Brigid is the most enduring of the Celtic goddesses. She has survived to this day as St. Brigid. She is part of the Irish gods and goddesses called Tuatha de Danaan who were originally a sea-faring race called Pelasgians that lived near the Aegean Sea. The Danaans were a magical race, and possessed the knowledge of blacksmithing. They came to the British Isles after they were driven from their homes by invaders from the northeast and southeast. According to the Book of Invasions, the Tuatha de Danaans were driven northward from Greece as a result of invasion from Syria, and eventually reached Ireland.
This popular goddess is also worshipped in Scotland (Bride), Britain (Brigantia) and Gaul (Brigandu) where a celebration in her honor takes place on February 1st on Imbolc when the first signs of spring appear, usually when the ewe’s become pregnant. Brigid is a giver of plenty, and is loved and respected by ordinary people. Brigid also is a deity of learning, culture and skills, which equal the Greek Athena. Brigid is the daughter of the Dagda in some tales. She is the goddess of poetry, inspiration and divination. Brigid may once have been Brizo of Delos, a moon goddess, whose name is derived by the Greeks from the word, “brizein” meaning “to enchant.’ But as Brigid she is seen as a sun goddess, her name “Breosaighit” means “fiery arrow.’ It is not known how this change transpired. Maybe as a moon goddess, she was seen as a death aspect, and feared by humans so she was transformed into a sun goddess, a giver of life, to win the love of the humans. She may have been a goddess of metalworking as well. It is thought that she has a face that is beautiful on one side and ugly on the other.
http://kelleyheckart.com/BeltainesSong.html
Beltaine’s Song, Book 2, Dark Goddess Trilogy, Celtic historical/fantasy
Blurb: For each of them, spring’s song has a different meaning.
Aedan and Domelch must battle earthly foes””enemy kings and traitorous allies. For the first time, the arrival of spring heralds the sound of a harsh battle horn as their foes close in. Through all this turmoil, can their love survive?
For their son, Gartnait, spring brings with it the promise of new love and the thrilling sound of the battle horn, putting those he cares about in danger.
Excerpt from Beltaine’s Song (PG):
The first time she saw him a familiar twinge coursed through her body. He was only a boy and how could a child of about nine winters set her blood afire? He stood out from the other boys, his height already great for a child of nine winters. His black hair glistened blue-black like raven feathers. She had never seen him before, but in her short time here on this island since the song awakened her, she had seen boys come and go from the island. Most were sons of nobles sent here for training in reading and writing, learning the Latin tongue.
The black haired boy broke away from the group accompanied by a tall man with dark brown hair. They walked to the stables, which housed the few horses and donkeys that pulled carts and were used for other farm work.
“I would not say any of these beasts are fit for battle, but they will do.” The tall man turned his head, revealing the tattoo of interlocking spirals wrapping around his neck like a permanent torc. Her curiosity peaked. She continued to observe them, her eyes intent on the boy.
“Show me what ye have learned,” the man said, vaulting onto the youngest horse with the ease of a man familiar with riding atop a beast. The horse stamped and neighed beneath him. “The jading scent is working. Now all ye have to do is calm the beast the way I have been teaching ye.”
From a small bag at his belt, the boy pulled out a tiny clay pot, opening the stopper. He waved it under the horse’s nose, careful to stay clear of the stamping hooves. In a strange language, he spoke to the frightened beast in a hushed tone. The horse calmed as if by magic. Brigit’s eyes widened with awe at the boy’s druidic gifts.
“Vera impressive. Ye improve each time.” The man smiled. “Did ye mix the scents yerself this time without any outside assistance?”
“Yes, just as you taught me. I think I finally found the true combinations.”
The man dismounted, putting the horse back in the stable. “I want to test ye on battle strategy today.” The man and boy walked toward the sea where a lone oak tree stood on a grassy hillock. The knotted tree bent, twisting and reaching for the sea, shaped by the vicious winds that whipped the island in winter months.
Brigit kept her eyes on the boy and the tall, brown-haired monk. The tall man looked more like a warrior than a monk, his muscular body straining against his robes. He sat on his haunches ready to spring up for an attack the way a trained warrior would. Mounting curiosity drew her closer to them so she could hear their conversation.
The boy looked at the man with admiration, listening intently as he told a story. Brigit crept closer, her booted feet stepping on soft green grass. She sat on a moss-covered rock behind the boy. The man’s words rose above the sound of the sea lapping against the rocky shore. His deep voice captivated her, his story of a battle compelling. When he finished his battle tale, the man addressed the boy. “What would ye have done different if ye were commanding the routed army?”
The boy’s brow furrowed in thought. “I would have positioned my second line infantry in a different pattern with longer spears to stop the opposing cavalry charge.” His young voice teemed with confidence.
An odd feeling struck Brigit. The boy had intelligence beyond his years. Her curiosity grew. She sat by them, feeling involved in their conversation and yet feeling a world apart. Not being seen left her feeling empty. She yearned to have contact with someone other than Fingal, the only one who could see her. Fingal had brought her here, insisting that they search for the one who would destroy her. Sighing, she turned her gaze on the sea. Sunlight peeked through shapeless clouds, dappling the water in a golden sparkle so beautiful like precious gemstones. Seabirds filled the spring skies, calling out to one another in harmonious voices, filling her heart with joy. But it was not enough for her.
“Gartnait, ye are learning at a fast pace. Columcille will be pleased with my report.” The older man patted the boy on the shoulder.
Gartnait. Why does that name send a thrilling shiver through my body? She had never heard the name before, and yet…She gasped.
The boy whirled around, staring right at her, his striking blue-green eyes awakening with surprise. A look of understanding filled his eyes. He turned back to the man. “I have this strange sensation we are being watched. Do you feel that?”
“Nae.” The man looked around, staring at her, but nothing in his gaze indicated detection.
The boy could see her. Joy filled her heart, but a shadow passed over and smothered the joy. Could he be the one Fingal spoke of? Only the one who could see her would be the one to destroy her. She froze beneath his bold stare. The boy broke the gaze, turning to address the man.
She fled across the meadow to the safety of a stable where she fell to her knees in the rushes, her mind screaming with uncertainty. A part of her told her she had to kill this boy, but another part of her hesitated. She stood, brushing off the rushes stuck to her tunic dress.
“There you are.”
She whirled around, coming face to face with the boy, surprised at his boldness. “You can see me.” Her pulse raced with fear and something akin to excitement that someone other than Fingal could see her.
“What are you? You look like a goddess. My other teacher told me about spirits and gods of the land. Is that what you are?” His eyes sparkled with curiosity.
“Y-yes, but you must not tell anyone about me.”
“No one would believe me, and they might think me mad. It will be our secret.” He gazed at her with youthful innocence.
His innocent smile warmed her heart. How could this sweet boy be the one who will destroy me? Her heart would not allow her to harm him. “There is one here who you should be wary of. His name is Fingal. Stay away from him.”
He frowned, looking confused. “That will be difficult to do since he is one of my teachers.”
A chill passed over her heart. Is it possible Fingal knows who he is?
“Why should I be wary of him?” His eyes narrowed in a familiar way. “How do I know I can trust you?”
She gave him a hard look, her voice taking on a scolding tone. “You should not trust me or anyone else.” Her gaze softened. “You are a future king, and there will be those who do not want you to succeed. Caution is a wise trait in a king.”
“How do you know that I will be king?” Suspicion shadowed his striking eyes.
“I know many things, Gartnait.” Sadness filled her heart. She turned to leave the stable.
****
Kimberly
Reviewer for Coffee Time Romance & More
http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/BookReviews/beltainessongbykelleyheckart.html
This story is a remarkable one on so many levels. The theme spoke to my soul and touched my heart. The warrior women made this story sing for me”¦I adored the way Ms. Heckart tangled religion and politics into a tale that held my interest to the very end.
Kelley Heckart, Historical fantasy romance author
Captivating…Sensual…Otherworldly
http://www.kelleyheckart.com
http://kelleysrealm.blogspot.com/
http://twitter.com/CelticChick
A Greek vampire, Celtic kings, vengeful goddesses, an ancient faery curse”¦
All three books of my Dark Goddess trilogy are available in Print and Ebook. Set in Dark Age Scotland, I mixed history with a Samhain/Beltaine myth that revolves around an Irish clan and the goddesses Brigit and Cailleach. http://kelleyheckart.com/BookShelf.html
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