” said Ferdy“ but as I’m just the wing forward I should be okay. I’m more worried for you.” Cúan bristled “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Fergus looked over at him as if he were simple. “Because you, Cúan, will have your hands full trying to stay away from their new centre back.” “Ah, he’ll be sorry once he gets to know me.” replied Cúan boastfully banging the Gaebolg off the dressing room floor projecting an image of supreme confidence. “Yeah but that’s the thing, Cúan,” grinned Ferdy, “He already knows you and I’d say he’s really looking forward to the match like!” Cúan looked over at Ferdy’s bouncing knee and asked the dreaded question “Who is he Ferdy?” “ He bears a remarkable resemblance to a lad that has been suspended from St. Daniel’s for three days because of you. What’s his name again … yeah it’s Alex O’ Leary.” With that Ferdy jumped up and dashed out through the door because being strangled by a teammate is never the best start to a hurling game.


Cúan stared at the doorway. Alex O’Leary , bloody hell. He was going to end up marking that monster headcase for the next seventy minutes. He wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off him for a second during the game no matter where the sliotar would be. The last time that they had met he had floored Alex from behind. Now that bully would be chasing him around the pitch with a license to kill backed by screaming supporters all baying for his blood. Could it get any worse he wondered. “Any bright ideas?” he asked the Gaebolg. The Gaebolg blinked up at him loyally. Then its boss rose and pointed to the small window to the rear where the branches of a cherry tree could be seen. A small glossy blackbird with a yellow beak hopped in the window from a branch and spoke “There is small purpose in questioning the Gaebolg Cú, lacking as it does tongue or throat. If you wish to live and keep your warrior’s oath heed my advice.” Cúan thought ‘I’m having a nervous breakdown here taking advice from a bird.’ Instead he asked “Who are you?”


The blackbird continued “In the world of magic names have power so cannot tell you my name but believe me I am a friend. You can call me Lon Dubh. You are about to undergo your first trial as the warrior of light. Alex O’Leary is no longer the Alex from school. He has been possessed by the Spirit of Fergus MacRóich, Maedhbh’s warrior of darkness. Fergus is an ally of Maedhbh and a deadly warrior in his own time. However, if he has a weakness it is that he is hotheaded and quick to rage. He will follow the warrior code and must warn you to defend yourself when he attacks.The bad news is that now he possesses the Tarnhelm.”


Cúan asked “What is the Tarnhelm?” Lon Dubh flew down to perch on his shoulder and replied “ It is a magical helmet which bestows on the wearer certain magical gifts. To all it would appear as an ordinary hurling helmet but it allows him super speed and, if needed, invisibility. You must watch not just where he is but calculate where he could be in the blink of an eye, even if it is the full length of the pitch.”

“How can I fight against that?” exclaimed Cúan. The blackbird peered down at the Gaebolg. The Gaebolg’s eye swivelled to peer at the bird. “The Gaebolg is your only chance,” answered Lon Dubh. “You must keep the Gaebolg turned toward Alex every moment he is on the field. The Tarnhelm cannot deceive the Gaebolg and if you look between the handle and the curve of the boss, you will see the world as the Gaebolg sees it. That will give you a chance to see through the Tarnhelm’s deceptions.”


“One more thing,” the bird said solemnly, “ you may be facing fierce Fergus Mac Róich but he is in the body of Alex O’Leary. Alex is innocent of the actions of Fergus , trapped within his own body. As the warrior of the light you cannot kill Alex it is your duty to save him.” “How can I do that if he’s trying to kill me?” demanded Cúan. “Find a way, warrior! Remember your oath , remember your family.” With that the blackbird turned and returned to the window sill. “Stop, wait..” called Cúan.

“Who are you talking to?” asked Ferdy from the door. “Alex O’Leary is going to try and kill me!” said Cúan. “Why do you say that?” replied Ferdy. “A little bird told me,” he blurted out weakly. “What bird?” asked Ferdy. ”That bird,” replied Cúan pointing to an empty window and a branch outside swinging in the breeze. A shrill treble sounded and fell echoing on the ear. “C’mon,” urged Ferdy “You can’t hide in here forever. Let’s show these Dubs some Kildare class!” As Cúan passed Ferdy he heard him mutter “Birdy Cullen ...it has a nice wing to it. hee hee.” He realised wearily that Ferdy would be calling him Birdy Cullen for the foreseeable future.


As Cúan trudged out of the dressing rooms he saw the characteristic red and green of the Ballygun Kickhams all over the pitch. He trotted over to his place between his Fenians half forwards and the Ballygun goalmouth. There seething with anger and leaping up and down on the spot like a madman was his nemesis Alex O’Leary. The full back was staring at him red in the face like a man possessed. In fact he was a man possessed, by Fergus MacRoich, ancient Ulster King. Cúan looked around to see if Maedhbh had shown on the sideline but she was nowhere to be seen. What he did see was his grandad Manus dressed smartly in his dress uniform and wearing a row of shining medals. Manus waved over to him. ‘That’s all I need,’ thought Cúan waving back, ‘My grandad is about to see me killed and his last memory of me will be of me smiling and waving like an idiot!’

The referee’s whistle blew to start the match and Cúan found himself thrown to the ground from behind. Alex stood over him but it was the voice of Fergus Mac Roich who spoke.

“Watch your back little warrior for I am going to have your life.” Cúan hopped up thinking ‘I suppose that’s my fair warning,’ then remembering Lon Dubh’s advice Cúan brought up the Gaebolg between him and Alex. Suddenly as if a mist were clearing under bright summer sunlight or as if a fog were dispersed by the strong west wind he saw what was really there. Looking through the curve of the hurl he saw the hulking shape and bearded face of the Ulster warrior burning with hatred. On his head sat the black gemstones on the Tarnhelm and the hurl in his hand became a heavy carved club. Fergus’ eyes glittered and glinted at him behind the dull black metal grill that protected his face. He could see a light blue wavering outline of Maedhbh’s will surrounding Fergus. Fergus spoke “I see but a slip of a boy before me. I rue that you will not see out the day to grow to be a man. Young and beardless as you are, today you must die.”


The Gaebolg glowed warmly in his hand pouring in strength and courage. Suddenly the sliotar came up from the centre and was plucked from the air by Ferdy’s right hand out on the left wing. Cúan rapidly broke right to get some space from Fergus but Fergus was able to match his speed across the forty five metre line. In came the cross, dipping elegantly like an african swift. Cúan rose with a great leap to catch it shielding his hand with the Gaebolg. Not a moment too soon, for as his fingers closed around the precious prize, the Gaebolg took a huge jarring smash of Fergus’s club that would have destroyed any ordinary hurl and it prevented his hand being crippled by the blow. He grasped the sliotar and upon landing immediately side stepped. Fergus flew past him in a missed shoulder charge. With Fergus past him, Cúan spun and set off on a spirit run toward the Ballygun goal, bouncing the sliotar on the Gaebolg. Behind him he heard Fergus roar. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Fergus scything in from his right. Remembering his guile he feinted left then right and then switched his hips and ran back to the left again. Fergus club swung in and hit him on the right elbow on his funny bone. A massive “boo” erupted from the spectators. Cúan had no time to react because Fergus appeared between him and the posts. Without taking his eyes off Fergus Cúan hand passed the sliotar to his left where Ferdy again was mystically appearing unmarked as Kickhams’ defense converged on Cúan. Ferdy volleyed the sliotar in mid-air and it sailed over the bar for the first point of the match.


Fergus collided with Cúan awkwardly smashing him physically to the hard ground winding him and hurting his ribs badly. The referee’s whistle blew. Ferdy ran over to the referee and was pointing at Alex and complaining about the late tackle. The referee just looked over at Cúan and then gestured and made the get-up gesture with his hands meaning, ‘You got your point so get up now and play on.’


Cúan wearily climbed up off the ground noticing that Fergus had trotted over to a group of the Ballygun team players , a well known tactic to confuse a referee after fouling an opponent. Ferdy called over “are you okay Cúan?” Cúan bent over at the waist with his hands on his knees and tried to suck in some air to reply. “Fine,” he managed. 0-1 0-0 to the Fenians.


In the distance Cúan heard the applause of the crowd. Manus’ voice could be heard over the others. “ Watch out for him Cúan, he’s dangerous.” ‘If only you knew , grandad,’ he thought, ‘if only you knew.’


The Ballygun goalie took the puck out and it sailed away off well past the half forwards and to the right. The Kickham’s half forward, who was Noddy Grundy, raised the sliotar and balancing it on his hurl made a beeline for the Fenian’s goal. No one was between him and Finian Butterly their goalie! ‘Oh no,’ thought Cúan ‘someone stop him!’ It was all down to ‘Butterfingers Butterly’ as the lads called him. He was a tall, thin lanky guy with one redeeming feature; he was scared of nothing. Seeing Noddy approaching Finian hurried out towards him trying to spread his gangly arms to block a shot on goal. For a moment it looked as if he might succeed because Noddy got a shock when he looked up to find the human giraffe upon him. Nine times out of ten the tactic would have worked because Noddy was isolated with all his fellow attackers left behind by the speed of his run. It was a life or death one on one situation. The two players collided as the sliotar bounced off Noddy’s hurl in a desperate punt to get past ‘Butterfingers’ as the goalie threw himself into the onrushing attacker. They went down together in a horrifying crunch of sticks and limbs. To an appreciative “ooooh” from the Ballygun supporters and a horrified ‘Nooo’ from the Fenian supporters the sliotar rose, descended , bounced once off the back of The goalie’s helmet and rolled like a slow golf putt to just over the line.

0-1 to 1-0 to the Ballygun Kickhams. Then the referee blew his whistle and pointed at the stricken Finian, Foul - Penalty!


The subsequent penalty was taken by Fergus as captain of the team. To add insult he drove it straight at Finian who flinched instinctively out of the way redirecting the sliotar off the side of his helmet into the net. 0-1 2-0 to Ballygun. This match was now slipping away from them!

Cúan wasn’t happy to see a smiling Fergus trotting back up the pitch toward him. He leaned the Gaebolg on his hip for a second and spat on his hands, rubbing them together to ease the friction of the Gaebolg. When Fergus turned to watch the puck out Cúan grabbed the Gaebolg and dashed off to his left to the waiting Ferdy. Finian spotted his run and drove the sliotar toward the left wing. Ferdy watched open mouthed as Cúan cried “switch.”


It was an old move they had perfected in Kildare and Ferdy duly tore past him heading for the centre. Cúan timed a perfect leap to tap the sliotar down from the air into his waiting hand. As he whirled around smoothly he saw the confusion on Fergus’ face. What was Fergus to do? If he tracked Ferdy in towards the goalmouth he was leaving Cúan a free run unchallenged at the goalie. If he followed Cúan out to the wing Ferdy was left unmarked in the square. Fergus gave an aggressive roar and tore out in Cúan’s direction. His club was up and he was swinging at Cúan’s head already beside Cúan with lightning speed. Cúan feinted left. Fergus blocked him pulling on the Gaebolg double-handed on the enormous club. Cúan dodged it to the right bouncing the sliotar off the hard ground and Fergus rammed the handle of his war club into Cúan's exposed ribs while his enormous body shielded the foul from the referee. At that Cúan saw red and thought, ‘ two can play at that game’. He tried his patented pin and shove move.

Slamming his left heel on the toe of Fergus’s right boot,thus pinning it to the ground, Cúan next swung his whole body mass swivelling from the hips to body check the bigger opponent. With one foot pinned and unable to balance Fergus went over and backwards like a felled oak. At once Cúan made a beeline for the Ballygun goal.

Big Paul ‘Connolly' Towers, their goalie tore out at him all arms and legs spread to narrow the shot. Cúan didn’t even try for a point. Instead he shortened the hurl and punted the sliotar at a high angle across the goal in a slow, laborious arc. Towers grinned half turning to track the sliotar only for his grin to turn to a horrified grimace as, BANG, Ferdy’s hurl slammed the gifted pass to rattle the net and score the goal. This move was their famous Kildare townies twostep which had torn open defenses throughout north Leinster for the previous three years. It had worked like a charm. 1-1 2-0 Game on!

A sharp bird whistle caught Cúan’s ear and he instinctively ducked. Fergus’s club glanced off the top of Cúan’s helmet. All eyes were locked on ‘Connolly' Towers pucking out the sliotar as Cúan recalled that he wasn’t supposed to take his eyes off the possessed Fergus, Maedhbh’s warrior of choice, who was trying to kill him.

He swung around with the Gaebolg raised. Fergus’ big hairy hand grabbed him by the grill in the front of his face and pulled him in to within inches of his glittering eyes inside the depths of the Tarnhelm. Fergus began to bellow “I have been sent to kill you warrior, not bandy about with this stick play, prepare to die!” As Cúan felt Fergus’ sour breath wash over him he tried to shove the possessed man away from him. The next thing he knew Fergus had kicked the legs out from under him. As he fell Fergus knelt down on his chest and was pummelling him powerfully. Cúan found it hard to breathe with the knees crushing him and now the two hairy hands were around his neck throttling him. His face turned red and he saw stars when, from far away, he heard a frantic whistling sound.


Hands were grabbing him and hauling him up off the ground. His angry Fianna teammates shouldered in between him and Fergus. Ferdy was there and used his hurl as a barrier to shove Fergus’ hands back up and off Cúan’s throat so he could breathe again. The Ballygun players stared at their demented Captain spitting and shouting murderous threats and took no part in defending or protecting him. They looked shocked and embarrassed that Alex O’Leary had finally lost it and had gotten caught.


The burly referee stood eyeball to eyeball with Fergus. He reached into his breast pocket and produced the red card. “Off” was the one word he spat while daring Fergus to take him on. Fergus was incandescent with rage. He tore off the Tarnhelm and strode off the pitch in the direction of the dressing rooms muttering and swiping at the tufts of grass on the sideline in an ill disguised fury.


Cúan felt relieved. Now he could concentrate on the match instead of having to keep an eye out for an ancient warrior trying to kill him. A thought struck him . I’ve defeated the first warrior; he tried to kill me and I survived!


The rest of the game played out like a dream. The Ballygun Kickhams were lost without their captain and marquee player. The central defense was weakened considerably and the combinations created by Cúan and Ferdy tore them to ribbons. The two boys ran over and under the defense like hawks among pigeons, wolves among sheep or a hot knives through butter. Cúan’s confidence soared as he floated between the half forwards picking off his points at will. Kickham’s usual dirty fouling was noticeably absent as they realised that having lost one player they couldn’t afford to lose another. Cúan got another three runs in at the goal and the match ended well for them with the Fenians winning five goals and six points to Kickham’s two goals and five points. There was no sign that Fergus had decided to hang about. By all appearances he had dressed and left the club grounds in a huff. Cúan was not fooled ; he suspected that he wasn’t done with Fergus by any means


Even as he showered and changed into his school clothes Cúan felt paranoid that Fergus would be sneaking up behind him hidden under the Tarnhelm. Fergus could be standing right beside him and he wouldn’t know. The lads stared at him funnily when he brought his hurley into the showers with him and was peering over it into the corners of the room. However there was neither sight nor sound of Fergus anywhere. Cúan realised he and the Gaebolg would have to be inseparable now and that he couldn’t relax even for a minute with that invisible threat out there.


Unusually Cúan was wrong in this assumption. Queen Maedhbh was a wily and resourceful enemy and she reasoned to herself when Fergus told her of the match ‘If I cannot get to Cúan by direct assault then I must find an indirect path to attack him where he would least expect it.’ and so she laid her malicious plans accordingly.



Aoibheann Cullen was much recovered from her ordeal at lunchtime. She left St. Catherine’s College by the front door and turned left to pass out by the playing pitches of the Fenian’s Club. As she walked along the long avenue to the school gates she noticed that there was some hurling match happening on the field. She was in a world of her own and failed to notice either her brother playing or her grandfather standing on the sidelines.


She was halted abruptly by a wizened and ancient traveller woman. The lady was stooped and dressed entirely in black from head to toe. Her hair was steel grey colour pinned back from her face by neat steel hairpins. Her eyes were a deep emerald green and they locked onto Aoibheann’s brown ones as the wrinkled face creased in an expression that was both quizzical and intense. Unusually she wore black leather boots over her black cotton tights. A heavy woollen shawl hung over the heavy black knee-length dress she wore. She appeared very thin, like a walking victim of famine or some ancient wizened scarecrow taking to the roads.


She opened her mouth to speak and Aoibheann found herself mesmerised by a mouthful of gold fillings glittering in the sunlight. “Is it the daughter of Dermot and Gráinne ye are?”


Her accent was broad and from somewhere southerly like Kerry. ” I am”, answered Aoibheann respectfully “are you lost?” The ancient crone laughed a deep throaty laugh “Is it lost I am she asks? D’ye hear the girl?” addressing no-one in particular. “Not lost at all I am knowing of the where and the when of the this and the then but…” here she drew in her breath dramatically “lost entirely ye shall be if you don’t do a kindness to a poor old woman of the roads.”


“What kindness can I do for you, please, grandmother?” replied Aoibheann already calculating that she could spare €2.00 or €3.00 at the most from her change. The old traveller woman gripped her right wrist in her old weather browned left claw and pulled Aoibheann hard into her. Then, to Aoibheann’s amazement, the old lady's eyes rolled back in her head as she lifted her face to the sun and began reciting “Croí na Cinne, Roth na Tine ,las an duine don súil is síne .” (Heart of the Universe, Wheel of Fire, illuminate the person to the eldest eye.) Then she cast her eyes down on Aoibheann’s palm and studied it intently. Suddenly she sucked in a huge gasp and uttered “Ochón”. “What is it ? Do you see something?”asked an incredulous and horrified Aoibheann.


The old woman said nothing but took a small intricately woven straw ring off of her own right ring finger. She solemnly placed it on the self same finger of Aoibheann’s right hand. As she did so Aoibheann saw another identical ring magically appear to replace the first one. “Wear this,” she hissed staring into Aoibheann’s widening pupils “and speak of this to no-one from this moment on until I myself remove it . Your very life ... yes your very life which was threatened this day.. depends on these few wisps of straw. Swear to me now that you’ll not remove it nor breathe a word to anyone until we meet again!”


“OK,” stammered Aoibheann “I swear !” With that the old traveller woman smiled a beaming smile that lit up all the way into her emerald eyes so she brought Aoibheann’s hand up to her thin pale lips and kissed it. “Go raibh maith agat , a leana”,she whispered, turned toward the pitches and hobbled off towards the hurling match.


Aoife ran up to her, “hold up for a moment Aoibheann. Who was that odd old woman?” “I don’t know,” replied Aoibheann “I just met her and she didn’t tell me her name.” Aoife looked troubled. ”You need to be careful Aoibheann there are dangerous people about. Remember what happened with that gang at lunchtime. What did that old woman want?”

“I couldn’t really tell,” replied Aoibheann evasively for she had realised that she had given her word to keep the ring a secret. She tucked her hand with the ring into her pocket out of sight and said. “I have an idea let’s go down to the library in the park and catch up on some study.”

They passed through the gates and ambled down the hill chatting and laughing together headed in the direction of the park and the Library. Both of them failed to notice a white van pulling around the corner and sweep past them down the hill only to park up on the curb before the park gate. The passenger door swung open but no one appeared to get out. The driver exited on the road side, ambled around and opened the double doors back of the HiAce and then proceeded to light himself a rollie cigarette to smoke. He was a tall, thin long-haired, rat faced man and the inside of the van was empty except for flattened cardboard covering the floor. Aoibheann noticed that the smallest window on the passenger side had been broken and was patched up with duct tape and cardboard.


“Step inside me now,” ordered Aoife in a serious voice and Aoibheann obeyed without hesitation. “So you’re the girl that’s protecting Aoibheann Cullen then?” jeered the stranger “Walk away now for it will do you no good.” “Who are you?” Asked Aoibheann.

“Why don’t you ask your f**king father Dermot, Aoibheann. I am his worst nightmare,” sneered the man, “ Who did daddy lock up in prison for the past five years, little girl?” Aoibheann gasped “You’re not …..?” “Yeah, said Philly “I am big bad Philly O’Leary . Well known burglar ,batterer and suspect number one in a long line of murders. I am delighted to meet you!”

“You can’t have her.” shouted Aoife suddenly realising the significance of the empty van’s open doors. “You will have to go through me.” She took up a defensive stance facing Philly with her two steel hair pins suddenly appearing glittering in her hands.

“Oh I don’t think I will,” drawled Philly leaning back against the van doors taking a long puff of the rollie and exhaling a cloud of smoke. “ He will though.”


Suddenly Aoife was sent crashing to the ground with a vicious blow from behind. Immediately Aoibheann rushed over to kneel beside her stricken friend. As she did a steel grip grabbed her arm and as she stared wide eyed, Alex O’Leary appeared out of thin air pulling an ancient black helmet off his head. “Surprise,” he said before smashing her in the face with his fist. Then everything went black for Aoibheann too.

Her last thoughts as she saw the fist coming were, ‘someone, somewhere help us!’ What’s to become of us?’