The Celtic Riddle

Sheila, Aidan's wife and co-proprietor came out of the back room, her face pink and steamy from the kitchen. "Where's your flute?" the man in the back called. Sheila grinned. "We're having a bit of a ceilidh, are we?" she said, pulling a tin flute out of her back pocket. "I had a feeling we might when I saw Malachy and Kevin come in. It's grand to have you back, Breeta," she said.

"What's a ceilidh?" Jennifer asked.

"A musical event," the man at the next table said. "Brought your dancing shoes, have you?"

Aidan watched as Malachy pulled the bow across the strings a couple of times, tuning his instrument. "Pick the tune, Malachy," he said, "and we'll follow you."

"Best call your uncle," Kevin shouted to one of the young men at the bar, who nodded and headed for the phone. "One of Denny's sister's boys. Denny should be here."

Malachy launched into a rousing number, followed by Sheila on the flute. Aidan marked the beat on the bodhran. It was a real toe-tapper, and pretty soon the crowd was swaying in time to the music, and one of the older women in the crowd started to dance. Within a minute to two, the furniture was moved back against the wall, and Malachy was fiddling as fast as he could. Jennifer grabbed Alex's arm and pulled him up. Breeta shyly reached over and took Michael's hand. Maeve even convinced Rob to get up and dance, an event I considered extraordinary. Kevin stood up, a little shakily, and bowed very formally. "May I have the pleasure of a whirl around the floor?" he asked me. I didn't know the steps, but it didn't really seem to matter. In truth, it seemed impossible to sit still. Everyone who was able to was laughing and drinking and dancing enthusiastically. Those too old to dance were smiling and clapping in time to the music and singing along. Everyone that is, except Fionuala, who stood for a few moments at the edge of the crowd, clapping halfheartedly in time to the music, her face a study in conflicting emotions. After a few twirls with Kevin, I turned to look for her again, but she was gone, and soon both she and Conail were quite forgotten, as the music and the conviviality restored everyone's spirits.

When most of us were breathless, Aidan yelled above the din. "We'll have to take a break for a moment!" he shouted. "I have to make a living, don't I? So who's for another drink, and for some of Sheila's food? Best bar fare in town!"

Breeta and Michael collapsed, laughing, onto the stools at our table. Jennifer and Alex joined us shortly thereafter. "That was brilliant!" Jennifer gasped. "Absolutely brilliant." And it was. The whole evening had an exuberance and spontaneity to it that was sadly lacking in much of the music and dance that is promoted as Celtic these days. This was the real thing. Jennifer reached over and hugged me. "I'm having the best time," she said. "Ever!" I hugged her back.

"There'll be a music festival on here in two, three weeks," Michael said. "There'll be music and dancing everywhere in town. Too bad you won't be here. Or maybe you will. Maybe you'll be enchanted by the place-plenty are-and want to stay forever. It happens, you know."

"Let's stay!" Jennifer said. So much for the girl who hadn't wanted to leave her friends in Toronto even for a week or two.

Malachy and Kevin were up at the bar, now, and Aidan was pouring them both a drink, and one for Denny if he'd promise a story. "All right then," Aidan shouted over the din a few minutes. "If you'll fortify yourselves with a little liquid libation, we'll be hearing a tale from Denny." There was a roar and some foot stomping approval.

"Tell about the time you heard the banshee, Denny," a young woman at the back called out.

"Someone get Denny's chair," Aidan said, and a rocker was quickly pulled up in front of the fire.

"In honor of Breeta's return to The Three Sisters, she can pick the story," Denny said.

"Pick a good one, Breeta," a man called out.

Breeta thought for a moment. "In honor of my Da," she said at last, "I'd like one of the old ones, Denny. Tell us the story of how the Good People came to rule Ireland."

"Good choice, Breeta," Malachy said.

Denny rocked back and forth in his chair for a moment or two.

"The tale I'm telling you now happened a long, long time ago," he began. "Before Amairgen and the Sons of Mil set foot on these shores. Not so far back as the plague that killed the sons and daughters of Partholan. Not so far back as that. But a long time ago, even so.

"In those days, there were giants roamed the earth, and creatures with one leg and one arm, like serpents came out of the sea. Back then, unsheathed weapons told tales, the sky could rain fire, and the shrieks of the Hag would be heard in the night.

"And it was then that the fiercest of battles, the struggle of light over darkness, were fought and won by the Tuatha de Danaan."