Greetings, clan of Cumhaill! I am Gwena of the Eravisci Clan, formerly from Pannonia, a western province in the Roman Empire.  Like my cousin, Adom, who arrived here shortly before I did, I, as well, was forced to flee Pannonia, for like Adom’s family, my own family perished in the Baosigne War.  But, unlike Adom, I was not present when my family and all of the other families of Pannonia were slaughtered. I do believe that I was fortunate, for I am sure that it was by the grace of the great lunar goddess Ceridwen that I survived…that she had watched over me and kept me safe when the siege had taken place.

I had spent the last few weeks, before the siege and pillaging of our lands, away from our village.  My family had sent me to stay with and learn from an old crone, a woman of wisdom, who lived on the edge of a deep forest. The guide who was taking me to her led me through the forest for several days. I feared that we were lost after spending two days and nights, weaving along a path that only the guide seemed to see through thickets of trees so dense and dark that it didn’t seem possible we would find our way out into an open area again.  On the third day, relief washed over me when I saw smoke rising from the chimney of a taigh in a clearing about one furlong away from the edge of the forest.  We soon arrived at the taigh where the old crone greeted me with much warmth and instructed the guide to only return for me in a month’s time, when the moon would be full and the summer solstice would be upon us.  The old crone explained that it would be the longest day of the year, providing us with much light when we returned through the forest.  The full moon would remain large and bright throughout our traveling time, hastening our return to the village.

I learned much during my stay with the old woman. I learned how to recognize herbs and plant roots, like calendula, cyhnaith, and woundwart, which were used to make potions for healing or for magical purposes.  One day, she opened a small chest that she kept hidden in her root cellar.  In it were pieces of parchment on which strange-looking symbols had been drawn. She taught me to understand this strange science of symbols, and also learn the language of the runes.  Another time, she opened a small oak cófra (cupboard) in which a smaller, metal box sat.  She lay the box on the table by the hearth and proceeded to gently remove the contents.  A beautiful woven cloth, made of a fabric I had never seen before, and adorned with many of the symbols I had seen on the pieces of parchment, was wrapped around the object.  The crone set the object down and while unwrapping it, she mumbled words in a strange language that I could not understand.  When the cloth fell away, I saw a perfectly shaped ball of glass, which, the crone explained, was made of pure crystal.  I felt myself being drawn to it, as though it were calling to me. I could not avert my gaze away from it. That is when I saw an image of a woman in the ball, as clearly as I could see the old crone.  A shiver passed through my soul, as though I had discovered a deep, dark secret.  The face seemed to be staring back at me and then smiled.  At that moment, I distinctly heard the woman in the crystal ball say my name, over and over, as though she were trying to impress my mind with it.  I did not understand why, but in the next few moments, I began to cry.  Then, as suddenly as the face had appeared, it vanished.  I collapsed onto the floor, now sobbing convulsively. That is when the old crone related a story to me that would change the course of my life.

My family had sent me from the village because the time had come for me to know the truth about who I really was.  The old crone had sent them a message, reminding them of the promise they had made many years before, when I was only an infant.  The old crone had been appointed as my guardian, but to be so only after I had reached the age of sixteen.  My sixteenth birthday had arrived, just before I had left my family.  Yet, there was more.  My family had also been appointed as my guardians to watch over me from infancy until my sixteenth birthday.  As the crone spoke, I began to realize that I wasn’t who I had believed myself to be all those years.  I still didn’t understand why the woman’s face that I had seen in the crystal ball had affected me so deeply, but the crone’s answer soon revealed the truth.  She held my face in her hands and her eyes were full of love and understanding.  She then told me that the face I had seen was that of my mother.  I didn’t understand how I could have seen a face I didn’t know, but the crone explained that my mother had been a powerful sorceress who had cast a spell on me at birth that would trigger the memory of her face and voice when the time was right.  She also told me that I, like my mother, had the “gift”.  This was why I had been able to see my mother’s face and hear her voice so quickly.  The crone explained that everything she had taught me was secondary to what I had inherited through my bloodline.  My mother was indeed powerful, for she was Merlin’s (Myrdin) sister, Gwendydd.  I had heard tales of Merlin and his powerful wizardry.  But I wondered how I had come to be with the family I had believed to be my own.  The crone explained that my mother had approached Merlin when she had found herself to be with child. It seemed that my birth had already been foretold, so Merlin merely confirmed the date of my birth with Gwendydd.  There was no mention of the father, and his identity remained a mystery.  But I wondered why my real mother would have given me away.  I felt a twinge of pain over the loss of someone I had never even known.  The crone told me that both Gwendydd and Merlin had foreseen a tragic end to my life as a young child. A powerful wizard was intensely jealous of Gwendydd’s and Merlin’s powers and he was driven to destroy anyone connected to them, since he was incapable of hurting either of the powerful wizards.  Gwendydd dreaded doing what she knew must be done.  In order to keep me safe until such time that my own powers began to develop and emerge, Gwendydd traveled from Avalon, my true birthplace, to a place so distant that even their powerful archenemy would be unable to find her.

Gwendydd had once met, upon her travels, a young couple, who was also traveling.  They came upon her by the side of the road where she had stopped to rest. They shared some food and mead with her and, for several hours, recounted tales of their homeland to her. The day passed quickly, but before they parted ways, the young man wanted to show Gwendydd some of their wares that lay beneath a blanket in their wagon.  He told her that they had traveled far in the hope of finding some warriors who would appreciate the craftsmanship of his goods and be capable of paying them a good sum of coins.  Gwendydd had expected to see some articles of clothing to befit a warrior, however, instead, she gasped when the young man displayed more than a dozen swords, all sitting side by side, at the bottom of his wagon.  The artistry was superb. Not only were the blades sharp and finely polished, but the handles boasted intricate Celtic designs that only a master craftsman could have produced.  Gwendydd was truly impressed and immediately purchased a sword from the young man, though he protested that he had not shown them to her in the hope of making a purchase.  She looked at him closely and told him that those were the finest swords she had ever seen.  She told him that she would be sure to direct any warriors that she came across to him.  The young man nodded in thanks, however, he did not expect Gwendydd to ever send warriors his way, since he and his wife could be traveling anywhere on the road.  What the young man didn’t know was that Gwendydd was a powerful sorceress and that if she needed to, she would find them.  True to her word, warriors found their way throughout the following weeks to wherever the young couple happened to be.  The couple was so grateful for Gwendydd’s help that they asked one of the last warriors who bought their swords to bring a note to Gwendydd on their behalf.  The note said that because of the great kindness she had shown them, they would be honoured to repay her in whatever way would please her.  They had drawn a simple map to where they lived, in Pannonia, though Gwendydd needed no maps when the time did come for her to find them.  She too had remembered what a kind, loving couple they had been…simple, honest, hardworking, and gentle people, the kind of people she would want her daughter raised by.  When she arrived at the door of their humble taigh late one evening in early May, soon after the fire festival of Beltane, they needed only see the small bundle in Gwendydd’s arms and the tears in her eyes to know why she had come.  After Gwendydd confided in them and told them who she was and why she was bringing her precious infant daughter to them, she left them instructions and also told them that I was to never know the truth of my origins until the time was right.  They assured her that they would love me and care for me as though I were their own child.  She made one last request of my guardians before taking leave…that they would name me Gwena, for not only did it contain a part of my mother’s name, but it would be a reminder of who I was.  My mother had given me the name of the counseling Celtic goddess Gwena or Venus.  This is what the old crone had told me about my name:  In Celtic myth, Venus or Guinevere, or Gwen, represented a “glimpse of light” or the “white ghost”, relating to a residue of ancestral soul-wisdom—identified in Druidic cosmology with the constellation of Cygnus, a constellation identified by the Druids as the place or home of their invisible Creator or Creatrix.^† After many tears, Gwendydd finally parted with them, never to see me again over the next sixteen years.  This is how I came to be known as Gwena Eravisci, daughter of Breanainn, a master craftsman of swords, and his loving wife, Briana. 

Gwendydd made one more stop on her return to Avalon. She stopped by the old crone’s dwelling.  The crone had been expecting her and understood what her role in my life would be.  Gwendydd had gone to her because she knew that I would be completely safe with her when the time came and that I could not have had a better teacher to guide me into my own powers.  This woman had also done the same for Gwendydd and Merlin, for she is my grandmother, Grania.  She too had gone into hiding many years before, for, though she had given birth to the two most powerful wizards to ever be born, she herself had limited powers and so, for the same reasons that Gwendydd had given me away, my grandmother chose to seclude herself as far away as possible.  She and Gwendydd remained in contact however, and when my grandmother heard that I lived only about three days of travel from her, she was very pleased, for Grania knew that she could cast a protection spell on me from that distance.

I realize that my story has grown too long and lest you become weary, I will do my best to make haste with the rest of my tale.

The day arrived for me to return to my family in Pannonia, however, the guide never returned to fetch me.  I felt uneasy. I sensed that something terrible had happened.  My grandmother (I still only knew of her as the old crone) did not seem surprised, however, when I insisted that I should find my own way back, she tried to dissuade me, telling me it would be too dangerous for me to travel alone through the woods.  I told her that even if the spirits of my ancestors were to rise from the ground before me, they could not stop me! With that said, Grania gave me a special blessing, anointing my head and blessing my feet so that they be swift.  As predicted by the old crone, the moon remained full for the next three nights, one of those nights being when I finally neared my village.  As I approached, I saw more smoke than usual and wondered if celebrations were at hand. Perhaps, the Beltane festivities had been prolonged this year, and I felt my mouth water at the thought of a suckling pig or two roasting over the large pit in the town square. No sooner had visions of a feast entered my mind when I was thrown back, my head reeling at the sight before me.  Where my village had once stood, glowing embers now covered the ground.  To look at the ruins of taighs and byres, I could not imagine anything less than a firedrake…a fire-breathing dragon… having destroyed our village so completely. Everywhere I looked, I saw only the dead. I called for my family…my parents and my brothers, but all I heard was my own voice echoing through the trees.  I walked aimlessly, anger welling in my heart for the blackguards who had massacred my whole village.  That was when I came upon the bodies of my parents and those of my young brothers.  A sword, stained with the blood of several dead marauders, lay by my father’s body.  I could tell that my father had fought valiantly, and once I had spent myself crying over the bodies of my family, I picked up my father’s sword, aimed it towards the heavens, cursing the invaders who had destroyed our people and lands, and swore to avenge my family’s spilt blood. I then thought of my young cousin, Adom, whose family lived close by. Perhaps, I thought, he had been spared. He was only a bantling...a very young child. I found his family as I had found mine, yet there was no sign of Adom.  I feared that the marauders had taken him away, and I could not even begin to wonder what his fate might be.

I returned to my grandmother’s taigh as I had come.  It was as though she had been expecting me.  Without a word between us, she pried the bloodied sword from my hand and led me into her taigh where some bannock and mead awaited me.

The years passed  as I honed my skills and Grania guided me into my powers. We had never spoken again of that dark time in my life.  One day, however, as I gazed into the crystal ball, I saw the face of a young man and heard his voice call out my name.  He was asleep, yet his disturbed nature was such that I could plainly see he was suffering from a terrible nightmare.  He called out my name once more and that’s when I recognized my young cousin Adom’s voice.  Though he was now grown and a handsome young lad, I knew at once that he was my fileen…my sweet Adom, whom I had often wondered about throughout the last number of years.  I had not even heard anything from or about my mother, Gwendydd, and each time I had asked Grania about her, she would only remain silent.  I looked at the image of Adom once again and came to a decision.  There was no need for me to explain...my grandmother already knew that I planned to leave on the morrow.  She was a true taibhsear for she had already foreseen my departure and had prepared some dhera, a tart sweet liquor made from currants, and some extra bannock for me to bring on my journey.  At cockcrow, after much hugging, I left in search of my cousin Adom.  His mind was strong, for his voice reached me as clearly as I heard my own heartbeat. He was entreating me to join him in this beautiful, flourishing place, full of green pastures, that is the home of the Cumhaill. 

So, here I now stand, having recently arrived, and hope that I might find myself calling this lush land and its people home. However I may be of service to you, I am willing and ready.

Slaínte

^{† Patterson, Helena. The Handbook of Celtic Astrology. Llewellyn Publications, Minnesota, 1994.}

©June 19, 2004, LRM