It was in the season of winds, right at the feast of Saint Brighde of the Candles that a great storm came over the sea and crashed waves upon the shore. No man put out to fish, whatever his need. All day it roared and into the darkness of night. Great noise there was from the sea, much groaning of the water and crashing on the land that it touched. Thus in the ending, as wind softened at dawn, men came to the cliffs at Glandore to see what had been done and there on the sands, the fruit of the storm thrown up from the sea's treasures. Sea greens and fish and logs.

The people gathered this bounty. But there, where the Cove of Siobhan bends back on itself they found a man. Laid, at the sea's mercy, on land. Near dead but not dead. Near dead but still a breath and a beat in him. His clothes, as soaked and ragged as they were, caused much wonder for none had seen anything like them.

So they took him to the Ri Ailin Ua Donnachada, carried on a board washed up near him. The chief man among them spoke. "Ri, this one, he is a gift of the sea. He lives." And the Ri bid them carry him in and the man from the sea was taken to the guest chamber and laid before the fire there to warm. Laid beneath a fur robe he was, stripped of his most strange costume. The Ri touched the garments in wonder but said nothing.

For two days and two nights, the man from the sea did not wake though he breathed more sure. On the second night, as the moon rose cool and high he began to speak in a tongue so strange. All who heard him wondered at the words but none understood. Not even the Ard Fili who served Ua Donnachada, Teige O'Dalaigh, a most wise and learned man of the fourth rank of the Fili.

And the Ri asked O'Dalaigh "Could this be senseless babbling? Noises as a man makes in fever or as a babe before it speaks the tongue of men?" For the Ri was also a wise man and had observed much in his life. "I think not, my Ri, for I hear words in that and the rhythm of speech. It is some tongue we know not." The Ri thought and asked, "How then will we speak with him once he awakes?" The Ard Fili gave the Ri a broad smile. "Men speak with more than words, my Ri." The Ri was satisfied with that but asked again, "Could he be of the Old People, tossed into our world by the violence of the storm?" The Ard Fili said, "He has a look of him like the Old People. The face, you see...long face, fine bones in the cheeks, arch of the eyebrows. Bred of the Old People, maybe."

The women of the house kept watch over the man brought from the sea for those two days and among them the Ri's youngest daughter, Isibeal. The only unpledged child of his body and a favourite. His heart's delight, the image of his wife gone to God ten years, blessed in memory. A lady of dark red hair and sparkling eyes. The Lady Isibeal listened close to the man's ramblings and puzzled over the meanings. She sat by his side and washed his face in his fever and listened.

On the fourth day after the sea delivered him to the land, the man's fever fell away and he slept quiet again. Then in an early morning filled with sun, the holy day of Saint Agatha, blessed be her name among angels and men, he opened his eyes. Such fine eyes, clear and blue and unwavering. The Lady Isibeal was sitting at this time, reading her book, and he saw her. Then did he give her a smile that was most sweet and gentle. The Lady smiled in return and asked the man how he fared. All were surprized when he spoke clear and perfect in the Gael. "Well and I am bounden to you and your household for my care."

The Lady Isibeal shook her head. "Sir, you are a guest in my Lord Father's lands, in his house. We have done what the Lord Jesus taught us. It is a Christian's joy, sir." Again he thanked her and made as if to rise. "You should not, sir. You have not eaten this five days and only last evening free of the fever." Yet he rose and was steady on his feet.

He did wonder at the loose gown he wore, down to his toes and over his hands. "The fellow whose gown this is, he is a giant." The Lady laughed. "The gown is my own Lord Father's gown. A mighty tree among we shrubs." For the lady was not tall nor broad but fine as a young tree, supple and strong enough to withstand the winds of living. The man from the sea gave a full man's laugh and bowed a little to her. "Lady, a mighty oak has begot sweet fruit in you." They laughed together and thus the Ri found them, standing in the warmth of the sun coming through the window, smiling into each other's eyes.

The Ri looked at them and was uneasy in his heart. The man from the sea saw the Ri and greeted him as is proper, thanking him for his hospitality to a stranger. As his daughter, the Ri spoke of his Christian duty. He bid the man stay in his house as long as he desired but asked his name. "Ollam," the reply. This was much amazing news to the whole household and they stood silent as the world at moonrise. The man saw this and asked if there was something wrong. The Ri assured him. "It is that we did not know. Be most welcome, Ollam. How long will you stay with us." And the Ollam said, "I am lost from my companions in the storm. With your indulgence, sir, until I find them." The Ri promised to help him find his friends and asked where he was bound so that he might send a message to find them but the Ollam did not know the name of the place. Thus the Ri sent out messengers to many places along the coast to seek for the Ollam's companions.

The Ri and the Ollam spoke for some time of the Filidh arts and of the learning that the Filidh had. It was agree that until his companions were found, the Ollam would give his wisdom to the youngest son of the Ri, Caillin, to fit him for the duties he would take on at his marriage. This young lord was contracted to marry Seadach, only living child of Cieràn Mac Connaill and the last of that house.

Caillin was difficult in his studying and the Ri sent Isibeal to be with him for sister and brother shared an affection being born at the same moment, but two most disparate beings they were. But where Isibeal was dark, Caillin was fair. Where she was gentle, he was wild; she patient, he choleric. Yet loved they each the other with truth and laughter and Isibeal cajoled her brother to his studies. Much time was spent in the reading of manuscripts and the discussion of what they had read with the Ollam. When the weather was fair, they walked in the gardens studying the plants that were starting the new season there. In rain, within the solarium.

The marriage of Caillin and Seadach was to be at the end of harvest. At the time of the Ollam's coming from the sea, winter was still blowing hard. The Ri was happy that his son would have much learning in the time before his marriage. For on that event, Caillin would become lord of Mac Connaill, the lands of his intended coming into his control, she bereft of father or mother or brothers. The Ri knew Caillin would be far from his father's influence and might become lost in the fiery side of his nature. The Ri prayed that the learning the young man was gaining would help him against his wilder nature.

Of a night the Ri would invite the Ollam to sit with him at supper and in the mornings to ride out in the hills with him. The Ollam was kind and warm natured, and treated all in the household with gentlemanly regard. And the Ollam, in his wisdom, respected the learning of the Ard Fili and sought it out. Thus the Ard Fili who, had he been a lesser man, may have been angered by being displaced in his Ri's eye, knew the Ollam's value and accepted him as a superior in the Filidh arts but a brother too. So it was that the man from the sea became favoured of the household. So did winter fade to the soft ways of spring and the rude wind calm its passions. The spring started toward summer and plowing and planting began.

In time, summer was upon them, warm days and nights. Isibeal reached in that summer heat the age of her womanhood. Her time not in the household duties she spent with the Ollam and the household whispered of it. Whispered behind hands and closed doors and in corridors but nothing was said to Isibeal or the Ollam or the Ri. Yet the Ri knew what was being said. He worried in his heart.

There was the night of Lunasa, moon high in the sky. A night of sighs and pleasures in the dark. After the feasting and the bonfires, the dancing began. Isibeal danced only with the Ollam and he only with her. They were as one being, moving like the wind-combing of grass, like the flowing of water, like the wheeling of birds. Sweet were their smiles and light their laughter. Before all they danced. Before Ri and Tiarna and Ridire. Before householder and farmers. Before her father. Oh, even before Ailin Ua Donnachada. But he said nothing and did nothing.

At the feast of Saint Bartholomew, there came word of some incursions at the borders of the Ri's lands from the lands of Godraidh Ua Caim, second son of Domnail Ua Caim. His holdings were not great and he sought in the way of warriors back to the time of Clu Chulain to take what was not held tightly and close. The Ri Ua Donnachada was not a lord that desired to fight but he knew he must be ready to protect what was his against such as Godraidh Ua Caim. He gathered the Twenty Seven who were his knights to council with him on this matter. The Ard Fili Teige O'Dalaigh and the Ollam were there, quiet and listening. The chief among his knights reminded the Ri of all the land he had lost to the Norman lords when King Henry of the Sasenaigh had taken the Gael lands twenty years before. The chief knight's voice filled with contempt for Godraidh Ua Caim. "He is unseasoned as a man in battle. He insults you, a boy throwing challenge to a man, you, a lord of power. A snap of your fingers and he will run from you. This boy must be taught to honour the ways of a man."

The Ri looked at the Ollam and the Ard Fili and the Ollam shook his head. "That is the way to war, sir. What if he does not run but turns to attack." The Ridire spoke strongly. "We will defeat him!" But the Ollam was not so confident and he cautioned the Ri, "In arrogance and choler are bitter regret sown. I have myself reaped the hard fruit of such a sowing." The Ard Fili added his own cautions to the Ollam's words. The Ri sat silent staring into the Ollam's eyes and saw the truth and pain of his words.

He spoke to the whole council. "How far should this lesson to a boy be taught?" and the chief knight cried out "All the way to his sire's den." The Ri did not smile. "Ah, then we will face them both. They and their allies. No. I will send to Domnaill Ua Caim and his son that we may speak of this thing. Have the letters written. But also write to those who are in alliance with me to stand ready should I need them." And the Ard Fili O'Dalaigh went to do the Ri's bidding. Still the Ollam sat with the Ri. "Sir, I beg you for your own sake." But the Ri raised his hand. "Fear not, Ollam, your words have been heard. The wise man prepares for the worst and seeks the best." The Ollam acknowledged the wisdom of the Ri.

Thus came together at the place of the Bishop of Corcaigh the Ri Ua Caim and his son and a cadre of his warriors to meet with Ri Ua Donnachada and his sons and 10 of his warriors. The talk was long and some time heated in the mouths of young men but at the end there was an accord. The honour price was paid by the Ua Caim and it was decided that the Godraidh Ua Caim would marry Lady Isibeal to seal a peace between the families and that some property on the edge of the Ri's land near Godraidh 's holdings would go with her but remain hers and her family's for all time. They pledged to be allies against common enemies and not to bother each other's lands.

So at the time of her brother's marriage to Seadach, the Lady Isibeal married Godraidh Ua Caim. But the Ollam was not there to see it. Word had come of his companions and he had gone to them and was not seen again in Desmumu.

Written by Tiernan,
first son of Tiege O'Dalaigh