The Pear Mysteries and the Fairy Flag of Skye

I was despondent, and at the same time I was curious. To all of us in the school she was known simply as “The Anchoress.” No one had ever told me her name, and I had never seen her. She never left her cell. Cellach, her assistant, told me I had been summoned. There could be only one reason, I knew—I was being sent home. I failed the simple trial of following a path and two men saw me go the wrong way. All the other boys said that when you fail that, she sends you home. I felt I would be very sorry, but I would make the best of it. I missed my family, and I missed my cat, Pangor Ban.

We rowed in silence from our small island to a tiny island, one that looked incapable of sustaining life. From the big island of Eire to the smaller island of the school to the desolate patch of rocks where she resided. That was my progression, and all because I was the youngest in my family, and they sent me to be instructed in the Mysteries. Cellach said nothing and I did not interrupt. I disembarked, and he rowed back to the school. Someone would come back for me later, I supposed, though how she would summon them eluded me.

The whole island, if you could dignify it with that name, consisted of a few rocks with a small cave and, improbably, a single, small apple tree that had found some means of growing there. I saw her immediately and bowed. She was not what I expected. It was impossible to know her age. She could have been as ancient as forty years, or just a bit over twenty. She wore a long robe, a hooded cape, and sandals. Her hair was striking, straw colored with a shock of white. It was her eyes that commanded my attention as I met her gaze, azure, and so deep I could have lost myself. When she turned her attention on me, I thought I had never felt so intense a look, and I had never felt so transparent and defenseless. Embarrassed, I lowered my vision to the ground. The cave itself was scrupulously clean, and almost bare, almost as if she did not live there.

“Niall O Colum,” she intoned thoughtfully, and I looked up. Her speech suggested the north country, with just a slight lilt, but then she addressed me in the Roman tongue, and I could not tell.

Supposing that she asked where I was from only to tell me that I would return there, I answered her that I had come from Cloyne. “When you left there,” she continued in Latin, there was only one bishop, but now there are three. If we continue in this fashion, folk will think us a quarrelsome lot!”

I smiled politely at her pleasantry. Indeed we were a quarrelsome lot. Every new month dioceses clashed and divided. Her next question was phrased in a complicated way, like the language of the authors of Carthage. I answered in the same wise.

“The maister is correct,” she noted. “Your Latin is exceptionally well developed for a boy so young. Do you know why I have summoned you here?”

“Because I failed the path-following trial, Anchoress,” I answered simply.

“Failed the trial? That is one way to put it. Tell me. How does someone who understands Carthaginian Latin lose his way on a well marked trail?”

This made me uncomfortable. I did not know what to say.

“Let me ask a better question, then. How did you manage to break into my home, which is guarded with enchantments?”

“Anchoress, I have never been here before!” I protested.

“Not this wretched rock!” she exclaimed. “My home in the other world!” You left this world and entered the next one. When you trespassed on my land in the other world, I sent men to apprehend you.”

“I don’t understand,” I protested.

She spoke now with firmness. “What made you deviate from the path? Don’t make me go inside your head and find out, boy. That experience is unpleasant.”

It was useless to dissemble, maybe dangerous to do so. “The sounds changed.”

“What sounds, boy?”

“The sounds I hear inside.”

“You hear sounds inside your head?”

“Yes, Anchoress.” It was a certainty I would be sent home now. An incompetent boy with delusions…

“And that made you walk another way?”

“No, I saw my cat.”

“You brought your cat with you from … Cloyne?” she asked incredulously.

“No my cat is at home. I saw my cat, Pangor Ban.”

This made her think. “Cloyne, Cloyne, and your mother’s name?”

I told her.

“Of course! Your mother initiated you into the Mysteries. Why was I not informed? Why keep me in the dark?” Suddenly she burst out laughing. “A young initiate misses his cat, sees it, and follows it straight into another world. A boy who hears inner sounds, and his travelling white cat!” She smiled. “My private world was invaded by a cat! Your mother should have told me. You have no need of the Apple Mysteries, Niall.” She reached in the back of her robe, and lifted out a leather strand with what appeared to be a silver denarius.

“Keep this around your neck. Show it to the captain of a boat called Ailionora. I did him a good turn once. He trades with the Norsemen. He will take you to a fort on the northern part of the Isle of Skye. Look for the Fairy flag there. Find the master of the school of the Pear mysteries. They are what you need.” She waved dismissively, and as she did, Cellach returned with the row boat.

…

The passage to Skye was easy. As I showed the denarius to the captain, I realized it was not Roman. The obverse had the thorn rune, and the front depicted a tree branch of some kind.

Having no coin, I sought work. I thought the fortress was the best place to start. There is always work to be done in a fortress. Someone set me to splitting stones. Skye has few trees, and none to build with, but the rock is soft, and splits easily. After a time I was brought to the hall for a repast, herring in jelly with a hard bread. I judged these people must trade with their countrymen.

The hall was a generous size. The Norse trade with Eire, so I had seen men of their ilk before. But the hall was presided over by the fairest creature I could describe. She was tall and graceful. Her hair was a golden color I had never beheld. Before she could catch me staring I remembered that I was a stranger in a strange land, so to avoid trouble I turned my glance to a conversation at the next table. It was an African seeking to complete a trade with his Norse host, and the African was having difficulty making himself understood. As I looked on, she who was in charge of the hall confronted me, asking me if I understood the Latin. My eyes met hers briefly, and I answered yes.

She motioned for me to assist. The word causing the difficulty was the North African Latin word for a type of cloth. Once the Norseman understood, the trade was carried out easily. We all nodded, and the young lady approached and introduced herself to me. She called herself Rowena. I was unsure how much of the reason for my travel to reveal. On the one hand I hoped to stay on Skye, and my presence was now known. On the other hand, a Mystery School is only a mystery if it is not discussed openly.

I decided to tell half the truth. I said I had heard of the Fairy flag and wished to see it for myself. Rowena looked doubtful (would a curious traveler look for work?), but did not argue. She put a bill of lading in front of me and asked me to read it. I did, and found a mistake in the cargo. She said simply, “Wait here.”

After a short space a servant led me down a passageway. We left the hall, the public part of the fortress, and entered the private chamber. I was ushered into a smaller room with Rowena and a man I judged to be in authority. I am considered tall among my people, but this man was a full head taller than me. She introduced him simply as her father, the castellan of this place.

The castellan began pleasantly by thanking me for my service in translation. I realized he was feeling me out, measuring my demeanor. I addressed him as “Dominus,” not knowing his name. His speech was flawless. He asked to whom I owed allegiance, and I replied only to my bishop, but now that has been changed.

He set me at a table with quill, ink, and paper, and spoke a letter to me. I copied it neatly and rapidly. He read the result with satisfaction. “Niall, I need a secretary, but if you are to be he, there must be complete truth between us. I do not believe you came here simply to see the flag. Sleep here tonight, and consider well what you will answer when I speak with you tomorrow.”

The servant brought me back to the hall. I was not in the castellan’s service, certainly not one of his familiars, so no bed for me. Nor was it possible to leave. He had been clear that he would speak with me on the morrow.

Tired, uncertain of where I stood and what might transpire, I found a corner to curl up in. I repeated the prayer my mother had taught me: “Sacred spirit, illuminator of the way, let me not dream of today’s doings. Permit me to visit the worlds beyond, so that I may better understand thy paths and the coming to them. I ask this humbly as thy servant.”

I soon slipped into a dream. Someone pointed to a door. I passed through it into a torchlit space. There were voices. As my eyes became accustomed to the dim light, I saw a table with fruit. There was a pear.

I awoke when someone shook me. He took me outside. Rowena and her father were facing the east, watching the sunrise, waiting for me. “Well?” he asked impatiently.

There was nothing for it but to speak openly. I explained everything.

“What do you think, Rowena?” the castellan asked.

“I think he is discreet, and can be trusted if he gives his bond,” she answered.

“Yes,” the castellan agreed, “Young Niall will you swear fealty?” he asked.

I knelt and repeated his words, promising to have no secrets from my lord, to serve him faithfully, and never to leave him unless released by death or by his permission.

The three of us walked to a small entrance to the castle. Inside we found ourselves in a small space just inside the thick walls. He motioned to his daughter, and she opened a jeweled box. I gasped. It was the flag.

“What fabric is that?” I asked, hardly believing my eyes.

“Silk, from the east,” the castellan answered.

I studied the markings. There were tiny crosses, delicately sewn in. The castellan gestured to Rowena, and she put it away.

I followed them through a passage into an atrium, where the light was so bright it almost hurt my eyes, but I saw, in one corner, partly in shadow, a small tree, unmistakably bearing the fruit of a pear. Show me the coin you conceal under your tunic,” he commanded. I did so. Rowena produced a coin from the folds of her costume. It bore the same rune and tree. The scales fell from my eyes. “Master,” I uttered, “will you teach me?”