Naturally the de Danann made resistance, and the war was joined.
Somehow the Gaels prevailed, despite the wizardry of the smaller defenders. Yet it was not quite a definitive victory; the Danans were neither slain to the last man nor forced to depart Eirrin. A bargain was struck, and it was strange indeed. The Danans went into the land. Their kingdom became a subterrene one, with the Gaels retaining control of the surface. Later many claimed that the Danans, the little people, were working their magicking on crops and livestock. The Poet of Daneira swore this was not true-though some Danan renegades may well have sought a harrying form of vengeance on the surface dwellers.
Above the tunnel of descent of each of the de Danann kings was erected a high sidh or fairy mound, and to the Gaels as time went on the Danans became the Sidhe. ‘Twas said by the Gaels that the Sidhe mocked them by crying out when one of the Gaelic number was to die. This was the fearsome wailing cry of the ban-Sidhe: the Banshee. With time, the Danans slid into Gaelic legend.
By their sorceries the Danans or Sidhe transformed the underworld into a place of beauty suitable for human habitation, and they throve there beneath the earth.
There was among them a source of constant contention: ever there were those who spoke out for their returning to make war on the Gaels, to reclaim their land. These agitators pointed out that the Danans were becoming even smaller in size and more and more pale, living forever without the sun. Aye, the wizards among them, the Servants of Danu, had created a moon for the goddess and to shed light on her people-but its light resulted in no tanning of the skin. Many among the Danans were ill and frail.
Gentler and more reasoned thoughts prevailed, for few doubted that were the Danans to attack those above, the Gaels would not stop this second time until there were no more of the de Danann on all the ridge of the world, north or south, east or west.
At last the Danans decided upon a more peaceful rule-of women, that there might be end to talk of war on those Gaels above, whom had become the Eirrish. It was an enormous step, long debated and decried by many.
Some among them continued to disagree, and could not reconcile themselves to the new way. At last they were sufficiently opposed to the gynecocracy to leave Eirrin. Here to this paradisic isle they journeyed, with a few animals and seeds and much hope. Daneira was founded at about the same time that a short dark man named Caius Julius Caesar led his hawknosed soldiers onto the shore of what to them was a new land: Britain. Here was founded the “city” of Danu of Eiru: Daneira.
As the poet recited the old story, heads in the hall of King Uaisaer came round and wide eyes exchanged looks. Excitement ran through the companions of mac Art like wind through a field of grain, stirring every head.
“Then… it’s possible there be de Danann yet, beneath fair Eirrin?” Samaire’s voice had risen in her excitement.
“Aye, o’course,” she was told, for why would there not be?
Art muttered.
“A crowned woman…”Wulfhere Skull-splitter muttered.
“Aye.”
Aye!
And Cormac told of the means by which Thulsa Doom could be lain to rest, and Cathbadh nodded agreement. The knowledge passed down from one Servant of Danu to the next confirmed the Gael’s belief. Cathbadh rose.
“Ye be friend to us, Cormac mac Art. Friend to the People of Danu. And the Tuatha de Danann, wherever they be, shall recognize ye as such by the necklace ye wear. An ye would seek out our cousins ’neath Eirrin and their queen-do so, in knowledge that welcome will be extended.”
Cormac frowned, fingering the pendant he wore on its silver chain-which tonight he wore outside the scarlet robe pressed upon him by his hosts. “But… Thulsa Doom too wears one…”
“The Moonbow on his chain is downside up, Cormac mac Art. Think ye I chose them not with care? His brands him in your control-and an enemy of humankind!”
“Blood of the gods! Then-it is possible after all. Thulsa Doom’s foul un-life must be ended-and it can be!”
“Cathbadh,” Samaire asked, quietly though with intenseness, “where be the Tuatha de Danann in Eirrin?”
“Aye,” Cathbadh said, “in Eirrin, not on. There are Doors, lady Princess of Leinster, that lead to the subterrene demesne of the people of Danu. These Doorways are disguised and invisible, no longer truly beneath the mounds called sidhe, for all do know the Danans possess powers of magic never shared with the Gaels… who, after all, drove our people from their lands, though it be long and long agone and all here be friends. One such Doorway lies within the two long, mounded hills in the southwest…”
The wizard-priest described the place, and suddenly Samaire knew whereof he spoke.
“The Breasts of Danu! I know those two hills-it’s the Breasts of Danu they be called, to this day!”
Cathbadh smiled and exchanged a look of some pride with Uaisaer; the Danans and their goddess were hardly forgot, in Eirrin that had once been theirs!
“Another of the Doors,” Cathbadh said, “is in the hill of Bri Leith-”
“Long-ford,” Cormac snapped. “The hill at Long-ford! Why-it’s but a day’s walk and less from Tara Hill that Long-ford lies! Cathbadh: how find we this… Doorway, to the land below?”
“Cormac: ye wear Her sign. Ye have my blessing. The Door will ope to ye, when ye arrive before it. More than that I cannot say with surety; we are gone long and long from Eirrin. It is nigh onto five centuries since the founding of the city of the people of Danu and Eiru-Daneira.”
Smiles flashed among the visitors, for a world that had gone dark with the presence of Thulsa Doom now brightened with the prospect of his removal. No matter what was required of him, Cormac mac Art knew that he must journey with the mage to Long-ford’s hill, and find the Door to the Tuatha de Danann. Sinshi shared his excitement and his happiness, but he hardly noted, for he was grinning at Samaire like a boy.
After a time it was thoughtful Bas who was gaining Cathbadh’s attention.
“It is little pride I swallow, Servant of Danu the Mother, to say to ye that ye possess knowledge and powers I would beg to know of.”
Cathbadh gazed upon the druid in his snowy dinner robe, a man whose hair was black and whose eyes were blue. “It is the moon goddess I serve in truth, and the sungod ye do. It has never been the way of the sun to share its daily brilliance with the moon that illumines the night, Servant of Behl and Crom… nor for the moon to share its silver with the sun’s god.”
There was silence for a time then, for Bas’s request had been rejected and the brains of Cormac and his companions churned with thoughts of Eirrin, and the land beneath and within Eirrin… and Thulsa Doom.
In his white robe purfled with yellow, King Uaisaer rose at the long table’s head, and in this wise he differed not from other monarchs. His rising signaled, the meal’s end. His people began to depart, taking their leave of king and guests. But Sinshi stayed, and Findhu, and soon there were but they, and Cathbadh and Uaisaer, and Cormac and his companions-and the maids whose names he could not remember, who hovered bright-faced about Wulfhere and Brian.
“Our hospitality is open here,” the king said, and he was looking at the young son of Eirrin and the thick-bearded Dane.
Wulfhere took his cue for behaviour from those words. Sitting back, he wrapped an arm about the young woman on either side of him and snuggled them close. Willingly they accepted such twofold embrace, and Cormac saw that the king looked pleased. The younger Brian was less demonstrative-it was just that his hands and those of the Daneiran maidens flanking him were all out of sight beneath the board.
King Uaisaer said, “We would have converse with you, Cormac mac Art na Gaedhel.”