"Follow the reindeer," Mother said. "I will break my silence with your father. It is time to forget our differ- ences and think of our children. But lest you grow careless like your father, I give you this law. Each year at spring fire, you will take this tailfolk spirit in whatever form you find it and put it on the stone for me that I know I am not forgotten of Prydn."

In the days of the cold spring, Mabh's fhain collected their ponies and half-wild sheep, child-wealth, and herd dogs and started north in the wake of the reindeer, won- dering what they would find. Already they saw that Mother and Lugh ended their quarrel and were together again, for the ice had receded much farther than any hunter remembered.

Now, Mabh's first husband was named Cruaddan even as Dorelei's, only fitting since the name means "first child,"

87.

and even as wise. When the Prydn wanted to hunt Rein- deer for meat, Cruaddan forbade it. Reindeer was not stupid like cattle; to hunt him would be to scatter his herd from the trail they followed. So fhain hunted elsewhere but left Reindeer to point them north. This was a shrewd decision, since tailfolk hunters tracked Reindeer as well.

All their conjured demons ran with them, hot on the track of Mabh to punish her for their slain brother-spirit. Not enough they were moving from their hunting grounds, Prydn had to fight and run, fight and run all the way to the great salt marsh.

In those days were parts of Mother half land that wanted to be all sea, and since women are noted for the changing of mind, Mother pushed some into the water and raised some up, but about the salt marsh she could never make up her mind. This caused Prydn a great deal of trouble, sometimes wading and more often floundering and losing sheep until they made rafts and poled their way across the stupid marsh that would not be either land or sea. So undecided a place was it (as Dorelei had the tale from Gawse) that fish were growing feet as well as fins to be ready for whatever came. But Reindeer swam on toward the chalk cliffs that loomed up and up on the far side.

From the first, Prydn knew they'd come to a land of promise and magic. In the chalk cliffs, to be had with a few strokes of an antler pick, were flints of the finest kind, barely flawed or not at all, to yield a wealth of tools and arrowheads. Oh, and up above-sudden as sunlight through cloud-were meadow downs green as when Mother first imagined the color, all aswiri with new flowers and bees busily making the most of it. There were fresh streams bursting their banks from the ice Lugh Sun melted in his renewed love for Mother, and game running so thick they tripped over one another.

But when Mabh's people looked back, they saw their pursuers, too, were rafting across the marsh. Their spirits flew over the rafts darkening the sky with their evil like festering in a wound. Mabh knew they'd come to a place of promise but trouble as well. Nothing was changed. The talffolk would push them out of the good lands. She ran out on the cliff edge, holding up her flint knife to Mother and Lugh.

88 "Now decide," she called on them. "Is this Tir-Nan-Og as we were promised?"

"It is a good place," Lugh grumbled, "beuer than most. The ice is melting. Must you have everything at once? Speak to your mother about it. I'm busy."

Night was falling and the tallfolk rafts were coming closer. Mabh dug furiously for moonstones. She scattered them in respect, and Mother opened her mooneye.

"What does Mabh want now? Your father and I are loving again. You are becoming a nuisance. Give us a little rest from your needs."

"The tallfolk are on us. Look thee where they have almost crossed the marsh. Do something!"

"That marsh has always troubled me," Mother admit- ted. "Land wants it, sea wants it. I just can't decide."

"If you do not and quickly, you will have no children to honor you," Mabh reminded her, too beset for good manners. "/ will decide. Let it be now and always sea."

Now, Mother was not above haggling herself and in a very good position for it now, "Will you honor me and turn to no tallfolk ways or gods so long as Prydn endure?"

*'We will," Mabh promised. "We do."

"Will you honor the reindeer who led thee here, wear their mark in remembrance, raise up the stones to mea- sure your seasons by your father's path? Will you give me each year a spirit of the tallfolk on my stone?"

"We will do it," said Mabh-anxiously, for the tallfolk were about to land, their angry spirits howling for her blood. "We will keep apart. Hurry, Mother. Give us the sea. Part us from the old forever!"

In her passion Mabh raised her knife and brought it down as if to cut the earth with the very force of her will.

When her knife came down, a great roar filled the world.

The seas to the north and south of the marsh reared like stallions in heat and rolled in high waves toward each other until they met with the sound of thunder, swallow- ing tallfolk hunters, women, children, animals, spirits, all.

When Lugh Sun turned his eye on his children again, the land was an island. None could ever agree on what hap- pened, but they saw Mabh's knife slash across earth and sky, and Mother's will was no stronger than Mabh's in her need. One cannot say, but it is known that gems have 89.

great magic, so from the first the island was known as Pretannia, which only later and ignorant men call Britain.

Mabh lived many years as gern and kept the promise to her Parents. She marked her cheeks as Reindeer, laid out the stone circles, and once a year took a child from the tallfolk cradles for sacrifice. Growing older her heart soft- ened, and she often kept the children she borrowed, espe- cially if there were few baim in the crannog, as in the manner of Guenloie's mother. Now and then in a lean year Mabh ignored the promise altogether and left Prydn wealth among tallfolk so that they might not know hun- ger. Do not judge; this is not easy for a woman to do.

Truly children are to be prized above all other wealth and worth any sacrifice of the heart.

In the long years of Mabh's rule, Prydn became strong, even arrogant. When newcomers came with bronze to break their flint, Prydn borrowed the magic and made even better tools and weapons with it, as they do to this day. And one day Mother opened her eye on the old gern.

"Mabh," she said, "we are both old women and need not lie to each other. You are like these others who have forgotten me. You are my first children and I love you best, but you need a lesson."

Mother meant her words. Times had changed and Lugh with them, being worshiped himself as a god now by the tallfolk, who had the foolish notion he managed it all by himself. Like a man he enjoyed being made much of and allowed tallfolk a new magic to break bronze and flint. And although Prydn tried, they could never pierce the hard magic of Blackbar. A bitter lesson, but the Par- ents gave this promise to Mabh: Tir-Nan-Og still waited if Prydn kept to the old way. The land of the young was to be theirs alone in a place beyond tallfolk, beyond world's edge. Mother and Lugh had their faults but never broke a promise once given.

When Mabh died at last, her body was placed in the barrow with a hole at each end so her spirit could escape to watch over her people. A long barrow it was, not the round sort of the newcomers, and much better hidden.

Tallfolk tried to find it but never did, being too blind in most cases to find their own feet. Mabh sleeps undis- turbed, and her gem-spirit rides before Dorelei's pony-

90 The crannog was warm and dark, the light from the firepit a dull red glow that tent flickering life to the animal figures peeked into the walls. Dorelei finished her tale and leaned to stroke Cru's cheek. There was a general rustle of movement, about the fire.

Padrec knew they were tired. They needed rest after a two-day ride with only a rough camp to break it. He truly wished to preach to them about the errors of their marriage ways, yet as he listened to the story of Mabh, plainer and nearer truths crowded in on him. They were wintering in sparse pasture among hostile strangers. Their meeting with Reindeer fhain was anything but hopeful.

Mabh's story was one of magic and celestial intercession for faithful children, of a queen leading her folk to a promised land, of courage and triumph. Dorelei was wise to choose it. She made a sign to gather their attention.

"Now let Padrec speak of the magic of a's Father-God."

Later for marriage, when we're aU rested. Not much holy thunder left in me tomght. "Gern-y-fhain, I would speak of the magic and of children like fhain who received it."

Dorelei's eyes widened slightly in understanding.

"Good, Padrec."

The ritual attitude for tale-speaking was not yet com- fortable to Padrec, very tiring on the back, which must be held erect with the legs crossed. His ankles were still tender, but he tried to ignore the discomfort.

"Was in the first days when small children like fhain were held slave in the land of Egypt. Was one of these children called Moses, a shepherd with flocks like to fhain's, living and grazing like thee on the high ground. . . ."

On the mountain slopes it was that Moses beheld God. Padrec told them of the bush that burned and spoke out of its flame: / am that I am. He told of the task laid on Moses even as Mabh to deliver his people out of Egypt, of the rod turned into a snake, and the plagues brought on Egypt by God's magic when Pharaoh went back on his word. Warming to his tale, Padrec used Prydn terms more and more, gratified at how little they distorted essential meaning. He spoke in their words of the Exodus and pursuit, of Moses stretching his hand over the Red Sea, which parted to let the Hebrew fhain cross in safety but 91.

closed to drown their enemies. Fhain believed him: had Hot Mabh done as much with her flint knife? Padrec told them of the wandering in the desert, of God's anger with Moses, which they likened to Mother putting Mabh in her place. He recounted the Commandments graven on the tablets and how the children became a great people in keeping this covenant. Aye, great, but always ringed with enemies, even as Prydn.

"Now, Jesu, the Man-Son of God, was of the House of .David. Tens of seasons before He came into the world, .David was a king who himself was born a shepherd, even as Dorelei. In his obedience to the fhain-way of his people, he made many songs to God, and they are the first words that I would teach you to say with me.

"The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh ; pie to lie down in green pastures. He restoreth my soul. . ."

When Padrec finished speaking, he looked about al fhain. "Truly the magic of God reaches everywhere. His one hand stirs the heart in Salmon's egg while the other ,'sets the stars to move." Padrec rubbed his ankle and bowed ^his head to Doreiei. "Have said, Gern-y-fhain."

It was Drust who broke the respectful silence-serious, too-caring Drusl. Years later, when Padrec thought of .him, the love and pain were still bright. Sweet Drusl was the tragedy in the seed of triumph.

"Be thy Father-God able to do these things?"

"And more, Drust, when thee will hear of them."

Drust poked the fire with a stick, probing a difficult 'thought. "Be well a were shepherds. We know the earih ' and the feel of things. Sometimes on herd watch do took ;at stars and try to see beyond them."

, "Beyond?" Guenloie nestled against him. "What thinks ;econd husband?" she murmured in a voice all drowsy ^invitation. Drust carried her hand lo his lips.

"Do love thee much."

"Need stars for that?"

"Nae, but hear. Do stars speak and point as when Jesu -was born? What do stars say to fhain?" The question compelled Drusl, complex as it was. "Cannae know. Have ' thought many nights on this."

"Padrec spoke of chosen people, the Hebrew," Cru 'reflected. "Father-God looks only to them?"

92 "Once, perhaps," Padrec told him. "But when Mary gave birth toJesu, He opened His arms to all men. And suffered for them, as will tell thee soon. All men are brothers who believe in Jesu Christ."

Malgon grunted skeptically. "Brother to tallfolk?"