Honourable companions,

It is with sorrow and grief upon me that I tell you the story of the end of the great Order of Druids. It was not at the hand of outsiders that we fell, but by our own blindness. I begin my tale at Emain Macha, where Naoise and his brothers Ardan and Ainnle were making their way home, and Deirdre with them.

Conchobhar, who loved Deirdre more than she loved him, went to me and said "Go, Great Druid, to where the Sons of Uisna are making a slaughter of my guards and a ruin of my fort, and work an enchantment upon thim, for unless they are hindered they will destroy the men of Ulster for ever, and I give thee the word of a true hero, they will get no harm from me, but let them only make agreement with me". So I went, and brought my knowledge and arts to bear upon them, and put the likeness of a dark sea about them, with great hindering waves. And it is the way the Sons of Uisna were, helpless and swimming against the land, though the men of Ulster would not go near them until they dropped their swords. And when their swords fell, Conchobhar had them taken, and ordered them to be killed. With Naoise's own sword, that that was given him by Manannan, the son of Lir, they were beheaded in one stroke.

Conchobar, the son of Nessa, betrayed his trust to me and to the men of Ulster on that day. When the Red Branch came to know of his trechery there was a fight on the lawn of Emain Macha, and the fort was put to flames, and many a great warrior left the service of the King to put their hands in the hand of Maeve of Cruachan. I knew that my place was no longer at the side of the King, and that the time was upon me to return to the deep green woods, where I had made a home as a lad.

And I sent word though the Druids of Ireland that the sons of Uisna were dead, and the way in which it happened. Thinking that the druids of the Hill of Uisna would want to know how it was that I had a hand in it, I came to them, and gave my story to the historians and the grove-keepers. Once I had finished my tale I left the hall, for I no longer trusted mortal kings to give true judgements. "And if it is true judgement you seek", I told them as I walked away, "find it in the grey stones, and the tall trees, and the white clouds, and the great pouring sea, for never and never will you find it in the heart of kings."

Some of my students from Emain Macha came with me to Uisna, and we spoke at length on the summit of the hill as the sun fell to the west and the red clouds chased it there. And it is what they were saying, that perhaps I was hasty in leaving Emain, for the kings can move neither hand nor foot without their Druids to say if it be for good or ill. "Conchobhar needs no father anymore", I told them, "if he would bring about the deaths of his own cousins. It is what I am thinking, that by his act of trechery he eschews the protection of his tribe, for there is no greater crime than the killing of one's own kin." But one of my students said again, "Do not be giving up all hope for the warriors and the kings, for there may yet come another who keeps close to his heart the Druid wisdom that Conchobar forgot". And I agreed to that, though I was not willing. "But I will not return to the royal courts again until such a king is found. And such a king", I said, "would know what a strange way it is to win the love of a woman, to kill all her other suitors!" And we laughed as children do at the fairs, and danced, until the division of master and apprentice melted away like breath on the wind, and all that remained were faeries dancing under the moon, in a Druid land, to a Druid tune!

And the night turned to day, and the winter to summer, and time passed. And I made a hut for myself and my dear Nessa with my knowledge and art, and it by a lake. And daily I would greet the sun, and never was it so warm to me at Emain Macha as it was for me beside the lake, and a wonder was on me for it, for though it was the same sun upon me at court as in the wild, her voice was all the more clear to me beside my lake, my apple branch in hand, and no shoes between me and the land. And Conchobar would call for me to get my advice on some matter of importance to him, but there was no liking for it on me, and never was there liking on him for the judgements that I would give to him. And he would entreat me with gifts to return to the court, but I would not take them, for I was sworn to the Earth before I was ever sworn to the tribe. "And go back to your royal court", I told him every time, "for it is there you belong, to care for the tribe, but I will stay in the forest and the mist, where I will take care of mine. And it is the deer and the crane, and the salmon and the fox, and the grey wolf, that are my tribe now. And a wonder is on me that your tribe let you remain king, after what you did to the sons of Uisna!" And Conchobar would go from me then, and ever longer was the time between his visits to me.

And my friend Olc Aiche the Druid came to me once, to tell me a tale of his daughter Achta/n. She concieved a child, and Art son of Conn the father of the child. Olc Aiche chanted from his head, and came this prophesy, "A duitiful son shall come indeed, 'Cormac' thereafter". So I entered the Mist at the edge of the lake that night at the touching of the sun to the land, and the Men of Dea who were waiting for me there told me that a son would be born, and a great king of all Ireland he would be, and their favour was upon them.

I instructed Olc Aiche to go to where Cormac was to be born, and prepare his art to put protections upon him. This he did, with five protective bands from his smithy against slaying, drowning, fire, sorcery, and wolves. This done, a feast was prepared to honour the new born king.

I took up my Druid rod and with it put the shape of a she-wolf upon me, so that I might get to the fort where the festivities were taking place. And in the night I saw Achta/n walk to the green and fall into sleep, for she had feasted too much, as the young are so often doing. I was vexed at her poor judgement and too much drinking, and so took the child Cormac away with me and put him under my own protection.

Thinking that Cormac needed a better home than I could give, for I was no longer young as the tribe of Danu are young, I let him out to run with the wolves where he was caught by Luigne Fer Tri/, a Fianna hunter whom I trusted, and taken to his home, where he lived out the year. But he was found by Achta/n in the end, and she took him north to Fiachnae Cassan, foster father of Art son of Conn. When she crossed the mountian at midnight I put the shape of the wolf on the hunters and on myself to take back the child by force. For it was what I was thinking, that the wood and the green would be better parents to Cormac than the bards and knights of the royal court. But the Host of the Sidhe came forth from their hills, with the shape of a wild herd upon them, to give him protection. And at the house of Fiachnae Cassan he was fostered for thirty years.

It was on an auspicious day that Cormac made his way to Teamhair to claim his rightful inheritance. On that same day Mac Con gave a false judgement, that a woman's sheep are forfeit for their stripping of the queen's woad-garden. But Cormac gave the true judgement, to give one shearing for another, and the wool of the sheep were forfeit for the queen's woad garden. When I heard this news I thought that perhaps there was some of the Druid's learning on him, and this Cormac was the king who would bring honour to the royal courts that Conchobar had lost. So I went to the hill of Teamhair, and the form of a stranger upon me by my Druid arts, and put questions to him that I might know his thinking. I addressed him "O Cormac, grandson of Conn, I desire to know how I shall behave among the wise and the foolish, among friends and strangers, among the old and young, among the innocent and the wicked."

"Not hard to tell," said Cormac.
"Be not too wise, be not too foolish
be not too conceited, nor too diffident
be not too haughty, nor too humble
be not too talkative, nor too silent
be not too hard, nor too feeble
If you be too wise, one will expect too much of you
If you be foolish, you will be decieved
If you be too conceited, you will be thought vexatious
If you be too humble, you will be without honour
If you be too talkative, you will not be heeded
If you be too silent, you will not be regarded
If you be too hard, you will be broken
If you be too feeble, you will be crushed."

I knew then in my heart that he had the Druid's wisdom upon him. This I reported to my friends who had accompanied me to my retreat in the wild. And it is what they said, that they were glad to have a wise king on the throne again. Perhaps I imagined that he had learned wisdom while in the wood with the hunters and me, but if I did it was not long before this thought was put from me.

Cormac soon put a double cattle tribute upon the province of Munster, and when they were not able to pay it, he entered Munster with his retinue of court druids and soldiers. I sent a warning on the wind to Mogh Ruith, the old blind Druid who had left his royal court as I had left mine, many years ago, and came away to the waters and the wild. Though Mogh Ruith did not have sight for this world with him, he was clear seeing in many other worlds, and when battle was joined he was quick to take up the challenge. I was not to join his battle that day, for I had grown old since the days at Emain Macha, but my sight was able to show me the battle. Mogh Roith and the Druids made great poems at each other, and much heroism was done and many were lost on both sides. Cithraud, the High King's Druid, dried up all of Munster's rivers, but Mogh Roith caused a torrent of water bursting from the banks, for what the false Druids imprison, the true Druids set free. And in the end it is Mogh Roith who spoke the strongest poems, for he spoke from the land. Cithraud spoke from the feathers and bells, the cloaks and clasps, and was so covered with the ornament and decoration of Druids that his steps were heavy on the land. And though he would sing like a silver bell, Mogh Roith would rumble like a grey rock. I saw him ascend the pillar of smoke from his magic story fire and speak his final battle spell:

I fashion-and-verify a verbal spell
its power of clouds, a shape
of a rain of blood on a man.
Be good the wound.
Be goaded, the rabble to drown atrembling.
a slaughter of the dog-pack of O'Cuinn
to drown in the rapids
each a warrior's strength.
Be there a sovereignty of poems.
O man very wretched, keep fleeing forever.
Of the triumphs of the hosts,
a blessing above all on Great Eoghan.
Mogh Corb is repulsed, necessarily vanquished, laid low.
Be it a proverb, sovereignty will spread
I fashion-and-verify a verbal spell!

O Druids of the future, take a warning by me. It is by trechery that I left my place by the side of my king, but by decision that I remained away. It is by never losing sight of the land nor breaking my touch with it that I lived to witness these events as they came to pass. And more did I see, than this, for as the priests of the God called Christ came to our holy island, Lonchru and Lucet Mael were so far buried in politics that they lost their connexion to the land, and so could not defend themselves from the priests of Christ, and were put down.

O Druids of the future, take a warning by me. There are those who wear the name Druid as a cloak, and there are those who drink the name Druid as water. If you would be a Druid, do not try to live as we lived. Do not try to look as we looked. Be as we were. Do as we did. The Mist of Manannan can transport you, but it can also obscure you. Be ever vigilant of the land, and all the mysteries within, and Danu will take you into her tribe.

O Druids of the future, take a warning by me. Do not loose the land, for then you are lost yourself.

Cathbad Writing from the Grove,
and in the season of Lughnasad, of the year 1999