Chapter 3: In Erin’s Isle
The detective sat gaping as his jaw dropped. Did that logo mean what he thought it meant? Irish tv? If so, was this cable or satellite or - nah. Couldn't be. No way could he be in Ireland. It just wasn't possible. Was it? He wasted no more time but, taking his courage in both hands, strode back into the kitchen and faced the now dozing Bridget.
"Hey, I gotta question for ya," he said.
Bridget opened an eye and glared balefully with it in Joe's direction. "Oh have you now?" she said. "And what would that be?"
"Where the hell am I?"
Bridget now opened the other eye and used them both to sweep first down and then up the length of the man standing before her. "What in the name of all that's holy do you mean by that?" she asked. "Aren't you standing in the halls of Brian Boru himself?"
"Brian who? He the owner of this place then?"
The cook looked as though she might burst at any minute and was clearly struggling to keep her imminent explosion under control.
"Brian Boru. Do you know nothing?"
Joe blinked. "Obviously not," he admitted. "All I know is, I got drunk last night and this beautiful dame brought me here. Period. And that was in the States, so if I'm any place else I'd really like to know how I got here. And why."
"Lord have mercy," gasped Bridget. "Sure I thought that was a strange way of talkin' you had. As if I don't have enough to do with looking after herself and her ilk, now she's bringin' in foreigners."
The detective was a little taken aback but stood his ground.
"Foreigners. So you're saying - what?"
"I'm saying, you eejit, that you're here in Erin's Isle. Eire. Ireland!"
Donnally stood clutching his head. Before long his legs felt decidedly unsteady so he reached blindly for a chair and sank into it; then, resting his elbows on the table, cradled his head in his hands.
"Ireland," he said. "Ireland. Ireland?"
He repeated this a few more times, with different inflections - as if rehearsing a speech, before fixing Bridget the cook with a look of utter dismay and emitting a final "Ireland?"
"Yes, Ireland, you great gobdaw."
Poor Joe was at a loss for words. He felt as if life had taken him by the short and curlies and tossed him into the middle of next week; which by anybody's reckoning was not unreasonable.
So bewildered was he by this latest piece of information that he didn't hear the telephone when it rang, nor did he notice Bridget answering its insistent demands. He was first aware of it when the cook poked him in the back with a bony finger and said, "Telephone."
Joe looked up, a bewildered look on his face, and said, "But no one knows I'm here!"
"Well some one obviously does; they're wantin' to speak to you."
Joe reached out a tentative hand and spoke into the receiver. "Hello?"
"Ah, Joe, it's only meself wantin' to see how you're gettin' on."
At the sound of the leprechaun's voice Joe's eyes took on the appearance of table tennis balls. Table tennis balls, that is, with eyes painted on them.
"Getting on!" he spluttered, "Getting on? How the hell d'you suppose I'm getting on? What in god's name am I doing here? In Ireland for god's sakes."
"Easy now, Joe, easy. Calm down, there's a good fella. We thought you needed a break, a little holiday, so Oi asked a friend to take you for bit. It seemed like the least we could do. Under the circumstances."
"Uhuh. Right. So first you ruin my life and then you drive me crazy, right?"
"Oi take it it isn't to your loikin then? Sorry about that. It's the noicest place Oi could think of straight away."
"Oh the place is great. Very nice. It's just, I wish I'd had some warning."
"Hmmm, well it was out of moy hands, really, you see. They asked for a place to send you and Oi had to think quick."
"Uh, they? Who is they?"
"Oh, the insurance people. We have insurance, you know, to cover this koind of thing. And a good thing, too. Where would we be without Elf Insurance? Tricky little beggars, elves."
"Elf - Insurance. Here we go with the elf thing again. Jeez."
"Of course Oi could have said the Elf Resort, but, you know, all that elf food - it doesn't bear thinkin' about. And the elf club smells loike the wrath of god. Anyways, I thought of Erin, and she was only too pleased to help out an old friend."
"Old friend, huh? Dare I ask who or what Erin might be?" The minute he had asked, Joe just knew he would regret it.
"Ah now, what she moight be, is a lot of things, as you moight suppose, but what she is, is an entoirely different matter. If you understand me."
Joe nodded his head, silently wishing he'd not started down this route. His mind was fast becoming numb. He could feel the little grey cells surrendering, those that weren't committing suicide anyway.
"Ok, ok," he said. " Are you going to tell me?"
"Well now. Perhaps she should explain that herself. It's not really moy field, you see; explanations."
Never had the leprechaun spoken a truer word, in Joe's estimation. The guy was enough to bamboozle the most sharp witted of creatures, and Joe was honest enough to admit that he fell somewhat short of that description.
Another thought struggled against the odds into the mind of our intrepid detective. "Hey, while you're there, perhaps you can tell me how long I'm going to be here? Only it's work, you see, I'll lose the job if I don't show up Monday."
"Ah, Oim glad you asked me that Joe. Good question. If it bothers you that much we can maybe get you back tonoight - tomorrow bein' Sunday - but where you'll stay is somethin' else again."
Joe was stumped. Bet his damn insurance doesn't cover alternative accommodation, he thought. Or perhaps it does?
"Listen," he said, "what about this insurance? Couldn't you claim for a place for me? Just till we find mine?"
"Oooo, tricky, tricky. Oi'll tell you what. Let me look into that and get back to you."
"Right. Fine. You do that."
With a slight whimper Joe handed the receiver back to Bridget and cradled his head once more. Hopefully by tomorrow he would be back in the States, and in the station house the next day. It was very nice here, true, but it wasn't home. Home was Katie, and the baby howling all night, and banging pipes and the neon signs and...Oh god. Maybe he was better off here after all.
I wonder what use they've got for an out of work cop around here, he thought as Bridget, her heart touched by his predicament, handed him a cup of tea.
"There y'are now. Sure, there's nothing like a spot of tea at a time like this. As me auld mammy used to say: What is there left to us but the cup o' tea and itself." And with that she left the kitchen, blushing furiously.
That evening was long and uneventful for Donnally. He attempted to watch some television, tried reading a book from the library and played some music, but he couldn't focus on anything. His nerves were on edge as he waited to hear back from the maddening creature who'd sent him here. Hours passed, but no sound was heard from the telephone.
What was more, the woman whose house this appeared to be wasn't around either. It was just Joe and the cook. She'd made him some supper, consisting of potatoes, cabbage and bacon, which he washed down with tea from her apparently bottomless teapot. Eventually he went to the bedroom he'd woken up in that morning, despairing of ever seeing his Katie again.
He was surprised to find a pair of smart new pyjamas, plain and pale blue, layed out on the bed; also a crystal carafe of water and a tumbler on the bedside table. You gotta hand it to them, he thought, they're trying real hard.
In the en suite bathroom, too, no effort had been spared to make him comfortable. A pile of fluffy white towels sat there, and an equally luxurious bathrobe hung behind the door; candles were arranged around the tub, and various lotions and bath oils were to hand. It seemed churlish not to avail himself of these so Joe had a long relaxing soak before retiring. And boy, was it good. He felt decidedly pampered by the time he climbed out, dried himself and got into the pyjamas.
Still, it was with a heavy heart that he climbed into bed that night. He tossed and turned but sleep evaded him. There was no rushing into the arms of Morpheus for Joe Donnally on this occasion. Perhaps a little drink of something might have done it - after all, this was Ireland - but he didn't like to ask. Eventually he saw the sky beginning to lighten as the dawn chorus began outside.
Joe couldn't remember having heard such melodic birdsong in his whole life. It was outstanding, and for a while he forgot his troubles in the sheer pleasure of listening to the joyous symphony filling the early morning sky and bringing the world to life once more. Oddly, though, it was at this point that he gave up the fight and fell into a deep sleep.
***
When he next awoke there was no birdsong to greet him and no sunlight filtered into the room through the lace curtains as it had done the day before, though unfortunately his hangover had prevented him from appreciating it on that occasion. Instead, only the persistant sound of steady rain was to be heard, falling from a grey and heavy sky.
Donnally remembered hearing that Ireland could be very wet and here was proof of it.
He arose, showered and dressed, once again finding his clothes freshly laundered and folded, then made his way to the kitchen in search of food. Bridget was there as usual but not alone. Sitting across the table from her was Erin, as lovely as Joe remembered her. Today she was wearing a white shirt and matching long pants.
"Good day to you Joe," she said. "Feeling rested now?"
"Uh, yeah, thanks, I am."
"I'm glad to hear it. We were worried about you."
Joe looked carefully to see if he could read anything other than the obvious into her remark, but found nothing. Ok, he thought, "they" were worried. Not as worried as me, I'll bet.
"So," he said," any news? Any thoughts on what I do now?"
He wanted to know just who or what Erin was, but hadn't the nerve to ask outright. He thought he might be able to find out in due course with a little judicious but subtle questioning.
A delicate frown creased Erin's brow. "You know," she replied, " I think we may be able to keep you occupied while this whole matter is sorted out. There's always room for a little police work you know."
It wasn't exactly what Joe had been waiting to hear, but he tried to hide his disappointment as the lovely Erin looked so concerned for him.
"Police work, huh? Won't the local cops object?"
"Ah, well now, the guarda might I suppose, but not the people I have in mind."
Seeing Joe's puzzled expression she continued, "Our people; the little people, the wee folk. We rarely object to a bit help from time to time. Especially the elves. Mercy on us, if you could see the mess they get themselves into. Why, the Elf Inspector himself was telling me only the other day..."
She paused here as Joe had turned a rather odd colour and appeared to be having difficulty breathing.
"Are you all right Mr Donnally?"
"Oh, yeah, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" Joe managed to say with some dignity, but little conviction.
"Well, as I was saying, the Inspector would dearly love some outside help now and then. You wouldn't be in the way at all. Not at all. Of course if you don't fancy that, there's always elf employment but quite honestly, I wouldn't advise it. The hours are dreadful and the pay's awful. And holidays are a thing of the past."
"Yeah, I hear they're tricky, the elves," said Joe, forcing himself to keep a straight face. "At least that's what - whatsisname - the leprechaun, says."
"Ah, has himself not told you his name? Isn't that just like a man? Well, to be fair you probably wouldn't be able to pronounce it. Just call him Og. That's the first bit of it anyway and will suffice for most purposes."
"Ok, " said the detective, seeing his opportunity, "and you are...?"
"Erin" she replied. "Did I not tell you? I was certain sure I had, although you weren't in the best of health at the time." Then with a laugh, "Though definitely in the best of spirits I'd say."
Hmmm, that didn't work, thought Joe. Got the right question, just asked it at the wrong time, dammit."
"Well, you just give it some thought. I'll be around for a while today."
With that she rose from her chair and left Joe to ponder.
After Erin had left, Joe wanted to mull over her proposals alone. It was still raining quite heavily so, rather than getting soaked in the garden, he went into the library looking for inspiration. He saw a little book of Irish blessings and, deciding that he needed all the help he could right now, took the book from the shelf and started to read:
An Old Gaelic Blessing
Deep peace of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the shining stars to you.
May the beauties of earth and sky and sea
Fill your heart with lasting peace and contentment.
He read it again, then again, then sat and thought about the words for a long time. At first he thought it sounded like poetry, except it didn't rhyme. Poetry was supposed to rhyme, as far as Joe knew, but this didn't. The words were different, though, from anything he'd read before. Sounded real nice. He read on:
An Irish Blessing
May the road rise up to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face
And the rains fall soft upon your fields
And, until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.
More poetry? Nice words. Kinda comforting, he thought. They spoke to him in a way he would never have thought of, especially with him being a city kind of a guy. He read on once more:
An Irish Blessing
May you always have work for your hands to do,
May your pockets hold always a coin or two,
May the sun shine bright on your windowpane,
May the rainbow be certain to follow each rain
May the hand of a friend always be near you,
And may God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.
Now then, this was more like poetry; it least it rhymed. But these words started him thinking about his situation in new ways. Perhaps he could do something to help himself instead of waiting for that pesky leprechaun. May be he should try to work this thing out for himself. Get some work, get home under his own steam.
Joe decided then and there that he would do his level best to do just that. He wasn't a religious man but he'd always been told that God helps those who help themselves. Ok, he thought, this is where it starts.
He went to find Erin, to inform her of his decision and found her in her study talking on the telephone. She waved him into the room with a broad smile and gestured for him to sit down.
"Oh yes, indeed it will," she was saying. "Splendid. I'll do it right away. I have him here beside me as we speak. The very man for the job. Good day to you now." With that she put down the telephone and turned to Joe.
"Well, I hope you're ready for some work," she announced brightly.
"Er, yeah , but how...?"
"Did I know? We have our ways, Joe, sure we have our ways."
The detective was becoming increasingly aware of that without needing to be told, but said nothing. She was, after all, being very hospitable to him.
"Right then, Joe, the Inspector does need a man and I've told him I have just the man he needs. You start work tomorrow. "
Joe nodded his head in agreement. "OK ," he said. "Tomorrow it is. Any idea what it's about?"
"Not really. I'm sure he'll give you all the details when you meet him."
Joe's mind was working overtime now. Him meet an elf? How big was this elf anyway? He'd always imagined elves as tiny little things. About the size of - oh, maybe his hand? He looked up from staring at the palm of his hand to see Erin looking very amused, as if she knew exctly what he was thinking. Which indeed she did.
"Don't you be worrying about a thing," she said, "You'll be fine. He's quite reliable as elves go."
This probably wasn't what Joe needed to hear right at that moment, but nevertheless he had to admit that she was making an effort on his behalf and he was grateful.
"Will he come here, or do I have to meet him somewhere?" he asked.
"Tell you what. I'll go with you to the Elf Centre, and introduce you. How's that?"
"Sounds fair," agreed Joe. He was getting quite used to all this "elf" talk. It no longer sounded so ridiculous. "By the way, I've been wanting to ask you something."
"Fire away, Joe," Erin replied with a beaming smile.
"Are you - human? Or something else? Sorry, but you just seem so - normal, in most ways."
Erin let out a peal of laughter that was decidedly musical yet full of humour too.
"That's because my mother was human, Joe. My father was an undine. It happens occasionally, though not often. It causes all manner of complications you see."
Joe stood tugging at his ear lobe as he considered this. I'll just bet it does, he thought.
That evening Joe decided he'd better do some research before meeting this elf Inspector. Background information. Stuff like that. He'd had enough shocks to the system recently to last him a lifetime. Forewarned is forearmed and besides, he didn't want to appear a complete idiot. He went back to the library and looked for something about elves, or fairies, or little people. Something like that anyway.
What he found was a large heavy book, obviously old and rather dusty. It had well worn leather binding with gold lettering embossed into it and gold edged pages, and was entitled: Tuatha De Danaan: The Faerie Folk, and subtitled: Legends and Historie, from Tir Na n'Og to the Present Day. Joe carried it to an armchair, where he sat long into the night, a bottle of best Irish whiskey to hand, and read tales to make your hair curl.
It said that the faerie folk in Ireland were all descended from a race of sorcerors who worshipped the goddess Danu, in Tir Na n'Og, the original Garden of Eden, and who settled in Ireland.
Joe learned about elementals, the forces of nature that abound in the earth. He discovered that the Hopi people in Arizona, for example, had their own version, called Kachimas. To the Jews they are known as shadim, to the Egyptians, afries, to the Africans, yowahoos and to the Persians, devs. They are of four types: earth, air, water and fire, and are mostly invisible, appearing fleetingly as a smell, a taste, a spark or perhaps a face in the flames.
Or on computer screens, Joe thought to himself.
He read about elves and pixies, gnomes and goblins, brownies and trolls, boggarts and sylphs, nymphs and undines, dryads and niads. Jeez, thought Joe, how come there are so many kinds? How on earth will I remember all this?
He learned, too, about the Sidh, the supernatural inhabitants of the sacred places, the tall shining ones and the opalescents, lit from within; and about Ogham, the lore of the trees. He read stories of the Celtic gods of old; Dagda the Lord of Perfect Knowledge for example, who mated with the goddess Morrigan, and who once had a nine-month-long "night" of pleasure with the river goddess Boann. Joe whistled and could only imagine how that would go!
Many, many stories of Celtic legend were here and it was sometimes hard to see where history ended and myth began.
Elves, though, were what he needed to know about first and he tried to memorize what the book said about them. They vary in height it seems, and are magical but lack the discipline and organization to be really effective. Hmmm, no wonder they need help, thought Joe. It went on to say that they are immortal and immune to disease. By nature carefree and merry, yet also sad and thoughtful, they enjoy songs and poetry.
By this time Joe decided he'd had enough; his mind was in a whirl. He closed the book with a deep sigh and retired to get some rest before meeting this undisciplined and disorganized magic guy he was to work with.
That night he dreamed of shape-shifting shamans and grotesque Sheela-na-gigs and heard the banshees wail their terrible warnings. Unless of course it just was the wind in the trees.