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| The sea of Moyle was wide,
dark and deep. The four swans landed in rough water and the cold wind
blew them hither and thither. 'It's too big. Where's the edges?' Conn
cried. 'What will we eat, what will we drink?' Aedh said. 'Sing to
me,' Finola said, 'My heart is so heavy I just want to sink.' They
took turns to sing to each other. They sang about their loneliness,
their lost home, their love for their father, and their music made
them brave, calm. Maybe Aoife, high in the stormy air over the Sea
of Moyle, heard their songs, and her jealous heart curdled with spite.
No-one sang for her. She sent a deadly storm. Black waves rose around them. Black clouds stretched over the sea. Finola said, 'If we are separated, meet again at the Rock of Seals.' Howling winds pounced on the four swans, and drove them apart. They were battered, each alone, by the crashing waves and lashing foam. All night long the Demon storm raged, slashed at their white feathers, drenched them, dashed them down the steep faces of huge clashing waves. Hailstones gnashed them, thunder smashed the skies above them and great flashes of lightening gashed the darkness. In the morning, at last, the frowning clouds cleared. The wind screeched itself to a hoarse dying whisper and the waves rested among the rocks. Finola reached the rock of Seals. No body else was there. 'Please, please, please let my brothers be alive,' she said. 'I cannot bear to be all alone.' She waited and waited. 'They must come, they must come, they must come.' She waited. And they came! First Aedh and then Conn and then at long last, Fiacra. 'Where have you been? I thought I would die waiting.' 'I have been in a whirlwind that spat me out,' said Aedh. 'I have been mashed by the sea and put back together,' said Conn. 'I have been to the bottom of the ocean, holding my breath until I burst,' said Fiacra. They were exhausted, bruised, feathers torn and broken. They huddled close together and shared each other's heart beat, each other's warm breath. How wonderful to be still alive, to be still together. The lonely days of the three hundred years on the Sea of Moyle passed slowly, but no storm tried to destroy them again. One day, Conn shouted, 'What is that?' A black thing dropped from the sky and hissed over the water towards them. It was Aoife. She skirled and swirled around the four swans so wildly that she twirled up a whirlpool. All the while she was screaming, 'Three hundred years on the northern sea of Moyle are ended. Your doom takes you now to the Western sea, for three hundred years more,' and then she swooped up crookedly, back up beyond the sky. 'What is in the west?' Fiacra asked. 'The edge of the world,' Conn said. 'Great sea monsters that swallow ships whole,' Aedh whispered. The swans shivered with fear. previous page | read more |
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