Chapter 15
Bevin stared at him in wonder. He was asking her for help in her story. He might not have all the answers to the problems that she was facing but she knew that he was one of the few in area that could help her. He didn't seem too scared to ask her for help with his project. She was more afraid of him finding out her unknown truth than she was at being able to accept it.
"Can you help me?"
"I don't know what you need my help for. You seem to have a good grasp of the story without my help. How much more can you learn from me?"
"I need to know what the tales are from you neck of the woods. Like I said earlier, each section of the British Isles seems to have their own take of the legends. I can't seem to crack the code of legends in Ireland. It all seems so…hidden, like no one wants to tell the tales," he told me.
"I don't know that it is hidden. We are a fair people, but we don't take well to strangers. Irish don't work well with outsiders. We don't seem to have a good track record or haven't you read our history regarding that?" Bevin asked.
"I know Irish history and no, the Irish don't seem to have a good record with the invaders. But, the lore is so much more. The tales of the Sorcha that blend within the families of the Banshee are exquisite. There is nothing like them anywhere else."
"And, that is a bad thing?" Bridget asked, joining the conversation.
"No, it isn't. But, in most lore and legends, there is some truth. The stories are a way of explaining history. Most of the people of the British Isles believe that Arthur was a king there, but no one can say when or where exactly. The Welsh use his standard at their national flag. His legacy is so ingrained in the hearts and minds that it has to have some semblance of truth. People don't just readily believe anything. I mean, they celebrate the Hill of Tara as his burial mound. The Irish mostly celebrate Brian as the great one of their lore. But, there is a handful that still wants Avalon to return."
"But, that handful isn't necessarily of Irish decadency, either," Bevin stated.
"No, they aren't. They are mostly Scotch-Irish or English-Irish that developed with the 'breed them out' mentality of the English. That is why when I find of clansman that will speak to me about the stories and the lore, I want to explore every aspect of their version. It helps me get a more rounded version."
"I don't understand," Bevin stated.
"Well, you are a Cavanaugh from Kildaire, right?"
"Yeah, so," she replied.
"There are others who share your ancestry but not your name and location. The clan that your people come from is the Caomhánach, which is Gaelic for Kavana. Your pronunciation is years in the making to form Cavanaugh and very Anglican. But, there are others. There are six houses in Ireland that are said to be descendants or related somehow to the Banshee. Cavanaugh isn't the only one," he told her.
"Who else then?" Bevin asked.
"They are the clans of O'Grady, O'Neill, O'Longs, the O'Brians, and O'Connors and the Kavanas. Of course, the O'Brians are descendants of the Brian Boru, the High King. The O'Neills and O'Connors were relatives of his. It is the Kavana and O'Grady lines that interest me the most and they are the hardest to get information from."
"But, I don't know how much of my version differs from what you already told me."
"You come from one of the lines of Morgan and Merlin. In that respect, you would be considered part Fae and not of this world. I don't know what that means per se but the stories are passed down from generation to generation. The overall beginnings change but the end is always the same," he told them.
"Avalon is reborn, I know."
"Then, please tell me what you know."
Bevin looked pensively over at Bridget. She raked a hand through her hair, but thankfully, Seamus didn't see the waves of fiery red that were hidden underneath. Bevin heard the slightly audible gasp that Bridget made before she turned to face her. She saw the look of panic in her eyes and then realized what she had done. She shook her head and then nodded at him. Bevin smiled, strangely, but she understood what Bridget was trying to convey.
"I don't know about the Arthurian connection. It seems to not matter to the way my Granddadda told the stories. In fact, I didn't even put it together with Avalon. To me Avalon is a place, a focal point if you will, it became an idea with the legends. If Avalon is to be reborn, it cannot be at the hands of Arthur. Avalon would have to have someone of Fae blood to draw Excalibur from the lake. But, the person to do this would have to be worthy and the need would have to be there. I don't see a need to have a united Ireland unless Northern Ireland wanted to rejoin the fold. I don't see that happening with the differences between the Catholics and Protestants."
"And, yet you don't see the need?"
"My country is a religious war torn nation, yes, but we make it work. It wasn't always that way and the people know it. I think that those that still believe in the legends want Avalon to return Ireland to a former glory that it cannot have today. It would be like trying to erase hundreds of years for a period of peace. Who would do such a thing?"
"It does seem farfetched, but still the story," he pressed.
"It is a family legend, mostly. When, where and who started it are unknown to me, but I can tell you this. A child would be born to the Clan of the Raven. This child would be known to its mother for thirteen days and thirteen hours. The child would be gone and replaced by another's. The mother wouldn't learn of the deception until the child's thirteenth year, but by then it would be too late. She would have no way of knowing where the child went or with who."
"A kidnapping?"
"Of a hideous kind, and a break of trust and friendship that would end the kingdom, if the king were to find out. In the thirteenth year, the Queen would realize that the son she was raising was not her own. When she would question the man who brought the boy to them, she would finally see the connection. The boy's father would have placed him in their care to pursue his own agenda. He was a friend to the king, but not a friend of the Queen. He also had the King's ear."
"Meaning?" Bridget asked.
"That he could tell lies to the King and he would believe them. Which is exactly what he did. He convinced the King that the Queen had destroyed the first born child at birth because she didn't want a rival, but what she didn't know was that she had twins. This friend saved the second child, the son, and gave him back to the King to raise. The Queen had no way of disproving this and since she was of a foreign house to the King he believed the young lord."
"But, the Queen was from the house of the Raven and not the King, correct?" he asked.
"Yes, she was. He was a Wolf and supposedly from the direct line of Bran the Great. She had no recourse but to hide and bide her time. She was of the Fae, so it was no consequence to her. It this exile she found out that the wannabe usurper hadn't taken the child as thought. He tried, but when he learned it was missing he replaced it with his own son."
"If the child was missing, how did the Queen not know?"
"That is vague and not told. It is the life of the child that my Granddadda told me. This child was hidden among the Banshee for they were still the protectors of the Fae and children of Morgan. They are all of the house of the Raven. They are referred to as the Morriagan."
"The Raven goddesses?"
"The same."
"Then they hid the child to protect it."
"So the story goes. But, the child's fate is still unknown. It is not known if it is still hidden among the children of the Morriagan, the Banshees, or not, but it hasn't been found. The story goes that the child will be known by the marking of the Sorcha, but to this day, no one in my family could tell me what they are. The child will not be revealed until the new Pendragon comes of age and it given his birth rite. He is the only one that can find the Sorcha, because he is the only one that believes the tales are true. But there is only one problem with that," Bevin explained.
"Yes, and what is that?"
"No one knows what the child looks like. And the only thing that we know is that the child is hidden amongst the clans of the Banshee. The child will not be a keener. The child will not know their history. And, the only way that the child would be found is by the color of its hair."
"Ní bheidh sé iompróidh an marc an dorchadais ar a cheann," he stated in Irish.
"Aye, Seamus, 'tis true. This child wouldn't be like the rest of the family. It wouldn't have dark hair. I think that this is referring to the Sorcha. The Sorcha bears hair like fire. Every relative I know bears the mark of the Duncan."
"They are black Irish," he replied.
"Aye, they are. As are most of the clans of the Banshee, it is because they are descendants of Morgan and the houses of the Raven. Darkness cloaks us all. There is no fire in our blood."
"Is there more?" he questioned, realizing that there was more that he hadn't heard to the tale.
"Isn't there always more to the story, Professor?" she quipped. "Isn't there always more to the tales? Isn't there always something else that must be proven or found before the legend becomes truth? It is the tales of old men and children and nothing more. I am sorry to have wasted your time. It was enlightening for me. Thank you."
Bridget quickly closed the browsers and followed her out of the reading room. She was confused at Bevin's quick change of heart concerning the legend. She actually had to jog a little to catch her before she exited the Thomas Cooper Library.
"What the Hell was that?"
"He knows too much," she offered.
"What do you mean?"
"He knows more to the story than he is telling me."
"And, you left like that because."
"If I stayed any longer, he would have figured it out."
"Figured what out?"
"That I have the marks of the Sorcha. He would try to push me into some fool's errand trying to fulfill a legend that I don't believe in. This is all very mad, you know? All of it," she replied.
"So, what do you want to do?"
"We are going to dye my hair and wait."
"Wait? Wait for what? Him to come for you?"
"No, not Dr. Seamus, the Pendragon. If legend is true, he will come for me. But, he is at a disadvantage," Bevin told her.
"And, how is that?"
"Because I will know him as soon as I set eyes on him. He will bear the marks of the Pendragon. He will come for me because his heart cannot stop him from searching for me."
"Is that all?"
"No, it isn't."
"And, what else will this Pendragon be?"
"He will be a great knight among his people. His lineage will be questionable, but he will bear the marks of three great houses. He will be the unifying son of his people. He won't be Irish, Welsh or Scotch. He won't be from the British Isles at all. He will come from the land of Man."
"Oh, is that all."
"No, it isn't, but it is a start. Come on. I want to get this over with. And, then I'm calling my Granddadda. Either he'll tell me the truth, or he won't, but it is time we talked again."