Trinity

Chapter Five - Cruinniú

Trinity

Chapter Five – Cruinniú

Saersha was nervous, it wasn’t every day that you were talking to the whole village. This was nonsense really, she had lived in Strandhill her entire life and she knew everyone. So why was she panicking over addressing them all at once.  Things had moved fast after they had found that piece of paper, it seemed like just a few hours ago instead of a few days. It hadn’t even been a particularly old note, Mrs. Gillen had told them it was probably from a student’s notes, perhaps from a thesis, whatever that was. The way Mrs. Gillen had moaned about them, Saersha figured it must be an illness. But what would a sick student want to know about old legends of Ireland. Cara had suggested later that maybe it was to keep him occupied while he was ill, just like Neela read to her when she was ill. Saersha supposed this made sense.

It was such an unimposing thing, this little message. No fancy lettering, no elaborate drawings, just plain simple text on a white background. No one would think anything of it, no one would guess the importance it would play in their lives. Saersha wondered if the author was still alive, probably not, or else the Tuatha DayDannan would be gone. She wondered if he’d even managed to find  it, how many years had passed since he’d typed it. Would this article still even be here, or had the Fae destroyed this too. There were so many questions, once more Saersha read the page trying to make sense of it. It was part of a letter, presumably to a lecturer. Well, that’s what Mrs. Gillen had said, it read;

‘... during my research of local mythology, including some translations from the Annals of Ulster, as well as various hagiographies from the seventh century regarding Saint Patrick and his banishing of the snakes.  I believe that the term ‘snake’ may be a miss-translation of magic’. That Saint Patrick may have actually banished magic instead of snakes.

Of course this would be symbolic of Patrick chasing demons and monsters from a mainly pagan culture. Substituting Christ in its place and modernising third century Ireland somewhat. The earliest         manuscripts, containing the legend are quite badly damaged, and the ogham script is barely legible. It is hard to distinguish whether  it is draiocht, meaning magic or in fact, naithair, snake.

But I would need to research the original documentation in Trinity College. Specifically the book of Armagh, in which the memoir of St. Patrick written by Muirchu in the seventh century are contained...’

Saersha knew about how the Irish patron saint had banished the reptile, everyone knew. Every child was taught it from the cradle. Every county had some association with the most famous religious figure to Ireland. But had he really cast the fairies out? If he had, could the texts include the way to send them back once more, could they really be free again. Mrs. Gillen had insisted they show it at the village meeting, that Friday. So here Saersha was, with her sisters about to tell the entire parish about their find.

Saersha, Neela and Una stood at the blackened altar in St. Patrick’s. The building was but a shell now, a charred skeleton of what it once was. The sharp acrid smell of smoke stung Saersha’s nose and eyes. But the church still stood. Fr. Murray and the community had cleared it of the debris, and the carpenters were making a start on rebuilding the roof. The font still worked, and the large golden cross was buffed to as near perfection as warped metal could. The floor was swept to reveal the cold concrete beneath, and the tabernacle still held the precious host and wine within, it was considered a miracle that the tabernacle had remained unharmed. Saersha had some minor misgivings about that, but what they needed right now was some, any, hope. The church was important, the faith was important. It was only their protection and sanctuary in more ways than one.

The warm afternoon sun was making its way to the horizon, bathing the entire church in a comforting glow, its last rays of heat was captured by the stone and made the atmosphere pleasant and surreal. The Church was filling up now; it seemed as if everyone Saersha had ever known was there, even though Saersha knew they had lost so many so recently. Everyone came to the weekly meeting, to meet friends and talk; to share sorrows and good tidings, to know they and their families were safe. No one worried about trespassers, there was little to steal in anyone’s house any more, and as long as they were back before nightfall. They would be safe from most dangers. The hall was full of the people’s soft chatter, as members mingled and caught up on news.