Glen Duir was at the beginning of the Oaklands, and a more picturesque spot is hard to imagine. We camped near a stream nestled in rolling hills. I was helping set up camp when my father tapped me on the shoulder. ‘There is a tree I want you to meet,’ he said.
MOTHER OAK
Dad mentioned Mother Oak once when I was a boy. He caught me carving my name in a tree and was furious. He took my knife from me and said, ‘If you had done that to Mother Oak you would be dead now. I would have killed you myself.’ It sounded like he meant it too. He was so mad I didn’t have the nerve to ask him what he was talking about. Now I know.
We walked upstream for about ten minutes. The way my father said, Mother Oak, I was expecting something magnificent. When he stopped at an unremarkable tree and beamed, ‘Here she is,’ I was a bit disappointed. Mother Oak was pretty much a normal-looking tree. I’m sure I have seen bigger oaks in parks at home. The difference came when you touched her.
Dad went first. He wrapped his arms around her trunk like some hippy tree hugger. I swear the tree hugged him back. A huge canopy of branches covered him over to the point where I couldn’t see him any more. When the leaves retreated, he had a goofy look on his face, like a kid who just got offered an ice-cream cone. ‘Say hello to Mother Oak,’ he said.
I placed my hands on the knurled bark and it hit me like a wave. A feeling of goodness and love swept over me, and into me, and through me, the likes of which I had never known. I am sure I was wearing the same stupid grin that I saw on Dad’s face a moment ago.
‘Oh my, my, my,’ came a voice in my head that was as gentle as it was obviously wise. It felt as if I had instantly found the grandmother that I had never known. I hugged her in earnest as she swept her leafy arms over me. Tears involuntarily poured from my eyes. ‘There, there,’ she said soothingly, ‘oh my, you have had a difficult time lately, haven’t you, my child?’
I had, I realised. In the last week, my life had been turned completely upside-down and I had dealt with it by being brave, but now, in the face of such compassion, all of the fears and the weariness that I had been hiding in every bone, came to the surface. My knees buckled and I wept openly.
I was in such a state I didn’t realise what was happening. She caught me and carried me up into her branches and held me like a child that won’t go to sleep. I finally got a grip on myself and noticed I was about ten feet off the ground and let loose a little shriek.
Mother Oak laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I have you, I won’t let you fall. Now let me get a look at you. Climb up a little higher.’
I hadn’t climbed a tree in years and realised then just how much I wanted to. Mother Oak placed branches in my path for me to grab, and boosted my footholds.
‘Oh, my dear, I think that is far enough.’
A tangle of branches congealed behind me and I sat in them. I felt like a newborn baby being admired at arm’s length.
‘Oh yes, you definitely are Oisin’s seed. There is so much oak in you but also something else – let me guess – hazel. Am I right?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said out loud. I still hadn’t gotten used to talking to trees without speaking.
She seemed tickled that I called her ma’am. I felt her smile. ‘Oak and hazel,’ she mused. ‘Strength and suppleness, brawn and brain – what a good combination, no wonder Oisin is so proud.’
I had a question on my mind since I first touched her and I finally found my voice. ‘Are you the first tree?’
‘Oh my, what a question. I can’t remember that far back, I’m an old woman, you know. I have been here a long time. I imagine all of your fathers and most of your mothers have climbed in my branches. I know I have watched over the children of Duir since the beginning. But am I the oldest? Who can tell?’ She chuckled to herself. ‘I feel like the oldest sometimes. Picking up a big strapping boy like you was harder than it used to be.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It is a pleasure to meet you, young Conor. I don’t like to say it, but not all in your family have such a good heart. It pleases me down to my roots to meet a child of oak as fine as you.’
I stood up and hugged her – I couldn’t help myself.
‘Will you come and visit me again?’
‘If I can,’ I said, thinking about the dangers that lay ahead.
‘Oh, my poor dear, your trials are not over, are they?’
‘No.’
‘Do not you worry. Remember you are oak and hazel, you will know when to be strong and when to bend.’
Then she hugged me, a hug of wood and leaves that was softer than any I have ever had from flesh and blood. ‘Will you be alright climbing down by yourself? I have had enough bending for a day. I’m an old woman, you know.’
Dad was asleep when I reached the ground. When I woke him he looked at me and said, ‘Well?’
I couldn’t even begin to put my feelings into words, so I just said, ‘That’s a heck of a tree.’
Dad roared with laughter at that. ‘That she is, son. That she is.’
On the way back to camp several of our horses galloped past us. ‘Where are they going?’ I asked.
‘Deirdre is sending them home, we don’t need them any more.’
Back at the camp Mom was whispering in Cloud’s ear. She finished and Cloud galloped off. ‘You can talk to horses?’ I said, amazed.
She started to answer and then remembered she had a small gold disc on her tongue. She took it out and said, ‘One of my tutors was a Pooka.’ Then that little shadow of sadness passed in front of her face for a second. The same look she always gets when she is remembering her youth at the Hall of Knowledge.
‘You know, Mom,’ I said and then paused – I didn’t know how to continue. I wanted to tell her how glad I was to have found her and how wonderful and brave and beautiful I thought she was. I wanted to tell her that I loved her. ‘I just …’
‘I know, son, me too,’ she said and then held me. She was right, we didn’t have to speak.
Dahy whipped up a roast rabbit dinner. He only cooked about five of them but they were so big they fed us all. We ate pretty much in silence. After dinner, Dad announced that he and Dahy would finalise the plan tonight. He told us to get some sleep and he would fill us in at breakfast. At the mention of sleep I instantly realised just how tired I was. Two days of riding and the outpouring of emotion with Mother Oak had drained me so much, I hardly had the strength to unfurl my blanket.
At about the same time I put my head down, Fergal came over. He sat next to me, cross-legged. He looked like he wanted to talk but he didn’t say anything.
‘How you doing?’ I said, hoping he wouldn’t hit me.
He gave me a weak smile. ‘Conor, I want to tell you something.’
I let loose a big sigh and said, ‘Fergal, I don’t think I can take another emotional scene today. I already had one with my mother and my father and even one with a tree. Look, cousin. I’m glad I met you and I love you too, but we are not going to die