inspired by a real event and transposed to the late Iron Age

It happened on the day before Samhein, when I was out hunting. It was late afternoon, the clouds had covered the sky, and the day was rapidly darkening toward night. The temperature was dropping, and I could hear thunder growling in the distance. I was worried, this was not a night to be out in; I recalled the time, some twenty five years ago, when the chief Caoilte Cruithne was out, and one of the Sluagh got him. He became cruel, beastly, and tortured and killed his people. It took four Druids and the High King to cleanse him, but he died at peace. I did not want to become like him!

It hadn’t been a particularly successful hunt, but I did have a cony to cook up for supper, if I could find shelter. And I needed to find shelter soon, for it would be a cold, dark, and stormy night. As I made my way out of the forest, hoping to find a charcoal burner’s hut, or some kind of shelter, a huge white stag leapt into the path ahead of me. Instead of leaping away again, it stopped and looked at me, then turned and trotted along the path. After a few steps, it turned its head and looked back, and moved its head as though beckoning me. A white stag is magical and I knew it wanted me to follow, so I started obeyed, as one should when faced with a magic animal.

I followed it uphill through a thinly forested area, and as I rounded a bend in the path, I saw the silhouette of a building on a hill to the right of the road. The stag stopped a bit ahead of me, touched its nose to the ground on the right, and then leapt away. In no time at all, it had disappeared. I turned off on the narrow lane it had indicated, and found that it led up toward the building, and as I neared it, I could see that it seemed to be just ruins. But I knew that there was something I must do there, the presence of the stag made that clear. As I got closer, I saw that some parts looked reasonably whole. I went on, I knowing I would find shelter from the coming storm there.

I reached the building and made my way through the ruined section. When I came to an area that was still partially roofed, with walls that seemed solid, I lit a torch I had fashioned from some wood I’d gathered on the way, and investigated. As I continued along a hall, I passed a doorway to my left. I felt an incredible aura of evil emanating from the room beyond. I hurried on by, and found another room, solid and safe from the weather, with a good sturdy door to shut and bar. I decided this would do nicely for my night’s shelter, and went back out to gather bracken and pine boughs for my bed, and some more wood for a fire. Soon I had all I could carry, and went back in.

The evil aura was stronger than ever, stretching out, but unable to break whatever bond it was that held it tied to that room. As I hurried past the doorless room, the evil aura was reaching out toward me, trying to ensnare me. I almost decided to look for some other shelter, but there was that stag, and a very strong compulsion that told me I had to stay.

I settled down in my safe room, with the door shut and barred. I prepared my bed, lit a small fire on the stone floor, cooked up the cony and after I had eaten, I banked the fire and settled down to sleep. I was very tired, and it felt good to lie down, but sleep would not come. The memory of the stag, combined with the compulsion that was growing stronger by the minute, wouldn’t allow me to sleep. The room was very dark with the fire banked, so I took a stick from the pile, and coaxed it alight and set out to examine my surroundings. I had just done a cursory look around before. Off in one corner, I saw that one of the stones in the floor was softly glowing. As I neared it, the feeling grew that this was why I was here. I needed to lift that stone, and remove what was hidden under it. Outside the storm was coming closer. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, and the wind was rising and I could hear the patter of rain on the floor where it was being blown in through the broken windows.

Ignoring the sounds of the storm, I took out my knife and pried at the stone. After some time, I was able to lift one corner, but could not raise it high enough to get my fingers under it. I went to my pile of firewood and found a sturdy stick, about the width of my thumb. When I again raised the corner of the stone, I slid the stick in, and pried with it. Eventually, I had it high enough to get the fingers of both hands under, and gave it a heave. It dropped back with a crash, revealing a hollow beneath. Shining the light into the hollow, I saw something wrapped in a rotting cloth; I worked the bundle out, opened it, and stared. There sat a beautifully carved gold torc, the ends formed into lynx heads. It was beautiful, and I knew it had belonged to a powerful chieftain and was dedicated to the God Lugh.

I crouched there for some time, turning the torc over in my hands, and suddenly I remembered. About twenty five years before, a jealous brother killed a clan chief and his family, and took over. There was an infant son whose body was never found, nor was the chief’s torc. Later, it turned out that the infant had been raised by shepherds, and when he came of age, he fought and killed the usurper and was acclaimed as the chief. But the family torc was never found. Could this be it? Is that why the stag directed me here? I knew that the usurper had built a large stronghold in this vicinity, and that he was a cruel and vicious man, capturing peasants and warriors alike and torturing them. That room, the one with the evil aura, could that have been his torture chamber? And had the torc been hidden all these years here where he ruled? The heir had asked about the torc, questioning everyone he could, and had sent men out searching for it, unsuccessfully.

That evil had to be cleansed, and suddenly I knew how, as though a voice spoke to me. I rose, carrying the torc in front of me, and went to the door. Unbarring it, I went along the passage until I came to the room with the evil aura. I could feel the evilness reaching, stretching, trying to break the invisible barrier that held it locked in the room. I knew it wanted to reach out and overpower me. I stood just beyond its reach, held up the torc. I called on Lugh, the God of Light to come and destroy the evil. There was a moment of stasis, and then something snapped. A blinding light flashed in the room, and the barrier sprang back, into the room and taking the evil with it. Then the feeling of evil started to fade, and a faint shriek echoed away to nothingness, and was gone. When it was over, I thanked Lugh for cleansing the room, and asked his blessing on me, went back to my resting place, re wrapped the torc and placed it in my pack. I then settled back in my bed and slept soundly for the rest of the night.

When I woke in the morning, I ate and packed the wrapped torc and leftovers in the pack, unbarred the door and went out. When I passed the room where the evil had been, there was no trace of it left. I stepped into the room, just to be sure, but it was just an empty room, with dead leaves littered over the floor. Outside, I found that the sun was shining in a clear sky, and the air was brisk. It would be a good day for walking. I had good hunting for the rest of my journey, and knew that I had been blessed by Lugh. After resting at home for a few days, I travelled to Tara and showed the torc to the high king. He admired it, and told me its story, and my memory was true, it was just as I had recalled, there in that old ruin. Then he sent me back to Cean Tir, where my home is. He told me that the torc belongs to out Chief, and as I found it, I should return it.

I have done so, and was given much praise and adulation. But I do not deserve it. It was the magical stag that led me to the torc. But it is a Samhein eve I will never forget.