The Lost Books of Merlyn - Drui - Douglas Monroe

DRUID MAGIC FROM TrfÂGE OF ARTHUR
~ ~ the Cost Books of
--
V
s
Douglas fRonroe
Author of Bestselling The 21 Lessons ofMerlyn
Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2012
http://www.archive.org/details/lostbooksofmerlyOOmonr
'gj ND FINALLY, ARTHUR, THIS is for you." Merlyn held out a folded bundle
4T\ towards me. "This is the legendary Cloak of Padaen, which imparts
invisibility on its wearer... sets him apart unnoticed from the surroundings of
the world. Yet to future generations, this garment is destined to bear a new
name; folk will call it the Mantle of Arthur, renamed for the history to be
accomplished this very day!

"But know you this, Once and Future King," and here Merlyn deliberately
raised his voice so that all might hear, "...your task remains unfinished, your
final battle unwaged. Your time to pass in peace among the Mists will come,
but that hour is not yet upon us."
#bout tl?e Kutl?or
Douglas Monroe (Mexico) has been involved in practical Earth magick since
his first apprenticeship at age 10. He is founder of the New Forest Centre for
Magickal Studies and has made many excursions to Celtic Britain to collect
original materials on Druidism and Arthurian lore. The author has, for the
past several years, been Professor of Humanities at the American Institute in
Central Mexico, where he is involved in building both a Department of Celtic

Studies and a European-based Shamanic Centre.
Zo Write to t\)c Kutl?or

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Douglas Monroe
% Llewellyn Worldwide
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Druid Magic from the Age of Arthur
.^^<ri}e tost Books of
rRerl^n
The Battle of the Trees,
The Book of Pheryllt
AND
The Gorchan of Maeldrew
Douglas Monroe
1998
Llewellyn Publications
St. Paul,Minnesota 55164-0383 U.S.A.
1
The Lost Books ofMerlyn 1998 by Douglas Monroe. All rights reserved. No part of
©
this book may be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written per-
mission from Llewellyn Publications, except in the case of brief quotations embodied
in critical articles and reviews.
FIRST EDITION
First Printing, 1998
Cover design: Anne-Marie Garrison

Cover illustration: Carrie Westfall
Author photo courtesy of F. Trias

Kind permission to Dover Publications, and to the author for illustrations used.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
The lost books of Merlyn : Druid magic from the age of

Arthur / [compiled by] Douglas Monroe
p. cm.
Based on the Druid textThe book of Pheryllt. Contents: The battle of the trees -
The book of Pheryllt ~ The Gorchan of Maeldrew.
ISBN 1-56718-471-5 (pbk.)
1. Magic, Celtic. 2. Druids and Druidism. I. Monroe, Douglas, 1957-

II. Book of Pheryllt.
BF1622.C45L67 1998
1 33.4'3'0899 1 6-dc2 98-20787
CIP
Publisher's Note: Llewellyn Worldwide does not participate in, endorse, or have any
authority or responsibility concerning private business transactions between our
authors and the public.
All mail addressed to the author is forwarded but, unless specifically instructed by
the author, the publisher cannot give out an address or phone number.
A Division of Llewellyn Worldwide, Ltd.
P.O. Box 64383, Dept. K471-5
St. Paul, MN 55164-0383, U.S.A.
Printed in the United States of America.

iFor
Francisco and Magda
without whose support this book would not yet be.
A wall offorest looms above,

and sweetly the blackbird sings;
All the birds make melody

over me and my books and things.
There sings to me the night owl

from tree-citadel in gray hood.
God's doom! May the Lord protect me,

writing well, under this great wood.
Unknown Irish Monk, 9th Century

Z\)C £>rutds
The Druids now, while arms are heard no more,

Old mysteries and oaken rites restore.
A tribe who singular religion love,
And haunt the lonely coverts of the grove:

To these, and these ofall mankind alone
The Gods are sure revealed, or sure unknown.
Ifdying mortals' dooms they sing aright,

No ghosts descend to hell in dreadful night.
No parting souls to grisly Pluto go,
Nor seek the dreary, silent shades below:
But forth they fly, immortal in their kind,
And other bodies in new worlds they find.

Thus life for ever runs its endless race
And, like a line, death but divides the space:

A stop which can but for a moment last,
A point between the future and the past.
Thrice happy they between the northern skies
Who that worst fate, the fear ofdeath, despise.
Hence they no cares for this frail being feel,
But rush undaunted on the pointed steel.
Provoke approaching fate, and bravely scorn

To spare that life which must so soon return!
Rowe's LUCAN
"...To illustrate, to justify a need for the re-emergence of THE DRUIDS in
the 21st Century, as the traditional Western Caretakers of the Earth; to pro-
vide practical Shamanic Methodology for re-awakening and re-establishing
the communicative links between mankind, and those invisible realms of
nature upon which this planet depends for existence, balance and life."
Contents
Why the Story? viii
Prologue: Part One ix
Prologue: Part Two xix
PART 1: The Battle of the Trees

A Foreword 3
1: The Mouth of Pharon 13
2: Wildfire 19
3: Song of the Forest Trees 29
4: And At Night They Walked 35
5: As Mistletoe Upon Oak 57
Grimoire#l: 21 Excerpts from The Battle of the Trees 65
PART 2: The Book ofPheryllt

A Foreword 135
1: Refuge of Fire and Blood 137
2: Nemeton 145
3: The Head 153
4: Ddraglais 169
5: The Silver Branch 175
Grimoire #2: 21 Excerpts from TheBookofPheryllt 185
PART 3: The Gorchan ofMaeldrew

A Foreword 253
1: Warrior Angel 255
2: The Summons 263
3: Behold All Flesh 273
4: The Mists of Calen 281
5: Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit 293
Grimoire #3: 21 Excerpts from The Gorchan ofMaeldrew 307
Epilogue: "The Body of the Dragon" 395

—
0% X\)c Stor??
J^-HE CELTIC TRADITION IS inseparable from its deep love of storytelling
\wthey overlap at all points and destinations. Even the Druidic tradition was
involved as an essential part: the Bardic Order was almost entirely devoted to
the preservation and propagation of the historic verse and myths of their peo-
ples. The Celtic storytellers, be they the wandering Bards or the grandfathers
of the clan, were revered with an almost supernatural awe for their ability to
bring stories to life. Before the age of video games and movies, storytelling
reigned supreme as the popular entertainment — throwing open the doorways
of the imagination. The tellers were skilled, using a multitude of voices,
sounds, songs and musical instruments to enhance a tale which often took
days, weeks or even months to tell; the late night fire-side, their favorite
haunt, also provided added Magic. And the Celtic images themselves were
absolutely distinctive: exotic, often wildly beautiful, or horrifying and bizarre,
but always graphic. Upon hearing, (even in this day and age), who could pos-
sibly forget the terrifying transformations of Cuchulainn? ...King Cormacs sil-
ver house, thatched with the wings of white birds? ...Blodeuwedd the
deceptive Flower Maiden, or the singing Swans of Llyr? Answer: no one who
heard them! Indeed, one cannot separate the Celt from his rich tapestry of
tale — they are one and the same in root.
And it is from this very same root, that The Lost Books of Merlyn has
grown... from the very same tradition. Why cast a book centering upon prac-
tical Celtic Magic in such a narrative form? Why the stories? Again, the
answer: because that is the way the Druids, the Celts, would have done it
that is the ivay they taught.

Need one a better justification than this?
Deep in me, Artos stirs.
"
"Stay away, " I tell him. "Go back to sleep.
But Artos wakes... opens his eyes inside me.
"It's time!" he says.
"Time for what?"

"
"I know what Merlyn wanted to teach me,
whispers Artos in my soul.

'To be King over men. To know what they are,
...and the price of knowledge.
Parke Godwin, FIRELORD, 1980
prologue
Part One
J^HE LOST BOOKS OF MERLYN is a composite work, a series of writings, which
\^have come down to us as attributed through the pen of Merlyn, or —more
precisely, as having originally been in his keeping. And Merlyn was a Druid; this
insight being what all reasonable sources point towards. And the Druids were
Primal Mystics: the priest-initiators of their peoples; this, too, is well-attested by
period writers of the time. This ancient reconstruction is therefore a book about
initiation as a tool for personal transformation. Note then, that an important
fusion has here taken place: Merlyn has become the archetypal symbol of mysti-
cism in the western world, and thereby embedded the spirit of Druidism deep
within the fabric of the occidental collective unconscious. Merlyn, the initiator
into the mystique of life, has survived as a symbol of initiation. But since the
scope of this work concerns the present, not the past, so our focus here is upon
initiation in this day and age. Has the capacity to use this ancient pedagogic sys-
tem survived? And if so, how can this tradition be utilized?

Before tackling these important questions, perhaps a word need be said
concerning the basic implication of the term 'Initiation! One modern ency-
clopedia defines meaning as: "A CYCLIC PROCESS OR CEREMONY
its
THROUGH WHICH ONE IS TAKEN BEYOND THE BOUNDS OF

NORMAL PERCEPTION, AND BACK." This definition serves us well,
since its meaning has remained as virtually unaffected by time, as it has by its
ix
x The Lost Books of Merlyn
dominant presence throughout a world cross-section of culture. Initiation is
Initiation: theculmination of an archetypal Vision Quest beyond the percep-

tual confines of the normal world. And, more often than not, it is a
guided
journey, one which imparts a mystic lesson which is then brought back to the
world of men for its betterment. And how is this magical journey towards Ini-
tiation begun? Again, more often than not, through the vehicle of APPREN-
TICESHIP in some form or another.
Initiation and Apprenticeship. Since the publication of THE 21 LESSONS
OF MERLYN some years ago, New Forest Centre has been virtually barraged
by well over twenty thousand letters requesting, and more often pleading for
help in touching these two ancient elements here in our modern world today.
People commonly starve with an ancestral craving for the mystic food of the
spirit — for bread truly trans-substantiated not by man —bread symbolic of the
true mysteries. This unusual book, having been compiled in response to this
plea, needs, therefore, some background to be seen in perspective with all this.
Throughout THE LOST BOOKS OF MERLYN, I have drawn upon

sources contained, in one form or another, within 'The Book of Pheryllt:' an
old manuscript of which a Xerox copy was entrusted to me many years ago.
This mss. really contained three story re-telhngs/versions from ancient Celtic
Legend with which, at the time, I was familiar with only by name: 1 . THE
BATTLE OF THE TREES, 2. THE BOOK OF PHERYLLT, and 3. THE
GORCHAN OF MAELDREW. The collection exists in a rather bizarre com-
bination of type styles and hand-writings. I have come to believe, through
many years of studying this script, that the original title of the manuscript was
probably THE BODY OF THE DRAGON, a book in three sectional parts
bound together. Rather I should have said un-tangling than studying, for the
copy in my possession is a vast 'Frankenstein' of sections which appear to be,
at most points, in an almost random order. But, through what I will venture
to call 'study' I have succeeded in sorting the total information into piles of a
kind, and these piles correspond to the story titles previously given. What has
been done, I believe, is not a reconstruction of the information itself con-
tained within the text, but rather a restoration of the form in which the infor-
mation was originally cast; an almost archaeological re-building of an extinct
species. And I have further come to believe that the form fits... that the beast
once actually lived and breathed... the BODY OF THE DRAGON re-evolved.
But as to this end, I will leave the reader to judge for himself the effective
impact of my work; it will confidently speak for itself.
Prologue XI
Then in addition to the three prime mythological re-tellings, I have

included an extensive collective section at the end of each, entitled simply:
'GRIMOIRE.' This medieval term grimoire was chosen because it tradition-
ally stands for an often random collection of personal or arcane knowledge,
usually of an esoteric or magical nature. This describes precisely what these

three sections are. Why did I include them? First and foremost, because there
are many magical elements mentioned throughout the myths which bear
explanation; these elements were once, no doubt, understood by the listeners
without comment — but, unfortunately, no longer. Second, due to the

immense volume of mail we have received requesting additional ritual mate-
rial. And so, the volumes I possess being rich in such, I have edited portions
of them that seem useful and yet neither harmful nor sacrilegious to release.
Said material has been categorized, roughly, on the basis of type and effect;
those magical information's which seem similar in one way or another, or
bear relationship to the story elements they follow. These grimoires are pos-
sibly the closest a reader will ever come, to viewing a Magician's personal
archives — his 'Book of Shadows,' —knowledge specially reserved for a cho-
sen apprentice, his successor. Such was the tradition. Let us extend this tra-
dition into the 21st century.
And here and now, let us tackle a question which has become, for some,
paramount in regards to my work: the question of authenticity. When many
so-styled experts in the field of Druidism or Celtic Mythology are asked: "Does
the Book ofPheryllt actually exist? they most always confidently assert: "No. It
does not, and never did? Well... let it here be stated for the records, that this
author has no intention whatsoever in "disputing the experts," for the question
is without value to him. Why? Because my concern is not how authentic my
sources are; this, one may only guess at, but rather how effective their philoso-
phies and methodologies. I merely state that the manuscript — forged or origi-
nal, ancient or recent — exists as an absolutely fascinating collection of writings,

Xll The Lost Books op Merlyn
and that the framework WORKS. Here objectivity ceases, when I state what I
have come to believe through studying the text: that most of the fragments are
very old, and are remnant of genuine mystic tradition; this is my assertion
wholly. Yet again, there is much here for the reader to experience before mak-
ing a personal evaluation of the matter. But for 'the experts' to dismiss a man-
uscript on the basis of time-assumption alone — half the boat is being missed!
The writings have power, as well as a clear, well-defined literary connection to
the images and primal mysticism with which the Celtic Druids were associ-
ated. And the world — at least in large part —needs badly such associations
now, if we are alone to judge by the mountain of correspondence THE 21

LESSONS OE MERLYN has generated from around the globe. Historic arche-
ologists and library-scholars will never understand the essence of Druidism
from examining mistletoe dust and monks' renditions... only a true poet stands
this chance today.

And here as well, let us tackle the second great "area of insecurity" readers
often associate with my work: the doctrine of GENDER SPECIFIC MAGIC,

the idea that spiritual systems are most effective when gender is not mixed in
any way —and the assertion that the Druidic Priesthood was an exclusively
MALE order based specifically on this concept.
Despite all the "feather ruffling" these two assertions have caused over the
years, the fact still remains: THEY ARE BOTH PERFECTLY TRUE. Not
one shred of evidence has been produced to the contrary. The "public" prob-
lem with these age-old and time tested ideas, is that they run contrary to
today's popular unisex variety ofpaganism, whose basis is firmly built upon rit-
ualizing sexuality in a symbolic or actual sense. Certainly the large groups
today acknowledge gender energy in ritual — then go on to do nothing con-

structive with their insight, save to glorify the act of propagation under the
guise of "mirroring the cosmic, universal pattern of life... drawing down the
Divine Spark for ritual use" etc., ad nauseam. Presumably, it creates the feel-
ing that they are already living within divine precepts.
In any event, I have no intention of here re-stating the basis for Gender-
specific Magic; this was thoroughly done in my last book. Let it suffice to
remind readers, however, that there is another side to the coin of today's Uni-
sex Paganism —an old and potent side that begs true understanding.
And rolling along onto the heated topic of 'Women Druids,' the idea still
stands as a contradiction of terms, historically and religiously. The confusion

stems from the fact that, by the time the doctrines of Druidism were beginning
—
Prologue xiii
to be written down by Christian monks, the pure tenants of the Priesthood

had long been either distorted or lost to memory. The secret ideals on which
the Paternity was founded, were completely unknown by those recording or
transmitting them. The Druids no more had women in their ranks, than the
Catholic Church has had over the last 2000 years; their basic roots being the
same in structure. Possibly, at a point 2000 years from now, those writing
about Catholicism will have no memory ivhy Priests were exclusively male
perhaps they will even say that the Vatican was full of women priests, simply
because they could think of no good reasons why not! I am drawing a time-
parallel here. By the point Druid-tales became written literature, the essence
was far gone. So why not have lady-Druids, Druidesses? Why not? Folklorists
had confused and innocently distorted a once-clear picture; yet who could
blame them, really, considering the immense passage of time and exclusiveness
of the doctrine?
So, Druidesses showed up, and no one was left alive to redress the point.
People forget over time, they confuse, especially when it comes to guarded
religious doctrine they never really understood in the beginning. Yes — in the
LATE tales of the Irish Druids, women Druids are mentioned scantily. We
contend that this is, absolutely, a confusion. Women shamans they may have
been, prophets and healers —but they were not Druids. Yet, like the nuns of
the Catholic Church today, there was a female counterpart. Note below:
The Druids were the Celtic Priesthood. In the beginning, until the
Romans and other patrilineal religions forced change, the Celts had sim-
ilar organizations of women. There are some clues in historical writings
to suggest that these women were called DRYADS and lived in sacred
groves. It is very probable that they were in existence before the Druids,
being part ofthe very old goddess religions.
D.J. Conway, CELTIC MAGIC 1990
In this well-surmised statement, its author has hit upon a gold mine of per-
spective. The Druids were a Patriarchy, whereas the older Dryads were Matri-
archal. The systems were separate. It is a matter of historic fact, that
Patriarchal systems tend to be male, and Matriarchies, female in organization.
And the term DRYAD is correct, insofar as it is mentioned throughout the

Pheryllt texts regarding female shamans of the period. In the Greek accounts,
we find a clear, linguistic distinction made between male DRUIDAI, and
female DRYADAE. Horns on the same goat... but different horns.
XIV The Lost Books of Merlyn
in support of Lady Druids, the fact that the

Another common argument is
Mother's line, and was

Celtic culture was strongly structured through the
women members. Be it far from this author
famous for the license afforded its
make whenever possible, is to mention the

to dispute the facts; yet, a point I
marked difference between the terms CELT and DRUID. The Celt was a
product of Matriarchy, while the Druids, their Priests, were equally Patriar-
chal in structure. The two cannot be used interchangeably. Here, too, the
question needs to be asked: WHICH Celts are we referring ta.'The Irish... the
Pictish?... the Welsh... the Gauls? All these were Celts—

traditions similar in
root, very different in foliage. The strong, warrior- type women who taught
and bested the men in battle were Continental, not British... and even less so,
Irish. Writers seldom deal with this marked topo-cultural difference, and as
far as the Brythonic branch of the Celts is concerned, we find little to support
the type of "emancipated" image which would lead to women Druids. The
reality was more like this:
The social order reflected here is a system contrived by men and super-
vised by the Druids. To begin with, the men in Celtic society were
allowed to take several wives, and each had different legal rights, and
so by extension did her children. Beyond this, the chief wife and her
offspring enjoyed privileges that did not extend to other members of the
family. But, ifshe produced no children, her inheritance rights might
pass to the children of the subordinate wives. Furthermore, if the hus-
band divorced his first wife —a step that could be easily accomplished
by simply returning her to her family— then the question of inheri-
tance must have taxed even the Druids profound wisdom.
Duncan Norton-Taylor, THE CELTS, Time-Life Books, 1974
Back in the ages of untarnished Druidism, women were as active in reli-
gion as men — clearly, they had their own order, not unlike the Masons and the
Order of the Eastern Star today. The two even distinguished themselves
through dress. Consider Caesar's accounting of the A.D. 59 attack on Angle-
sey: "women dressed in black dashed like the furies between the Druid ranks."
This quote is often used to spin a case for female Druids. NONSENSE. The
women wore BLACK: the color of the Motherhood; never was black consid-
ered a Druidic color —not even once, in a single tale. The women were there
in support of the Mother Culture. But the Druids were a Patriarchy: a solar,
solid white Priesthood. The REASONS why this should have been so, go
back to basic "energy, gender and Magic." They are solid reasons, understood
Prologue xv
by many great minds and cultures: Carl Jung, Israel Regardie, the Great Ori-
ental Religions of the East... it is only here where these subtle spiritual differ-
ences in gender go untapped, here in a culture where men and women are the
same underneath, where gender difference is not "tolerated," —where every-
thing both spiritually and physically goes into the great homogeneous blender
of anonymous sexuality.
But let us relax, as the scope of THE LOST BOOKS OF MERLYN does
not extend far enough into these realms to justify further discussion here, yet
its role is essential. We have re-stated these points strongly because, simply
put, someone has to. Sometimes the truth is like a torch — the more it's shook,
the more it shines.
Mankind from all cultures weeps for a loss of the Primal Mystique, and
craves it again with a craving that even the Christian Church is unable to satisfy.
Why? Because both Church and society have lost their sense of mystery. Priests
no longer understand the inner-teachings, the Gnosis: the spiritual language

around which this once-great religion was founded — the mystery of the Holy
Communion reduced to a mumble of 'Wonder Bread' and 'Welch's Grape
Our elders no longer oversee
Juice.' the initiation of their young-into-men.
Confusion... identity crisis... lack of essential mythology; sacrilege deprived of
Spiritual Mystery. Mankind does not seek after spiritual truth nearly so much as
it seeks to touch the Mystery ofthe Spirit... of life and existence.
And so, year by year, traditional church enrollment declines by tens-of-

thousands who desert the spires in search of spirituality beyond the Bible-
box... in search of lost Apprenticeship, and ultimately, lost initiation. Now let
me tell you a short story which often comes to mind as I ponder what the
world has lost —and how people compensate.
XVI The Lost Books of Merlyn
Z\)c Break tDall
SEVERAL YEARS AGO DURING THE SUMMER MONTHS, A

GROUP OF MY JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS WERE INCES-
SANTLY AFTER ME TO:
"Mr. Monroe, come to the break wall just once with us... its awe-
some... its the greatest... it will even scare you!"
WELL, THEY ALL KNEW THE LOVE I HAD FOR THE MYSTERI-
OUS, SO THE PART "IT WILL SCARE EVEN YOU" WORKED PER-
FECTLY I WENT. WHAT I FOUND ASTOUNDED ME, FOR I
LEARNED THAT THE BOYS HAD NO IDEA WHATSOEVER WHAT
THEY WERE DOING THERE— ONLY THAT THERE WAS "SOME-
THING THERE" THAT EXISTED BEYOND THE NORMAL
BOUNDARIES OF THE WORLD, SOMETHING THAT CHANGED
AND EMPOWERED THEM IN A MYSTICAL SENSE NOT EASILY
TALKED ABOUT
NOW LET ME EXPLAIN THE MECHANISM. THE 'BREAK WALL
ITSELF IS A LONG AND CRUMBLING PIER EXTENDING FROM A
NEARLY FORGOTTEN BEACH, FAR OUT ONTO THE OFFSHORE
WATERS OF LAKE ERIE. WAY OUT AT THE FURTHEST POINT,
THERE EXISTS A SHARP 30-FOOT DROP DOWN TO THE DARK
AND ALWAYS-CHURNING WATERS BELOW THIS EASTERN-
MOST SIDE OF THE PIER HAS COME TO BE KNOWN IN LOCAL
LEGEND, AS THE 'BREAK WALL.' THEY COME TO JUMP THEY
COME TO BE INITIATED, FOR THIS GROUP OF YOUNG MEN IS A
SELF-MADE SOCIETY OF SORTS—A CLUB, ALTHOUGH THEY DO
NOT REALIZE THEMSELVES AS SUCH. BUT NONETHELESS,
THEY ACT OUT THE ANCIENT RITUALS WITH ARCHETYPAL
PERFECTION!
TO JUMP THE BREAK WALL IS AN ACT OF FAITH (for can be it
dangerous), AND A TEST OF WILL. THEY BRING OTHERS, BUT

ONLY THOSE WHO JUMP BELONG; THEY CONSIDER THEM-
SELVES AN ELITE GROUP, AND HAVE A WELL-DEFINED SENSE
OF GROUP PRIDE.
WHETHER OR NOT MYSELF JUMPED, WILL NOT SAY; ONLY
I I
THAT THEY WANTED ME TO—MY STUDENTS WERE TESTING

Prologue xvii
ME, AND MY CHOICE HAS GIVEN ME PAUSE EVER SINCE.

THERE WAS DEFINITELY SOMETHING UN-NERVING ABOUT
STANDING ON THE BRINK OF THAT WALL [ON THE BRINK OF
THEIR WORLD] AND CONTEMPLATING A JUMP— SOMETHING
OTHERWORLDLY THE PLUNGE WAS FAR, THE WATER WAS
DARK— BUT THE RE-EMERGENCE TRIUMPHAL! ALL THE ELE-
MENTS OF THE OLD INITIATIONS WERE THERE... AND THEN I
ASKED ONE OF THE BOYS TO DESCRIBE THE EXPERIENCE. HE
SAID:
"I am always scared, but I make myself because I feel different after-
wards. I feel powerful, like no one can beat me! Like a different person
for a while. Special, like I can do something no one else can."
AND THERE IT WAS, THE

THE TIMELESS FOR-
INITIATION,
MULAE: TO EXPERIENCE RE-BIRTH WITHIN THE GROUP, THE
INITIATE OVERCAME FEAR—THE OTHERWORLD AWE—THE
FIRST STEP.
NEXT THE BLIND LEAP OF FAITH DOWN INTO THE ABYSS—
THE DARKNESS—THE UNDERWORLD. FINALLY THE UPWARD
RE-EMERGENCE BACK INTO THE WORLD OF LIGHT, EMPOW-
ERED AND NOW A PRIVILEGED BEING. THE FORMULAE WAS
INDEED THERE. THESE YOUTHS, LIVING IN THIS TECHNIC
AGE, WERE DEVOID OF INITIATION, THE TRADITIONAL
RESPONSIBILITY OF THE ELDERS. BUT THERE WERE NO ELDERS
WHO REMEMBERED. EACH BOY riAD AN IN-BORN LONGING
TO TOUCH THAT MYSTERY OF LIFE WHICH THEY FELT
INSTINCTIVELY, AND SO THEY FOUND THE BREAK WALL, AND
USED IT! THEY INITIATED THEMSELVES. ORPHEUS WOULD
HAVE UNDERSTOOD IT ALL... AND SO WOULD MERLYN.
XV111 The Lost Books of Merlyn
And so, here we return to Merlyn as the great mystical initiator of the
West—and to Arthur, his most fabled apprentice. It is not our intention here
to debate historic reality... that is not a spiritual battle, but a scholastic one.
Scholars always make the worst mystics; only a poet can read between the
worlds. Merlyn and Arthur live on as a supreme archetype: as a union

between Spiritual Mystery and the World of Man. ARTHUR THE MAN is
really us... MERLYN THE INITIATOR is what we dream... a truth any child
knows deep within, which far surpasses the one-dimensional facts of a scholar.
And does this child still sleep within us? ... a question this book will seek to
uncover. And know also from the very start, that this work is intended as a
teaching tool for both the initiator and his apprentice — that is, if there really
exists a clear distinction between the two. The teacher through teaching is
always taught, and thereby becomes again the student; such is the cycle, so
much as the process be devoid of ego.

THE LOST BOOKS OF MERLYN thus stand before us as a specialized
grimoire of knowledge, a tool of initiation, and a most unusual one. It is not
meant to be examined in parts: the individual stories or grimoires have little
more significance than a single, lone puzzle part; {how easily can one judge a
finished puzzle picture, from but a single piece?) — only together as a whole do
the parts make any real sense, when then viewed as a unified picture from a
distance.
But finally, it must be disclosed that this book's insights and wisdoms were
also gleaned, in part, as the result of a unique and bizarre series of experiences
which clearly extended on multiple levels beyond the 'normal' range of every-
day reality. Much later, I was to learn that modern psychic researchers called
such experiences 'time slips ,' and had catalogued hundreds. Yet, when one is in
the throes of such forces, explanations and numbers mean little! Whatever the
mechanism, back in 1981, during a handful of brief yet dramatic days — time
was transcended.
.
What a book it will be!
It will reveal to us the Secret of what Oisin sang...
What Merlin knew. .
And how, slowly, a long sleep fell upon the Island.

And only the grasses shaken in the wind,
And the Wind itself...
And the broken shadows ofdreams in the minds ofthe old,
Still held the Secrets ofAlbion.
Fiona Macleod
prologue
Part Two
J^HE YEAR WAS 1981, and I was just finishing a graduate degree from the
^w Crane School of Music in up-state New York. It was early summer. As I
began to seriously examine my career prospects for the future, I was sud-
denly set upon by a great sea of uncertainty —and I began to think. Some-
thing was wrong. Something was going wrong with my world: with the
world, something new and terrible. Throughout the ages, mankind has
always been plagued with the elements of war and aggression among
nations, with social unrest and condemnation. But I suddenly realized that
the age in which we now live is very different. Now, for the first time in
human history, mankind possesses the technology to actually destroy the

Earth —and the blind egotism to possess this power without fear. This one
fact makes our age dramatically different.
And then the second great capacity for destruction: the global disregard for
the Earth as a living being which sustains us. Pollution is a terrifying reality,
one which is day by day killing us both physically and spiritually, but so
slowly that it goes unnoticed. "Out ofsight, is out of mind," is the way modern
people inevitably view a problem; if the effects are not right there under your
nose, then the problem is at a comfortable distance. Plus, the masses seem to
care little, so long as their lives are not inconvenienced'by the technology of
destruction. We turn a tap, and seemingly clear water is still there; we breath
xix
XX The Lost Books of Merlyn
in, and seemingly clean air again fills our lungs, just as it always has; we flip a
switch, and electricity floods our houses to wrap us in un-polluted comfort
and security. All these luxuries surround us, so where is the danger? We see no
contamination; our lives are clean! The world is OK... see? And so it remains
an ideal, a concept, a far-away demon.

hard to grasp a danger which blankets us in the only secure lifestyle
It is
we have ever known. We forget that the technology which is destroying our
planet, is of extremely recent origin: all within the last hundred years, a mere
drop in the bucket of historic civilization. "How can one live without electricity,
cars and the Boeing 747?" we say, "...and why should we? This is the 20th cen-
tury, we have earned these things. Why live in the past? We are no longer bar-
barians, after all!"
Barbarians... And what did come before this age? Lack of advanced culture?
Barbarism? Heathendom? Savagery? We ask: how can one imagine a sane lifestyle
without electricity... cars... aircraft... computer technology or video games':'"Well,"

we say, "perhaps there was civilization back then, but times are better now. We
have PROGRESSED, and there is no stopping progress. Progress is good."
Fine. But my question was: are the few areas of true advancement in lifestyle,
(questionably such as medicine and transportation) worth the price ofplanetary

destruction? I began to read, to hear about the irreparable damage of aircraft
and industry to the OZONE LAYER... the atmospheric imbalance caused by

the careless slaughter of the rain forests and their inhabitants... and the hor-
rific industrial pollution of our water, the most rare and valuable of our plan-
etary resources. It was clear that, for the first time in history, mankind was
capable of killing the planet —and was selfishly, blindly doing so. Quite aside
from debating the merits or hardships of life in ages past, it seemed certain to
me that the Olde World was naturally better off, simply because man had not
yet developed the means of killing it. And are we really any better off today
physically? Spiritually? Ethically? More comfortable perhaps in some ways, but
a quick look at the daily issue of any newspaper will quickly address this ques-
tion. And what of the 'barbarism' of the past? A glance back at the Sumerian,
Egyptian and Greek civilizations left small doubt in my mind that we had
'advanced' precious little if at all. And now the Earth was being killed, and
here was I, graduating from college.
—
Prologue xxi
It was an unusually cool evening as I walked back into my apartment and

flipped a switch. Flickering fluorescent light instantly banished the darkness.
The refrigerator hummed assuringly — the automatic comfort-control ther-

mostat clicked the heating system to life. / was being taken care of. Wasn't it
wonderful? Wasn't I lucky to be living in such an age of convenience? Every-

one seemed to say so, and yet I was beginning to realize something different.
There was still something frighteningly wrong, some answer to a more

humanistic way of life, a more sensitive and less destructive one. When a man
no longer has the personal responsibility for creating and maintaining his per-
sonal environment, what happens? Is he then free to move his attentions to
bigger and better things? Greater accomplishments? [In the apartment directly
above mine, I stopped thinking for a moment to listen to two youngsters swear
viciously at a video game they had been playing all afternoon. I guessed that kids
no longer had much use for building tree houses, or exploring woodland streams.
The natural world was quite foreign to them, it seemed. And I wondered if they
missed it instinctively?}
Man's accomplishments: Tax forms... electricity... city plumbing... air-
craft... air conditioning... cars... splitting the atom... computers and video
games? And the capacity for global destruction. My circle of reasoning seemed
complete at that moment.
But let it here be understood that the real, underlying problem was that /
was born a Druid... and the Druids have always been the hereditary caretakers
of the Earth. This alone is what truly unsettled me. I was sure that if the
Druids were still a controlling power in the world, that the price of global pol-
lution as the result of technical progress, would not be allowed to be paid.
Then again, perhaps it was the slaughter of the great forests... the TREES,
that demanded the Druids return as protectors; the Druids revered the trees,
always protecting and worshipping through them. They needed to return

time demanded to me that they be summoned back.
From an early age in childhood, I had come to realize that the inner core of
my being sprung from Druidic philosophy and values, a fact which had
stamped my life indelibly. I remembered much... too much not to be pro-
foundly affected by the wholesale slaughter of the Earth, even in an age when
children inherit Earth-insensitivity by parental norm. And so, as I sat there
surrounded by the clicks and beeps of humanity, it suddenly became clear

what needed to be done. Instinctively, I grabbed my copy of Geoffrey of
XX11 The Lost Books of Merlyn
Monmouth's THE PROPHECIES OF MERLIN oft a shelf, and thrust it open

of its own A cold chill of realization edged through me as read the
accord. I
exposed words:
... And a boar of Cornwall
Shall come forth, and crush their necks
Under his feet.
But, after all these ages —was the Cave still there:
Part 1
Z\)c Battle of X\)c trees

But as untutored days became directionless weeks,
I experienced a growing need to see Merlyn again...
To feel safe once more within his plans.
Douglas Monroe, THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN
Hfff-T^-TTffif
Z\)c Battle of X\)c (Trees

A Foreword
OCTOBER 29TH, 1981. It was a cold afternoon, full of dank drizzle and
when my plane finally touched down at the Cardiff-Wales Airport
mist,
in Glamorgan. The sense of urgency which had caused me to spend the last of
my student loan on a ticket bringing me there, is difficult to put into words.
"Compelled" is one I might venture to use in an afterthought.
I rented a car at the terminal and proceeded North deep into the Rhondda
Valley region. After many hours of tired driving, I finally reached my destina-
tion: the quiet village of Merthyr Tydfil, where I had no trouble securing
lodging for the next few days at a local inn. Then, after all had been unpacked
and stowed away, I decided to take a walk to clear my thoughts; for some rea-
son, ever since touching down in Wales, my mind had been in a jumble — in
an almost 'Otherworld haze.' Newais Mountain was near... I could feel it like
a second heartbeat.
The lady who oversaw the guest house, told me that "Nuw'l Mount" as she
called it, (actually Anglicized to 'Newhill'), was to be found on the North-

western boarder of the Brecon Beacons National Park, the outskirts of which
were not far from town. And so, late as it had become, I set off to try and
recover my bearings.
4 The Lost Books of Merlyn
The night was cool and damp, without a moon... a thick canopy of low,
dark clouds slowly melted in-and-out overhead, yet not a single leaf stirred in
that black stillness below Within a half-hours' walk I had reached the Southern
bounds of the Park, and easily located a footpath which seemed to be going in
the right direction. This I took —my only companion a Great Horned Owl
with green eyes, who seemed to follow me everywhere. After covering quite a
distance, I came to a double-directional road marker which stated: Pen-y-
CaelAbergavenny, under which I sat down in a sudden confused daze.

The name 'Abergavenny' had caused an pronounced internal reaction.
Why, I could only guess, but visions swam through my head like never
before — rivers of images, not of this life. My eyes closed, (or perhaps they did
not), but, clear as day, there they were: elves dancing on daisy-covered fields...
wooden flutes played by robed men seated on stone by flowing red waters...
and the Druid in blue robes, carrying a wooden box strapped to his back. Yes,
I —
knew this man inside, I knew this man was the key; my search must some-
how begin with him.
The last thing I remembered with certainty that night, was the image of
the blue-clad man holding out a strange object to me, as if presenting a gift or
perhaps a clue. It appeared to be a chime of sorts: a type of bell or gong. The

design was unique: made of three triangular pieces of thin iron, the longest
side about the length of a man's arm, all fused together at a top point so that
none touched one another except there. The whole was suspended by a chain-
loop from the apex, so that when struck, an eerie, three-toned voice issued. In
my vision, the instrument hung from a low tree branch by which the blue
man stood with raised hand, saying:
"The Dragons breath... that voice which once hearkened to the wind; let it
speak again! Ddraiglais... the Dragon-Voice, the Dragon-Wind... all join at the
cave. Three days that are not days... three times that are not times, in-between the
worlds and beyond... thrice will the Dragons Voice call forth to you... they sum-
"
mon... thrice... they will summon....
And I awoke with a start, covered with cold perspiration from head to
waist. Nevertheless the picture — the message, was perfectly clear. It was dawn
on October 30th, the first of the three 'in-between' days of the ancient Celtic
feast of Samhain, and I knew exactly what had to be done.
"Nothing," I reminded myself, "ever happens by chance. Everything in
life is connected like a giant web... we need only to follow out our strongest
—
The Battle of the Trees 5
intuitions to tread upon it." And with this precious gem in mind, I walked
back the way I had come, full ready to face the day.
Hungry as I was, I resisted the temptation to
breakfast at any one of the quaint and wonderful
shops which lined the streets; fasting was important.
Instead, I found a phone book and looked up listings
under 'Metal Workers.' There was one: a Mr. O. Strattford on West Main.
The shop, easy enough to find, was not posted to open for another hour
yet. But someone must have seen me waiting, for the door soon swung out to
reveal a heavy-set man with wild black eyebrows, somewhere in his fifties. He
was an exceptionally quiet man, who said nothing as we walked to the forge
nothing, that is, until I began describing the object in my dream. At this he
hum'd and haw'd and his wild eyebrows became even wilder.
"Sir, I think I know just the type of thing you might be looking for," he
said finally with the slightest hint of a smile. "Come up with me to my study;
the wife will put by a spot of tea."
With that, I was ushered into a delightful wood-paneled library, with one
large picture window framed in white ruffles and red geraniums. A long
wooden table of dark, finely-polished wood ran down the middle, upon which
Mr. Strattford carefully deposited an old book entitled, THE HISTORYAND
TOPOGRAPHY OF CAERMARTHENSHIRE, by John O'Donovan, 1895.
The smith down the content page with his finger, until stopping with
followed
a triumphant humph under the heading of NEWHILL EXHUMED. There,
on page 242, rested an old black and white photograph which indeed did
answer a thousand questions.
It was the cave... half buried at the entrance by untold years of cascading
stone, but the cave nonetheless. Yet this alone was not the marvel. Close by
the mouth grew a gnarly, half-dead apple tree, dwarfed and contorted by time
and tempest, from the lowest branch of which hung an instrument... the
chime, precisely as I had envisioned it in my dream! And I smiled at the Web-

of-Life once again, asking without a moment's hesitation: "Can you build me
one of these? Before nightfall?" And the wild eyebrows rose steeply once more.
—
Over the course of the afternoon, I read feverishly about the mysterious
object, asked questions like a ten-year old, and learned just why the smith was
so familiar with it. Apparently, until fairly recent years, ic had been the tradi-
tional responsibility of the town forger to replace the chime when rusted
through. Made of iron, Mr. Strattford explained, each lasted about fifty years
—
one for the life ofeach craftsman. So for this reason, it was the duty of the town
smith to know to what specifications it must be constructed. He was, how-
ever, quick to point out that the tradition was remnant of the old pagan ways,
which were now dead. The cave, it seemed, had been the source of local lore
and superstition for a millennium; stemming, I was told, from a carved stone
" The Necromancer of
standing just outside it, bearing the name of Yore, in
strange notched markings," he said. And that was all he would say.
The book named the iron instrument THE DRAGON'S VOICE, and
hinted at its use... hinted I say, for such goings-on were hardly voiced even
when the book was written in 1895! But they did go on. People came to the
cave and summoned the Breath rang the gong, and then what? That, I sup-
posed, was for me to discover.
While waiting for the blacksmith to complete his afternoon task, I went
back to my room and searched through the pile of manuscripts I had brought;
something the man had said rang a bell, triggered a memory-fragment of
something I had once read amongst my papers. Then, near the very bottom of
the pile, I found it!
'Grave Sleeping Among the Celts," was the title ornately written in old-Eng-
lish font at the top. What it described, was the exact puzzle piece I was miss-
ing. Here was the ancient custom of reciting a charm, then falling asleep on
the grave of one with whom you wish to communicate — a custom old beyond
memory, or so the paper said. And as if to finalize matters, it drew as a case-
study upon the most notorious example known among early occult writers of
the sixteenth century: THE SUMMONING OF THE SHADE OF MER-
LYN by reciting his grave epitaph, which was found carved on an ancient
tombstone. But by far the best fortune of all: the charm was given in its origi-
nal Welsh!
And so by the time shadows had begun to lengthen, I had already managed
to collect the finished Ddraiglais, learn the phonetics of the old Welsh verse
and secure general directions to the base of the Mountain... Merlyns mountain!
My heart pounded with adrenaline as I packed the Dragon's Voice carefully
into the trunk and drove out. Now all that remained, was to locate the Cave.
But after all this time... could it still be seen?
An hour later found me nearing the destination. To tell the truth, I was
only lost once, but luckily obtained clear directions from a couple changing a
tire on Route A40. The only possible access to the summit of the Newhill
Ridge, was by way of a shabby hikers trail none too well-marked. Fortunately
though, I had little trouble locating it. Stowing my gear into a backpack with
Ddraglais in-hand, I began the climb — gradual and winding at first, but soon
becoming rocky and steep. The sun had all but vanished behind the hills
when I finally lit my tiny candle-lantern and clipped it onto my belt buckle.
The lonely sound of crickets was everywhere in the thick-bottom'd grasslands,
yet gave way to the lighter hollows of wind and falling pebble the higher I
climbed. After about two hours of heavy strain, the path gradually smoothed
out onto a well-worn footpath skirting the mountain. This I followed until
coming to a fork, one tier of which continued on a slight upward climb, and
the other down into the brush. Here the best of civilization was once again in
evidence, for, spray-painted in large, juvenile, fluorescent pink letters on the
side of the cliff, sprawled the words: "MERLIN LIVES HERE," connected to
an arrow no giant could miss. The route was rather obvious... and the signs
were indeed right! Within five hundred yards, I had come face to face with a
cave opening, partly obscured by vine and rubble, but undeniably there!
The cave... or was it? It certainly did not match accounts with which I was
familiar. Yet the phantoms were there all right, the ghosts of the past: gone
were the waterfalls, but twenty feet above the cave could be clearly seen broad
grooves and pathways over which water had once cascaded smoothly so many
years ago. And the location was right. Ghosts were everywhere...
Strange to tell, but I did not enter the cave; in fact, I never chose to enter
the cave at all during those remarkable three days. 'Why is still uncertain.
Perhaps I didn't want to dislodge the mystery... perhaps I was just plain scared
to confront the past. But whichever the case, I decided to set up camp on the
far western edge of the cave —
mouth an ideal location where the path broad-
ened out, and was protected somewhat by an overhang. The old apple tree
from the 1895 photo was long gone, yet faint ghost-traces of it, too, could
8 The Lost Books or Merlyn
be seen on the ground where a stump once was. Thus lacking a place to
still
hang the Ddraglais, I took advantage of an old tree root which was protruding
from the cave wall just inside. And there it was!
Within a short while I had easily built both a fire pit and a fire, as the area
was freely strewn with rock and dead pieces of brushwood tumbled down
from above. And so with this solitary companion to tame the night, I then set
about the real task at hand.

At this point, let it be told that I had no concrete idea whatsoever on how
to proceed further. The stage was set, the actor arrived... now the play was
ready to be written. Rummaging through my pack, I extracted the stack of
manuscripts and laid them out within firelight. By virtue of the shimmering
flames, pictures long dead came to life —symbols danced and images swam.
Then one in particular caught and held my attention: the Xerox copy I had
made of Mr. Strattford's book, page 243.
Searching the dark ground on my hands and knees, I finally managed to
gather together the required eight stones for the protective circle.
"An herbe, a flower and a tree make three.."" the formulae for the incense read,
and again I went to my sack and pulled out the collection of herbs I had
brought with me, each sealed and carefully folded into a zip-lock sandwich bag.
"Wormwood the herbe... Ghostbloom the flower... Yew the tree..." the grimoire
read on, and I tossed a handful of each onto the glowing embers and entered
the circle. As the herbs twisted and crackled, their gray smoke rose into a
dozen phantom wisps flying off —and I was suddenly filled with a sense of
mysterious power.
Bedd Ann ap lleian ymnnewais fynydd
lluagor Hew Ymrais
Prif ddewin Merddin Embrais...
My voice echoed sharply between the rocks and vanished overhead, leaving
all still — black and still. Nothing moved, nothing spoke, nothing happened. I
waited, breathless, for what seemed an eternity, afraid to leave the symbolic
safety of the circle. Finally, at a little before midnight and not knowing what
else to do, I vacated the ring of stones and laid down on my sleeping bag... lis-
tening, every nerve in expectation.
Time passed slowly, or perhaps it didn't pass at all, for the night creatures
suddenly ceased their incessant background chatter as the sky turned gradually
to a uniform chocolate gray. At this, I wondered if the charm hadn't indeed
—
had an effect; time and space seemed to simply stop in mid-stride. Then sleep
drifted in to answer my pondering, to complete the slip in-between worlds.

Ah, but the clamor! It seemed only moments after closing my eyes —blood
rushed to my head like a burst river dam, my heart throbbed, no air came. I
thought I would die in those tense few seconds. Have you ever been awakened
too quickly from a nightmare? The gong! The Dragon's Voice —was wildly
ringing, its metallic clang piercing the absolute still of the night. Three times
it called out, and three times did the echo's die away in layers behind the hills.
Then, as abruptly as it had begun... silence.
"Then shall a Boar of Cornwall come forth, and trample their necks under his
feet!" came a voice from within the mouth of the cave, the voice; and somehow
I knew it well, like the familiar feel of an old hat, or a favorite pair of shoes.
Ever so cautiously, as if not to break the spell, I straightened up, edging closer.
"Come near, friend" spoke the voice softly, "and do not be afraid of me. For
I have traveled a great distance to meet with you —and I bring with me a thou-
sand mysteries!"
Then, as if something long contained had suddenly found release, tears
clouded my widened eyes, making their way in long, dusty streaks down my
face. I knew those words we had spoken them before — before, somewhere in
another time or place, and memories flooded back like rays of sunlight after a
Midwinter's night.
"Merlyn?" I whispered after a long pause, "Merlyn, is it really you?" My
voice broke and I swallowed hard. "I need to see you." And I began to
approach the cave.
"No! Not now... not this way," came an abrupt response. "After all, one does
not behold the face of the deity and yet live! Don't you remember?" Then,
after a moment of deliberate silence, the figure suddenly began to chuckle
outloud. Yes... it is surely Merlyn, I thought to myself, relieved. His laugh is as
distinct as any fingerprint!

I paused where I stood, straining my eyes into the dark of the cave, and
sure enough, there, seated well-inside upon a fallen boulder sat the shadowy,
robed form of a man. Nothing else could be seen, yet... something could def-
initely be smelled! My heart leapt with joy, as delicate wisps of pipe smoke
drifted out towards me! Following form, I settled down quickly on the ground
just outside and prepared myself to be patient. It felt so natural, so right to be
seated there again.

"The Body of the Dragon is dying, Bear Cub," came Merlyn's voice after a
long pause, now serious and sad sounding, "and the Earth along with it, for
they are one and the same. Long ago atop Camelot Hill, you once told me
that if there were ever anything you could do to aid the plight of the Druids,
you would gladly give your life in an attempt. Well — here, ages and ages
hence, I now call upon you to fulfill this oath.The Druids have ever been the
hereditary caretakers of the Earth, the vanished Druids, which now have great
need of visibility if mankind is to survive the next millennium. At this very
instant as we speak, the fire of life: the Sun, can barely reach the plants at
points, so blackened with waste have the skies become, the fire and the air.
And the sacred body of the Earth reduced to a repository for the unwanted
filth of humankind — the waters tainted with un-natural poisons from the
cities and their great machines, the water and the earth. The plants die, the
greatest of ancient trees perish to unseen forces from above, the cloudy heav-
ens no longer able to stand against it. The animals die... fish and birds slaugh-
tered by unknown contaminations; the cycles slow. The cycles die, and man is
destined to die along with them. Why does he not see this? That I can answer:
because the Druids are no longer there to reveal to them, no longer there to
maintain balance against the egotism of man's progresses. Were the Priesthood
still in control, the Earth — our Dragon, would not be dying. The time has
come for a return, and Destiny has appointed me spokesman for a time, you
and I and your 20 companions — if they are to be found before the start of the
millennium. This very matter was prophesized ages ago, by my own voice,
and so it must come to pass. Fate is non-awareness... destiny an awakening,
and mankind must again be shown the way."
1
"But how?" I shook my head slowly. "Man has set his ways in concrete and
steel, and the Earth dies daily under the weight of it. What can be done to
change it? A war?" And Merlyn let out a tense chuckle.
"Were that matters were that simple," he answered blackly, "...which they
never are! The future, Bear Cub, is too often hidden even from the men who
make it. Nevertheless, destiny does have currents and eddies which may be
studied, explored, or redesigned! Back Time of Legends, you and your
in the
companions had a chance to alter the world in favor of the Ancient Ways. You
failed, all of you. Now comes a chance for retribution: listen like you never
have before, then act without thought of your own."
And the figure stood amongst the dim shadows, lifting both arms in decla-
ration. Steady and low, the voice of Merlyn once again filled the cave with
hidden wisdoms:
Know
that we have been in many forms
before coming to be in this one.
Three nights that are beyond all nights

Three lives that are no longer lives
Three times the Dragons Voice will summon...
Re-unite what was rent asunder

Heal the Body of the Dragon:
Three sacred books — Three lost made as One.
Listen to the voice

Learn from the past
Mold the future while time yet lasts...
And the dying fire sent up one valiant flare —one final burst of light which
scattered darkness of uncertain form about the cliff-sides like vampire wings;
and in that brief instant the interior of the cave was finally illumined to view!
Then my spirits dropped, for there was nothing in the end to reveal but stone
and dust and untold years of memory in corners. Yet no, something did
remain! Even as the last spark gutted and went out, two green eyes peered
sharply from atop the ridge.
"Noathr I whispered from my unconscious into the dark, "Have you too
come back for me, then?"
In seeming answer, a great owl swooped smoothly from his night-roost
straight towards me, dislodging an avalanche of small stones which rained

downward upon the campsite like autumn Then once
hail. again the shadows
were scattered, but this time my soul was among them... fleeing across the
gray hilltops like a lost ghost.

.
The Forest stirs... the trees breathe then move... boughs creak in the
darkness, branches swish and reach; a great ocean of churning leaf..
And then as dawn breaks over the land, a dense army of wooded war-
riors remain vast and impenetrable between the two crusading
Priesthoods —
Staid guardians ofArboreal peace.
Peter Roberts, POPULAR ANTIQUITIES, 1815
Z\)c Vflo\xX\) of *pl?aron

^| T WAS NEARLY DAWN over the field of Goddeu Brig. A gray fog churned
J/ heavy and twisted into a ceiling just above the tops of the tallest trees: a
legion of captive gods. Far in the distance across the horizon, thunder rum-
bled back-and-forth as the Sun's first-born rays seared out into a blood-red
haze. Here, amidst such color, we waited in tense readiness... every soul in
wild expectation.
we had known they would come, all of us; it was only a
For a long time
matter of when. Two days before, our scouts and hill folk had warned of the
—
encroaching holy legions even the oracle of wood and stream had foretold
their coming —
even the Sacred Head of the Pharon itself! And so we waited,
amassing a reception of our own; or, should I say, a reception of their own, for
I was but a reluctant on-looker.
And who was I? Merely a novice of the once-great Pheryllt Order, who had
somehow sensed the weight of history, or perhaps destiny, pressing down
upon the very fabric of space and time at that one point; an on-looker, dread-
ing the painful birth pangs which he knew were soon to come. And now...
now the smoke could be seen from where I stood high upon the wind-swept
13
—
14 The Lost Books op Merlyn
Hill of Fefnedd, ascending like a legion of soot-demons from the campfires far
below. Yet were they truly demons as the Elders had warned us? I wondered.
Sensing a sudden presence, I spun 'round to look backwards. Down at the
Forest's edge, a line a gray-clad figures filed silently along the path to vanish
mysteriously into the dense treeline. The Elders were gathering, twenty all
told, and it was clear just why. Although matters of this kind were never dis-
cussed openly, and certainly not among our lesser ranks, mutterings had
reached us that the Great Book was soon to be opened, and counsel sought of
the Pharon Oracle itself! Such matters were said to occur only in the gravest of
times, and indeed, we had only a handful of moments remaining before an
uncertain fate at dawn.

As the drum-beats echoed through the hollows of New Forest, I began my
slow climb towards the Holy Glen, careful to make no sound lest I be discov-
ered and put to death. Martial law had been invoked and no person, be he priest
or tribesman, was permitted within the perimeter of the Ritual Glen, it being a
Nemeton, a holy place of dark consequence to any unsanctioned for entry.
The drums ceased just as I reached sight of the clearing. The Elders were
gathered in a loose circle through which could be seen the soft flicker of fire-
upon-stone. Our High Priest, whose name was Bladudd, raised his hands,
uttering the 'Song of the Vision Maker — I knew its magic well —
after which
followed the legendary Ghost Dance. The blue fire-globes had been hung
high among the branches, one for each Priest, and the eerie light cast con-
trasting shadows of azure magic across the fiery circle. Then slowly the dance
began, twisting and winding Sun-wise as if all were under-sea. Silent calls
went forth... and were answered by aroused voices amongst the darks of the
Forest; phantoms of priest-legions come before, ghosts of tribesmen long
dead; a spectral sea. And when the branches finally hung heavy like a spider's
web with the dewy weight of magic, Bladudd intoned the call which would
open the Guardian Door between the worlds His and ours.
"Imbas Forosnau.r he called into the abyss, and a thick red smoke began to
issue forth from between the stones. Soon a scarlet river was fast creeping in
among the roots and stocks of the trees, outward, until finally it reached my
hiding place. I knew the scent well. It was the sacred Serpent's Blood, a mys-
tic substance gathered only on the Holy Isle far to the south: a rusty, stone-
like matter, and yet it burned as wax. Edging down close to the ground, I
breathed in what I could of fresh air until a sharp bolt of light brought me
hams-to-heels.
5
The Mouth ofPharon 1
Through my shielding fingers, I then beheld a form, vast and monstrous,

rise up amidst the circle of robed forms, (themselves deep within the Imhas sus-
pension), as the fire finally died to nothingness. What remained, stared cold
and suspended, motionless above the glowing embers.
"He who seeks the vision must stand forth," came a voice like dry ashes
from the open mouth. "Stand forth or perish you all..."
It was not a human form which filled the air above the Nemeton, but a
towering mask — a hollow head, sleek and black like polished onyx, callous
and un-moving. Light danced in lines down its front and sides, and the
mouth: a horizontal oval of darkness from whence the voice issued. The eyes
were oval as well and just as pitch-black, yet held somehow within their cen-
ter, suspended, a single point of pulsing white light. Nothing moved but a
chill morning breeze through the branches.
"I seek the vision," exclaimed the voice of Bladudd cutting the dull silence.
And he stood forth a step towards the mask, which then glided silently over to
engulf him like a microbe, the two merging together as one midnight form.
" We are the Mouth ofPharon" spoke the two, "most ancient of the Island
Sun Gods. Long has it been since the Priesthood has dared call upon our coun-
sel . . long has it been since we deemed the affairs of men worthy ofanswering. Yet
we are here, bearing the words of warning you seek to hear. And thus they are
delivered.
YOU CANNOT ESCAPE DESTINY. YOU CANNOT ESCAPE

CHANGE, FOR SUCH IS THE ESSENTIAL NATURE OF THE UNI-
VERSE. GROWTH AND CHANGE ARE INSEPARABLY LINKED...

MOST OFTEN THROUGH PAIN, UNDENIABLY WHENEVER ONE
FAILS TO PRY FREE THE CHAIN-LINKS OF THE PAST. LET THEM
FALL, OR PERISH... TIME AND TIDE DEMAND THIS SACRIFICE!
AND THE OAK MEN HAVE COME: THIS IS THE DESTINY YOU
CANNOT ESCAPE. YET GROWTH WILL RESULT IF YOU BUILD
UPON THE SIMILARITIES, AND WAYLAY THE DIFFERENCES. LET
FALL THE PAST... SEVER THE GOLDEN BOUGH, LET IT FALL...
JOIN THE FUTURE IN UNITY.
AND LOOK FOR HIM TO COME AS WELL, FOR HE WILL
COME... THE ANTLERED ONE. HE WILL SHOW THE WAY, HE
WHO IS BOTH HUNTER AND HUNTED WILL OVERTAKE US AS
THE VOICE OF ALBION. LET IT BE. THE KING STAG SHALL
APPEAR AS GUARDIAN, THE GREAT BEAR AT HIS HEELS. THEN

WILL THE GOLDEN AGE BE UPON US... AND THEN SHALL PASS,
FOR THIS IS CHANGE. THIS IS THAT DESTINY YOU CANNOT
ESCAPE.
AND YOUR WORLD WILL BE DESTROYED. RESIST,
RESIST,
AND SHALL DESTROY YOU MYSELF... FOR
I ALSO AM I
GUARDIAN OF THE SACRED LAWS, EVEN AS HE WHO ENTERS

THIS DAY THROUGH THE THIRD DOOR! AND NOW WE
DEPART. LOOK TO SEE US NO MORE, FOR OUR AGE HAS COME
TO AN END. BUILD THE GREAT BOOK OF UNITY... LOOK TO
THE GREEN MAN... A BOY WILL SHOW THE WAY... A BOY...
And at just that moment, many things happened all at once. Far above in
the thick ceiling of the Forest, a heavy bough broke loose and came crashing
its way through dark layers of vine and leaf, directly over the spot where I had
hidden myself. During the instant it took me to roll aside, the Mouth of
Pharon collapsed into nothingness as Bladudd let out a sudden scream and
struggled to his feet.
"Get him! Get him at any cost!" he yelled into the night, "for he has dese-
crated our most sacred Rite!"'And he shook an enraged fist in my direction as all
turned, straining their eyes into the black, and began to fan outward among
the trees.
Gasping in mouthful's of the chill dawn air, I raced heedlessly back in the
direction from which had come, tripping and stumbling everywhere. Foot-
I
steps seemed to surround me, until an extraordinary thing occurred.

The Mouth ofPharon 17
Having fallen head-first over a root, I recovered and looked up only to

behold a strange human-like form standing silhouetted against the pale tree
line far ahead. I blinked hard, wiping the dirt and sweat from my eyes, but the
figure remained poised and motionless among the pre-morning mist.
Amphorous of body it seemed... almost 'shaggy,' yet something clearly pro-
truded from the top of its head like the antlers of a deer! It raised a single
hand and let it fall, turned and walked slowly into the southern tiers.
Following a gut impulse I had not the wont to question, I struggled after it
as fast as I was able, never seeming to gain any ground, yet fully sensing the
desperation of the chase. Gradually I forgot entirely about the pursuit of the
priests as their footsteps fell further and further behind; all that seemed to mat-
ter was reaching the stranger, although my efforts were destined to be in vane.
By this time, the shadowy form had vanished.
To my right and far above, yellow shafts of morning light had begun to
pierce the tops of the trees as I pushed due south, deep into the New Forest. It
seemed that each leaf had begun to glow in its own light — a bright new green;
birds fluttered and chirped carelessly in the awakening branches.

And that day I walked, hardly aware of the passage of time; (the Sun was
difficult to see through the thick tree-roof), long and far, stopping only for water
and to listen occasionally to what I imagined were footsteps mirroring my
own from far behind. Yet then again, the deep woods often played tricks with
one's perceptions.
By the time the birds had begun to settle back towards their night roosts,
the sound of the sea was upon us, overtaking all else. I crawled stiffly out of
the brushline and onto the beach, feeling like a bear just awakened from a
long hibernation; blinking as the last rays of the setting sun danced and
played fire-games across the surface of the water. Far in the distance, could be
dimly seen the jagged outline of an Island, almost invisible amidst a hundred
shifting shades of gray: the Serpent Isle. But across the still silver'd surface, fog
had begun to form... fog plus something else, borne on the wind above the
waves; the sound, dull and steady, of a drum-beat!
At first I thought it was only the wild imagination of sea upon stone, but .is
the sound drew nearer, a definite shape began to emerge. A craft... a boat, flu
and silent... black as pitch, draped over with a tent of heavy canvass. And
8
from out the tent, came the distinct sound of a ritual drum, our Priests made
much use ofsuch, brought to life by a slight, darkly robed figure bending low
over it. Taking several backward steps, I studied the barge as it touched lightly
upon the bank in absolute silence, after which, suddenly, the mysterious
heartbeat of the drums ceased...

—
In the time ofBres, son ofElatha, King ofIreland

it was invented.
Its person, Ogrna, son ofElatha...
Now Ogrna, a man well skilled in speech and poetry
invented the Ogham.
The cause of its invention, as aproofofhis ingenuity
and that this speech should belong to the learned apart-
to the exclusion of rustics and herdsmen.
CELTIC WONDER TALES
tDildfire
V}OU MUST HEAL, NOT hurt," came a voice like settled dust from inside the
Jt barge. "Many have arrived, but the many must become as one you must
help. And above all, the Antlered One has come at last to the Forest! Do you
hear me, boy?"
"Who... who are you?" I asked in the faintest whisper, but he still heard
me. "Are you a phantom, or merely my fears taking form among these
enchanted mists?"
"A phantom^ came the laughter of an ancient voice, parched and bone-dry,
"A fear? Yes, yes, perhaps all that you say! Yet for now, I am but the voice of
Maeldrew, the Spellsinger, and I have indeed been in many forms before I
came to be in this one.
TODAY HAVE BEEN FORMED A COMELY PERSON, BUT

I
IN THE COURT OF CERIDWEN PAID MY PENANCE. I
IWAS A GREAT SPIRIT IN THAT PLACE WHERE WAS LED! I
AND BY LAW WITHOUT SPEECH HAVE BEEN LIBERATED I
BY A SMILING BLACK OLD HAG.

DREADFUL HER CLAIM WHEN PURSUED!
19
FLED WITH VIGOUR AS A FROG, THEN

I
IN THE SEMBLANCE OF A RAVEN... SCARCELY FINDING REST.

I HAVE FLED AS A BLUE CHAIN AND AS
A DEER INTO AN
ENTANGLED THICKET.
I HAVE FLED AS A WOLF CUB IN THE
WILDERNESS, AS
A THRUSH OF PORTENDING LANGUAGE... AS A FOX,
CLEVER IN ALL BOUNDS OF THE CHASE!
HAVE FLED AS A MARTIN,
I
AND A SQUIRREL THAT VAINLY HIDES.

AS A STAG'S ANTLER OF RUDDY COURSE HAVE FLED... I
AND AS IRON IN A GLOWING FIRE.
AS A SPEAR-HEAD OF BRONZE...
AS A FIERCE FIGHTING BULL...
AS A BRISTLY BOAR IN A RAVINE...
AS A WHITE GRAIN OF PURE WHEAT...
FINALLY INTO A DARK LEATHERN BAG WAS THROWN, I
INTO THE CRANE BAG...

AND ONTO A BOUNDLESS SEA WAS SENT ADRIFT.
NOW AT LAST, THE GODS FiAVE SET ME AT LIBERTY!
"Set you at liberty for what purpose? I asked without thought, "For good or
ill?" (as I was still quite unsure about this mysterious beings intentions).
"To teach..." came an abrupt reply, "To teach — you. Get on board quickly,
for we are wasting valuable time!"
The strange flat craft sunk smoothly underfoot as I stepped on board; it
was dark inside, yet I could more clearly see the image of the mysterious
cloaked man seated in the far end of the boat. He was small, or perhaps bent
with age, it was difficult to tell, but one could easily make out shocks of long
gray hair just beneath his hood.
The water was calm as glass, for no breeze moved along its surface that
night. The stranger neither spoke nor moved until we touched lightly ashore,
and then only to insist that I disembark. This I did, and followed him for a
long time along a winding path which skirted a strange ridge-like hill stretch-
ing across the island. I had never visited this place before, and the terrain
struck me as curious and barren.
Wildfire 21
Extensive patches of trees, or better said, small woods, dotted the landscape,
separated by wide fields of rolling grass and wildflower; and always from
behind, the ever-present sounds of the sea. We had just come upon the largest
of these tree-islands, when Maeldrew suddenly pointed down a sharp left fork
in the path.
"Down there!" he almost cackled to himself, "Go on, into the Grove.
Hurry! What we need is down there, and we are losing precious time... dawn
is half-way here already. Go on!" And he gave me a bony shove.
The road emptied onto an ancient flat, filled with an amazing variety of
trees; I could see their clearly contrasting forms even by the pale moonlight:
the soft dark of the pines against the metallic silver of the beeches — the bent
willows and the gnarly brown oaks. Oh yes, these trees were ancient!
The man, who had gone on a short distance ahead, stopped by something
tall. Upon drawing closer, I found it to be a large menhir, a standing stone,
and by it growing the most enormous beech tree I had ever seen.
"We will begin our search, our assembly of the Crane Bag here," he said,
still sounding rather impatient. "This is Phagos: the last and the first. Look up
there." And he pointed high into the branches. There, among the boughs,
hung a dark green mass of Mistletoe, our most sacred plant, its white berries
shining like little moons. Sacred trees were thus marked.
"Phagos... Ffawydden... Mighty Beech, hear me," the man chanted tensely
into the bark, "Grant me this Coelbren now; Albion has great need of your
most ancient wisdoms. Come quickly, come when we call... come when we
sing... our plight is great." Then with one swift motion, he grasped the small
bronze sickle from his belt, cutting a sliver of wood about the size of a man's
finger from a low branch. This he then stuffed into a blue leather pouch also
hanging from his side and moved on, singing, chanting, on to another tree.
"Ioho... Ido... Ywen... Idad... Ibur... Dower-scattering Yew, hear me," the
shaman repeated the formulae. "Grant me this coelbren..." And on and on he

went, through tree after tree, until the sacred number of coelbren woods had
been collected: twenty-plus-one. Recorded below, are the other words and the
order in which he sang them:
"... next to you, Eadha... Aethnen... Edhadh... Edad... Crithach...
Long-enduring POPLARS, hear me;
And Ur... Grug... Heath... Fraech... HEATHER, Giver of

Consolation, hear me;
O Ohn... Onn the Un-subdued... Eithin... Gorse...
Aiteand... FURZE... Pipes of Gold but Ill-Behaved, hear me;

And Ailim... silver Ailm... Ffynidwydden... Ochtach... FIR, Uncouth and
Savage, hear me;
Thou Ruis... Ysgawen... Trom... ELDER, Slow to Burn, hear me;

And Straif... Draenen Ddu... Draidean... BLACKTHORN
Chieftain... God of 111 Fruit, hear me;
You Ngetal... Rhedynen, broom, Fern of Mathonwy... slender REED,

swift pursuing, hear me;
Gort... Iorwg... Eiddew... Eideand... Great in Battle, IVY prime...
aid me now at this charmed time;
Muin... Muinn... Gwinwydden... wrathful VINE, with henchmen of Elm

in warfare sublime;
Quert... Aball... Queirt... Afal fair... beloved of

Maeldrew, APPLE wild... laughing in pride by the rock side;
Coll... Collen, giver of knowledge... HAZEL, arbiter of skillful form...
weaver of dreams, help me now;
Tinne... Celynnen, dark of Green... Cuileann... Resolute HOLLY, armed
with spear points wounding the hand... Of all the trees that are in the wood,
you bear the crown... aid this land;
Duir... Dair... Derwen... Swift OAK, foot-beat ringing Heaven and Earth...
Stout Guardian of the Door, grant protection;

Huathe... Sceith... Huath... WHITETHORN Chieftain... Draenen Wen,
unbeloved Goddess, hearken to me;
Nuin... Iundius... Nin... Cruel Onnen... Turns not aside a foot-breadth,
He... straight at the heart runs the ASH tree;
Saille... Saile... Sail... Helygen, Triple Goddess of the Night...

Tardy WILLOW, aid our plight;
Fearn... Fernn... Gwernen, mouthpiece of Bran... hot-headed ALDER,

first in array... Fern of the Front Line, help us this day;
Luis... Caerthann... Cerdinen... ROWEN Tree, mystical God though

tardy you be... grant your mysterious wood now to me;
Beith... Beithe... Noble Bedwen... graceful BIRCH, most regal,
who armed himself very late, a sign not of cowardice but of high estate...
final branch, help me create!
Wildfire 23
And at last Maeldrew turned towards me with a weary sigh of completion,

almost a smile, then pulled himself upright and walked over to the path again.
"Now for the real magic. Come, Gwydion, the night is waning fast, and we
have much to do before dawn!"
#%
%*t
Within an hour found us nearing the far eastern shores of the Island, and in
sight of the legendary Needles of Ur. The path wound up a rocky cliff-side,
then disappeared behind a bend. This we followed until a small, flat plateau
of sorts unfolded below and in front of us. It was a curious kind of place, sur-
rounded on all sides by an embankment, but most curious of all: in the exact
center stood a peculiar cave-like structure made of loose stone. It rather resem-
bled a large oval oven, but was fitted together in a style I had never seen
before. A pale light seemed to be coming from somewhere inside.
"The Temple..." said the man looking over at me, "... in you must go." And
he gave me an insistent shove downward. We walked to the entrance and
stopped as Maeldrew turned toward the glowing eastern skies, raised his hands
overhead and chanted aloud in a hollow voice this Invocation:
HAIL TO THEE, OGMA SUN-FACE, EYE OF THE GREAT GOD

EYE OF THE GOD OF GLORY
EYE OF THE KING OF THE LIVING
POUR UPON US YOUR BLESSING-
POUR UPON US YOUR SKILL...
POUR UPON US YOUR POWER!
HAIL TO THEE
THOU GLORIOUS SUN-FACE,
MASK OF THE GOD OF LIFE.
And with this we entered the mound. What I found inside was both sim-
ple and fantastic at the same time. Stark and unadorned though it was, the
ring yet possessed a radiant beauty difficult to describe in words. A simple

—
circle of eight stones was all, each some two heights across and being about
the size of a man's head. But the stones! The stones themselves were glowing
with an un-earthly soft blue crystal light, their combined radiance filling the
whole chamber.
"The Circle o/Ogma..." came the answer to my un-asked question, "The
Circle of Life. I, Maeldrew Spellsinger, am guardian of this place, this Temple.
It is here that powerful magic can be devised like nowhere else — magic pow-
erful enough to resolve the invasions which even now threaten our shores."
Then at once I froze; the word 'invasion' cut through me like a knife. I
shuddered hard, having nearly forgotten through all this adventure and mys-
tery, the impending disaster which had sent me running to escape from the
New Forest just hours earlier. 'Invasion...'
"And yes, we are going to do something about it now" he said assuringly,
again addressing a question which I had not yet asked. "Go and sit over
there." And he motioned to a spot near the exact center of the circle.
Maeldrew walked over to where a pile of kindling wood lay impeccably

stacked against one end of the chamber, grabbed an armful and deposited it
carefully in front of me. Slowly unstrapping the blue pouch from his belt, he
laid out the just-gathered wooden shards and began stripping the bark from
each with the blade of his sickle. When all were clean and white, he reached
over to where a large brown leather bag lay neatly propped against a stone,
and extracted a beautifully carved wooden lap harp of twenty strings.
"What we do here, Gwydion, is forbidden to the common man," said the

Spellsinger in a guarded voice. "But since I know yours to be a unique destiny
throughout many lifetimes to come, I will risk imparting upon you this
knowledge; the religious fate of Albion depends upon it.

Wildfire 25
Now we are ready for the Crannchur —the casting of the woods.' Here at
this spot do I create a place sacred to the Gods of old. For a while, here and
now, shall the ancient ways live again." And he took his harp and played a
series of notes, letting each string resonate to decay.
"Now, Gwydion, you must make the fire... the Wildfire! Take you two of
these sticks and force them together. Do this until Wildfire appears. Do it
now — I will play for you. Do it now, boy!" And he began to chant slowly
upon the strings, then sang:
ANGER OF FIRE
FIRE OF SPEECH
BREATH OF KNOWLEDGE
WISDOM OF WEALTH
SWORD OF SONG
SONG OF BITTER EDGE!
Over and over again went the song, growingfaster andfaster each time, until
the cycle forced me into a kind of poetic frenzy — a madness of sorts, where I
began to work at my task with a crazed, super-human focus. As I stared into
the pile of loose wood before me, it seemed as if an orange haze spread from a
tiny point in the center outwards. Then, little by little, smoke replaced the
haze. Sweat rolled in heavy beads down my face and back; I began to feel
dizzy, but I forced myself onward at a steady pace. The music... the smoke...
the heat... and suddenly Maeldrew yelled "stop!" and I opened my eyes to
behold a roaring fire. Instantly I recoiled to avoid the flames, until my back
rested upon one of the circle-stones.
"STOOP NOT DOWN, THEREFORE

INTO THAT DARKLY SPLENDID WORLD
WHEREIN CONTINUALLY LIETH A FAITHLESS DEPTH
AND HADES WRAPPED IN GLOOM...
DELIGHTING IN UNINTELLIGIBLE IMAGES
PRECIPITOUS, WINDING...
A BLACK, EVER-ROLLING ABYSS
EVER ESPOUSING A BODY UNLUMINOUS
FORMLESS
AND VOID"
"Will you strive to uphold these ancient secrets throughout your life?" he
questioned me in a grave tone. "Will you?" h.t pressed. And I looked across the
flames at him, and knew the response without thinking. "Well then, Gwydion
of the Pheryllt, behold then The Book!"
He then laid out before me a thick stack of rolled parchments, bound
together with blue string at the top, each covered with a strange, spidery script
with which I was not familiar.
"What you see before you," Maeldrew began, "is my Gorchan, my poets
tablet — my life's-learning, so to speak. It is the legacy I leave behind after a
lifetime devoted to the Higher Sciences. Within it, are the accumulated
lessons of many different masters whom I have sought out over the years,
molded and adapted to this, my present world. The writing is, no doubt,
unfamiliar to you as it is the ancient and powerful BOIBELOTH, the picture-
language of the trees, wrought by Ogma from the very dreams of the trees
themselves. You will come to know it through a dream yourself someday. It
can indeed be well used, as you will soon see." And he looked over at me and
smiled a curious, twisted half-smile, then returned his attentions to the fire.
The magician took his sickle with which he had been carving, and carefully
placed it close by within the glowing embers of the fire.
"You see, boy, there is a deep and time-worn connection between music
and trees. They are part of the same system of language. The mystics of old
once created the Harp, most revered of the magical devices, as an instrument
of dialogue between mankind and the arboreal world. There are twenty
strings, twenty tones, on a true harp. There are also twenty ruling trees as
ordained by Ogma Sun-Face, giver of knowledge and letters... and twenty let-
ters themselves. All are connected, you see? All are part of what was once a
whole. All must be re-united now for this one key moment in history. The
trees, our ancient allies, have grown weary, fallen asleep, and must be awak-
ened. Let us begin!" Maeldrew closed his eyes, raised his palms upward, then
chanted in a strange, ritual voice:
CLAY, WATER, WOOL AND BLOOD

WOOD, LIME AND FLAX-THREAD A FULL TWIST
ACACIA, BITUMEN WITH VIRTUE—
THE NINE MATERIALS OF NIMROD'S TOWER,
FILL NOW MY CRANE BAG!
Wildfire 27
And the Spellsinger grasped the birch-wood twig while placing the harp in
his lap, playing the top highest string three times, in three clear bell-like tones,
then sung slowly upon the same high pitch some of those words I had heard
earlier in the Sacred Grove.
"Beith... Beithe... Noble Bedwen... Graceful Birch, most regal, who armed
himself very late, a sign not of cowardice but ofhigh estate... First Branch, help me
create!" And he pulled out the Sickle from the coals — red-hot it was — and
pronounced the final missing word of power: BOIBEL! (although I knew not
at that time what great significance it had). Then with a quick series of strokes,
Maeldrew burned a tiny pattern of lines deep into the Birch piece, then
dropped it like a hot nail and exhaled sharply.

"There... the first Ogham is now complete," he said as if exhausted, holding
the stave up for me to see. "You must use them all just before dawn to awaken
the trees, they are your only chance for future peace. Now, onto the next."
"Use them? But how?" was all I could think to ask, but he didn't hear me,
so entangled was he within the depths of his spell.
"Luis... Caerthann... Cerdinen..." he went on from deep within his trance,
until finally all twenty lay burned and complete before him; the very air about
us smelt wonderfully of charred wood and magic! Gathering them together,
the magician placed each one-by-one in the blue leather bag, the Crane Bag,
and turned weary eyes towards me.
"Now it is your turn, Gwydion, soon to be 'Gwydion Spellsinger,' (for you
are my namesake), your turn to act. And he picked up a handful of a reddish

pebble from the cave floor and tossed it into the fire. Instantly, the space
around us was filled with pink haze — the smell of burnt iron was everywhere,
and the stone ring seemed to dance and turn within the very walls about us.
My head spun as well in dizzying circles, my lungs cried out for air. Eventu-
ally I passed out into a world of dreams where all became suddenly calm
again, into a place secure and dark where everything stood still as stone.
From my seat here at Fefynedd,
a Sidhe that is strong,
I watched the trees and green things hastening along.
CAD GODDEU, 400 B.C.
Song of X\)c forest (Trees

^Ti SALTY WIND WAS blowing fierce and fitful when my ears again began to
4T%hear; the sounds of the sea were all around me. When at first I tried to
move, my legs and arms would not respond; for a moment I entertained the
thought that I might have died. But within a short time I could sit up, and
I blinked hard at the horizon where a pale sun was fast pushing its way up
and over.
My mind was my thoughts and memories scattered, jumbled. My

unclear,
head throbbed and my body burned with some unknown heat. Was it all a
dream then, this man? I was not at all certain; perhaps I had fallen in the
dark... nothing more. But then two things caught my attention which
instantly brought my dream world to a single point of focus: One, resting

neatly-stacked by my side was a bound set of parchments in a strange script;
and Two, now hanging from my belt was a blue leather pouch, full of some-
thing. And somehow I knew perfectly well of what!
29
—
I opened the pouch and slowly fingered the wooden shards; then, on an
impulse, extracted one and held it up to the light. Once again, I knew per-
fectly well which wood I had drawn: Beith, it was the Birch, the beginning.
The beginning! In my inner ears, I heard the voice of Maeldrew reciting
"Noble Bedwen... graceful Birch," and suddenly it all flooded back to mem-
ory a ll of it, even parts I had not known before! Suddenly I remembered the
crisis at hand: the fearful Celts had come at last, and I realized with absolute
certainty what I had to do.
Gathering up the Gorchan of Maeldrew, I opened the leaves at random.

The strange writing was still there for sure, but once again, something had
changed: this time, I could read every word... every phrase seemed clear as day.
The page read at the top, SONG OF THE FOREST TREES, and what fol-
lowed were the secret names of power that Shamans had used since the begin-
ning of time to awaken the trees.
I closed the text and began to run, began to run into the forest the way I
had come those many hours ago, directionless. But this time I was far from
directionless, now there was a definite plan, a mystical plan. Maeldrews plan! I
ran until the sky began to beam lemon above the tree line, until I could smell
the faint smoke of the campfires and hear distant voices in the night. Then I
stopped —stopped to hide behind the giant form of an ancient Golden Birch
which stood at the far edge of the forest clearing, just outside the Field of
Goddeu Brig. From there, it was easy to divine what manner of work needed
to be done...
In the shadowtrace of the dying sentinel fires, the banners of the two camps
could be seen: the Celts triple-pointed Oak leafflying over the meadow flatlands,
and the triple white circles of the Pheryllt Mistletoe standing defiantly on the
banks of the high hill; my camp. Or was it? Strange as it might seem, I felt no
loyalties in one direction or another, only a sense of equality —of similarity.
— 1
Song of the Forest Trees 3
Ah, but then the Golden Birch! Clearly I realized that it was far from mere
chance that I had happened to shelter behind such a tree as this. And so was
ordained the setting from which I was to open the blue Crane Bag my Crane
Bag; to take out the Birch Ogham and lay it carefully among the time-twisted
roots of this colossus. And then, opening the Gorchan, to sing by the thin
light of Dawn the first verse of the SONG OF THE FOREST TREES, high
and strong. Magically, it seemed as if none but the tree heard. And lastly, to
knock three times upon the mighty trunk, to speak aloud the secret Name of
Power which Ogma Sun-Face had given that tree at the beginning of time.
Then finally! through the ground at my feet I could feel it, sure as rain! A
tremor, a shudder of awakening ran through its being from leaf to root and I
knew the time was right to move on... to search out the next tree in the Song,
shouting:
FROM MY SEAT HERE AT FEFYNEDD, A SIDHE THAT IS STRONG,

I WATCHED THE TREES AND GREEN THINGS HASTENING ALONG.
AND RETREATING FROM HAPPINESS, WILL FOREVER BE SET
THEY, IN THE FORM OF CHIEF LETTERS OF THE ALPHABET.
WAYFARERS WILL WONDER... WARRIORS WILL BE DISMAYED

AT THE RENEWAL OF CONFLICTS I, GWYDION, HAVE MADE!
FOR UNDER THE TONGUE-ROOT A FIGHT MOST DREAD
WILL RAGE, AND ANOTHER, BEHIND IN THE HEAD!
HAVE PLUNDERED THE FERN,
I
MAELDREWS SECRETS I HAVE SPIED.

OLD MATH AP MATHONWY KNOWS NO MORE THAN I!
NOW THE BEECH TOPS HAVE SPROUTED,

HAVE SPROUTED OF LATE,
ARE CHANGED AND RENEWED FROM THEIR WITHERED STATE.
AND AS THE BEECH PROSPERS, MY SPELLS AND LITANIES
WILL ENTANGLE THE OAK TOPS—THE HOPE FOR THE TREES!
So 'round and 'round the two camps I made my way, laying Oghams at
the feet of the mightiest I could find, singing the ancient song of power which
had taken total possession of my spirit and soul.
YOU BIRCHES, VERY NOBLE, HAVE ARMED YOURSELVES BUT LATE...

A SIGN NOT OF COWARDICE, BUT OF YOUR HIGH ESTATE.
NOW BEITH BOIBEL—AWAKE!
YOU ROWAN, MYSTICAL TREE... LOST IN DREAMS,
LOTH LUIS.
HEAR ME NOW THOU SACRED WOOD,
BATTLE FOR ALBION— BATTLE FOR GOOD!
YOU ALDER, HOT OF HEAD...
FIRST INTO BATTLE, FRONT LINE DREAD.
FEARN FORANN— ENEMY DEAD!
YOU WILLOW, NIGHT WATER MAN...
TARDY WITH LUIS, CHARM WHAT YOU CAN.
SAILLE SALIATH, LUNAR LORD-
SAVE NOW OUR LAND!
YOU ASH, CRUEL TREE... TURN NOT ASIDE
A FOOT S-BREADTH YE, STRAIGHT AT THE HEART FLY FREE.
NUIN NEIAGADON— SPEAR SHAFT BE!
YOU HAWTHORN, MIGHTY CHIEFTAIN...
WITH YOUR BROTHER UNBELOVED, MAY-TIME WHITETHORN
WOEFUL DANCER.
HUATHE HUIRIA— CALL DOWN YOUR SCORN!
YOU OAK, SWIFTEST FOOT-BEAT...
STOUT GUARDIAN OF THE DOOR. HEAVEN-RINGER, EARTH-RUNG
DUIR DAIBHAITH—YOUR NAME IN EVERY TONGUE!
YOU HOLLY, DARK GREEN MAN...
ARMED WITH SPEARPOINTS, WOUNDING THE HAND.
TINNE TEILMON— RESOLUTE STAND!
YOU HAZEL, SKILLFUL ARBITER...
SALMON-FRIEND, WEAVER OF DREAMS.
COLL CAE— FORGE ALL STREAMS!
YOU APPLE, LAUGHING IN PRIDE...
FROM THE GORCHAN OF MAELDREW, BY THE ROCK SIDE.
QUERT KALIAP—BLESSED GUIDE!
Song of the Forest Trees 33
YOU VINE, WITH YOUR HENCHMEN THE ELMS...

EXHAULTED AND WRATHFUL TO RULERS OF REALMS.
MUIN MURIATH—ENTANGLE HELMS!
YOU IVY, GREAT IN YOUR PRIME...
BE A SLAYER OF MANY AT THIS CHARMED TIME.
GORT GATH —EMPOWERED BY RHYME!
YOU REED, SWIFT TO PURSUE...
SKILLFUL AND SLENDER, STRAIGHT NEVER BENDING.
NGETAL NGOIMAR— FLY EVER-TRUE!
YOU BLACKTHORN, STRONGEST CHIEFTAIN...
BITTER BEARER OF ILL FRUIT; WITH YOUR SISTER UNBELOVED,
STRAIF STRU— GRANT THE CAUSE YOUR BATTLE SUIT!
YOU ELDER, SLOW TO BURN...

STANDING VALIANT 'MID FIRES THAT SINGE: WAR-FRIEND OF YEW,
FIGHTING FRINGE— RUIS RIUBEN, 'TIS YOUR TURN!
YOU FIR, UNCOUTH AND SAVAGE...
UNTAMED WOOD, YOU SMASH AND RAVAGE.
AILIM ACHAB— BE DEADLY IN YOUR MIRTH!
YOU FURZE, ILL-BEHAVED...

UNTIL YOU ARE SUBDUED; PIPES OF GOLD OR
BROOMS OF OLD, OHN OISE—
LET NONE ESCAPE AND NONE ELUDE!
YOU HEATHER, HEATH CONSOLER...
COMFORT THE WEARY, TOIL-SPENT FOLK.
UR URITH— OUR PURPLE YOKE!
YOU POPLAR, LONG-ENDURING...
BATTLE- WEARY AND MUCH BROKE;
STAUNCHEST ALLY,
EADHA ESSU—
SPLINTER ALL AND BATTLE SMOKE!
HEAR ME YEW, FINAL WOOD...

STANDING GLUM AT FRINGE OF FIGHT;
DOWER-SCATTERING
IOHO IACHIM— POISON BOUGH, BURN AND BITE
And now the circle was complete!

Exhausted yet elated, I found myself standing a mere few lengths from the
Golden Birch where I had started. Slumping down against the tree, I settled
heavily amidst the giant roots and shaggy bark. There remained only a short
time before dawn. Almost as if pulled there, my head fell back lead-like to rest
blindly aside the trunk. The scent of the early morning dew rose up like a
sweet-scented mist from the forest floor, rich and moist, and I breathed in
slowly, deeply —my body like stone.
My work for the night was done, knew I it. Now everything was in the hands
of fate; in the hands of Maeldrews Magic, for the SONG OF THE TREES
had once again been sung — the boulder finally nudged from its long resting
place atop the mountain!
Visions of dark waves and stone cairns floated into my head... songs and
harps, mysterious gray-clad figures upon alien shores. I was sinking down
somewhere, becoming at one with the forest floor, at one with the trees: my
arms as roots, vast and immovable.
Or were they immovable? For just then, I recall feeling a great tremor ani-
mate the ground into life like a dense wave, stirring the Golden Birch once
again in its slumbers. My work for the night was finished... their work was
just beginning!
And so I resigned myself, for a time, to trade places with the trees: my
world for theirs, colored visions for concrete voices; and the sunlit world of man
did indeed slip away as I sank down deeper to enter an unknown realm of
wondrous under-earth crystal seas —hidden, dark and silent.
—
It has been believed by many, and not without good reason,

that these terse and enigmatic utterances enshrine
a profound system of mystical philosophy —

but that this system demands for its full discernment
a refinement offaculty, involving, as it does
a discrete perception of immaterial essences.
Perci Bollock, THE ORACLES OF ANTIQUITY, 1895
4
#nd #tiaigl?t Z\)<?2 IDalkecL,
^»|T FIRST I THOUGHT I was only dreaming... then it became a certainty.
^TTFrom some point high above the forest floor, I watched the treetops stir
to life. They were moving, not I. Never before had I considered trees as animate
beings —now that was all changed, and that was not all that was changing!
Something was returning to the trees, something that could be sensed and
almost seen, something ethereal; it was coming from above like rain. It was
hard to focus attention my mind was clear like water, yet both empty andfull
at the same time —contouring itself to whatever surrounded it. I was an
observer of Otherworld happenings, catching a rare glimpse of those strange
forces which uphold the world just beyond the veiled eyes of man. But what
was I glimpsing? I could barely hold this one question in mind, when sud-
denly a second focused: Did Maeldrew have anything to do with this bizarre
state of mind? Did he know?

As if in answer, a voice surfaced suddenly (from 'where' I cannot say; per-
haps without, perhaps within), and clearly pronounced: "there is one venerable
name projected through the worlds with sleepless revolution" and then fell silent.
35
—
Name? The only name I had thought of, was that of the Shaman. And then
I remembered the prose he had recited when first asked who he was. What
was it? "...I have been many forms before coming into this one..." Many forms
and so perhaps many names.

"Who?" I voiced aloud my query, "Maeldrew Spellsinger, is it you... here?
Tell me!"
"You know very well who I am..." came a dry response, but in a voice differ-
ent than I had heard before. "But names do not really matter, now do they
Gwydion? They come and go. You, too, have been in many forms before this
present one. And as to mine, well, / will always be with you in some form or
another... dont worry about that. But for now, a new world awaits you, and
you must keep it waiting no longer!"
The next thing I remember, we were hovering low over the forest roof
while a virtual sea of energy churned dust-covered roots to consciousness just

below. But above, just above shimmered a myriad rays of light, sparkling
exploding silently among the dense clouds as if waiting to storm down upon
all. And indeed they were waiting!
"Look down below," came the voice of my guide, whoever he was,
"...down there" And I gasped aloud. There below was my body, exactly as I
had left it when I fell asleep, there against the trunk of that great Golden
Birch... motionless. Then things began to make sense.
"Now look above!" he ordered, and there came from the enchanted clouds
a stream of shimmering sunbeams, or so they seemed to me, which rained
down upon the giant tree, infusing it with intent and personality. As if inter-
cepting a message intended for another, I somehow felt a series of charmed

words or perhaps 'tree-lessons' hollow through my head like a great wooden
drum. Yes, indeed messages. A garbled, encoded mystic engram of some kind;
something intended for the tree alone, a gnostic, hidden wisdom that I will
now attempt to convey in writ. The words, although they were not truly
words, spoke:
"
"And at night they walked. . .
37
^-^ J--,- __i._
©racle of tl?e Tloblc ©ircl?

BEFORE THE CREATED WORLD BEGAN THERE WAS NOTHING.
BUT TAKE CARE LEST YOU FALL INTO GRAVE ERROR, FOR
EMPTINESS IS ALSO THE SAME AS FULLNESS.
THOSE WHO POSSESS EVERYTHING ALSO POSSESS NOTHING,
FOR THERE IS NOTHING MORE LEFT TO POSSESS...
THEY CAN HAVE NOTHING MORE.
IN THE BEGINNING THERE WAS THE NOTHING

AND THE EVERYTHING,
THE ONE, THE PATERNAL MONAD.
AND TO GOVERN ALL THINGS,
AND TO ORDER ALL THINGS NOT ORDERED
THE MONAD GENERATES TWO;
THEN THE DYAD SITS BY HIM, AND GLITTERS WITH ALL HE IS NOT.
THEN AS OPPOSITES ALWAYS BEGET A THIRD,
INTO THE WORLD SHINETH THE TRIAD
OVER WHICH THE MONAD RULES.
THIS ORDER IS THE BEGINNING OF ALL DISTINCTION
FOR THE MIND OF THE PATTERN ORDERED THAT ALL THINGS BE

CUT INTO THREE.
AND SO ALL THINGS WERE DIVIDED,
GOVERNED BY THE MIND...
AND THERE APPEARED IN THE TRIAD, WISDOM AND WORTH
AND TRANSCENDENT TRUTH;
THISWAY FORMS THE SHAPE OF THE TRIAD, BEING PRE-EXISTENT.
FOR ONE MUST CONCEIVE THAT ALL THINGS SERVE THESE
THREE PRINCIPLES: THE MATRIX CONTAINING ALL THINGS.
The Lost Books of Merlyn
AND EXTRACTED FIRST, A TREE OF GLOWING FIRE,
WHITE AND GOLD,

FLASHING INTO THE CAVITIES OF THE WORLD:
AND ALL THINGS FROM THIS
BEGIN TO EXTEND DOWNWARD THEIR NOBLE RAYS.
Just then it seemed moved onward... the trees and I, guided by this
as if we
mysterious celestial presence, until we paused over another arboreal giant.
And he, too, had a cryptic message to speak:
Oracle of X\)c fRâtic Rowan

SEEK EVER THE WAY OF THE SOUL,
WHEREBY OR BY WHAT ORDER, HAVING SERVED THE BODY,
TO THE SAME ORDER FROM WHICH IT DID FLOW
THAT IT MAY RISE UP AGAIN, JOINING ACTION TO SACRED SPEECH.
THERE BE NO OTHER MEANS FOR US TO ARRIVE AT THIS SOURCE

BUT BY STRENGTHENING THE 'VEHICULUM' OF THE SOUL
BY MYSTICAL RITES;
FOR THE TREES KNOW THE SOUL TO BE PURIFIED BY
STONES, HERBS AND WATERS,
AND THEREBY SOON RENDERED RIPE UNTO HARVEST.
.
"And at night they walked. .
^ ^
rr,--r ;-. -r.-.-.-,-.
And on and on we passed between and above the great river of trees, mov-
ing, flowing somewhere to which I still had no idea. But Maeldrew knew...
yes, and the celestial rain became an increasing torrent... a tempest, until my
mind and spirit became victims of the flood. And the flood waters spoke:
Oracle of X\)c Daliant ?Uder

THE SOUL, BEING A BRIGHT FIRE, REMAINS IMMORTAL.
THE SOULS OF THOSE WHO QUIT THE BODY VALIANTLY
ARE MOST PURE.
THE SOUL
WHICH LEAVES THE BODY VIOLENTLY
ABHORS THIS LIFE
AND
HATES CONVERSATION WITH THE BODY
AND, REIOICING,
FLIES UP TO LOFTIER REALMS.
BUT THOSE SOULS WHICH FORSAKE THIS LIFE
(THEIR BODIES BEING NATURALLY DISSOLVED BY AGE OR SICKNESS|
DO REGRET ITS
INCLINATION TO THE BODY.
THEREFORE...
LEARN FROM THE BRAVE ALDER
FIRST INTO BATTLE!
The Lost Books op Merlyn
Oracle of X\)c River EDillow

OUR WISDOM SAYS THAT THE DEPTH OF THE SOUL
LIES IN ITS TRIPLE GNOSTIC POWERS.
IN THESE THREE LIE THE INVISIBLE HYMNS
OF THE ASCENDING SOUL,
THE HYMNS OF THE RIVER WANDERER.
EARTH, MOON, SUN... THE LADDER.

THE PATTERN LYING SOMEWHERE BEYOND
THE LADDER OF ASCENT.
LET US LEAVE THIS WATER WORLD
WHICH IS OF A TRANSIENT NATURE...
LET US COME TO THE TRUE END...
LET US AWAKEN TO THE ADEPT...
LET US OBEY ONE CALLING...
LET US RUN TO THE HOT,
FLYING FROM THE COLD...
LET US BECOME FIRE!
LET US TRAVEL THROUGH FIRE!
LOVER OF THE SIMPLE, UNADORNED BEAUTY OF FORM:

THE PATTERN WILL GUIDE, POINTING OUT THE WAYS OF FIRE.
LET US NOT FLOW WITH THE HUMBLE STREAM OF BOANN,
THE RIVER OF OBLIVION...
"And at night they walked. 41
Oracle of X\)c Cruel fts\)
UNDERSTAND THE VISIBLE WITH THE EXTENDED FLAME

OF AN EXTENDED WILL.
THE WILL!
ELEVATED BY THE FIRES OF THE IMAGINATION
HEWS THE WALL WITH MIGHT OF MAGIC,
BREAKS THE PALISADE INTO PIECES,
HEWS TO ATOMS SEVEN PARTS...
SPEAKS THE MASTER WORDS OF KNOWLEDGE!
BELIEVE YOURSELF TO BE ABOVE BODY

AND YOU ARE.
AND NEVER FALL SO AS TO BE RANKED
WITH THE HERD THAT ARE IN SUBJECTION
TO FATE.
Oracle of tl?e Unbeloved l6awtborn

THIS BODY
THE BEASTS OF THE EARTH SHALL INHABIT:
AN ENTANGLEMENT OF THORNS.
THIS VESSEL IS THE COMPOUND MIXTURE OF THE SOUL.

THE BEASTS ARE THOSE FORCES WHICH ROVE ABOUT THE EARTH.
OUR LIFE, THEREFORE, BEING FULL OF PASSIONS
SHALL BE INHABITED BY SUCH BEASTS,
FOR SUCH KINDS ARE ENAMORED IN PASSIONS
AND HAVE A MATERIAL SEAT AND ORDER.
WHEREFORE SUCH AS ARE ADDICTED TO PASSIONS

ARE GLUED TO THEM BY ADMIRATION,
FOR ALWAYS
THEY ATTRACT WHAT IS LIKE THEM.
.

43
Oracle of tl?e ©uardtan Oak

THERE BEYOND THE CELESTIAL LIGHTS
IS
AN INCORRUPTIBLE FLAME
ALWAYS SPARKLING —THE SPRING OF LIFE
THE PATTERN OF ALL BEINGS —THE ORIGINAL OF ALL THINGS!
IT MAKES ITSELF KNOWN BY ITSELF.
IT CANNOT BE CONTAINED IN ANY PLACE.
IT IS WITHOUT BODY AND WITHOUT MATTER
AND THERE ISSUE FROM IT LITTLE SPARKS

WHICH BEGET ALL...
NONE CAN HIDE HIMSELF FROM THIS PRESENCE.
THERE EXISTS IN THE BEYOND
AN IMMENSE FATHOMLESS OCEAN OF FLAME!
NONETHELESS, THE HEART SHOULD NOT FEAR
TO APPROACH THIS VENERABLE FIRE, NOR TO BE TOUCHED BY IT.
ONE WILL NEVER BE CONSUMED BY THIS AMIABLE FIRE
WHOSE MILD AND TRANQUIL HEAT
MAKETH THE BINDING, THE HARMONY AND THE DURATION OF
THE WORLD.
STRIVE NOT TO KNOW MORE THAN THIS.
FOR THAT IS BEYOND YOUR CAPACITY.
AND AS FOR US WHO ARE ITS MESSENGERS—
WE ARE BUT A LITTLE PART OF GOD.
Oracle of \\)c Resolute Boll?

TO THE UNFORMED SOUL, EVERY WAY
REACHES OUT THE TENDRILS OF FIRE.
WHEN ONE BEHOLDS THIS SACRED FIRE,
WITHOUT FORM,
SHINING RESOLUTELY THROUGH THE DEPTH OF THE WORLD,
HEAR THE VOICE OF THAT FIRE!
©racle of th>e Charmed Bz$el

MANY FOLLOWERS WOULD SAY THAT:
'MAN WAS FORMED AFTER THE IMAGE OF GOD;'
BUT WE SAY:
'GOD HAS NO IMAGE'
YET THE PATTERN

HAS IMPLANTED SYMBOLS IN THE SOUL.
THE MAKER SOWED CHARMED SYMBOLS OF ITS ESSENCE
DEEP WITHIN THE FABRIC OF MAN,
AND FROM OUT THIS SEED, NOT ONLY SOULS
BUT ALL SUPERIOR ORDERS SPRING.
WITHIN AMPHORAEUS SUBSTANCES THERE IS ONE KIND OF SIGN:
FORMLESS AND INDIVIDUAL.
IN THE CORPOREAL WORLD THERE ARE OTHER SIGNS:
THE UNSPEAKABLE PROPERTIES OF THE BEYOND
WHICH ARE
FAR MORE EXCELLENT THAN THE SYMBOLS THEMSELVES.
>>:<<•>>>>>>>>>:.>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The Lost Books or Merlyn
Oracle of tl?e ©leased Apple

SUBJECT NOT YOUR MIND TO THE VAST MEASURES OF THE EARTH,
FOR THE TREE OF TRUTH GROWS NOT UPON THE EARTH.
NOR MEASURE THE MEASURES OF THE SUN,
GATHERING TOGETHER PERSONAL ORACLES:
THEY ALL MOVE BY THE ETERNAL WILL OF THE PATTERN,
NOT FOR THY SAKE.
OR THE SWIFT COURSE OF THE MOON EITHER:

...
SHE RUNS EVER BY THE IMPULSE OF NECESSITY.

NOR WAS THE PROGRESSION OF THE STARS BROUGHT FORTH
FOR HUMAN SAKE.
THE ETHEREAL, BROAD-FOOTED FLIGHT OF RAVENS
IS EVER VIRTUOUS!
AND MOREOVER THE DISSECTIONS OF ENTRAILS AND VICTIMS:

ALL THESE ARE TOYS —THE SUPPORTS OF GAINFUL CHEATS.
FLY FAR FROM THESE
IF YOU INTEND TO WALK THE BLESSED ORCHARD LANES,
WHERE VIRTUE, WISDOM AND TRUTH
ARE THE TRUE FRUITS OF THE SPIRIT.
.

47
Oracle of tl?e IDratfjful Dine

IFYOU WOULD SPEAK OFTEN TO ME,
YOU WILL SEE CLEARLY THAT OF WHICH SPEAK— I
FOR THE WORLD IS EVER FULL OF GUIDES INFLEXIBLE.

WE, THE ORACLES, ARE CALLED THE SUSTAINERS,'
AS WE SUSTAIN THE WHOLE WORLD.
UNMOVEABLE IN OUR ORDAINED POWER,
OUR GUARDIANSHIP DESIGNS THE CAUSE AND IMMOBILITY
OF THE WORLDS.
WE CONVERT THE SOULS OF MAN FROM INFERIOR THINGS,
AND CAUSE THAT SOULS BE NEVER HOPELESSLY ALLURED WITH
AFFECTIONS.
THE LIGHT OF THE MOON IS COVERED,

THE EARTH STANDS NOT STILL...
BUT ALL THINGS APPEAR THUNDER!
"And at night they walked.
©racle of X\)c Swift-pursuing JReed

OH MAN, THAT MACHINE OF BOLDEST NATURE!
FRAMED BY GOD WITH UNSPEAKABLE ART,
THIS ORACLE LIKEWISE CALLS HIM SWIFT-PURSUING BY NATURE.
AS BEING BUSIED ABOUT EXCELLENT THINGS:

HE OFTEN MEASURES THE COURSE OF THE STARS, ENQUIRING
INTO THE ORDERS OF THE SUPERNATURAL POWERS-
CONTEMPLATING ALSO WHAT LIES BEYOND THE COELESTIAL ORB
AND EXTENDING TO DISCOURSE SOMETHING OF THE PATTERN.
THESE ENDEAVOURS OF THE MIND PROCEED

FROM AN AUDACIOUS NATURE:
BOLDNESS— NOT BY WAY OF REPROACH,
BUT TO EXPRESS THE SWIFT-FLYING FORWARDNESS
OF ALL NATURE.
The Lost Books or Merlyn
Grade of tl?e Bitter Blackthorn
THE BODY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL

JUST AS THE INTELLECT IS THE ROOT OF VIRTUE.
VIRTUE BLOSSOMS FOR SOULS IN THE COELESTIAL REGION,
WHILE EVIL COMES EVER FROM THE REGION OF MATTER.
BY CASTING INTO THE MATERIAL REGIONS
THE EVIL WHICH IS ELIMINATED FROM MAN'S NATURE,
THE SOUL MAY ASPIRE WHEREVER IT MAY.
MAN'S BODY IS PART OF GENERATION:

THE SPHERE OF TIME AND SENSE.
BUT THE MIND AND BODY ARE NOT ONE:
THE SOUL IT STANDS APART,
AND IS ABLE TO ACT UNSUBDUED BY THE
POWER OF GENERATION.
YET THE SOUL CANNOT CONQUER THE WHOLE OF GENERATION
UNLESS THE ESSENCE OF MATTER BE WEAKENED.
CAST, THEREFORE, VAIN HATE AND JEALOUSY
BACK INTO THE MATERIAL WORLD
FROM WHENCE THE SOUL DREW THEM;
MATERIAL THINGS HAVE MATTER AS A NURSE!
KEEP NOT WITHIN YOU THAT WHICH IS DAMMED UP.

DO NOT REFILE THE SPIRIT
BY LIBERATING THAT WHICH IS WITHIN AND HIDDEN.
PASSIONS ARE ENCLOSED IN SOULS,
IMPARTING TO THE SPIRIT A CERTAIN MATERIAL CHARACTER
AND FILLING IT
WITH BITTER LIFELESSNESS...

"
"And at night they walked...
Oracle of X\)c Unlucky Cider

STOOP NOT DOWN AFAR,
FOR A PRECIPICE LIES BELOW THE EARTH:
FEARFUL DEPTHS DRAWING DOWN
THROUGH THE LADDER WHICH HAS SEVEN STEPS,
BENEATH WHICH
STANDS THE THRONE OF NECESSITY.
THE LADDER OF SEVEN STEPS

REFLECTS THE ORBS OF THE SEVEN PLANETS.
IF, THEREFORE, THE UNLUCKY SOUL DECLINE,
CARRIED BACK TO EARTH THROUGH THE SEVEN ORBS-

IT IS
FROM WHICH IT IS AGAIN DELIVERED INTO THE WAITING HANDS

OF THE SUFFERING TERRESTRIAL WORLD...
•»»»»»»»»»»:'
Oracle of X\)c Savage jf ir
WE, THE TREES, KNOW THAT AMONG US

EXIST THE KELTOI—
THE SECRET GUIDES OF THE WORLD,
INTELLECTUAL AND INFLEXIBLE.
THESE WE CALL THE SUSTAINERS,' AS THEY NOURISH

AND ORDER THE EARTH.
THEY ARE UNMOVEABLE.
EACH HAS BEEN ALLOTTED A SETTLED POWER,
A GUARDIANSHIP —IMPLACABLE.
THERE ARE ALSO OTHER POWERS, BEING SAVAGE
YET NOT CONVERTED TOWARDS INFERIOR THINGS.
THESE ARE THE FORMORII.
THE SACRED WATCH-WORDS: 'EIKONES AGLAMATA'

CONTAIN THEM—A HURRICANE OF SOUNDS!
THIS ORACLE JOINS THE EVOCATIVE NAME
WITH THE SACRIFICING OF THE STONE...
>>»:«<m>:w>>>:«»>:ww^^^^
"
"And at night they walked. . .
53
Oracle of tl?e Sweet tfur^c

THE MAKER
INSTILLS NOT FEAR,
BUT INSTEAD CURIOSITY.
THE NATURE OF DIVINE GROWTH

IS NEITHER STERN NOR SAVAGE,
BUT ALLURING AND CALM.

IT CAUSES NOT FEAR IN THOSE SUBJECTED TO IT,
BUT ATTRACTS ALL THINGS

BY PERSUASION AND SYMPATHY.
HOW IS ONE TO KNOW THIS?
FOR IF THE NATURE OF DIVINE GROWTH WERE
HOSTILE AND FORMIDABLE,
EVERY ORDER OF BEINGS WOULD HAVE BEEN DISSOLVED!
FOR WHAT COULD WITHSTAND SUCH AN ADVERSARY?
NOT EVEN THE TREES!
SUCH MENACES
ARE THE INTERMISSION OF A DIVINE GOOD-WILL TOWARDS ALL.
BY REASON OF THE ILL MANAGEMENT OF THE AFFAIRS
OF MANKIND ...
54 The Lost Books or Merlyn
Oracle of tl?e toving $3eatl?er

THE MELODY OF THE CALEN —THE PASSAGES OF THE SUN
AND MOON... AND OF THE AIR!
FROM THESE SOUL-NOURISHING FLOWERS
COME THE SACRED FRUITS.
FOR AS THE DWELLER HEARS A SILENT VOICE,
SO MAN RECEIVETH THE DIVINE MELODIES;
EACH ACCORDING TO HIS INDIVIDUAL NATURE.
THE FLOWER OF THE MIND

ISTHE SINGULAR EAR OF THE SOUL,
AND WITHIN THE UNIVERSAL MIND
LIES THAT MEADOW OF SUBLIMEST SYMPHONIES.
HERE SING THE MANY TREES OF VIRTUE:
SEVEN TIMES THE THREE WORLDS OF THE SPIRIT.
LIKEWISE THE TREE OF LIFE,'
WHICH THE PLANT OF DIVINE ILLUMINATION.

IS
STRIVE TO EAT OF ITS FRUIT

WHOSE GIFTS ARE VIRTUE, WISDOM AND TRUTH;
BUT SUCH WISDOM STANDS ALONE AS THE GIVER OF SONGS,
WHICH THE DIVINE MIND REVEALS ONLY AS
SILENCE...
"
"And at night they walked...
©racle of tl?e £ong-t£nduring poplars

LEAVE NOT
THE FORMS OF MATTER
UNATTENDED.
FIRST
UNDERSTAND THAT THE BODY
CONSISTS OF THE FOUR ELEMENTS;
IT SPEAKS TO THE DISCIPLE
BY WAY OF INSTRUCTION AND EXHORTATION.
SO LEAVE NOT THAT WITH WHICH YOU ARE DIVINELY CLOTHED,
IN THE INFERIOR WORLD.
SECOND
UNDERSTAND THAT THINGS DIVINE
CANNOT BE OBTAINED BY MORTALS WHOSE INTELLECT
IS DIRECTED TO THE BODY ALONE.
ONLY THOSE
WHO ARE STRIPPED OF THEIR GARMENTS
ARRIVE AT THE SUMMIT.
Oracle of tl?e Silent £ew

LEARN THE INTELLIGIBLE,
NEXT THAT WHICH EXISTS
BEYOND THE MIND.
ALTHOUGH ALL THINGS ARE COMPREHENDED BY THE MIND,

YET THE DWELLER EXISTS BEYOND THE MIND.
THE FIRST MIND IS REASON.
THE SECOND INTUITION.
WITHIN THE THIRD DWELLS THE PATTERN,
WHO IS NEITHER INTELLECT NOR INCLINATION;
MORE EXCELLENT THAN ALL SPEECH AND NOTION...
THIS, MORE TO BE HONORED BY SILENCE

THAN REVERENCED
BY WONDERFUL EXPRESSIONS.
And then the wondrous rains ceased, never again to shower upon the New
Forest of Cornwall... and the Sun shone out bright over the Field of Goddeu
Brig like never before. And all stirred from their enchanted sleep, stood
poised and ready for the decisive Battle soon to come — a Battle raging
behind, in the head!
—
Druids also set up magical hedges between armies

in order to overcome the enemy.
And also every kind of elemental persuasion

to change the outcome of battle.
Caitlin Matthews, THE CELTIC TRADITION
TR& fRistletoe Upon Oak

3 AWOKE WITH A sudden
and about the roots of the
jolt and looked around. Dust was
great trees clouds of dust.
still settling in
My body was stiff

with evening dew, and I groaned aloud trying to sit up. Stretching far over
and above my head, streams of fresh yellow sunlight were sifting in long lines
down the dustclouds. And all was still... all except the early morning song-
birds shaking the long night silence from their wings.
And then the shouts began, (I had almost forgotten that armies of men were all
around), from both camps, high and low; the Pheryllt with their tribes of somber
Britons, and the Druids with their rainbow-naked mix of Celtic warriors.
But despite appearances, they all sounded quite the same in that one
remarkable instant: completely confounded. I ran up the steep embankment
until the Field was fully within view. People shouting, running, talking all .11
once in tight shifting groups — all in one grand state of chaotic contusion. All
but the trees, that is; now, after a long night of enchanted toil, they were con-
tentedly still. But then they really had to be still, in fact, tor a good wall
never moves!
57
It was a strange separation of church and state that I now witnessed: the
tribes on both sides were walking in great frustration along the outer divisions
of the hedge-lines, actively seeking passage through; the priests on both sides,
on the other hand, had grouped together in silent awe... fully aware of the
supernatural overtones of what had transpired. Neither group seemed to have
any notion of how to proceed next.
Slowly, I made my way up the ridge until a crowd of my fellow Pheryllt
novices were within view, gawking and pointing out the marvel down below.
And a marvel it indeed was, for opposing and isolating both armies, was an
impregnable expanse of trees... trees so dense and so close, that no wall built
by the hand of man could possibly surpass it! Stretching the entire breadth of
the Field and beyond, a clear barrier of great trees stood imposing, almost
challenging, in perfect linear order like impenetrable soldiers. And I recog-
nized them all with a smile: to the far right were the Golden Birches, next the
Rowans, and the cruel Ashes, then the hoary Willows... they were all there, in
the exact order I had sung them that night: THE SONG OF THE FOREST
TREES! Quite smugly, I fingered the parchments of Maeldrew, tucked as they
were deep within the folds of my robe.
"Gwydion!" then came an excited call from behind, "Gwydion, over here!"
And I turned to find my old friend Noath running up, breathless, panting
"where have you been?" And I shrugged.
"Come on... haven't you heard? The Elders have called an urgent war
counsel, in the Nemeton. They say that Bladudd will address the Oracle Itself.
Only he can tell why the Gods have ordered the trees thus. Come on!" And he
ran off with the others toward the sacred clearing.
I followed, but in deliberate reserve, feeling a strange mixture of guilt and
secret exaltation as the circle of priests came into view; I wondered, (and yet it
seemed almost certain), whether the Celtic priests in the other camp weren't
doing precisely the same thing as we: consulting their oracles and gods, shak-
ing their heads in confusion and fear? And then for a long while I watched as
the High Priest called out the hidden names and evocations — tried in vane to
raise the matrix of power which would bridge the two worlds. But the gods
did not speak, and the priests, although they tried to mask it behind pallid
faces, were outwardly filled with dread. Then after a short spell of tense expec-
tation, Bladudd turned dramatically, declaring in a loud voice: "Brethren, not
even we can escape destiny..." and walked slowly back the way he had come. All
As Mistletoe Upon Oak 59
followed after a fashion, each in his own time, all silent with bewilderment
and foreboding.
Again I broke away, (almost with a smile on my face), to see what pro-
gresses had been made in penetrating my veil of living green; and the answer
did not surprise me! At every point about the front-line were tribesmen, in the
branches as well as on the ground; yet the bitter-tongued Blackthorn had
done his job too well: running closely along the tree-edge was a neat and
nearly impermeable tangle of thorns, sharp and hostile. The only thing suc-
cessful in bridging the gap between the two sides, were long wisps of gray
campfire smoke which drifted with mocking ease back and forth and over, in
and out. The sound of men shouting in many tongues at once was every-
where. Then a truly amazing day began!
By mid-morning thick black clouds had begun to accumulate overhead,
creeping in on un-felt winds, filling the sky from every direction at once.
Thunder rumbled back-and-forth, and patches of light flashed through from
far above... and everyone stopped with eyes upturned, forgetting for the
moment all about the conflict and the trees. Something else was happening,
something so powerful and ominous that all men, be he priest or peasant,
could equally feel it. The Gods were all around.

Hollow and threatening, the thunder built to such a dreadful peak that
men cowered like kittens under its mantle. Terrified eyes darted from one to
another, birds fled their perches in the branches, the ground shook. But the
most humbling of all was the skyfire! Lightning, blinding and hot, flashed
from black cloud to cloud, never once finding the ground, in ever-increasing
tempests directly overhead. All men high and low covered their eyes and ears
in horror, either prostrate upon the Earth or hidden behind rock or hill as best
they could. Then just when many of us felt we could stand it not another
moment, the sky tore apart with unbelievable violence one final time, ripping
down a bolt of pure white light into the midst of the forest. All scattered in
every direction as red flame burst out across the trees until every bud and I cat
appeared enveloped in fire —even the very air about us seemed to shimmer
and burn in waves of colorless heat. One could barely breathe.
The next thing I remember, my face was being mopped with cool grass at
the hands of one of the priests.
"Are you all right, boy?" he asked, bending a concerned face over where I lay
at the far edge of the field. As I nodded, he glanced quickly over his shoulder
before backing rapidly away, as if suddenly noticing himself too close to some-
thing dangerous. And so he was...
Propping myself up on one elbow, I gasped aloud at the tableau before me.
The trees had moved again, or had been moved, and amid the vast expanse of
smoldering ground-leaf, had appeared a wide gap straight through the middle
of the treewall — a bridge it seemed, of sorts, between the contending priest-
hoods. But a bridge to where?
My question was answered within minutes as many things began to hap-
pen at once. Following a short period of tense silence, a voice, loud and deep,
echoed out invisibly from within the hollow gap in the Forest; a man's voice,
yet difficult to describe, speaking the common tongue:

"Men of the Island of the Mighty... of the Golden Bough! Friends from across
the great sea... Men ofthe Red Oaks, Hear me! Come forward, for a moot spot has
been created for this very purpose —I would speak with the priests!"
And so, as if seeming to sense the inescapable hand of destiny upon them
all, the men did come forward, both sides bearing their banners: the Druidic
Oak-leaf of three tines, and the triple-white moon berries of the Pheryllt. And
it was I, Gwydion, who was chosen to bear the standard of our Order;
Bladudd handed me the flag without comment, yet with a glance showing he
understood something far greater than mere words.
Slowly... cautiously, the two assemblies approached the clearing, each from
their own sides, every priest preoccupied with the same three thoughts: what
was the force behind it all, who had spoken, and why?
The mid-day sun was full blazing overhead by the time all had silently
seated themselves in groups facing one another, surrounded on all sides by

great oaks; (by fate or chance, the clearing had appeared amidst an oak-stand)!
Each visitor seemed to eye the others with grave suspicion; the contrasting
sight of the two groups themselves was something spectacular to behold!
Some of the Celts wore long robes of bright blue or green, yet others were
clad in plain white but with beautifully worked adornments of gold and cop-
per; and against this colorful backdrop sat our somber-looking Pheryllt Priest-
hood, dressed all in the uniform sacred gray, only the most important of the
Elders showing the red metallic touch of the Dragon's Eye.
And then suddenly all eyes turned, for toward the east and just beyond view
of the forest line, came the sound of heavy footsteps among the brush. Towards
us it came, heedless of the silence, until there appeared before our breathless
gathering an immense image of some Forest God, strange and terrible. Half-
— —
man and half-stag he appeared, cloven hoofed, with an upright stride and a
great set of antlers atop his head... all covered with a hide of thick fur except for
his face, which appeared almost human. In one hand he carried the branch of
an oak tree, heavy-laden under a Bough of Golden Mistle beset with white
berries. He slowed his approach some ten lengths to the east and surveyed us
carefully, eyes darting wildly from one group to the other, searching. Finally,
with both hands, he lifted up the branch and stared directly over at the spot
where I stood.
"You boy, chosen of Maeldrew, come forward!" And his glare was like a
spear through my body. All heads turned in unison towards me.
"Come here!" he repeated with a voice more like a growl, and shook the
branch hard until its white berries scattered off. Taken as a sign, the crowd of
Pheryllt seated there gasped and lowered their eyes toward the ground. With
great reluctance, I then made my way slowly through a crowd-path which had
opened up automatically before me; my fellow brethren were as unnerved as
I. One could feel his eyes upon you with every step.
11
Now, take this and look well, boy," he ordered, and thrust the branch into
my arms. "Tell me... what do you hold?" And his glare intensified. My mind
swam in a sea of possible answers; nervous sweat rolled down my face and
back, yet I waited... waited for the help of something higher.
"An oak bough bearing the Sacred Mistle," I answered when I could bear
my own silence no longer.
"Wrong!" the forest man nearly roared back. "Wrong! In your hands you
hold no simple a thing as that, but instead, the new fate of all this land. Look
to your own banners for the answer." And he waved a broad sweeping gesture
toward the tribal flags. "Mistle on one side and Oak to the other in unity,"
he went on, letting his last two words hang in the air. "Hear me well people of
the tribes, for I am Heme the Horned Man: he who is both hunter and hunted.
Long time have I watched this land and the affairs of mankind upon it, and
long have I been content to let you govern your own affairs. But now the
influx of new persons and ways onto this Island threaten the unity of it — thus
I, Heme the Hunter, guardian of this Land, say: 'He who lives by the sword,
will die by the sword! The choice is yours: thrive by uniting your forces and
knowledge, as grow the Mistle upon the Oak, or be destroyed by your own
disunity, aided by my hand, which here is powerful indeed! Unite your scrolls
and parchments... your knowledge into one body: 'THE BODY Or I HE

DRAGON,' the body of this Land. Your ways are as two horns upon the
—
same bull, so learn to see past your differences and grow into the Beyond by
building on common ground instead. Much may sprout from this very spot,
for the betterment of mankind." And the Hunter-God held out a seed, or per-
haps a pod, which he then placed upon the ground at his feet. Next, with one
powerful lunge, he drove the seed deep into the soil with his hoofed foot; dust
and bits of Earth scattered everywhere.
"What now lies here and below, is the single last son of a great god-tree
which once covered the lost Island of the Sun-People in green splendor. Save
this one seed, nothing now remains of this ancient family following the del-
uge. But, if you tribes and priests here assembled are able to work the magic of
unity amongst yourselves, then one of these lone titans will live and thrive
again in our world. It is to be a signpost: if my destiny of growth be sincerely

served from hereon in, then upon this spot will emerge a Giant in whose
green arms will one day be built a magnificent White Temple of Peace. More-
over, there be one here among you who can greatly aid in this pursuit: a cho-
sen one who may be your guide. Listen to his counsel always." And Heme
gestured in my direction that I stand.
"The tides of time are again changing... the Wheel turns, and you must
turn along with it. There can be no growth without change. Now go forth
and see that this destiny be fulfilled."
And upon this charge I,

"V
Gwydion Spellsinger, was left standing alone while
all watched in stunned silence the Forest Guardian disappear by degrees of
green into the depths of the woods. Then, somehow, the proper words
seemed to come to me.
"Welcome, Celtic friends from across the great divide" I spoke loudly, raising
my arms in benediction. "We have all heard, and we have all seen. The Battle
of the Trees has been well-fought, and they have won they have shown the
way. Our defeat now offers us a rare chance to win, for the true battle begins
here and today, behind in the head! A battle of hearts and minds. How do we
begin? Heme, I believe, made this clear. Friends... let us counsel together."
And we did counsel, long into the night and far beyond into the following
day. Nor was it easy, this forging of Mistle upon Oak. But in the end our
minds, flags and doctrines became as one — all felt the hand of destiny behind
each hour. And so was born the Book of Albion, the book of old knowledge:
the BODY OF THE DRAGON! The wisdom of the Pheryllt from long-
drowned Atlantis; the secrets of the Celtic Druids, the parchments of Maeldrew
Ah, yes, and the Song of the Forest Trees! The battle, the letters themselves...
these would be the keys, the patterns, upon which all else would be built!
And it was finally built just as Heme had wished, as mistletoe-upon-oak,

all parts into a whole. Throughout that last long day, the most skilled of
binders and leather workers from both camps had toiled hard and long before
it was finished, that sacred book destined to bridge two worlds.
Then suddenly there it was — there upon an altar of bluestone where the
seed had been planted, lay the BODY OF THE DRAGON for all to see:
bound in red leather and beset with the Dragon's Eye all worked in gold, it
stood as a supreme symbol unifying the Magics of the Earth... the body of us
all. As a reminder to those who would follow, the following triad was chosen
to represent the high ideals of that First Counsel of Trees:
TRUTH IN OUR HEARTS

STRENGTH IN OUR HANDS
CONSISTENCY IN OUR TONGUES
And what of the tree, that great tree of which Heme prophesied? In time it
did indeed grow, there in that chosen spot which history would later come to
call 'Caer Gwydion.' The White Temple also came to pass, being built among
its mighty branches, symbol of a golden age in which man would live in har-
mony with both himself and the land. But this... this must indeed remain a
future chapter in our grand history.

©rimoire #1
"21 Excerpts from The Battle of the Trees"
I. STOKING WILDFIRE:"Building the Sacred Needfires."

II. BOIBELOTH: "Secret Writing of the Trees."
III. EVOCATION OF THE GUARDIAN: "Summoning Pharon."

IV. THE CRANE BAG: "Using the Coelbren Oracle."
V. BINDU SUSPENSION: "Inducing the Mystical State."
VI. CLACHA BRATH: "Creating a Tree Voice."
VII. THE GREEN MAN: "Calling Forth the God of the Woods."
VIII. SLATAN DRUIDEACHT: "Seeking the Druidic Staff."
IX. SACRED SMOKE: "Plant Mixtures for Magic & Pipe."
X. LUNAR VISIONS: "The Art and Practice of Dreamscaping."
XI. ROCK GARDEN: "Planting the Sacred Space."
XII. THE RITE OF NAMING: "Uncovering Your Celtic Self."
XIII. THE GREAT TREE: "Ascending the Druidic Path."
XIV. COELCERTHS: "Burning the Holey Stones."
XV. THE ELDER LIBATION: "Faylinn's Draught of Oblivion."
XVI. TREE RANKS: "The Wooden Ladder of Authority."
XVII. TUATHA: "Invoking the Power of the Four Symbols."
XVIII. THE NINE STAR HOUSES: "Decoding the Druidic Zodiac."
XIX. TAMBOR: "The Celtic Ritual Drum."
XX. PANTHEON: "Discovering the Druidic Dieties."

XXI. DRUIDIC OMENS: "Reading the Sacred Signs."
These excerpts are given in the interest of the Druidic Mythos — they are not intended as a self-
initiatory body, although one may choose to employ them as such. They are offered solely as
unique examples of practices remnant of Druidic Tradition, insofar as it extends down through
the sixteenth century pen of Llewellyn Sion. The disciple of Druidism, after having earnestly
WORKED THROUGH, not merely READ THROUGH The 21 Lessons ofMerlyn or another
comparable course, should find these offerings stimulating material on which to continue or
augment an already existing program. — DM
65
Merlin 's habit of working his spells under an Oak Tree
may well echo Druidic custom.
In Wales, oak sticks were rubbed together
to light the May Day Fires.
Ward Rutherford, CELTIC LORE
I. STOKING WILDFIRE
"Building the Sacred Needfires"
Of the most important days of the Celtic year, four were designated as "fire festivals."
These took place on: NOVEMBER EVE (Oct. 31st, Samhain/Halloween), MAY
EVE (April 31st, Beltane/ Mayday), MIDSUMMER'S DAY (June 21st, the Summer
Solstice) and MIDWINTER'S DAY (December 21st, the Winter Solstice). On such
holy days, special fires called Coelcerths or Needfires, were built, usually atop hills, for
various Magical uses related to the occasion. To be sacred, they needed to be kindled
by both sacred persons and sacred methods. The people were the Druids... the
method, 'Wildfire!'
There were three known methods for stoking Wildfire, legend having it that each
was brought down from one of the 3 Great Houses of Druidism: Ireland, Britain &
Shaman from Dragon Isle instructs Gwydion to
Gaul. In our story, the old build a fire
so that Oghams may be burnt into wooden Coelbren sticks, which is a sacred act.
This he does in accord with the technique most often associated with British
Druidism, namely FRICTION — the first method.
The second, was fire caused by the concentration of sun-rays through a magnify-
ing CRYSTAL. Such crystals varied in color, and were often times embedded in the
blades of sacred implements like swords or sickles. The kind most coveted by the
Druids, was a peculiar variety called 'Dragon Stone,' (Red Ruby, perhaps Rose Quartz
or Garnet), said to have been mined from the slopes of Snowdonia.
The third was natural Sky-Fire, or LIGHTNING, which was seen as something
sent by the gods, thereby sacred. During storms, Priests often braved-outside to col-
lect a flaming brand from a tree or bush left afire by lightning. This would in turn be
used to light a sacred needfire or candle, then kept carefully alive as an 'oracular fire.'
—
Grimoire #1 67
Within THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN are given many uses for 'Ordained Fire'
within the realm of Celtic Shamanism: Dragoncall, The Rite of Inspiration, etc. Or any
of the 3 methods may be used to start your own Coelcerths on the High Holy Days.
And should you wish to create your own set of OGHAM STICKS, always use WILD-
FIRE, as the Druids believed it was the only sacred substance which "read True."
To end we have chosen a poetic segment of recent English folk
this Fire Grimoire,
origin, dealing wood selection for fires, but clearly drawn from far earlier ideals
with
from a time when wood had more than monetary value when one could lose a hand, —
be heavily fined or put to death for felling the wrong kind of tree. Why should this be?
Because, back then, Trees were thought of as beings with ranks of spirit and nobility.
As you read through this poem, think about the similarities to the ancient BATTLE
OF THE TREES. Could these Trees not be put into the same sort of ranks, based on
this? Ghosts still with us!
Oak-logs will warm you well

That are old and dry;
Logs of pine will sweetly smell
But the sparks will fly.
Birch-logs will burn too fast

Chestnut scarce at all;
Hawthorne-logs will burn to last-
Cut them in the fall.
Holly-logs will burn like wax,

You may burn them green;
Elm-logs like to smouldering flax,
No flame to be seen.
Beech-logs for Winter time,

Yew-logs as well;
Green elder-logs it is a crime

For any man to sell.
Pear-logs and apple-logs,
They will scent your room,

Cherry-logs across the dogs
Smell like flower of broom.
Ash-logs,smooth and grey,

Burn them green or old,
Buy up all that come your way-
Worth their weight in gold!
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II. BOIBELOTH
u
Secret Writing of the Trees"
Throughout the Celtic countries of Ireland, Britain and Gaul, there is a wide range of
surviving evidence that the Druids of these countries employed various forms of scrip-
tural writing for Magical purposes. While we are told that they used the Greek Char-
acters for common and legal records, their sacred legends and doctrines were forbidden
by law to ever touch parchment. Of the fragments that remain in obscure manu-
scripts, scattered in often inaccessible locations across Europe, one form occurs again
and again in variation: THE BOIBELOTH, an Irish system with probable roots in
Asia. This writing was said to have originated with the trees themselves, each tree dic-
tating its own mark to an old magician whose name has been lost to time. Other
accounts say that the trees won their marks following the Battle of the Trees in 400
BC. What is known, however, is that the script is mentioned by name in over twenty
sagas worldwide, below shown in both its Irish and Welsh versions:
71 B Boibel j B Beith
± L Loth L.
—
L Luis
X F Foran N Nuin
H. S '
Salia \ F Fearan
6 N Neaigadon L S Suil
&
i
D Daibhoith > D Duir
+m,
T
C
Teilmon
Casi £
( T
C
Tinne
Coll
£JM Moiria c; M Muin
V,G Gath 1 G Gort
! P — P Poth
Q\R Ruibe y\) R Ruis
J A Acab \U A Ailim
On
X Ose A%)
r U Ura AV U Ux
3 E Esu n E Eactha
* J Jaichim *7|j Jodha

Grimoire #1 69
In our story, Gwydion was on which THE SONG OF THE

given parchments
FOREST TREES was written Only the most sacred of documents
in Boibeloth.
would have been recorded thusly, as the Druids would have been the only ones capa-
ble of reading them. Other traditional uses: to inscribe god-names upon sacred instru-
ments; as runes carved onto rock or wood; as sigils traced into the air, for evocation of
forces; a script for secret journal writing.
It would appear upon close inspection, that what the OGHAM system was to the
earliest Brythonic Shamans (e.g. the Welsh, Cornish & Bretons), the BOIBELOTH
was to the Goidels (e.g. the Irish, Manx & Scots).

These old writings have been offered the reader who may wish to keep a journal or
carve magical inscriptions. The Pheryllt manuscript makes several mentions of the
Boibeloth and its predecessor, the forgotten GORTIGERN SCRIPT, as divinatory
tools: questions were written down on virgin parchment, burned black inside a shal-
low vessel of iron, then served upon for answers. It is suggested that the reader wish-
ing to use the characters, try them in various capacities to discover their potentials. By
so doing, it is possible that clues to their original uses might be found.
Another bit of folklore: to discover an answer in a dream, write the question in
"sacred letters" on a clean parchment, then place it under your pillow for a succession
of three nights.
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" E
There the wise Merlin whilom wont

To make his wonne low underneath the ground,
In a deep delve, far from the view ofday,

That no living wight he might be found,
When so he counselled with his sprites encompassed round.
Edmund Spenser, THE FAERIE QUEEN
III. EVOCATION OF THE GUARDIAN

"Summoning Pharon and the Lords ofAnnwn"
Throughout the ancient texts and heavily into the Middle Ages, the practice of Evo-
cationalMagic reigned as one of the supreme preoccupations of the mystic mind...
and one of its supreme accomplishments. For a Magus to be able to "summon to vis-
ible appearance," was considered an ability of the highest grade according to the
Egyptian schools. Queen Elizabeth I was well-known for employing a court Magician
for the purpose of Summoning alone. A good coverage of Dark Age evocation, is
made in my book THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN, where the following verse is
given to summon the 'shade' of Merlyn himself:
"BeddAnn ap lleian ymnewais fynydd

lluagor llew Ymrais
Prifddewin Merddin Embrais.
The Pheryllt manuscript gives two formulae which fall under the heading of evo-
cation.
The first is entitled THE SUMMONING OF PHARON, an extremely old god

(probably Atlantean or pre-Atlantean) and patron of the pre-Druidic British Pheryllt,
who "dwells in Ghostland, a cold place beyond the North Wind, in caves beneath a
high plateau." It is stated that He may be summoned "by Fire or by Water." As a ver-
sion of the fire ritual is given in the chapter THE MOUTH OF PFLARON, we will
give the one for Water here. It runs thus: "Alone on the dark moon, from a small boat
on a shallow lake or pond, burn a mixture of dried roots ofhenbane, fresh vervain &oak
leaves in a vessel of iron. Hold a lighted red candle out over the water, look down in
deep and recite the following:
Grimoire #1 71
TO WHOM WE FIRST SERVED IN WOODS OF PINE

ODOROUS INCENSE ASCEND THE SKY
SNOWDON COMPELLING WITH HARMONY SWELLING
PHARAON! PHARAON! WORSHIPPED WITH FIRE! ...
And the second is entitled INVOCATION OF THE NINE SEATS, where sit in
judgment the Lords of Annwn. The Formulae:
Within a deep forest Nemeton (holy clearing) during a bright full moon, arrange
nine empty seats (of stone if possible) in a circle of 9-feet. In the center, burn
WORMWOOD, MYRRH & SULPHUR in iron, and recite the following:
'AMARA... EOCH... ATREBATHETOCH... MOGOCHFILABDC.. EPON-
ISTA... TEUTATHERION... TARANITHECTON... BRIGGATHERION...
ELUGADENITHAM.'
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The seats will remain occupied only until their occupants are dismissed with the
word "THOREBALO!" or until sunrise. The Lords may be questioned 33 times.
The final series of summonings given, are for the 4 WATCHERS, another term
for OTHERWORLD GUARDIANS. Their names are recorded as follows:
* Dwyrain— Watcher of the East.
* —
Dehev Watcher of the South.
* Gorllewin— Watcher of the West.
* Gogledd—Watcher of the North.
Choose the Willow of the Streams

Choose the Hazel of the rocks
Choose the Alder of the marshes
Choose the Birch of the Waterfalls.
Choose the Ash of the shade

Choose the Yew of resilience
Choose the Elm of the brae
Choose the Oak of the Sun!
Carmina Gadelica
IV. THE CRANE BAG

"Using the Coelbren Oracle"
'Coelbren' are finger-sized pieces of wood, on which have been burned/engraved the
20 OGHAM signs given below. The term Crane Bag is deeply embedded in Celtic
lore, as a in which he carries objects of Otherworldly
Shaman's personal pouch
Welsh tradition, it is made of leather dyed with
power... especially his Coelbren. In
blue woad. Power stones/gems, magical rings, feathers any personal power objects —
that you use in Magic can be carried inside. It was once said that the very soul of a
Shaman resides within his Crane Bag. The CRANE is an elder totem animal who
delivers visions & wisdoms.
*. /. / " s- *f- t
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H- ii-mi- mi 1;
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J! ;. 'jj! 1 II
To create your own set of DRUIDIC COELBREN, cut & smooth 20 finger-sized
pieces of some soft, white wood (ash is excellent), then burn-in the above Oghams
with hot metal; Druids used their Sickles, priestesses their daggers. (Use WILDFIRE
for best results, burning upon the 6th night of the new moon). Refer to chapter
WILDFIRE for questions on creation. To create your own CRANE BAG, cut a
round piece of blue leather about the size of a large dinner plate, punching holes at 1-
inch intervals around the outer edge, 1-inch in. Weave a leather cord in and out the
holes, then pull ends to tighten. The Crane Bag is traditionally worn hanging from
the belt.
The OGHAM COELBREN are keys to a great treasurehouse of knowledge and
Magical secrets, considered a Druid's chief source of power. Each Ogham stands for a
sound, a tree and a wisdom (an oracle). The whole system is wrought in deep symbol-
ism. In the chapter AND AT NIGHT THEY WALKED..., are given the ancient
.
Grimoire #1 73
Oracles of the Trees, a cryptic series of 20 messages enshrouded in mysterious images,

one message for each Tree. To use, move out into a natural place (outside, woods,
lake, etc.) and concentrate on your question/issue. When you feel the time is right,
reach into your Crane Bag and extract one Ogham — looking up the corresponding
oracle-message in the above mentioned chapter. Then study carefully the words, seek-
ing an answer deep within its hidden meanings. The Oracle should only be used once
per Sun Cycle (i.e. per day).
The Pheryllt Mss. mentions the most powerful Ogham Sets as those made from
the wood of 20 different trees — each Coelbren carved from its correctly correspond-
ing wood type.
A girdle of the great whales back

Was in the shapely Crane Bag:
I tell thee without harm. .
Used to be carried in it!"

Some texts speak ofa poet's ability to touch someone
with his staff or to pick up an object, and

by means of ritual invocation, to discover
the history of that person or object.
C. Matthews, THE CELTIC TRADITION
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V. BINDU SUSPENSION
"Inducing the Mystical State"
Where the term 'Bindu' comes from, is unknown. It appears throughout the Pheryllt
script, but does not seem to be drawn from any known Celtic sources. A friend of
mine well-versed in linguistic word does mean
backgrounds, suggested Sanskrit, as the
'together or bound' in that ancient tongue. But whatever its origins, BINDU SUS-
PENSION indicates a state of psychic unity between one thing and another... a con-
dition of 'en rapport.' Those psychics skilled in reading objects to discover the history
recorded in their energy matrix, practice PSYCHOMETRY, which is similar to Bindu

Suspension. The Druidic equivalent was called STILLREADING.
Achieving this altered state of consciousness involves simply counting heartbeats
and breathing. It is practiced in skill levels, or layers:
BEGINNER—AGE IN YEARS, 3 counts/breath

INTERMEDIATE—AGE DOUBLED, 4 counts/breath
ADVANCED—AGE TRIPLED, 5 counts/breath
Close your eyes and relax until your heartbeat stills to a normal average. Start at the
far end of your age in years, and begin to count backwards, one count per heartbeat
until you reach zero. Once you understand the feel of this, regulate your breathing so
that every 3 heart-counts you breathe in, then the next 3 heart-counts breath out,
downward over and over until you reach zero & the Suspension state. As you become
more proficient at this discipline, move on to the next level and on and on... each level
takes you deeper.
.
Grimoire #1 75
This state is excellent for TREE CONTACT work, where you communicate with
a plant using Universal Picture Language. For practice, try 'reading' the history in an
object of a friend's, so you can gauge your progressive accuracy. The DRUIDS are
famous for taking their students to graveyards, where they would lie on top of a grave
(usually of a relative), enter a suspension state (or sleep) and re-see the dead person's
life not unlike watching a movie. This they called: GRAVE SLEEPING. It was also
used practically to obtain information that only the dead would know. Becoming one
with the past. Note an old 7th century Welsh prose:
"I shall not go to my bed tonight,

my love is not in it.
I shall lie on his grave. .
There is and me but

nothing between him
and coffin and shroud.
earth
I have been further many a time,
"
but never with a heavier heart...
Practical exercises include entering suspension with eyes closed or open, and: pro-
jecting your consciousness into a tree, stone, water (running or still), animal or candle
flame/fire. Generally, the less distractions the easier to learn, so avoid animate objects
at first (active water, animals or bonfires). Also see 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN,
Chapter 13 for applications.
:3aHHHgnaaa
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/ rteW jft'// tf «;/ w*« <z /7W im/V/ the wood,

Knowing the Truth of things unseen before;
OfDruids and the mistle bough
And that god-feasting couple old
That grew mighty oak amid the wold.
'Twas not until the gods had been
Kindly entreated, and been brought within
Unto the hearth of their heart's home
That they might do this wonderful thing;
Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood
And many a new thing understood
That was rank folly to my head before.

E. Proud, CELTIC POET
VI. CLACHA BRATH

"Creating a Tree Voice"
The legends about special Trees which possess the power of speech, surround the
globe. Such a tradition is especially prevalent among the Celtic culture, as much of
their intrinsic mythology surrounds Trees — the Greeks as well, who kept whole
Groves of Oracular Oaks. It is told that the Druids consulted ORACULAR TREES
regarding the most important of matters. Such Trees could function in two ways: they
could CHANNEL the voice/will of a Godform (i.e. Belinus or Zeus), or they could
communicate of their own accord. Sometimes the Tree spoke in a dream-state
(Clairaudience), or by Universal Picture Language (as Merlyn called it), or —some-
times by a coded series of KNOCKS (known as Ogham Raps). Ever heard the expres-
sion "knock on wood?" It has such origins. And sometimes, even, the Priests created
voices of another sort for their Trees... the CLACHA BRATH, or 'Talking Stones.'
We say priests here, for such a way was considered one of the Great Secrets of Antiq-
uity, guarded and powerful. But the Book ofPheryllt lays it clearly out!
Grimoire #1 77
What makes an Oracle Tree? Size... age... type... appearance? All of these, and you
must know what to look for exactly if you hope to find one. Oracle Trees are not
made, but found. They most often grow atop LEY LINES: powerful lines of magnetic
current which run and criss-cross beneath the Earth's crust.
This usually accounts for the Oracle Trees' great age and active intellect, (they are
awake), even when surrounded by a forest of trees of the same type, average-aged and
ordinary. And one final, paramount feature of the anatomy of such Trees must be
well-understood before the search begins: THEY ARE HOLLOW, with an opening
at some mid-point above the ground.
Search the wilds for an ancient-looking, gnarly tree radiating 'personality,' that
is hollow and accessible. You see, the soul oi the Tree, (the field of consciousness),
runs up the very center — in the HEART of the tree, regardless of whether it is full
of wood or not. It is the energy that is there, occupying the center space. Why does
an Oracle Tree need to be hollow? It doesn't, UNLESS you plan to communicate
using Talking Stones.
The practice is, that the 2 Clacha Brath need be placed within the conscious zone
of the Tree, inside, which is ordinarily impossible, unless the Tree is hollow!
Now that you have found a Tree matching these descriptions, the Stones them-
selves need be made. Go to a place where Earth and Water meet: a beach, stream bank
or pond-side... anywhere you can pick up small stones/pebbles on which the water has
acted (under a waterfalls is optimum). Take your time — find two the size of a potato
chip that, when struck together, produce a pleasant, resonant sound. The sound is
important, so try many combinations before deciding. Both should have a flat surface
suitable for painting a symbol on. Clean them well in the running water and dry in
the sun. No dirt!
Now you are ready to paint. Decide on a personal symbol which represents you and
only you. You can use a symbol, picture, sigil, initials —whatever says you-to-you, but
keep the design simple. Shamans used to actually carve & shape their Clacha
The old
Brath, (see examples given), inscribing them with an Ogham representing their secret,
Magical name. Paint your personal symbol on both stones the same, using your
favorite color/colors. Take your time —
imbue them with your power and conscious-
ness. Finished, these are the 'vocal cords' of your tree!
Present an offering to the Tree of honey comb, wine or incense lighted by the
trunk (at New Forest, we use. fertilizer spikes as offerings! They are good for the Trees,
especially older ones, and are available at any good garden shop). Now "plant" your
stones, by placing them inside the Tree, in the heart, so that they are TOUCHING.
Then leave them — never touch or take them out again, never.
Now for the Magic! First awaken the Tree using the Ritual given in the Epilogue
of this book. Then decide on the best time to approach the Oracle. This depends on
what kind of tree it is. For example, if it is a Birch, look on the Epilogue chart to set-
that it is aligned with the element AIR —an active element, so it is governed by SUN
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CYCLES, and thereby most approachable or conscious, during daylight hours. If, for
example, the Oracle is a Willow, a WATER element, it is a passive, or NIGHT-

ACTIVE tree. There are only 2 types: active/solar-day (air & fire trees) and
passive/lunar-night (water & earth).
Robe yourself, formulate your question and approach the Oracle Tree at the right
time. Always light an incense offering to begin, then touch the tree, voicing aloud
your concern. For starting, stick to questions requiring a simple YES-NO-
UNKNOWN response. If all has been correctly implemented, the tree will answer
with taps of the stones, so listen carefully... similar to Morse code. 1 TAP usually
denotes "NO," 2 TAPS "YES," and 3 TAPS "UNKNOWN." At NF, we use a fairly
complex alphabetic system based on Ogham for our Tree, a Silver Beech named Pha-
gos, which we call OGHAM RAPS. You can develop your own system if you wish.
But be warned, never bring another person before your tree for questioning, or it will
fall silent forever. Real Magic is a game for one... puppies and other furry things are
for sharing.
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Grimoire #1 79
VII. THE GREEN MAN

'Calling Forth the God of the Woods
The Green Man, the Horned God of the Woods, is the patron God of all Druidism;
He represents the male aspect of Earth union. For this reason, shamanistic priest-
hoods which have a patriarchal base, (like the Druids), hold this God in special rev-
erence above others. He is the oldest... the most revered of all the old Celtic Gods,
and traces of Him are still to be seen in the Celtic countries during May Day, Mid-
Summer and Fall harvest festivals. He has many names and faces: Kern the Mighty,
The Horned One, The Antlered One, Heme the Hunter, Lord of Animals, The Stag
King, The Winter Lord, and, to the Celts, KERNUNNOS. He lives, even today, in
every wild wood.
Heme, the Great God of the Forests, is elusive. This probably accounts for one of
His many allusions as: He who walks behind the trees. To develop a personal relation-
ship with Him, takes time and patience, but, once accomplished, is profound. In our
Forest, he is often seen.
What follows, are suggestions which have already been found useful for those wish-
ing to contact the Woodland God, and thereby develop a closer relationship to the
Earth, His element.
Select a spot carefully. Heme is a God of Deep Forests, reclusive and secretive...
silent, but always there. PINE TREES and conifers are His Tree, so choose a pine
woods, remote and noiseless. A clearing, or Nemeton, is best. All gods like to be hon-
ored with incense sacred to them... incense is energy in amphorous form, which they
can sense easily. Burn in an iron dish any pine resins, musk, patchouli, juniper berries
or black oak. I have a friend who obtains phenomenal results with a mixture of cloves,
wormwood and myrrh.

Musically, Heme's affiliated instrument in the DRUM, which, if played, will help
attract His attentions. While this god is present at all times, he is most likely to be seen
at DUSK and during the dark hours... His element, the Earth, itself is dark, deep,
silent and hidden. Like-attracts-like in Magic, always, so one must work with like-prill
ciples if one would attract a god! A fish cannot visit a mountaintop; you must create
an environment in which the god can comfortably manifest. But remember, quiet
patience is the key. Taken from ancient sources, the following invoe.it ion verse has
been found very successful in tempting the Woodland God to appear
tm^-m>^?zz
"STONE GLADE IN DARK WOOD,

PINE BRANCH INTO WATCHERS HAND,
SMOKE OF IRON CALLS FORTH THE FOREST GUARDIAN.
HEAR THE FLIGHT OF WINTER GEESE,
THE RUNNING OF THE WOODLAND HOST!
HEAR THE CLASH OF BRAVE ANTLERS
IN THE NAME OF THE LORD OF ANIMALS!
HEAR THE BREATHING OF THE GOD, RAMPANT AND FERTILE,
HEAR THE FOOTFALL OF THE ANTLERED ONE.
HEAR KERNUNNOS ENTER STONE GLADE IN DARK WOOD!"
—
Grimoire #1 81
VIII. SLATAN DRUIDEACHT

"Seeking the Druidic Staff"
Is there any image more common in the world of Magic, than that of a wizard strid-
ing along, leaning against a gnarly, old staff? Throughout world culture, this sage-staff
image has become almost an archetype in itself... the Gandalf archetype. It even
appears in Biblical accounting, where Moses uses his wooden staff to implement all
sorts of miracles: it becomes a serpent at the feet of Pharaoh, and is spread across the
waters of theRed Sea to part them. Why a staff? Because it was already, at this early
date, asymbol of great power and authority apparent even among kings. And here,
the author would like to note the personal satisfaction he feels at offering this brief sec-
tion to the public; the Staff, as a Magical implement, has long been neglected of its
rightfully important place in the regalia of Shamanism. From the Middle Ages
onward, its shorter derivative, the MAGIC WAND, has stolen the Staffs fire almost
completely! So, my long-neglected friend, this plug is for you...
First of all, the Staff is symbolic to the Mage, of his own connection to the Trees
his green allies, always supporting and securing his step along the Quest. It connects
the Shaman to the heavenly powers above, like a connecting electrical wire, a cosmic
extension cord of sorts.
In order to be an effective Magical weapon, it must have deep-seated, personal con-
nections to the owner. Therefore, attention to all details of construction become para-
mount. For example, do you already have a favorite wood? A favorite tree, with some
connection to your past? Do you prefer the light, 'walking-stick' type, or the heavier,
gnarlier 'wizard' variety? Light or dark wood? Carved with symbols or plain? These are
questions which need answers before you begin searching for the right piece of wood.
Once these details are clear, set out — take lots of time to search, for there are many
choices of wood out there! Make sure you are completely satisfied before cutting. And,
please, ask before you cut? Awaken the tree, and ask permission first? The st.it will be t
a negative tool, if the Tree from which it is taken is hostile. Make in offering (honey
comb, wine or incense), then cut, doing as little damage as possible.
»»»»»»»»>»»:^;
Once cut, work on the wood while still soft and green. Strip the bark and shape
with knives and sandpaper until you uncover the right look. Then let dry. Last, cover
with some protectant: varnish, lacquer or linseed oil. And one last piece of forgotten
Lore to end on: the old Shamans always NAMED their staffs! Often their choice of
name was based upon the god-form to which the Magician was dedicated, or to some
related symbolism.
The author's own staff is of the dark, twisted variety, with a small, silver stag's head
carefully placed within a niche at the top. It was cut from the tree in which I built my
first tree house at the age of eight. I had to travel clear across the country to get it, but
I did, and by so doing forged a close, connective bond between us. I named him
SCAR, after my falling from the top of that same tree one summer's day, long ago...
Grimoire #1 83
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IX. SACRED SMOKE
"Plant Mixtures for Magic and Pipe"
The Magical Lore of plants is perhaps the most enormous area available for study in
the area of Shamanism, for it crosses the fields of culinary, medicinal & religious use.
It is a staggering task for an author to attempt a condensation of such lore in the tiny
space here available, and so drastic focuses have had to be made. The Book ofPheryllt
deals voluminously with Magical plant lore on multiple levels, but certain of these are
interesting enough to provide us with unique points of focus. I have further divided
these into two areas: INCENSE and PIPEWEED.
Jncensc for fRagtc and Kitual

What follows, are some of the more unusual combinations of herbs, intended for var-
ious experiments. These are 12 mixtures the author has not seen represented in other
sources.
1. CELTIC 9-WOODS:
equal parts ROWEN
WHITE OAK
ELDER
APPLE
PINE
HOLLY
CEDAR
JUNIPER
POPLAR
2. MOON FIRE:
JUNIPER
BAY LEAVES
ORRIS ROOT
ROSE PETALS
DRAGON'S BLOOD
V2 part SALTPETER
3. HEALING:
MYRRH
CLOVE
ROSEMARY
TO RAISE THE DEAD:

PEPPERWORT or GUM MASTIC
MUSK GILIAD BALM
SAFFRON DITTANY OF CRETE
RED STORAX
5. FOR FLYING:
BLACK NIGHTSHADE
SWEET FLAG
JUNIPER BERRIES
6. FOR ASTRAL PROJECTION (Spirit Flight):
SANDALWOOD
MUGWORT
BENZOIN GUM
DITTANY
7. FOR STUDY:
MASTIC & ROSEMARY
8. FOR RAIN:
HEATHER, FERN & HENBANE
9. FOR THE SIGHT:
MASTIC, CALAMUS & MUGWORT
or: MASTIC, PATCHOULI, CINNAMON, JUNIPER & SANDALWOOD
or: MUGWORT & WORMWOOD

or: 3 CINQUEFOIL, 3 CHICORY ROOT & CLOVE 1
10. FOR GODFORM EVOCATION:

WORMWOOD, WILLOW BARK & SANDALWOOD
or: MUGWORT & WORMWOOD
or: DITTANY, VANILLA BEANS, BENZOIN

11. SUN CEREMONY:
SUNFLOWER PETALS or MISTLETOE
DRAGON'S BLOOD DRAGON'S BLOOD
MACE OAK
SAFFRON
FRANKINCENSE
12. MERLYN'S WOOD:
1 part BIRCH BARK
1 part JUNIPER
1 part DRAGON'S BLOOD/Bistort

.
Grimoire #1 85
pipeweed for fRagic and Ritual

The archetype of a wizard smoking a pipe, is almost as prevalent as his wand or staff.
Indeed throughout the ages, the stigma connecting pipe-smoking with intellect and
higher learning is very strong. Unlike today, when TOBACCO forms the predomi-
nant bulk of all mixtures, the "pipeweed" of by-gone eras, was built around herbs and
flavorful plants native to a particular region. Pipeweed, therefore, varied depending
upon your area of travel. Following, are 12 plants said to have been enjoyed by
Shamans of years gone by. They can, of course, be mixed into various combinations:
1 Angelica Leaves
2. Sweet Coltsfoot Leaves
3. Mint (Spear, Pepper, or Catmint)
4. Mix: Corn Silk/Sumac Berries/Pussytoes
5. Goldenrod Flowers and Leaves

6. Sunflower Leaves/Flowers
7. Meadowsweet Flowers and Leaves

8. Mullien Leaves
9. Meadow Aster Flowers and Leaves
10. Sweet Clover Blossoms and Leaves
11. Wild Lettuce

12. Pineapple Weed/Chamomiles
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X. LUNAR VISIONS
The Art and Practice of Dreamscaping"
Certain Shamans have developed reputations throughout history, as interpreters of

dreams. Certain others have shown the ability to actually control them, known as
'Dream Weavers.' Folk lore is rich in home-rites designed to ward off nightmares,
encourage a lover to appear in your dream, or foretell a future event by dream signs.
The dream pillow or sachet is an example, where various herbs and combinations were
sewn into tiny pillows which were slept on to recall your dreams; one famous mixture
8 from an Anglo-Saxon Herbal is as follows:
MUGWORT
RED CLOVER FLOWERS
LAVENDER
CATMINT (catnip)
The Indians of North America still create DREAM CATCHERS to "filter out"
nightmares from one's dreams; they are round, contain a spider-web design with a
crystal in the middle, and are hung over the bed. Since over half of our lives are spent
in the Dreamworld, it is no wonder that mankind has devoted so much of its lore to
this unique mystical state.
According to The Book of Pheryllt, the Druids believed that the key to LUCID
DREAMING lay in two key plants: the BLACK WILLOW TREE, and the root of
an herb known as VALERIAN or 'Phu,' to use its older name. According to tradition,
one of the degrees through which an apprentice had to pass during his 20 year study
course, involved DREAMSCAPING. This term, also known as DREAMING TRUE
or Gwelaeth y Lleuad (Moon Vision), meant the state where one can control the
events of his dream while dreaming. Eventually the student was tested by having to
—
Grimoire #1 87
name an object which his teacher had hidden somewhere in the Dreamworld/Other-
world. This lead to an advanced exercise known as DREAMFASTING, where the
Shaman was able to enter someone else's dream & adventure together, often explor-
ing past lives.
To accomplish this shared state, it was necessary to fall asleep side-by-side, so that
both Light Shields (auras) overlapped.
One old rite mentioned as THE DREAMSCAPE RITE, is recorded as follows:
When there is an important issue answerable with a simple YES-NO, theShaman need
take a small piece of white quartz, and another of black coal to a Nemeton, or Sacred
Grove. Find a stone the size of one's head, easily movable, and overturn it. Place the 2
smaller stones underneath while whispering the issue three times to the shades of Earth
and Stone residing below. Push the stone back, keeping a pinch of the dirt from under-
neath, to place beneath your own bed. During the next 3 nights, you will dream of
something either white or black; white meaning "yes," and black, "no." The Earliest
version of this rite, required the questioner to actually sleep beside the stone.
If one would experiment with the dream state, the author suggests testing some of
the above elements. The ancients believed that THE MOON controlled dreams, and
so the most potent time for such work, was during the full moon cycle. Often, keep-
ing a dream-log helps in mastering the dream state: a blank journal and pencil kept by
your bed at night, in which you write down your dreams immediately upon waking
as dreams tend to evaporate within seconds. Train yourself to hold consciousness on
the brink of sleep, without falling in. Ifyou can hold sleep at bay successfully, you can also
enter/exit your dream at will. Also, experiment with VALERIAN ROOT powder (sold
at nearly every health food/nutrition store) before doing dream-work; double the
dosage. This often produces what are known as 'flying dreams.'
In his book, THE MAGICAL & RITUAL USE OF HERBS (Destiny Books,
1983), the chemist Richard Alan Miller describes the long history of Valerian in Euro-
pean Shamanism, and states that the plant is "Totally non-toxic, producing the
effect... as if floating in the air." WILD LETTUCE, a common herb throughout the
U.S. and Europe, also has a history of 'dream use' among Shamans; it is most often
smoked in a pipe, and is referred to as a "Sacrament for Vivid Dreams."
E&bmmmw™ ^^ .tuimmmmvmxiflOflflBBBWBtmMMmHmAffl
88
XL ROCK GARDEN
"Planting the Sacred Space"
f ':
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How many folklorists know that the English term Rock Garden actually traces back to
Celtic Culture? It does. In fact, during the Middle Ages, the term ROCK GARDEN
was considered synonymous with the term WITCH'S or DEVIL'S GARDEN, and
one could be tried as a witch for being accused of having one.
What is a rock garden actually? Traditionally it signifies a well-planned plot of gar-
den, often among rocks, devoted to medical or magical herbs. It was supposed that
such gardens were planted among rocks for the devious purpose of hiding them from
good, Christian eyes. But really, the tradition traces back to a time when gardeners
had knowledge of how carefully placed stones affected plants growing nearby with
their focused energies. Magical and religious herbs were always planted around and
within stone configurations, to empower them... to draw down the influences of the
Sun and Moon. Weren't those better days?
A Druidic magical garden is a great idea... here's how to create one. First, the
skeleton!
You will need to collect 36 rocks in three sizes: 12 small (the size of your fist), 12
medium (the size of your head), and 12 large (ones which stand from the ground to
your knees). The authentic design is built around the Druidic concept of the 3 Con-
centric Circles of Existence.
First decide on a center and mark it. Lay down with your feet touching the center,
and mark the point where your head lies — this being the diameter of the first circle!
Place the smallest 12 stones down like a clock face, and lay down again, this time with
your feet somewhere on the circumference, head pointing away from the center.
Again mark your head location, and lay the second circle of the middle-sized stoned.
Repeat this process once more, until you have 3 circles all sharing the same center, all
radii based upon lx, 2x and 3x your own body length. Now you are ready to plant.
You now have 4 planting zones: 1) inside the 1st circle, 2) outside the 1st circle, 3)
outside the 2nd circle, and 4) outside the 3rd circle. These represent the 4 material
elements EARTH, WATER, AIR & FIRE. Druidic herbalism revolved around a
selection of plants known as the 16 Leeches of Diancecht, an ancient god of healing
and Magic, (see 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN, chapter "The Garden" for herb uses).
Seeds or plants for these 16 leeches can be obtained through any good nursery or seed
catalog company. They are, planting location and type, as follows:
Grimoire #1 89
......•.....•.•......•.....•-.-
* Inside 1st Circle, Realm of Earth:

VALERIAN
LADY SLIPPER
SKULLCAP
WORMWOOD
* Outside 1st Circle, Realm of Water:
CATNIP
HOPS
BLACK WILLOW
ECHINACEA
* Outside 2nd Circle, Realm of Air:

CHAMOMILE
MARIGOLD/Calendula
YARROW
VERVAIN
* Outside 3rd Circle, Realm of Fire:

GOLDENSEAL
JOHN'S WORT
St.
BUCKTHORN/Cascara
WHITE OAK
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>>X#X<*>:<<*:OX<<*>>X*W^^^
XII. THE RITE OF NAMING

"Uncovering Your Celtic Self"
"What is in a name?" This age-old cliche has been around for almost as long as man
himself. Why? Because a great deal resides, unsuspected, beneath the surface of a
name or title. While it is true that one cannot "judge a book by its cover," it is also
equally true that its 'cover,' or 'name,' has a great deal to do with the nature of the
book! This is the relationship we explore here.
The worldwide traditions of Shamanism, all touch upon the Ritual of NAMING
at some point... it is part of the Shamanic Cycle of: The calling, The Apprenticeship,
The Initiation. It is during the final phase, initiation, that naming, or actually, RE-
NAMING takes place. The initiate is always GIVEN a new name (usually chosen by
some form of oracular method) as a token of his new knowledge, identity and rela-
tionship to the world; he is a new being.
In the Pheryllt script, it is stated that every Druidic priest had three names: his
given name, (parental, at birth), his group name, (the one by whom known
he is
among other initiates), and his hidden name, (a source of personal empowerment
alone). The latter would be the one used as symbolic inscriptions on Magical imple-
ments or ritual tools. From this secret name, the Shaman would create a SIGIL
(meaning 'sign'), or ENGRAM, a simple graphic design only understood by the
bearer, holding within it that "essential nature of his soul." This is an excellent idea
for today'smodern students... authentic, secretive, self-empowering. One described
Pheryllt method for the Rite of Naming, was to: boil water over a fire into which
Mistletoe has been added, upon the SIXTH NIGHT OF THE NEW MOON. As it
was boiling, an invocation was voiced (not given) and a quantity of beeswax was
thrown in. Then it was left alone to cool, and signs/pictures looked for in the con-
glomeration of hard wax and mistletoe that floated in one piece on top. This would
give the elder shaman clues as to which name was appropriate, and the apprentice was
then expected to derive his SIGIL from the wax pattern. This old Rite has a wonder-
ful mysterious character to it —we use it often.
—
Grimoire #1 91
-^ — -,~,r-.- — -..--.
The first name is imparted by family, the third is given by a teacher... only the mid-
dle name may be chosen. It can come from anything to which you are intrinsically
drawn: a movie, book, another person you admire, a trip, a past life memory (!), any-
thing — just don't let it be ordinary. ORDINARY is a death-word in Magic, as the
Mystic Arts alwaysstrive to elevate the spirit above and beyond the mundane. Dreams
are also another good method of Naming, (see DREAMSCAPING). The author,
however, considers the finest method to involve PAST LIFE EXPLORATION, for
here lie some powerful connections indeed! How to do this without a live teacher? Pay
close attention to what period in history you are most strongly drawn to, and start here:
books from the library are a great starting point always... books inspire ideas, they trig-
ger deep things! It isgame of hunting for clues.

a
Below are given some ideas in the 3 categories of names. Due to the Druidic
nature of our focus, naturally only those of specific Celtic origin have been offered.
Remember that only ONE is for your choosing!
GIVEN CHOSEN SECRET

Adda Golwg (sight) Achren
Emrys Caergaint Alba
Andreas Afon (river) Amaethon

Enid Carregog (stony) Aran nan
Antwn Dulyn Artos/Uthr
Bifan Fflint Bedwyr
Siarl Morgannwg Brendan
Deiniol Golwyth Cathbadh
Dafydd Llundain Vortigern
Deio Aros (he who waits) Cian/Calan
Iorwerth Gwernen (Alder) Dormath
Enoc Byddin (army) Dylan
Ifan Saeth (arrow) Eachtra
Sieffre Efifro (awake) Elflyn
Sior Balch (proud) Fionn/Fintan
Gerallt Traeth (beach) Ronan
Gruffudd Credu (believe) Galan
Echtor Perllan (orchard) Gwalchmei
Hywel/Huw Bendithio (to bless) Gwydion/Gwyn
Gleision (blue) Iin.li.ir

Iago
z=
~~r ~. .vwwmwmwm;;,,!,; W
CHOSEN
Sion Gwaed (blood) Kernow
Sulien Dewr (brave) Kymon
Iestyn Corwynt (whirlwind) Lochlann
Lewys Gorchmyn (command) Mabon

Luc Peryglus (dangerous) Tuatha/Tuan
Marc Gellyn (enemy) Mathgen
Mihangel Noson (evening) Myrddin
Olfyr Coedwig (forest) Nemed
Owain Barugg (frost) Oisin
Pawl Llwyn (grove) Olwen

Peredur Gobaith (hope) Trystan
Pedr Collen (Hazel) Pryderi
Phylip Gwahodd (invite) Samhain

Rheinallt Llawen (joyful) Seth
Rosser Gwerth (worth) Setanta
Tomos/Twm Cerddor (musician) Simon Magus

Trystan Derwen (Oak) Taliesin
Gwallter/Gwilym Hydref (October) Teyrnon
•>>:•>>> v:v>>:v:m>>;<»>>:<<<<<«>>>>>>>>>>>>x^!
—
Grimoire #1 93
King of the Tree ofLife

with its flowers and space ranged 'round
with noble guests,
its crest showered and spread over the
Fields and Plains ofHeaven!
Unknown Irish author, 988
XV. THE GREAT TREE

"Ascending the Druid Path"
The Great Tree is an archetypal symbol of world culture, and there is only one
called by many names: the Tree of Good and Evil, The Tree of Life, the Nordic
Yggdrasil, the Tree of Transformation, the Crann Bethadh, the Burning Tree; THE
TREE OF: Dathi, Mugna, Tortu, Usnech... the list goes on almost forever, since it is
present throughout every culture and time. Why should this be so? While there is no
"expert response" for this, the author has a Druidic opinion of his own: that, for rea-
sons known to The Designer alone, the hearts, souls and fates of mankind have always
been linked to those of the Trees. For this reason, principally, he feels the 'Prophetic
Plan' outlined in the Epilogue can work —and may indeed be the only class of Crisis
solution left. But we are diverging! What follows below, is a fascinating representation
of the Druidic Tree of Life as taken from the 1588 Sion Pheryllt edition, (plate
vvvvvawavwvv w ,' ,., ,,,.,,., ,< wiiiim«miai^^

:»>»!•»»»:»»:<
marked 1543), with another from the 1876 edition of the Gorchan of Maeldrew. The
Pheryllt excerpt is especially interesting, since it uses the Ogham characters in ascend-
ing fashion — rather like a ladder to climb. The Gorchan excerpt incorporates a musi-
cal interpretation.
There are 21 recorded steps to be taken as one ascends the Great Tree — the Great
Oak Duir, growing amid the sacred Drunemeton —which will be given to close this sec-
tion. Twenty-one reversed: twelve steps down for each stone in the sacred circle, reflect-
ing the traditional twelve Sky-Houses. While there is no ritual application specified for
the Tree, careful meditation on the "21 Paths of Encounter," (as they are called), is sure
to yield an insightful philosophical perspective on one's place in the scheme of life...
which might in turn grant many a practical manifestation of its own accord.
21 patl?s of encounter
1st Path: Birch, new beginnings. First realization, awakening onto your chosen spiri-
tual path.
2nd Path: Rowan, first action. Control of all senses in the direction of one's chosen
path. First move of a game.
3rd Path: Alder, heated resistance. The material world opposes your choice, but your
aspirations are fully protected.
4th Path: Willow, silent inspiration. Your way through the world appears as a dream
on a moonlit night.
5th Path: Ash, resolute decision. The inner and outer worlds meet joyously. The
arrow notwithstanding.
first Deil Crossing: "Z>eatt) of the Old"

6th Path: Hawthorn, the blossom awakens. Cleansing and protection as you accept
both bitter and sweet.
7th Path: Oak, the Strong Door. A gateway to new Mysteries stands closed yet beck-
oning before you. Possibilities.
8th Path: Holly, an encounter. You experience challenge in the form of a meeting.
The surprise guardian at the Door.
9th Path: Coll, fruit of knowledge. Your encounter bears the straightforward harvest
of secret intuitions.
10th Path: Apple, beauty of union. The fruit of your path sends you travelling anew.
Awe along the way.
Second Deil Crossing: Matter 6ives IDa? to fluster?"

llth Path: Vine, the meeting of companions. Your path is entangled with the pres-
ence and prophecy of others.
Grimoire #1 95
tzzzzs:"' r.
-~--~~--~-- .,:__„; ;z^t^
12th Path: Ivy, the steady spiral of climb. You gain inner strength and confidence.
The support of self.
13th Path: Blackthorn, in the clutches of the world. When all choices are taken away,
a perfect path remains.
14th Path: Reed, bending with the wind. Conforming, understanding the struggle,
knowing to yield is to conquer.
15th Path: Elder, darkest before the dawn. You accept the lesson before you, seeing
clear light ahead.
Cl?ird Deil Crossing: "7K Vision of Dictoiy

16th Path: Silver Fir, high views and long sight. The illusions of the world are seen,
revealing a green valley in the distance.
17th Path: Furze, the sweet smell of victory. Struggles pass away in sunstruck beauty.
You collect yourself anew.
18th Path: Heather, healing of the Spirit. Pause... rest and fulfillment make whole
your wounds.
19th Path: White Poplar, the rainbow appears. A-quiver with new horizons of many
colors. Rebirth of the Spirit.
20th Path: Yew, assurance of the everlasting. Final realization, the gain justifying all
struggles in the end.
21st Path: Mistletoe, the unknowable. That which moves beyond all prediction... the
strength of the Future being born of the present.
feawKMraa^Myiuu^^
XIV. COELCERTHS
"Burning the Holey Stones"
In recent years, there have appeared at scattered flea markets and craft shows, tiny
flame fixtures of clay and wick, meant to burn atop bottles. The first time the author
noticed these, he stood aghast — then bought up all he could find! Why the frenzy?
Because this little-noticed device, is actually the continuation (or rediscovery? remem-
bering?) of a tradition at least as old as ancient Egypt! "Flame coins" as they were
known in ancient times, were used in nearly all temple areas, since candles were both
costly and rare. With but a small amount of prepared oil, a Flame Coin could burn
virtually unattended for days. It was not, therefore, so much a religious as a practical
object — albeit today a very authentic one, and authenticity interests us here. Origi-
nally, the Coelcerths (literally, fire stones) were made of flat stones found by the
seashore, but nowadays are reproduced in clay.
The Book of Pheryllt, in a chapter dealing with altar preparation, is very detailed
on the specifics of both Coelcerths and the oil they burned. In the interest of all
things authentically Druidic, let us, too, delve into specifics of construction.
First, the stones themselves. The detail that made them special in a religious, mys-
tical sense, was the fact that they had to have a proper-sized hole through their mid-
dle, of completely natural origin. Common shale often exhibits this trait. But these
can only be found where water and stone have acted upon one another for an eter-
nity —namely, a seashore, water falls or gorge stream. As for size, the Pheryllt speci-
fied: "The breadth of two gold Ceridwens." Two gold Ceridwens? The answer eluded
the author for years, until happening across the answer in a book on Roman Britain.
At one point about the second half of the first century A.D., the Britons minted a
gold 'horse coin' in tribute to the divinitae Cerridwin... our gold Ceridwen! The book
named the coin as being between 1/2 and 3/4 of an inch wide, making our Fire Coin
between 1 and 1-1/2 inches! The hole, one might imagine, should be about the diam-
eter of a pencil. Once a fiber wick was strung through the hole, the stone was placed
across the top of a glass or clay bottle filled with oil, and lighted.
Now for the oil itself. Lamps intended to illuminate sacred space, were specially
prepared in a sacred manner. In this case, the oil was impregnated with certain
herbs, the specific kind depending upon the godform or seasonal festivity/time of
——
Grimoire #1
year. Only certain kinds of herbs will dissolve their essence in oil, the rest being
'water-based.' To do this, place roughly 1 ounce of the DRY herb in 5 ounces of
mineral oil. Store in a cool, dark place for 2 weeks, shaking daily, then strain. When
stone, bottle (cobalt blue if available) oil and wick are all assembled, treat the lamp
like any other Magical tool —only to be used for sacred purposes. What follows to
close this section, are several guides for preparation of special oils according to the
ancient Celtic Wheel of the Year.
* October 31st, SAMHAIN:

The Celtic Feast of the Dead.
Herbs to use
WORMWOOD, NIGHTSHADE, GHOSTFLOWER, NECKWEED.

* December 21st, MIDWINTER'S DAY:
The Celtic Rebirth of the Sun.
Herbs to use
PINE, CEDAR, SANDALWOOD, JUNIPER, MINT.
* February Eve, IMBOLC:
The Celtic Candle Festival.
Herbs to use
SEAWEED, MACE, HOPS, HOREHOUND, COHOSH, ELDER FLOWER.
* March 21st, SPRING EQUINOX:
The Celtic Bird Festival.
Herbs to use
LAVENDER, CROCUS, NARCISSUS, BROOM.

May Eve, BELTANE:
*
The Celtic Flower Festival.

Herbs to use
LILAC, HEATHER, APPLE BLOSSOM, RED CLOVER BLOSSOM.

* June 21st, MIDSUMMER'S DAY:
The Celtic Oak Festival.
Herbs to use
OAK/MISTLETOE COMBO., St. JOHNS WORT, ROSE, FERN.

* August Eve, LUGNASSADH:
The Celtic Grain Festival.
Herbs to use
GOLDEN PIPES (chamomile), MARIGOLD, SUNFLOWER.

* September 21st, AUTUMNAL EQUINOX:
The Celtic Vine Festival.
Herbs to use
MUGWORT, MYRRH, SAGE, IRIS, Gil IAD BALM.

KB
—
The cursed Elder and the fatal Yew

With Rowen and Nightshade in their shadows grew.
T. Scot, PHILOMYTHIE, 1616
XV. THE ELDER LIBATION

"Fay linns Draught of Oblivion"
The story of Faylinn is very old. According to Irish legend, he was the king of a tiny
people who made even dwarfs look like giants. Their method was to cause all sorts of
mischief to households who did not appease them properly —and the only way to do
this, was to leave a thimble of ELDERBERRY WINE upon the doorstep each night.
You see, Faylinn the king had an insatiable thirst which nothing else could satisfy; as
a result, he drank himself into oblivion every night!

So goes the tale, but the fame of ELDERBERRY WINE extends far beyond it
for centuries it was considered the very nectar of the gods, the perfect drink, and one
of the earliest wines mentioned in Celtic historic and mythologic records. And it pos-
sessed magical attributes as well, being the preferred beverage of all mystical beings
from common Wizards to elves to Dragons and Unicorns. It was an 'Otherworld,
Faerie Libation.'
Indeed, the Pheryllt materials speaks of its use as a ritual beverage for all Dark-Half
festivals, (e.g. those of the winter half of the year: the Autumn Equinox, Samhain, Mid-
winter's and Imbolc). We will discuss more of the Elder's dark nature below. It is a coun-
try plant which is, year by year, passing further and further into obscurity. Today, there
are a mere handful of the old generation in any one province of Europe who maintain
its use—and far less that recall its vast and ancient Magical heritage. And since the Elder
Tree's fruit figures so prominently in our consulting sources... AND since the author is
so inordinately fond (passionate?) of the wine, pie and fritters made from it, let this page
stand as an attempt to bring this uniquely mystical fruit back into memory and use.
Grimoire #1 99
To do this, it is necessary that the reader know how to identify the plant when he
sees it. Below are diagrams. In the eastern United States and Europe, the flowering
season peaks in August, and the fruit is generally ready in all its inky splendor, fol-
lowing the first frost of October.

It would seem, when looking at the matter from a Magical standpoint, that there
is a strong connection between the Tree's reputation for death, ill-luck and the num-
ber 13, and its ritual use in Druidic Initiation. Elder... Death... Initiation; it is almost
a formulae! All initiation involves symbolic death, after which follows a re-birth and
enlightenment. Perhaps this fruit somehow embodies the psychic essence of all this...
perhaps the ancients considered it a "death-and-resurrection" plant? Is it mere coinci-

dence that the Elder was said to be the Crucifixion tree in the Christian saga? Or that,
in the same drama, Judas the betrayer of Christ, was said to have hung himself on an
Elder Tree? Or that the King Faylinn of our story, drank himself into deadly oblivion
each night, only to arise each morn to partake anew? That the Druids were said to
have filled a tiny Cauldron of Rebirth with Elder Wine, as part of the final initiatory
rites of their pupils? Death — rebirth; these tales lay heavy with symbolic allegory.
Based on such similarities, it can be safely speculated that Elder Fruit symbolically
enabled its consumer to partake of some essence of The Otherworld, after which he
returned, enriched, to the living world. The author cannot think of a more com-
pelling sounding set of reasons, to tempt the reader into trying this Magical brew for
himself. And finally, the taste... what is it like? Bizarre and wonderful, something you
will either love or hate... impossible to describe, rather mystical — definitely not like
banana or chicken. Below is a very old recipe, taken from a thirteenth century cook-
book entitled: 'To The King's Taste," Recipes from the Court of Richard I.
Cider nob
"Smash 1 GALLON of Elder berries into 3 gallons of good well water. Boil together
for 1 hour, strain and add in 3 pounds of dark clover honey. Let cool to blood-warm
(less than 70°) then stir in 1 ounce of brewers yeast. Cover and let to ferment 2 weeks.
From the top, carefully skim and ladle into dark bottles. Cork lightly until fermcnta
tion ceases, then pack in sand in a cool cellar. Let age at least 1 year for lust taste.
FINAL NOTE: Elder Berries make an indescribable pie; treat thou the same as tart
blueberries. Also, the blossom clusters make a wonderful fritter: dip thou in a light hatter,
deep-fry hot, then sprinkle with cinnamon d confectioner's sugar.

" ~ "~
„ , y;^:;Vx^ -— -'>•- :'
mmmzmm^m
Three unbreathing things paidfor
only with breathing things:
An Apple tree, a hazel bush, a sacred grove.
THE TRIADS OF IRELAND
t tttt TTTT T TTttt"
XVI. TREE RANKS

"The Wooden Ladder ofAuthority"
As the world of man has always seemed destined to define itself through 'ranks of
superiority,' so has much come down from antiquity concerning the ranks among the
Trees. While many cultures have developed such hierarchical arboreal systems (most
notably the Scandinavian, Greek and Asian peoples), it is the Celtic Branch which will
briefly occupy us; the Irish, British & Gaulish versions.

By what criterion have the Trees been divided from amongst themselves? Again, it
varies. As in the case of the Brythonic arm, the answer is magi-mythological (The Bat-
tle of the Trees set it out); for the Giodels it was a financial distinction (some woods
being practically worth more than others), while the Gauls have another order entirely,
the origins of which remain forgotten — yet the Pheryllt text mentions the order.
What will here be given, are these three variations. They are offered in the hopes
that the reader will study them carefully, perhaps arriving at what would be an impor-
tant Druidic realization: THAT TREES VARY IN CHARACTER, ANATOMY
AND SPIRITUAL QUALITY. Modern man too often lumps Trees together into all
one great industrial pile of sawdust, giving no thought to anything but the dollar signs
tallied there per ton. Therefore, if the reader, by association with these variations,
arrives at an understanding of how and why ancient man viewed Trees as unique, spir-
itual beings, then the author's intentions will be more than amply rewarded!
7 Chieftain Trees:
British Jns\) 6auli6l7

Birch Oak Oak
Rowan Hazel Apple
Alder Holly Alder
Willow Yew Willow
Ash Ash Birch
Pine
Apple
Grimoire #1 101
\ :
IZZZTTT—T^^TT^T?. -
"<w: - '. ,.'. .

..'..: . m \tt
The Commentator on the Brehon Law explains the 'nobility' of its seven Chieftain
Trees in the following glosses:
OAK: its size, handsomeness, and its pig-fattening acorns,
HAZEL its nuts and wattles,
APPLE its fruit, and bark suitable for tanning,
YEW its timber, used for household vessels, breast-plates, etc.
HOLLY: its timber, used for chariot shafts.
ASH its timber, used for supporting the King's thigh (i.e. for making thrones)
and for the shafts of weapons.
PINE: its timber, used for making puncheons.
The subject of Tree Ranks is a very difficult one, as the Druidic Ollaves had no
interest in making it plain to outsiders. Use the Bardic Poet in you, to sort out the
timber from amid these charred ruins.
wmmmmmm^m<mimy**^^ :v»^»:v>:»x<<<<^^<^<<<^<vx<<m:v^^,
Grimoire #1 103
/ am the Son ofPoetry,

Poetry, Son ofReflection,
Reflection, Son ofMeditation,
Meditation, Son ofLore,
Son ofResearch,
Lore,
Son of Great Knowledge,

Research,
Great Knowledge, Son ofIntelligence,
Intelligence, Son of Comprehension,
Comprehension, Son of Wisdom,
Wisdom, Son of the Three Gods ofDana.
Nede, COLLOQUY OF THE TWO SAGES
Ml
mm ^>
XVII. TUATHA
"Invoking the Power of the 4 Symbols"
As mentioned in ChapterIII. of the Book ofInvasions, the Tuatha De Danaan were the
people/tribe of the Goddess Danu, who inhabited pre-Christian Ireland about 1450
B.C. before the coming of the Milesians (ca. 1000 B.C.). Known as gods of light and
goodness, their leader was one Nuada. They were totally human in all the virtues as
well as vices, but eventually were defeated in battle. Refusing to leave Eire, they exiled
themselves into stony, underground mound-chambers called sidhe, and eventually
changed, in the people's imagination, from gods to fairies.
Now, the Tuatha had 4 magical possessions which they prized and guarded above
*
all else, each one brought across the sea from one of the 4 provinces of that "Great
Northern Land" from whence they originally came. The 4 treasures were:
* THE STONE OF FAL. It came from the Otherworld City ofFalias

and was housed in the Irish region of Ulster. Its northern
godform was Morfessa, its element EARTH.
* THE SPEAR OF DESTINY. It came from the Otherworld City of

Gorias and was housed in the Irish region of Leinster.
Its eastern godform was Esras, its element AIR.
<>>>>>:*xww<*>x^^^^
t^v<»>>:<ovM:<<<»y<<<<<v»>:<»>>>:<v*>>>>:»>>>:
* THE SWORD OF NUADA. It came from the Otherworld City of

Finias and was housed in the Irish region of Munster. Its
southern godform was Uscias, its element FIRE.
* THE CAULDRON OF REBIRTH. It came from the Otherworld City

ofMurias and was housed in the Irish region of Connacht.
Its western godform was Semias, its element WATER.
It is interesting to note, that these treasures seem to have passed into British cir-
The Stone of Fal exists today, built into

culation, following the exile of the Tuatha.
the Coronation Chair of Westminster Abby. The Cauldron became the vessel of Cer-
ridwen, the Great Welsh Mother. The Spear became the weapon of Lieu of the Long
Arm —supposedly the same one which pierced the side of Christ at the crucifixion,
and which Hitler managed to locate in his lust to conquer the world. And the
finally
Sword... the Sword! This became the sacred Welsh blade CALIBURN, the Sword of
Arthur, part of the Holy Regalia of Britain. Why these treasures crossed the sea into
British keeping, one can only wonder at.
Now, what can today be done with these legendary treasures? The answer lies in
the ARCHETYPE the Tuatha left behind. Those of you who have read either my
previous book THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN, or the monumental works of Carl
Jung, the Swiss Psychologist and Gnostic, understand the concept of using archetypes
in modern reconstructionist Magic. The idea is akin to the thought that all symbolic,
emotion-charged religious systems leave behind them, upon their dissolution, pow-
erful IMPRESSIONS which can be subsequently tied into — rather like a charged
battery waiting to be "plugged into" by some device which runs on its energy type.
The concept is sound, fitting in perfectly with the ancient notions of the AKASHA
(or the Waters of Annwn, for the Druidic equivalent) as the 'repository' for all the
actions and impressions of mankind. And after years of practicing Shamanism based
upon the premise, the author can state emphatically that IT WORKS WELL. Now
convince yourself!
Grimoire #1 105
^^^r . ^ -. .i .-.--r-v ^ ---- ^.r-

^^ "- ^'
-'
^-' W
How does one "tie into a specific Archetype?" The answer lies in what SYMBOL-
ISM the religion left behind — in our case, the 4 Treasures. Should the reader wish to
'plug into' the powerful 'battery' of the Tuatha, then create the 4 Treasures with all
the intent and attention to detail you can muster. Here are some construction ideas.
Don't forget to inscribe them with the godform name, cardinal direction and magical
City — paint them the proper colors!
* STONE: a holey stone, one with a naturally occurring hole through it. Can be
any size, but a paper-weight sized one generally proves to be the best. Godform:
MORFESSA, direction: NORTH, City: FALIAS, Colors: Green (active) & Black
(passive).
Invocation
Tuatha! Tuatha! Morfessa, awake!
Stone of Fal from the Darkest North,
Grant your Wisdom ere I go forth.
* SPEAR: long, iron-headed, wooden-shafted spear. Or a wooden WAND may be

substituted (they have come to be symbolically the same). But whichever you choose,
make certain the wood is gathered from the upper-most branch of a Tree which has
never touched the ground —ASH WOOD for a spear, or any other for a wand, just
make sure it is Tree you have chosen for special associations. Godform: ESRAS,
Direction: EAST, City: GORIAS, Colors: YELLOW (active) & WHITE (passive).
Invocation
Tuatha! Tuatha! Esras to light!
Spear of Destiny, Eastern Might!

Grant Intellect amid the Fight!
* SWORD: iron short or longsword, the older the better. Often antique shops or
emporiums carry them. Daggers are fine as well, but ALL must be personalized. Per-
sonalization is the key to the mystical realms! Godform: USCIAS, Direction:
SOUTH, City, FINIAS, Colors: RED (active) & GOLD (passive).
Invocation
Tuatha! Tuatha! Uscias come!
Sword of Nuada, Southern Flame!
Grant me the Will to bear your name!
*
CAULDRON: of iron, can be the small 3 or 4 legged type used to plant in, or
the larger, cooking type. These can be found many places from department and
antique stores, to hardwares. They may have a handle or not. Godform: SEMIAS,
Direction: WEST, City: MURIAS, Colors: BLUE (active) & SILVER (passive).
Invocation
Tuatha! Tuatha! Semias from Sleep!
Cauldron of Life from the Western deep!
Grant Understanding of Moon and Sea!
Keep your Treasures hidden in a box, away from casual eyes; true Magic is a per-
sonal art, not meant for curious, casual or disconnected eyes. Use them when you
need to invoke the force they symbolize: WISDOM of Stone, UNDERSTANDING
of Water, INTELLECT of Air or WILL of Fire. But take care... they can be powerful
allies. You just might receive what you call for.
Grimoire #1 107
The Druids were acute in knowledge of the stars

and their calculations,
using devices to bring down their light to view.
Diodorus Siculus
XVIII. THE NINE STAR HOUSES

"Decoding the Ritual Zodiac of the Druids"
There has been a great deal of fascinating material written over the past fifty years,
concerning Astronomical speculation related to the Celtic or Druidic mythos. This

fact the author discovered while pursuing the key to an obscure Zodiacal chart shown
within the Pheryllt scripts... about which he had no clue whatsoever, save that it was
taken from an earlier manuscript dated 1577; it is given on the following page. With
neither skill nor special interest in astronomy, the search to unlock its symbolism's
opened up a whole new and fascinating world. From the sixteenth century writings of
John Dee, Samuel Norton, Robert Graves, Anthony
to the later speculations of
Roberts, Katharine Maltwood and Helena Paterson, an interesting fact gradually
emerged: none of their work in the field of Celtic Astronomy shed any light ar all on
the strange chart, cast into strange units of eight-plus-one.
"Of course not!" the silent scream of the skeptics sneered forth, until, in despera-
tion,we decided upon writing to a friend in England, long-versed in both obscure
documentations and ancient astronomy. Then within a month, by chance or late.
came a reply providing the needed clues. They were not answers, mind you, but
clues — the final piecing together would continue over the next five years.
a?M:- '^-^y; v - >-; miznii-zz^mmcmmtmcmcm

.
- '.
\ ; . , '; . i
:.?<*x*w*>>>v*>w^
The Celtic Calendar divides the solar year into a system ofseasons that coincide with
the Celtic seasonal festivals. The purpose of their calendar was in fact to schedule
these sacred events, rather than simply to mark the passage of time.
Duncan Norton-Taylor, THE CELTS, 1974
The real confusion centered around the fact that all research to date, neatly boiled
down Celtic Astrology into either a 12-month Greco-Roman solar year, or a 13-month
Sumerian-Celtic lunar calendar —both requiring inter-calculatory time.
Additional confusion concerns the Celtic insistence on placing New Year's Day on
November 1st, instead of on the Winter Solstice as might be logically predicted. But
the Pheryllt diagram indicated something else different from all of this, dividing the
year instead into 8 "festival constellation periods," plus one inter-calc phase of 5-days
preceding Midwinter.
The numerology, at least, was interesting: 8+1=9, the holiest number in all Celtia;
then 8 divisions added to the 5 inter-calc days, equals 13, the Lunar calendrical num-
ber! (At this point, the Author also suspected that a mythological story cycle might
somewhere be inter-mixed).
ssS: :::::^"
: v7 r
::: : ^sz^ mmm&

Grimoire #1 109
Then finally, through much input, a complete picture seemed to have emerged.
The problem was not the symbols themselves, they were clear: Ogham signs and con-
stellation images easily recognizable throughout the Celtic pantheon of totems and
gods. No — the task was trying to equate the Druidic version cast in units of 8+ 1 , with
the other "standard" Meso-version in 12, which had come down to us via Greece and
Babylonia... a version based upon the ancient Gilgamesh Epic. Or, worse yet, the 13-
month lunar version! The comparison process seemed futile, UNTIL we were told
just how many times throughout history, various cultures had adapted and modified
the original 3000 B.C. Babylonian creation! Substitutions, additions, alterations
...both the Greeks and the Egyptians had done it, grafting their own heroes, gods and
ritual schedules onto the earlier framework. And then the key realization: THE
DRUIDS HAD DONE IT AS WELL! Let there be light... it was a Ritual Calendar
of Constellations!
The writer of the Pheryllt script had provided key GLOSSES for each "stone GIL-
GAL (Gilgali=celestial stone circle):" eight 45-day constellation periods plus one, 5-
day inter-calculatory time; true Celtic form, but nothing more. (It might be supposed
that additional interpretation was thought unnecessary —common knowledge at the
time). These said glosses will now be given, followed by the author's augmentations.
The reader may follow the above diagram, as the White Roebuck is chased out of
Annwn 'round the nine star houses. Eight of the stations (Gilgali) have 45 days each,
based on the solar year, (the Druids were a Solar Priesthood); the final one, the 13th,
lasted 5 days; total: 365. 8x45=360, plus 5=365 solar days.
* First Gilgal: THE STAG OF SEVEN TINES, bringer of Life through the
Thicket (barrier of Annwn), arrives at Midwinter bearing the spirit of the Holy Child
into the World. Celtic re-birth of the Sun. Ogham: Birch. Birth of the Divine Child.
(Capricorn?). MIDWINTER, then on to Imbolc.
* Second Gilgal: THE FLAME OF MATRONA, Divine Mother of Mabon, who

carries and protects the child through the darkest dregs of Winter. The Celtic Candle
Festival. Ogham: Willow. Protectress of the Divine Child. (Aquarius?). IMBOLC,
then on to the Spring Equinox.
* Third Gilgal: THE RAVEN OF CUCHULAINN, bringer of destiny into the
World. Celtic Festival of the Birds. Ogham: Hawthorn. Fate of the Divine Child.
(Aries?). SPRING EQUINOX, then on to Beltaine.
*
Fourth Gilgal: THE FLOWERS OF MATH, bringer of Beauty into the World.
Illusion, however pleasant. The Celtic Flower Festival. Ogham: Wild Apple. Instilk-r o(
Beauty in the Divine Child. (Gemini?). BELTAINE, then on to Midsummer.

^^>:<<»yx<»v»>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>:
* Fifth Gilgal: THE RED DRAGON OF ARTHUR, bringer of victory and mate-
rial accomplishment into the World. Celtic Festival of the Oak King. Ogham: Oak.
Granter of nobility and bravery in the Divine Child. (Cancer?). MIDSUMMER, then
on to Lugnassadh.
* Sixth Gilgal: THE EAGLE OF LLEU, symbol of the fruits of one's labors. Celtic
Grain Festival. Thrashing, games, feasting. Ogham: Vine. Grantor of rewards to the
Divine Child. (Leo?). LUGNASSADH, then on to the Autumn Equinox.
* Seventh Gilgal: THE CAULDRON OF TALIESIN, bringer of self— transfor-

mation into the World. Celtic Festival of the Harvest. Growth within the Spiral of
Life. Teacher of self- accomplishment to the Divine Child. Ogham: Ivy. (Libra?).
AUTUMN EQUINOX, then on to Samhain.

* Eighth Gilgal: THE HEAD OF BRAN, bringer of safe passage out of the World.
Soul and self pass on — inside, the divine flame burns still. Celtic Festival of the Dead,
when the Flaming Door between the world opens from dusk to dawn. The Roebuck
escapes back through the Thicket-Doorway with the Old Year, yet pursued by the
Hounds of Annwn. Initiator of the Divine Child beyond the realms of Death.
Ogham: Blackthorn. (Scorpio?). Year's End, Winter begins. SAMHAIN, then 45 days
of Dark Gestation, to Cwn Annwn. The Time of Ghosts.
* The Ninth Gilgal: THE HOUNDS OF ANNWN, Cwn Annwn, drivers of fate
and destiny before mankind. These dogs arrive back into the World the moment of
the Winter Solstice — after a blind, five day chase through the THICKET-DOOR-
WAY between the worlds in pursuit of the Roebuck. This otherworld stag bears upon
its back the Holy Son of the New year! Some legends say that the Underworld King,
Gwyn ap Nudd, leads the hounds.
Emerging on the Solstice, the Sun is re-born! The wild chase continues, on
throughout the remaining 7 constellations of the year, only to plunge back down into
Annwn once again at Samhain, when the Flaming Door stands ajar. The "Old Year"
is thus returned for renewal to Annwn, the cycle completed.
The Five Unnamed Days, the dark GROVE OF FIVE ELDERS, (in which hide
the Triple Goddess and the Duel God of Light and Dark), extend variably in our cal-
endar system from Dec. 1 5-20, but precisely 5 days before the Solstice hour. It was
the dreaded "TIME OUT OF TIME," the 'Dregs of Winter,' before the Sun's tri-
umphant re-birth on the

Solstice.
u
Recall the old saying: It is always darkest just before the Dawn? Well, the essence
of this verse surely applies to such a dark, dead period preceding birth... the fearful
time of labor. Ogham: Elder. (Sagittarius?).
—
Grimoire #1 111
^
ft
•kit ck
&
&%m
Once I understood what this simple scheme implied, the beauty of its clear sim-
plicity left a deep impression. Here was the Celtic ritual year laid out the way it should
be! Solidly solar not based on another cultures' mythology. Since the Druids were pri-
marily a religious priesthood, it made no true sense to end their year on the 31st of a
month, or begin it on the 21st of another; this was merely 'squeezing' the Celtic system
into a foreign one. The mythological birth of the year SHOULD start on Midwinter's
Day, and the regular increments of days from that point onward, should be measured
straight to the next Cross-Quarter... 45 days hence. And here it was, an astronomical
calendar based only on the Celtic ritual year —no more trying to fit 8-parts Druid into
12-parts Roman! In addition, there exists a broad consistency between the symbolism
present in the Druidic Zodiac, and those of the Eight Grove Festivals; they are nearly
identical in over-all content. This makes an interesting cross-reference.
The great poet and scholar Robert Graves, once spoke of entitling an entire book
The Roebuck in the Thicket. He never did, save a single chapter. But, were he around
today, he would surely be fascinated to know that a prose by this same name is to be
found within the Pheryllt system, interwoven amidst the remnants of Druidic Astron-
omy! A wonderful verse which recounts the entire astro-epic cycle. So, Mr. Graves,
this key allegory, penned by an unknown poet, is fondly dedicated to you...
Z\)c Roebuck in tl?e Cricket

Iam a Stag of Seven Tines
I am a Roebuck in a Thicket
I am the pursued Messenger of Life...
Five days at Year's End I run,
Five days the Thicket Door stands open.
Five days the Hounds of Annwn upon my heels!
Hasten, ready! The Sun awaits us,

Quicken, race! A Son is born,
Burning Yule with Bells at Dawn...
Fly windsong — cross the Sunrise!
>t*x*>:*>>v*v*y>^^^
Past a Winter Sea we sail, far behind us

weep the Birches, bent with ice and branches frail.
Past a cottage bright with candle,

Yellow flame against the night.
Matron Mother, Mabon cradling,
Willow guard by pale moonlight.
Faster, Onward! New year beckons!

Brave Cu Chulainn bests the Spring.
Flocks of Raven circle over,

Blooming boughs of Hawthorn bring!
Hounds, a streak of pink and white,
Follow like a tempest, baying...
Fires of Bel on every hillside,
Math, the Flower-Maiden making.
King of Oak and Summer Lord,

glimpsed along the tables feasting...
Arthur, shining 'mid the hoard

of Dragon Red, and mirth unceasing!
Onward! Faster! Lest they falter
by the side of Lugh the Long

Arm and Eagle, Vine ensnaring...
Prowess sung in August Song!
Round the ivy path, the Autumn

turns the trees aflame with color.
Taliesin, wise man fleeing
from the wrath of Cauldron Mother.
Final stretch! Hasten, race!

The Head of Bran, a shining face...
Passage through the Blackthorn night
Chase ahead! Our ending flight!
Looms the Thicket, Mystic Doorway

Forest Elder guards the way...
'Till the next Midwinter's Day.
Grimoire #1 113
Five Unnamed
Days (Hounds
ofAnnwn)
Dec. 15-20 Dec. 21
Nov. 1
Sept. 21 March 21
June 21
And there it stands... a poetic key to the entire Zodiac system. Our long-time sus-
picion finally worked its way out: there truly was a story cycle behind it all! But for
those readers yet unfamiliar with the great Celtic Sagas, let us condense the above
Bardic prose into simple terms — here is the story:
"Once, in the Time of Legends long ago, mankind ran his life according to the
cycles of the Sun and Earth. Each year at Midwinter, a stag of 7 tines — a magical
Roebuck from the Otherworld, crashed his way through the dark, 5-day thicket into
our world, carrying on his back the spirit of the New Year. Why did the Roebuck do
>
this wonderful thing? He had no choice. He was being chased by the dreadful
Hounds of Destiny.
„^__j^_ j^jzzzl^--jz~--~ \mmmmsmm

yyyyyyyyyyyyy^^^^
Then he leaped a mighty —

jump made it through the thicket-doorway safely, just in
time. Just at the moment of the Winter Solstice! The bright sun, the Holy Son was born!
But the chase was not over by far... For forty-five days they ran, forty- five suns crossed
the cold sky, as the birch trees bent heavy with ice all around. But where was the Baby?
Safe behind fire and hearth. Mabon, the most beautiful spirit of youth, rested qui-
:
etly in a Mother's arms, deep within a Willow woods bathed in moonlight. And then
;
:
He was gone. Onward the chase... forty-five more moons before resting again.
How the Son had grown! Framed in Hawthorn blossom, brave Cu Chulainn stood
amidst the tides of Spring, watching birds return in flocks from the sky. Then, alive
with the spirit of adventure, He waited as a solitary Raven circled down to perch upon
his sword arm. The Raven bore a message. Life rushes on!
And so, on they ran, forty-five days distant, until the boy was a man! How did they
call Him? Math, son of Mathonwy, gathered May flowers into the most beautiful
Maiden ever to walk before the fires of Bel! Then from amidst those Magical fires, rose
a Great Red Dragon, saying: go on... forty-five more 'til the Oaks flower! Forty-five
more... And the hounds raced, and the Roebuck panted 'round the next turn.
Arthur? Lord of Summer, King of Oak and Dragon, is it you feasting there? How
you have changed! Yet, there at golden Midsummer, they could not stay. Already
there were forty-five more days to catch, driving through the fires.
Catch... fast... faster, flies the Spear of Lugh through the air before them. Fruit of
the Vine darkens heavy in the sunlight, ripened grains fall softly to the threshers sickle;
Harvest time has come... grain and gratitude joined in thirty days of celebration and
song! Yet the Hounds are heard behind the heel, growling that time ahead cannot wait.
Day and night meet in his eyes — equally, for the Fall Equinox lay upon them. Tal-
iesin, Bard, Sage of Autumn, lifts a hand as fateful hunt cannot pause... in their wake,
leaves of time and brilliant colors rush into shadows left behind.
Day to night, summer to winter... the final season lay all around. Phantoms shiver
and turn away as fresh-cut eyes glare out, orange and warm, from cold, hollow shells
of turnip and gourd. Samhain! Halloween is come! Giant Bran, smashing a path
through Blackthorn wilderness, shows the way.
And then the finish — the Thicket, Otherworld entry, looms Elder-red like a line
ahead! Birth to boy to prime to sage, Old Year to the Fountain of Youth must
return, upon the Roebuck's back... sure to come, renewed again, with the first Rays
of New Midwinter.
Grimoire #1 115
And so the Legend. Throughout it, in chronological sequence, lies lightly buried,
many wonderful old Celtic tales from what has come to be called the FOUR
BRANCHES OF 'The Mabinogion,' (i.e. Young Men's Adventures). Look them up...
read them yourself! The oldest surviving European literature, they remain fabulous
—
examples of colorful imagery and magic a story-teller's dream. To quote the author
Frank Delaney in his wonderful book Legends of the Celts, (Sterling, 1992):
"Story means everything in The Mabinogion. The tales possess pace, imagery and
action. The characters and incidents reinforce the peacock display, the intellectual games,
the stylish valour, the famous Celtic flaunting that made them such a bright, if nomadic
"
colour on the map of early Europe.
Obviously, the intention here is to entice you, the reader, into reading these! And
with your interest, you should. So, for easy reference, those stories specifically men-
tioned within the prose, were:
* THE HOUNDS AND STAG OF ANNWN, from the First Branch of the
Mabinogion: THE LORD OF DYFED.
* MABON, the wondrous youth (whose name forms the basis for the term
Mabinogion), from the TALE OF CULHWCH AND OLWEN.
* CU CHULAINN, the greatest warrior who ever lived, from THE CATTLE
RAID OF COOLEY, (Tain Bo Cuailgne, part of the Usher Cycle), and other stories,
esp. the Boyhood Deeds ofCu Chulainn.
* MATH, SON OF MATHONWY, Lord of Gwynedd, master of Magic from the

Fourth Branch of the Mabinogion.
* THE TALES OF KING ARTHUR, are almost a branch of their own. Arthur
appears throughout late Celtic tales, including: Culhwch and Olwen, The Dream of
Rhonabwy, The Countess of the Fountain and the grand saga of Tristan and Iseult.
* LUGH OF THE LONG ARM, from the Irish Red Branch, tales of the Tuatha
de Danaan. Also the Cattle Raid of Cooley and in his Welsh form, Llew of the Skill-
ful Hand, from the Fourth Branch of the Mabinogion.
* TALIESIN, the great Bard and poet, appears throughout late Celtic literature
indeed, he himself is credited with writing many surviving examples ot 6th ( poetry.
His HANES TALIESIN, SPOILS OF ANNWN and BOOK OF TALIESIN are
precious classics. As a character, he appears in the Tales of Bran and Branwen, AS

WELL AS THROUGHOUT the Arthurian Sagas.
—ZIIZZ^Z^ZIZZÎZ^
M^^*I*>X*:<W*>W^
* BRAN THE BLESSED, Son of Llyr, from the Second Branch of the Mabino-
gion: BRANWEN, DAUGHTER OF LLYR. The stories surrounding him, form
some of the most colorful and bizarre in the genre. From his adventures, comes the
protective custom of carving heads out of pumpkins (originally turnips) at Halloween
time!
And now to the astronomical element which generated all this in the beginning.
While the author has already claimed no special expertise in this area, others have
pointed the way. The following material, therefore, is the fruit of others' work, for the
inclusion of which we are indebted.
The NINE STAR HOUSES are most primarily visible during the festival period
with which they are associated; they are at their 'height' upon the grove festival-night
itself. The astronomical charts which appear below, pinpoint the viewing dates, direc-
tion and star-configuration (pattern) for those wishing to locate these.
1. THE ROEBUCK OF SEVEN TINES
N X v V
Hamal \ ^Z*\ Sheratan
f\^£^^ ^Botain \jj

Mesartim
#^ THE ROEBUCK
Dec. 21
Grimoire #1 117
2. THE CANDLE OF MABON
Algeshi
bi
r°
Regulus jj.
THE CANDLE
Feb. 1
3. THE RAVEN OF CU CHULAINN
Aldeberan
THE RAVEN
Pleiades Aleyone
Maf 2\
aowwwwww ^
fl vWmmoto^^ nann
mmm ^î*»<*:*:*>v*>tfW<*:«^
4. THE FLOWERS OF MATH
THE FLOWERS
May 1
5. THE RED DRAGON OF ARTHUR
Nabih )f
A N
v
\\
>•
\)v
^4^/ ^ /
S
^^^S. Algedi Â- \ -lh Denab
,/the DRAGON
*~*~~
June 21
"
Grimoire #1 119
"
.'"..
•". '
" .
,- :
•-,
" ;, ..,'.
—
6. THE EAGLE OF LUGH

Terrebellum N
Ruohbah Arkab
THE EAGLE
Aug. 1
7. THE CAULDRON OF TALIESIN
Alzubra
Denebola Chort
THE CAULDRON
Sept. 21
^— -J—IZZZ^^
THE HEAD
Oct. 31
9. THE HOUNDS OF ANNWN
THE HOUNDS
Nameless Days
-•-'•'r-'"-- --v:'— •--;-" --. -..^..-. . .

.
;
^.„- -.;: ---.j... -_----,- ----:- _-^.--.„ v , > _,^,
.
: ,,_,^
;
—
Grimoire #1 121
i .^^^ri^T-:::., -• - .—~ : : .. „
And yet one mystery remains which the author has had little luck in unraveling.
This concerns the cover page for the chapter under which the preceding information
was found. We are told that the script is most probably ancient Iranian
Mesopotamiariy the birthplace of the 12-part Zodiac! I include the page here in reduc-
tion, in the hope that someone may be willing to tackle the mystery.
MDCXLVTL 3
jfcM lAtlfck *&£!* I k fcfcpfckM* I UEfcfcftfcJ
gkfijk kttkjyfcj^hft t M^ftl»m}kfcJlBk.h& I kji£l
-*K m^4|H> *^» kj* Att ^Lt tlu^jjikipfe
;—T"T*^^
—

:H>>WM>v,v<M>>y.:.yM;<
...and in time, Baker came to accept this
faculty among the native Kenyans, and even speculated that
the hypnotic effect of the drums released the ability
to transmit and receive messages by
mental energy alone.
R. Baker, AFRICAN DRUMS
XIX. TAMBOR
"The Celtic Ritual Drum"
Drumming was used Magically throughout the Celtic World to attract spirits of the
Otherworld, as well as to change states of consciousness. The human heart-beat was
the standard pulse around which the whole realm of Ritual Drumming developed
it sets the pulse of life. Indeed, the drum is a standard Shamanic tool across both time
and terrain — construction and use are also extremely consistent. For a time, the
author taught at a Lakota Indian school in North Dakota, learning a great deal about
the ritual place the drum occupies in Shamanic Earth Magic... and the importance of
making your own, if a mystical use is name
intended. Uses quoted within our sources,
"Drums to drive between the fires" atMidsummer, and "Drums to herald in the new-
born Sun" at Midwinter; these w'ere public ritual gatherings. Without a doubt, they
were also frequently used at private Druidic gatherings as well, 'song and trance' being
states which were constantly invoked. The Bards were said to be trained drummers,
studying the art seriously for many years in the Druidic Cors (Colleges). As one of the
4 musical groups (Strings/HARP, Brass/ HORNS, Woodwinds/FLUTES, Percus-
sion/DRUMS), the drum was associated with the Element of Earth. Within Celtic
>
Grimoire #1 123
— - ,: - ...- .
-
culture, there are two types of drums mentioned in old sources: the WELSH TAM-
BOR, and the IRISH BODHRAN. These differ not at all in construct or usage, both
being single-headed of wood, covered with hide or leather.
Construction is simple. Go into the woods and find a tree which has fallen due to
storm or wind (Shamans consider wood from a lightning-felled tree extremely power-
ful); it should be equal in both girth and depth, to the diameter of your rib cage.
Select a section without knots or branches —smooth and fair, and cut the section out.
Better to do the work by hand, but chainsaw OK— is just so that you do the work
yourself. Sometimes one is lucky enough to find a well-preserved trunk already hol-
lowed, but if not, you'll have to do it yourself. The Native Americans burn theirs out,
slowly, by kindling a small, well-controlled fire on top and feeding tiny twigs and
sticks over a long period of time. But the inside wood may also be gouged out with
wood gouges or chisels, or again, a chainsaw may be employed. Whichever way you
choose, leave approx. 2-inches of wood on the sides. Now, this is important: it must
properly dry, or it will crack and be useless. The Elders used to wrap the
body in
cloth, and put it somewhere outside on bare ground, but out of the rain. This would
let the natural humidity (not standing water!) of the Earth act on the wood, prevent-
ing it from drying out too fast.
Obtain next a thick (ca. 1/4") piece of round leather hide sufficient to cover the
top, allowing for 3" - 4" of overhang. Decorate it now if you are going to (see below)
with water-proof inks, and thoroughly soak in water. Lay it over-top the wood, and
tack in a circle down 3-inches or so along the sides; make sure you use enough tacks
(strong upholstering tacks), every inch or so. When the leather drum-head dries, it
will slowly tighten to give a good sound.

This last section deals with decoration, chants and rhythms. Like any Magical
devices you may have chosen to construct, the key to their mystical power lies in,
ONE: doing the work yourself, and TWO: empowering it with personal symbols. Sym-
bols are the key to the Occult Sciences. Decoration of drum-head or carved sides is up
to you, but decorate for MEANING, not looks; (the Celtic artisans were legendary
for being able to do both!). Use your personal sigil, Totem/Power Animals or any sign
of religious import in your life.
Chants were/are frequently employed side-by-side with drumming. To give you an

idea, here are two Lakota Indian songs meant to be chanted against a steady 1-2-3-4,
1-2-3-4 drum pattern.
For our children they are gone,

Those of others still remain.
Ai-ya-ya-yai
Ai-ya-ya-yai
Come back nephew, come to us,

Come back nephew, we miss you.
Ai-ya-ya-yai
Ai-ya-ya-yai
Come back lost ones, we have presents,

Come back brothers, am lonely.
I
Ai-ya-ya-yai
Ai-ya-ya-yai
O my children, we are lonely,

Come back children, where are you?
Ai-ya-ya-yai
Ai-ya-ya-yai
Song of the ©boat ©rum

Drum-beat, beat of drum!
Pebble-rattle in the gourd,
Drum-beat, beat of drum!
Power, thunder, I am dead...
[repeats]
Grimoire #1 125
: 7
v.:, :.
.
'
" :.
:::" ~~.::~:z
Notice in the above examples, that regularity and repetition are the keys to success-
ful chants that work. Lastly, concerning rhythm patterns you can use. In time and
with familiarity, you will develop many patterns and styles of drumming that are
completely your own —and these will be much more important than those given here.
However, to get you started, here are 6 of the most used. Steady speed and beat are
the keys — don't change too much once you get a rhythm going.
Symbol £e?:
Play one drum-beat wherever an "X" appears, and one heartbeat of silence where an
"O" is found. These rhythm patterns are grouped together into standard units of 4
called 'measures.' Weak/strong pulses are indicated with bold-type.
1). XXXX XXXX XXXX XXXX, etc.
2). XXXO XXXO XXXO XXXO, etc.
3). XOXX XOXX XOXX XOXX, etc.
4).XOXO XOXO XOXO XOXO,etc.
5). XXOX XXOX XXOX XXOX, etc.
6). XOOX XOOX XOOX XOOX, etc.
^VWVVVWVVVAWA . .
, ^*%^^
4
In the end, the Church was forced to adopt a policy of "Ifyou can 't beat 'em, join
"
'em. Oak groves, with their markedly Druidic overtones, were rededicated to the
Virgin Mary, who now received a number ofdistinctly strange titles: not only Our
Lady of the Briars, Our Lady of the Pines and even Our Lady of the Nettles, but
also Our Lady of the Waters and, most Druidic ofall, Our Lady of the Mounds
and Our Lady of the Menhirs. The Great Festivals were allowed to continue, but
now under the patronage ofa suitable saint who was, often times, himself the
remnant ofan ancient pagan god.
tit
;
iim rn
XX. PANTHEON
"Discovering the Druidic Dieties"
This directory of Celtic gods is intended to compliment section #18 of the second
Grimoire: "Godform Evocation." The author thought it very odd, when initially
studying the Pheryllt scripts, the form and restrictions in which the gods were pre-
sented. First, the gods were allgods —
no goddesses appeared in the listings; strange,
since female deities were even more prevalent than the male ones. Second, the listing
followed the Bethluisnion alphabet of 18 letters — the Elder Ogham ladder! All
uniquely confusing, until remembering the lesson we had received when analyzing the
Druidic Astronomical Cycle. Then it made consistent sense.
It was a Druidic Pantheon... not Celtic! Again, the difference between the terms
Celtic and Druidic. CELTIC referring to a strongly matriarchal clan-culture, and
DRUIDIC being a patriarchal Priesthood based upon sun symbolism's; not always do
they overlap, similar to the separation between politics and religion within a nation.
Politicians need not belong to the state religion, any more than Priests need involve
themselves with a political party. The terms are so often used interchangeably —and
wrongly so.
With this said, we offer the deity listing as given. Note that each alphabetical class
has three personality divisions; perhaps these were considered to be aspects/phases of
the same image, like we have with the Triple Goddess? Or then again, perhaps they
are in some way related to the Tree Ogham under which they are represented?
:«^>v^:^^v:<*>>:<«x^
Grimoire #1 127
-.-,-—..— .- —
'"W^.*
B: Bran
— "Raven," King, god of
Blessed & power. protection
Belinos —sun god of and
fire, healing inspiration.
Barinthus — "Ferryman," god of teaching &
the mystery.
L: Llew— "Many
the god of
Skilled," & all crafts trades.
Llyr— god of and
the sea, rain all great waters.
Laighinos — of
teacher battle skills.
N: Nudd— "cloud maker," god of

the storms & weather, seasons.
Nuada— God of
Chieftain power & dominions.
wealth, water,
Nwyvre—god of and stars planets.
—
F:
Ffagus
— "Beech God," ofgod of knowledge& &
Fionn "Great Leader," architecture
forgotten
strategy.
Lore.
Formorix— god of under-sea &
invention, air travel.
S: Samhain — god of guardian of

death, Otherworld the Gate.
Sucellus— Good the god of
Striker,' & fighting assassination.
—god of
Silvan us and
herb-lore, plants healing.
H: Haefgan —god of gems, &precious stones jewelers.
Hesus —god of prophecy, and springs caves.
Heremonix— god of and underground

wells rivers.
D: Dagda— 'Good God,

the god of Druidism.
All-Father,'
Dian Cecht — Physician-magician of Tuatha. the Healing.
Dis — 'God of
Pater the of
Pluto,' oldest grandfather races.
T: Taranis — who
the 'Thunderer,' Empire of
holds the the Skies.
Tigernonos — god of mountains and valley's.
—
Toutorix "Ruler of
hills,
god of war/power.
the People," oldest
C: Cernunnos— Horned One, Lord of Animals and deep

the forest.
Cromm —god of
Cruaich death and hidden
darkness, gold.
Camulos — god of Mars,

the 'Red' blood & war, conquest.
M: Mabon — youth," god of

the "divine & music, poetry beauty.
Math — god of magic and shapeshifting.
Myrddin — Sun keeper of Stonehenge:

god, Myrddin. Clas
G: Gofannon— god of metal

the 'Divine Smithy,' handicraft.
Gwyn ap —otherworld mound King, god of
Nudd the Wild Hunt.
Grannos— Sun god of burning &corn, healing harvest.
P: Pwyll—god of and cunning.

law, justice
Partholonus—god of masons, architect for the fairies.
Pryderi—Lord of Dyfed, god of adventure and open the road.
R: Ronanorix— "Twice Dead," god of death and

the old age.
Rhonabwy— god of dreams, unconscious mind. Prophecy.
the
Ruadanos — god of and
travel, crossroads hangings.
Amaethon —god of & male

agriculture love.
Arawn — Otherworld King, god of hunting, hounds & pursuit.

Albiorix—god of orchards and
poetry, streams.
Alisanos—Gaulish god of stones.
Ogma— "Sun god of eloquence,

Face," &
Ossian
— youth," god of
"beautiful skills
literature
& swordplay.
scripts.
Owein ap Urien — god of war &

leadership, reincarnation.
—
Uath Mac Imoman "Son of God of
Terror." Magics. ancient
Urias—god of wisdoms & supreme knowledge
ancient
Uaithne Umai —god of harps and
pipes, music.
Eochaid
—
Ollathair god of
"great horse father," animals.
Esus— god of woodcutters and weaponry.
Ethniu— god of languages and speech.
Ith—god of towers and buildings.

Ialonus—Gaulish god of cultivated fields.
—god of astronomy, meteors and

Iorix space.
Grimoire #1 129
XXI. DRUIDIC OMENS

"Reading the Sacred Signs'*
All sources, accounts and writers agree with no hesitation, that the Druids relied heav-
ily on omens & signs when dealing with their Celtic congregation, or affairs of their
own. One medieval manuscript called THE BOOK OF BALLYMOTE over lists
thirty types of divination supposedly used by the Priesthood. These include: Bird
Omens, Wind Omens, Tree Omens, Cloud Omens, Animal Omens, Rain Omens,
Stream Omens, Stone Omens, Insect Omens, Storm Omens and Crop Omens.
Back in the 1940's, the Great Swiss Psychologist and Gnostic Carl Jung, wrote an
'
extensive study entitled Synchronicity: The Acausal Principle,' in which he explores the
apparent connections between things which can have no connection... like Omens
and future events. A good example still kicking around today's vernacular, is: "Every
time I wash the car, it rains!" We all know this is an impossible connection, right?
But... is it? Does it defy reason, yet operate? Synchronicity? Well, whatever your per-
sonal answer to this, the fact is that, at times, omens & signs DO seem to operate on
a level of accuracy difficult to explain rationally.
It can be safely said, that all forms of Shamanism worldwide acknowledge, or pre-
sume, such connections exist, and the Druids were certainly among them. In the
Pheryllt scripts, one fascinating form of divination is detailed: that relationship that
exists between CLOUDS and MAN!

Here in this brief Grimoire, we are going to focus on the 'synchronistic' relation
ship we may learn to establish between ourselves and the overhead clouds — we are
going to discuss grand play! The Pheryllt discusses NELADORACHT, which trans
lates as 'cloud tell,' or divination through interpretation of cloud forms. But the
interesting component is, that the human will is the deciding factoi in the ritual; the
ZZZZHZZIIIZIIIZIIZZZZZl
'm^mz* i m^&&**^
clouds are simply used as a skrying surface, a chalkboard, so to speak, on which the
subconscious/superconscious mind writes its legacy. When the author first read this
rite, it became instantly clear that it could be adapted to a modern course of mental
training — training of the will, and it has been used successfully as such by his school
ever since.
The Pheryllt describes its omenic use as follows: a group of three priests gather in
a clear field, wishing insight into some concern. Invoking the Wind, they call their
query into the sky, challenging the clouds to respond in omen. The peculiar invoca-
tion has been preserved in translation:
TRAMPLE ON THEE, WIND FROM THE WEST!

I
I SMOOR THEE TO THE EARTH, WIND FROM THE EAST!

ISHELTER FROM THEE, WIND FROM THE NORTH!
CONFOUND THY SAILS, WIND FROM THE SOUTH!
I
BLOW YE, CHURN! RO HU ILL O HO!

MAKE FOR ME A SIGN! RO HU ILL O HO!
STRING THE CLOUDS FOR ME! RO HU ILL O HO!
AND WILL CURSE NO LONGER!I
Definitely what we would call a hostile challenge to the elemental. After this invo-
cation, the priests would stand and interpret the pictures which appeared among the
cloud formations.
It was clearly stated that ALL 3 MUST AGREE on the interpretation of the sym-
bolism seen, for the response to be considered answered.
Now our variation. Start simply, by practicing dissolving clouds first — a far more
simple task than Neladoracht. Just go out on a day full of white cumulus clouds, and
pick one which is easy to keep an eye on, fairly distinct or isolated. Then picture in
your mind the cloud dissolving out, and be patient. Stare at it, direct all your will at
it, and something Magical will happen: it will work! All the other clouds will be in
place, except yours! This is a very old and tested game.
Next expand to include a friend in a test of wills. You each pick clouds, and see
who finishes dissolving first. Or, yet more fun, work on the same cloud —one expands
out, the other condenses in! See who wins. The shape of clouds can also easily be
affected by will-power. Once you are proficient at dissolution, use the invocation verse
above, voice your question to the wind, and wait for your super-conscious mind to
form an answer. It is great, rather profound fun, and a wonderful exercise for devel-
oping the directed will.
I many readers will think "Oh, come on..." upon reading this. The author
suppose
certainly identifies with those who might —
for he was the most profound of all skep-
tics upon first hearing. Then he tried it...
Grimoire #1 131
But let us leave the reader with one last thought concerning omens — a parable of
sorts, much told among pagans. The story goes that St. Patrick once challenged the
Druids to a test of one of their own omens. The Druids were to throw some of their
—
most sacred books onto the sea the Christians would do the same with their holy
scriptures. Whichever floated would be considered the more righteous. The Druids'
books sank... (which only goes to prove they had more substance!)
Part 2
tl?e Book of plxrpllt

;;; ;;; ;;
I'll wir m,t 05
Talhaiarn'o Prayer.
goo. thv protection

3no in protf trion. strtngilj
3nb in strrngtf). reason
3no in rraoon. knotoltbgt
3no in knottle o?e. trutt
3nb in tnitb. juotict
3nd in jusritt. lobe
3nb in loot, tfje loor oLfoo ;
3no in the tooe of 6oO)e (we of
etier* animation.
AXN W* -BYW YD.—MAIITVOLAETH.

pmha If p mae Smiton?
3. ?n 9 man f bo 'r Q*ia(
a bbitfconrr or bwn a'r brtupO.
3 mtDPaf o'r matot Ijtb gpflinr
anmirtD.
tBf U) pto bannogion brtopb?
gsgabiber gokuni gtnrts
ag aargrr bb, *e( a. t.
JBetfc pto bannogion notora 'r marts?
THEGORCHANOFMAEIDREW , THE BARD OP rilYDAIN.
3 elfontob tmr srmbbtn outo

rtrrig rr fferllnrit ntowi
os?riaet& etb saette r to
fetopr etfjlrn mor nrrrombor Han,
Z\)c Book of p(?er?Ut
A Foreword
^| AWOKE AMID A suffocating darkness; the campfire had gone completely

*I? out, and I was burning hot. For many long minutes I had no idea of
where I was, who I was or where I had been. Yet my hands and clothes smelled
of the deep forest . . . of pine resin and earth. Then the memories came back,
all of them.
"Merlyn..." was all I could say, and I laid back on my sleeping bag and
breathed heavily, thinking it all a dream.
"Yes,am here, right where I belong..." came his voice again from the cave,
I
startling me with a terrible jolt. It was not easy, this sort of thing.
—
"Merlyn the Tree Battle!" My head spun. "We were there! We have been
in many forms, haven't we? Before coming to be where we are now, today?" I
felt like a boy on Christmas morn.

"Good..." and his voice was like a father reviewing his son's report card,
"Good! You have part of the picture now. Remember I once told you, that in
order to understand the present and plan for the future, you must first have .1
complete understanding of your past, your distant past? Of all thai has gone
into making you how you are?" And I nodded in the dad; hut he was watching.
135
—
1 36 The Lost Books of Merlyn
"Well now, this particular lesson of mine happens to have three parts, and
you have just lived through the first. Collect all you can along the way . . . put
the pieces together, and your unfulfilled dream of some two millennium ago
may yet become a reality. Life can only be understood backwards, but must
always be lived forwards!"
My mind was still foggy, trying like a computer to sort out one program
from another. Sensing the need for some kind of objective reference, I glanced
down at my watch: 1:30 A.M. — mere minutes after I had first laid down! My
brain went limp following this discovery, and I said something completely
ridiculous:
"Merlyn? I'm sorry for all this confusion, but something seems to be wrong
with my watch."
The Druid broke into a deep laugh. "Time, again ... is £/?^what has con-
founded you? Have you forgotten that time has no real divisions to mark its
passing? There is never a thunderstorm to announce the beginning of a new

month or year. Never!"
"Yes ... I guess I have forgotten," was all I could think to say. Our conver-
sation was interrupted by a sudden gust of wind which brought the Dragon's
Voice spinning to life with its eerie clamor.
"Ah, time to go," Merlyn spoke almost in jest, "the gods speak to us! But do
remember this one final thing about 'time.' The present is a point just passed!"
And my head spun even further away.
On the shores stood the opposition with its dense array of robedfigures, while
between the ranks dashed women in black attire like the furies — hair disheveled,
waving brands. All 'round, the Druids, lifting up their hands to heaven and pour-
ing forth dreadful imprecations, scared our soldiers by the unfamiliar sight so that,
as if their limbs were paralyzed, they stood motionless and exposed to wounds.
Then, urged by their general s appeal not to quail before a troop offrenzied
women, the Romans bore the standards onwards, smote down all resistance and
wrapped the foe in the flame ofhis own brands. A force was set over the con-
quered, and the sacred groves, devoted to mysterious superstitions, were destroyed.
Tacitus, ANNALS XIV, 30
Kefuge of iFire and Blood

CO MY —HORROR,
naires in fact,
I
I
suddenly found myself surrounded by
actually appeared to be numbered among them.
Roman legion-
My name was Tacitus, and my appointment to Britain was as Royal Chroni-

cler to Governor Gaius Suetonius Paulinus, sent to record the 'triumphant
conquest' about to take place. As of that moment, all had been inspected and
found battle-worthy by our commander; dispatch troops had begun to cross
the Straits of Menai on wooden flat-barges, destination: the Isle ofAnglesey,

final stronghold of the native Druidic Priesthood. The Imperial orders from
Caesar read:
"FOR ALL TIME AND THE GLORY OF ROME, TO DRIVE THE

DRUIDIC PLAGUE UTTERLY FROM THE SHORES OF ALBION—
TO WRAP THE FOES IN THE BRANDS OF THEIR OWN FIRES."
Or so read the decree. As for myself, I did not care much for war or con-
quest; a simple scholar with once-political aspirations, I stood wondering why
137
—
Mighty Rome had suddenly abandoned their policy of absolute Imperial Toler-
ance in favor of this rare mass annihilation. What did they truly fear from these
white-clad Priests?
The year was 59 since the Christ, and this was but one of the questions to
which my mind sought answers in those cold, pre-dawn hours awaiting trans-
port across the Straits. The legion to which I had been assigned was standing
rigid, eyes transfixed like glass on the shores of Druid's Isle, for, understand,
something ungodly was taking place beyond.
All along the dark island shoreline had been built immense bonfires which
boasted an imposing wall of flame. Yet the strangest, the most terrible thing of
all, were the black robed figures dashing in, about and around the fires
shrieking, wailing like the Sirens of Hades; arms and hair flying wildly, bind-
ing the ears of all with their paralyzing spell.
Then by the time my group had finally reached the Isle, the most bizarre of
pantomimes had formed to greet us. There stood our troops, our Great Impe-
rial Legions, staring silently like small children transfixed by a juggler's trick
. . . completely immobilized by fear and superstition! And there also stood the
Druid Priests, white against the white-hot bonfires, arms upturned, calling
forth for the protection of their gods; their protection and our destruction.
The chant of their unison verse was impressive, powerful and the magic effec-
tive; until, that is, the late arrival of Suetonius.

11
Is Caesar's Great Imperial Army to quail before a frenzied troop of women
and their grandsires?""he screamed, disgusted, into the ranks. "Well? Men of
Rome! Put an end to this evil dream! Smite down these false prophets so that
our King might be remembered in glory for what we do this day. Advance!"
And so they did advance — perforce.
With swords dripping blood and bronze, the legions hacked their way
ashore, forgiving of none —
women, children, the aged, all the same. And
when at last the bodies had been bruised and broken beyond all recognition,
they were drawn and quartered and heaped upon the flames until they hissed
and spat human grease.
Moments before his death, the last of the Druid Elders climbed high upon
a boulder, shouting over towards the dark woodline: "Brothers . . . to the
Groves! Warn the others!" And a. spear quickly toppled him into the already
crimson-specked waves.
Refuge ofFire and Blood 139
Following the initial assault, our army re-grouped in sharp rows before the
dying bonfires, piled high with human bones nearly to the point of extin-
guishment. Not a single Roman soldier had been lost! The officers met
briefly, then announced that the second phase of the extermination would
involve "flushing the hoard out oftheir bloody sacrificial Oak Groves, then chop-
ping down the actual trees themselves —nothing was to be left standing."
These were the orders.
The troops cleaned and re-sharpened their weapons; swords, blades and
axes, then grouped again into tight units, heading off one by one in appointed
directions throughout the woodlands. Having myself been sickened by the
stench of charred flesh, and repulsed by the 'Roman Imperial Manner,' I
quickly broke away from my comrades and made off in an anonymous direc-
tion of my own. To the Roman Army, however, this type of hunt seemed lit-
tle more than a sport; laughter, boasting shouts, idiotic and vulgar mockings
drifted through the smoke-filled air, everywhere to be heard. Yet these sounds,
repulsive as they had become, served me a purpose: I used them to navigate a
path away from the main arena of activity and due west toward the far side of
the Island. Following several hours of such evasive wandering, I approached a
clearing from which a great deal of commotion issued.
There, among a nearly circular stand of ancient oaks, stood a unit of
twenty or so soldiers casually guarding a group of aged Druids, chiding and

sneering atrocities at the silent and still-dignified group in white. As I
watched, concealed in the brush, one of the priests suddenly turned and
stared over in my direction, unmoving for many minutes, although it seemed
certain that he could not have physically seen me. Then, to my astonishment,
he suddenly raised a finger into the air and secretly motioned that I come for-
ward; beneath eyebrows wild and gray, his face for an instant softened into a
near smile.
"What are you looking at, old fool?" one of the troop snarled, bustling
forward to survey the woodline suspiciously. "Well, speak up . . . demon
worshiper! Answer me!" And he struck the old man hard across the back of
his head with the hilt of his shortsword. The Druid crumpled to the ground
like paper.
"Now come on, the rest of you, get going! We have orders to transport this
group alive to Rome. Great Caesar finds himself curious about what kind o\
men we conquer here. Antonius . . . Valerian! Bind them up well, then escort
this demon-seed to the landing. Waste no time, move! We have many more
rats still to corner before this night comes to an end!" Then he laughed and
threw a coil of thick rope into the hands of the other soldiers.
"What about the old one?" asked a fat Roman in the back, busy tying.
"Do we carry him, or what?" And he gestured toward the unconscious priest
on the ground.
The commander strode over and made a quick inspection of the once white-
clad figure, now covered in growing patches of red. "Naah..." he grunted, "lets
get out of here — these evil trees seem to have eyes." Taking a long, rather ner-
vous look up through the branches, the centurion kicked the body over onto its
side and hurried out of the grove. The others were quick to follow.
Myself, I was left utterly horrified. Grasping the two imperial golden eagles
which adorned my shoulders, I tore them off in great disgust and threw them
into the forest . . . then froze. A sound! Leaves rustling in the underbrush, soft
yet distinct. The old man was moving!
Slowly — ever so cautiously, I inched my way across the glen to where he lay,
attempting feebly to turn over; he could not, and so I knelt down to help. To
all appearances, he seemed to be in his late sixties or seventies, although it was
difficult to tell; his eyes alone, a clear light gray, were ageless. The man smiled
upon seeing me — actually smiled, amid the violence and blood and torture!
"Thank you my son," he said in a weak voice. "We should be safe here for
a while; rarely does skyfire strike in the same place twice." Then with greater
effort, he pushed himself up on one elbow and looked into my eyes with a
strange intensity. "You will help me, then? You must ... we must reach the
sacred grove while life is still in me, you and I." And he smiled again, an
almost familiar smile. A wave of eerie recognition washed over me, my skin
went suddenly cold. "Who are you?"
The old man lowered himself back to the ground and closed his eyes with
an almost disappointed sigh. "Who am /, you ask? Who am I? And he took
another deep breath, as if preparing for something. I have been in many
forms before coming to be in this one . . .
I am counsel to the High King

whom the order of the starry heavens exists...
through
Through whom the sea and the land, with its pleasing grass
give forth and nourish their offspring...
and with their profuse fertility
give frequent aid to mankind.

Refuge ofFire and Blood 141
I was carried away from myself

and like a spirit I knew
the acts of past peoples and predicted the future...
Then since knew the secrets of things
and the flight of Ravens
and the wandering motions of the stars
and the gliding of the fishes.
All this vexed my spirit

and denied my human mind a natural rest
by a severe law.
But now I have come to myself..."
Then the Druid was so still for such a long time, that I wondered if per-
haps he were either sleeping or dead. But he soon awoke with a start and
looked around the clearing with great concern.
"By what name are you known among the Druids?" I asked as the man
tried to rouse himself.
"Does it really matter?" he replied, stopping and looking at me with a

strained, half-smirk. "I can give you a name if you like, but our real need is to
pass from this place as soon as possible ... we have much to do. The gods
have spared me for this one reason alone, I am sure — as well as having
brought you here for the same." He smiled.
"Your gods must be fickle indeed," I replied dryly, "to have let destiny
come to this."
The man sighed again. "The unexpected always happens . . . but then again,
it is always easy to understand the gods so long as don't try to explain them. And as
for 'destiny,' such is never a matter of chance — it is a matter of choice. Destiny
is not a thing to be waited for, but instead a thing to be achieved." I sat down
next to the Druid, both impressed and perplexed by this man's strange atti-
tude in the face of sheer destruction.

"But why should you say these things to me?" I asked after a second's
thought. "After all, I am Roman . . . one of those same legions charged with
the obliteration of your past."
"The past..." he exhaled sadly, "always looks better than it was. It is only
pleasant because it isn't now here! We are tomorrow's past, always." And he sat
upright at last, looking somewhat stronger.

— —
"But you cannot have a 'tomorrows past' after Rome, can't you see?" I
insisted pessimistically. "Do you realize what hostile forces exist over your
priesthood now? And how many?"
The Druid settled over against a tree, looking both resigned and deter-
mined at once. "There can be no surer sign of decay in a country, than to see
the rites of religion held in such contempt. And so the Romans! Ah, long time
have we known of their coming. But the outcome that may yet be another
matter, we shall see. The legions are indeed an effective machine, it is true;
but within this perfection lies a flaw: where all think alike, no one thinks very
much" And he closed his eyes again, as if gathering some unseen strength
from the old oak tree. "But you . . . you are different."
His words hung heavy in the air for a moment; he was right, of course.
"And how could you know this?" I asked with a contrived air of indignation,
then realizing a far better question. "...And what is to be done? The Roman
army is powerful. Near."
"Power is deceptive; this is a lesson far older than the Druids," he pon-
dered. "The deception is this: where it concerns matters of fate, the greater
power always lies where it is least suspected. This knowledge is our ally."
"And where might this place be now?" I shot out, suddenly impatient at all
the philosophy. But where I had expected a mere cryptic response, the old
man pointed due west through the trees. "There..." he revealed without hesi-
tation, "there on the sacred Isle lies our hope, if one is to be found at all. And
we must hurry, for the others gather now even as we speak, if they still live,
that is but we must try." And he stood feebly, wiping the dried blood from
his head.
"What Island?" I tested, clearly enticed by new and mysterious men-

this
tion. "They told us nothing of another Island. Where does it lie?"

"The Island of the Holy Head," was his answer, "lying on the far western
bounds of Anglesey. If fate be indeed with us, as I believe it is, the legions
might not have made it that far —and if they have not, then, Royal Chroni-
cler, you stand to witness a real story with which to pepper your accounts.
But first you must help me, us . . . Albion!" Testing his stance, the old man
walked unsteadily to the closest tree and turned, with a passing look of tri-
umph, then waited.

—
Refuge ofFire and Blood 1 43
To this very day, I am still uncertain as to what forces actually motivated

my decision in that brief interval before we set off, but this much I do
know: that the forces had undeniable strength . . . undeniable persuasion, and
the Hand of Destiny was everywhere to be felt along the way. Never once
did I regret anything.
"Let's go then," I said at last, and the old Druid looked over at me with the
yesterday's fondness of an aging father for his son, then smiled.
"The way will be difficult and the task perilous," he returned lightly, "but
there is much more here at work than is visible to the eye much more. And
we are not alone. If we be successful in enticing the timeless guardian of
Britain to awake from his ancient sleep, then there may still be hope. But we
must get there first."
"Get where? I asked again, walking over to the old priest and offering a
hand to his shoulder.
"Why, to the Isle of the Holy Head as I told you; to Elysium and beyond
to the Sacred Well, all of which lie within the bounds of the Nemeton, the
holiest place in all these Isles.
Holy indeed, for there rests the head of all heads, guarded still by a great
flock of Ravens; the final vigilance of Bran the Blessed. And there has never
been a single one to escape /?zV judgment..."

—
What a clear sea across the channel
As far as Bran has stretched his glance...
While to me in my chariot from afar
It is a fiery plain on which he glances about.
THE VOYAGE OF BRAN
Hemeton
J^HEN AT LAST THE torrential rains which had soaked man and beast
\^ throughout the night, ceased. The trees dripped, our road a single smear
of thick puddle; it was as if the very elements themselves were trying to snuff
out the festering fires of the Roman armies.
Through caution and stealth, we had advanced steadily towards the Isle of
the Holy Head until dawn was nearly upon us; the constant threat of encoun-
tering Roman soldiers scattered everywhere had worn our nerves to near
frailty. And the old priest was not well, although his non-complaining deter-
mination was a monument unto itself. But the worst thing of all was the sim-
ple air around us: damp and black, thick with the foul smell of charred hair and
fleshy full with the tormented death-cry echoes of anguished, half-burned men
. . . full of Roman taunting and laughter.
And yet, despite it all, we had almost succeeded, the priest and I, as we
stood, exhausted, on the far western shore of Anglesey. In between labored
lungfull's of the tainted air, we surveyed the misty shores of the other island
the sand-smoothed banks of Holyhead, an apparent haven which had some-
how eluded the attention of the legions. At least thus far.
145
—
"The gods must surely be with us," the Druid spoke breathless through a
slow nod, "for all seems undisturbed ... all except that fishing boat docked
over there." He pointed a bent finger at a nearby patch of beach in between
two huge boulders, and, sure enough, there it lay. Old as he was, the priest
had eyes as keen as any Raven.
Then all at once, those same eyes widened in fear, and he reached over, cov-
ering my mouth.
"I tellyou, I heard voices over there!" came a deep rumble from somewhere close
in the twilight, hushed suddenly into an intense whisper. "Come on . . . Aranon,
help me look!" And the ground around us trembled heavy with footsteps.
"Aranon?" the Druid echoed softly to himself, "Aranon!" Suddenly standing

forth, he pushed himself out through the wet branches. "Thank the Guardian
you have found us!"
And we were quickly surrounded by strange men in white robes, offering

helping arms and concerned faces.
"We feared you dead at the hands of these barbarians," said a man whose
voice I recognized from the brush, "yet never once did we give up hope! For the
past quarter-night, we have been ferrying survivors across the channel, across to
safety at the Nemeton nineteen in all, you make the twentieth. Or, perhaps
twenty-one?" He tacked on, glancing over at me with a curious suspicion.
"This is Tacitus," responded the old man, as an audible gasp of disbelief

spread over the others, "... who has proven himself a friend despite his
Roman trappings. Had it not been for him, I too would have suffered the fires
of Caesar. He will be allowed to accompany us. He can be trusted."

Following a low, controversial grumble from the men, we all made our way
to the waiting boat and pushed off. In the distance from the water, the terri-
ble orange glow of the fires still outlined treetops as far as the eye could see,
and the choking black smoke which stained the sky into a mantle of gray
clouds just above them. But the other men were not watching what I was.
They were consumed within a cloud of their own, listening intensely as the
old Druid outlined the plan of hope he had alluded to me earlier that night.
"But we must hurry..." I heard him sigh again,, falling back against the bow and
closing his eyes. The other Druids traded brief, worried expressions, then
quickened their pace across the water.
Nemeton 147
Once ashore, it became clear that this island was distinctly different from
Anglesey; the trees, rather than the predominant Oaks and Beeches, were
mostly pine and smaller kinds. The landscape itself was flatter; I could see no
hills, and everything seemed to have a barren, exposed, wind-swept sort of look.
We hid the boat in a bush-covered cove, making our way with nervous
unease towards the nearby woods. The only thing which followed us was the
sound of awakening birds, the Island seemed full of birds, against the always-
steady, distant crashings of the sea. No one spoke until we were well hid
within the treeline.
"There's the path!" One of the priests broke silence, pointing down a worn
expanse of road. "The Nemeton lies over this way; with fortune, the others
may be there to meet us. But in either case, He will be present." And the oth-
ers nodded a slight affirmation amongst themselves.
"Nemeton?" \ whispered to the old Druid whose hand rested still upon my
shoulder, "Where do we go?" I was not overly familiar with this antique word,
wondering perhaps if its use was particular to the Keltoi.

"It is a place, our Holy of Holies," he answered as if the very act of speak-
ing was painful. With a look of great gravity, the Druid then seated himself
slowly on the bare trunk of a fallen log and drew a trembling breath.
"I feel it best if you know all there is to know," he began, "for you, Tacitus my
friend, will someday bring our account before the world for future generations
to see. You must understand something of our past." And I sat back silently.
"Long ago, in the Time of Legends before the washing ashore of the
Pheryllt from drowned Atlantis, were the days of the giants; in those days, there
were giants in the earth. And the greatest titan among titans was named BRAN
THE BLESSED, King Protector of this Island of the Mighty. Long he reigned
in glory, and long did the land prosper under his hand — until a warfare
against the Red Isle ended with his great body being pierced through by a poi-
soned spear. Then, being also a master of the Magical Arts, and not wanting
to bring despair upon his people, Bran ordered that his head be severed from
his body, knowing the head to be the true seat of his soul. Thus the Sacred
Head set forth uncorrupted from the Isle of Erin for the shores of Britain,
guiding and protecting its subjects en route even as in life. And for seven
enchanted years they feasted in rich splendor upon the shores of Tir nan Qg t
the Blessed Realm, then four score more upon the high seas! But at length the
perfect spell was shattered by human folly, and the Head needed return to the
bosom of Albion for burial. Yet before the eyes of Bran closed their final time,
it was devised that a great enchantment of protection should cover the land so
long as the Head remain buried with its face to the sea. And so it was done,
brought here to this place for final resting, here, to this Island which has come
to be called Holyhead.
But there is something more. A great secret key remained behind with the
Priests, taught once each generation to a carefully chosen successor: the secret
Rite by which the Head ofBran might be awakened in hour ofgravest need, and
which," he added while rising stiffly to his feet, "has never once been invoked
to this day. But now, now our plight is grave indeed." And he headed slowly
back down the path, the others following silently from behind.
I had just lost sight of the old Druid, when ahead in the forest something
remarkable began to happen. Birds, great black Ravens, dozens of them, set-
tled like an approaching army one by one into the trees above us! The deep
sound of their croaking voices filled the air until it buzzed.
"The Ravens of Bran!" yelled one of the awe-struck priests to the others,
"They have come! Surely then, the Mighty King knows of our plight ... all
might yet be saved. Quickly, brothers, to the Nemeton!" And we emptied into
a clearing as fantastic as the great ravens themselves.
It was a grove, a grassy clearing set amidst a vast stand of aged Alder trees,
flanked on all sides by the watchful eyes of Ravens. In its center, stood a
remarkable statue of stone — I say 'statue' for wont of a better description. An

enormous two-faced head dominated the field, looking as if the rest of its
body might possibly lie buried beneath. Apart from this, to the western side of
the monument stood what appeared to be an ancient stone well, crumbled

and falling apart. There the old Druid knelt in front of this curious pair, head
hung in reverence or perhaps in exhausted prayer.
"We have come, Great Protector..." he called out suddenly after a long
silence, "we who have been your faithful upholders for generations ... we who
soon may be no more." And with this, three lone ravens glided down to perch
atop the statue. The men around me gasped in awe, stepping back.
Nemeton 149
"A sign!" they whispered amongst themselves, as truly, beyond all doubt, it
appeared to be. Slowly the old Priest bowed deeply, turned, and walked over
to join the rest of us.
"Bran will come," he promised, looking pale and worn, "for his three mes-
sengers have foretold it. But first, sacred fires must be raised. Come, brethren:
we must build our own blaze to combat the Romans', one fire against another!
Every moment we lose, spells sacrifice for the lives of many."
So together as a team of bees we worked, gathering what dry wood could be

found into a high pile between the statue and the well. Then when all stood
in readiness, we formed a broad circle around the site, few as we were, and
turned our attention to the Elder Priest for direction.
Raising his arms high into the air, the Druid called forth from this world to
the Other, the ancient words of manifestation:
A ELFYNTODD DWYR SINDDYN DUW

CERRIG YR FFERLLURIG NWYN— OS SYRIAETH ECH SAFFER
TU FEWR ECHLYN MOR NECROMBOR LLUN
And the bonfire burst at once into violent flame, sending the three ravens
scattering off into the forest roof. Within moments it seemed, the pile had
reduced itself to a glowing circle of embers; not knowing what to expect, I
hardly dared draw another breath. Then my heart nearly stopped.

"Tacitus . . . born of Rome, stand apart!" Ordered the Priest suddenly, "For
what will now follow is Deep Magic . . . secret, forbidden to you." Unsure of
what was expected, I backed cautiously away until well out of sight behind a
stand of Alders. And the old Druid was right; it was many years before I fully
comprehended the bizarre sequence of events which immediately followed.

The early morning sun seemed pale and still powerless against the heavy
cover of cloud and smoke, making things difficult to see from a distance; all
appeared hazy and far away. The ravens, however, were clearly there —watch-
ing, themselves like stone statues, from every treetop, the Gargoyles of Bran! I
soon realized that the priests had begun a song, a slow chant of sorts, rising by
inaudible degrees until a powerful sound was raised. The waking songbirds
answered innocently from the trees, all except the Ravens th.n is; they never
seemed to react casually at all.

Then the High Priest clapped his hands together three times and all was
silent — even the birds.
"Bran the Blessed: King once, and King yet to be," his voice echoed
through the glen. "We ask your counsel as promised to us in this, our hour of
greatest need. As you have been our silent protector since the dawn of time,
hear now our silent call . . . those sacred words which must never be heard by
the ears of common man."
Then the strangest of episodes took place. Starting with the Elder Druid,
each man held forth his palms before him, slowly touching various portions of
his hands in a slow, repetitive pattern that in time I would come to recognize.
It was all obviously a mystical code ofsome sort. One priest signaled to another
on the opposite side of the circle, until the other caught the sequence which
was then relayed across to his opposite, like a children's game, until the cycle
came around full again to the head. When this was done, the entire group
raised their hands in unison overhead.
"Unless you be acquainted with the powerful name,

Be silent, Heinin!
As to the lofty Name
And the powerful Name..."
So called the High Priest, "Come, foremost spirit of Great Bran!" To which
the men answered "LAO" together, over and over again until the very earth
under our feet seemed to resonate with the sounds. Then, for more times than
I could count, the chant-sequence was repeated — repeated while another
sound entered the scene from above. My blood went cold as a gradual wave of
understanding swept through me: the staid Raven sentinels had suddenly bro-
ken silence and were croaking and calling and launching out in a wild frenzy
over the Nemeton field!
When finally the air seemed a storm of black feathers and wings, a great
dense shadow descended down from their midst to fully envelope the massive
stone head. I crouched to the ground in sheer terror as the men, the colossus,
everything was swallowed up behind that veil of gray. All disappeared, all
except for the Ravens, that is; they continued to circle madly overhead until
three solitary birds again broke away and darted down to perch upon the edge
of the ancient well. No sooner had they alighted, than a sound like a vast wind
billowed forth from the mouth —and spoke.
Nemeton 151
"Mortal men, what do you wish of me?" Came a deep, labored voice echo-
ing up from the very depths of the earth.

Winds stopped short, birds fell silent —an avalanche of dust and leaf settled
uneasily to the ground. Then all things were still.
Once again . . . all but the Ravens.

Does the land wait the Sleeping Lord,
or is the wasted land
the very Lord who sleeps?
Celtic Wonder Tales
<TI?e I6ead
fV^HEN AT LAST THE storms of Bran were silent, his Ravens settled back
-tL/into the trees with a great triumphant noise of acclaim: "Our ancient
Lord is once again joined to the land of the living!"
Ever so cautiously I raised myself up off the ground, wiping dust and debris
from my eyes. No one spoke. Nothing moved. No one dared disturb the tense
silence which hung over the Nemeton like a heavy, Welsh blanket of wool.
Then all at once, as if sensing what was expected of him alone, the Elder
Druid stood — adjusting his robes, pulling his frame painfully into a dignified
stance to make way by slow, deliberate steps across the field towards the
his
statue. It was he knew well, this old priest, the great weight of destiny
clear
which rode upon his shoulders at that moment: spokesman for the Druids,
voice of the Celtic people; he only could address this plight he knew it, so —
did all present; even the head of Bran knew as it followed his approach with
eyes cold and unmoving. Yet all kept still until the priest halted two lengths
before the stone and raised a hand to trace some mysterious sigils into the air
between, then all shifted tensely as if ready to strike out.

"Ubh ubhanaich! Oich oicheanaichf'he intoned loudly with .1 deep bow of
submission. "Bran the Blessed: the oath of protection you once Uttered CO this
153
land so long ago, has now come upon you! Keep your oath . . . heal your land
. . . awaken the Deep Magic. The time has come!" And the old man's words died
away into the trees, leaving an electric silence which burned like a blowing reed
in our ears. Then, slowly, a dull vibration began to emerge from the ground at
our feet, filling the stone well until I thought it would crumble utterly.
"
Fifty generations ofmy people..." came a voice, dark and low from the earth-
shaft, "fifty generations have lived and died since I was last called among you.
The Deep Magic decrees my ancient oath to be binding only in times of great-
est calamity, Druid Priest; all Magi know this! What, then, be the tidings from
the world of men?"

"The tidings be grave indeed, O Under-Earth King," answered the priest
solidly, "For dread has come upon us all from the east . . . dread which could
bring an end to your loyal people for all time! You, with your all-seeing eyes,
look about; can you not justify us your aid, alone by the death cries of your
own priests? If not by those, then what? Tell us . . . help us." And his words
hung desperate and sharp in the air.
Almost immediately, one of the largest Ravens perched in the treeline flew
down with a loud croak and landed atop the stone head, creating things an
instant blur of wonder.
As if the very spirit of the bird melted into the ancient stone, a hazy cloud
of gray, mist-like substance descended down to surround the head. Then the
Raven flew off. What remained was a monstrous thing ... a face, shadow-like,
eyes closed, bearded dark; a noble image like a spectre from another world.
And so it was! So it truly seemed to be, as the eyes opened abruptly as if
startled from a nightmare. They looked about steadily, studying the landscape
and people with a fixed, steely attention; one could^/the power in his gaze,
in Bran's gaze. The old Druid dropped to one knee and lowered his head in
mystic submission before speaking.
"As of this night, your Priesthood is no more..." he pronounced with dark
authority, meeting the statue gaze to gaze. "We have struggled our way here,
all that be left of us, to hear what counsel you might give in this grave hour. If
you cannot help us now, truly none else can." Then gradually, as if summoned
forth, the final remnants of the Druidic Priesthood crept out, gathering into a
haggard assembly before The Head. None spoke, yet all were carefully studied
as the eyes seemed to search unceasingly the very souls of those standing
before them . . . then closed.

The Head 155
"Men of the Oaks," spoke the voice of Bran, low and calm, "Priests of the
Old Order: the tides of the world are again changing, and I am powerless to
stand against them. Even the greatest of kings must bend a knee to such forces
as order the universe; even we are but the merest reflections of the Divine Pat-
tern, giant and man the same. But there are ways . . . ways so that the spiritual
progresses of mankind may yet be salvaged against such tides of time. Ways . . .
integrations!"And the word seemed to echo from mind-to-mind for one brief,
potent moment before the high priest unexpectedly broke silence with a cough.
"Tell us, Great One..." he said between labored breaths, "Tell us how our
—
ways may be " and the coughing returned in such a fit, that all wondered if
the old Druid would be able to go on. " Tell us how we may survive the Roman
pestilence..." he recovered at length.
Suddenly the stony eyes opened again and glared down strangely as if con-
templating an unexpected question. "For you..." it announced with certainty,
"for you there can be no hope; the Eagle will reign victorious before dawn. But
for the Old Order, for the Elder Code, that is another matter. Go, all of you
now, and gather together fifty flawless skins from the Alder groves which
encradle us — fifty parchments on which will be recorded the final oracles of
Bran the Blessed; for know that, after this day, my voice will never again be
heard in the world of man — in this land which was once mine.
"This is that hope of which I have spoken, these words, if heeded at their
proper times, will allow the Priesthood to emerge again, to set right those
errors which have doomed you to frozen sleep. Gather your wood, Oak Men!
High Priest of the Order: prepare your pen for its final and greatest task! Use
the signs of Ogma, the script of Pythagoras. And make haste, lest dawn over-
take all, truly sentencing you to eternal oblivion!" And the ghostly face melted
back into the nothingness of cold stone.
Without a moments' hesitation, the Elder Druid turned and dispatched the
assembly into the forest with a wave of his hand, then busied himself with the
contents of a woad-blue leather pouch hanging from a belt about his waist.
"What be the metal of the Dragon?" he chanted to himself while working.
"The Voice of the Dragon must again be heard . . . the Voice of Iron!" And he
paused to quickly survey the array of men busily scattered throughout the
brush, calling to the closest: "Bring me the Dragon's Voice! Quickly, the
Ddarglais! Where has it been hidden?"
The group, overhearing, seemed instantly to grasp what the old Druid
wanted, for they spoke briefly amongst themselves before heading off rapidly
into the far woods ... a dozen Ravens setting off after them from behind. And
so it appeared, carefully wrapped in white linen: the great iron trigong, then
hung low with grave ceremony from a branch of the greatest of Alder trees
growing within the Nemeton.

Soonafter, one by one, the delegation re-grouped in front of The Head to
await god-sign; the task had been completed: delivered into the hands of the
priest, were fifty carefully-cut pieces ofalder parchment. A small fire had been lit
beside the well, with which the High Druid was busy to one side, feeding
handfuls of something onto the coals. Dark smoke rose up, nearly obscuring
the entire statue; the old man breathed in profoundly with eyes closed,
becoming one with the Magic.
Smoke rose higher into the sky, seeming to blot out the very sun itself; the
field slowly clouded over, growing darker, the ground under-foot quivering
with a static energy. Just below the cloudline, Bran's Ravens had formed into
a tight circle of black, soaring 'round and 'round without movement of wings.
And amidst it all, the phantom face again overshadowed the stone — the deep
voice from the Well again echoed forth:
"Hear now, Keepers of the Oak Grove, the final legacy of Bran. Hear and
remember the Ancient Code ... let all who have attained the sight now
attend! Until the final days of the great millenium, so shall my ladder of Fifty
Steps lead those who can truly follow . . . who can truly see. Lose you not one
single word, faithful and most beloved of the King!"
And those all-seeing eyes closed heavily, as an expectant spell of silence fell
upon the Grove and all within. The Ravens settled and the winds ceased; sty-
lus in-hand, the Old Druid closed his eyes in perfect attunement. Then, for
one brief moment of eternal-thereafter, the massive Stone Being breathed out
its enigmatic messages into the waiting air:
The Head 157
Z\)c (Quatrains of ©ran

1.
NEW STARS WILL BURN OVER ALBION

IN 462
DRACO WILL ENTER THE WORLD
A GREAT CITY WILL ARISE AND FALL
FIRE FATHERS BROUGHT LOW BY THE QUEENS HAND
THE EAGLE SHALL HAVE HIS DAY

TWENTY PLUS ONE ESCAPE THE TYRRANY
IN THE DAWN A SUN-PACT OF BLOOD
A VOICE OF IRON TO CALL THEM FORTH
A BOY TO MAGIC WILL BE BORN

ISLAND SON AND ABBOTS BANE
SEVEN YEARS THE CAVEMANS HEIR
FINAL HOPE AGAINST THE SIEGE
IV
THE CELTIC FATHERS, TIME-HONORED
BROUGHT TO THEIR LOWEST LEVEL
CALLED TO RETURN BY A DYING WORLD
AN ARMY HIDDEN FOR FUTURE DREAMS
V
GIANTS IN THE EARTH WILL SETTLE,
SEA-SIDE TOMB WILL TEACH ITS WISDOMS
SUNKEN SHIP WILL FERRY SOME OVER
A NEW LAND WILL BLOSSOM
VI.
FROM THE SKY A NEW WAVE BREAKS

FRESH ORDER AMONG THE TREES
ONE BROUGHT BACK TO TEACH THE WORDS
HIS NAME WRITTEN ACROSS THREE BOOKS
VII.
A SIMPLE BOX OF WOOD WILL BE HEARD

INGREEN FIELD THE SONG OF SOLOMON,
TWO GREAT SPIRITS UNDER ONE TREE
THEIR DESTINY DIVIDED
VIII.
THE WHITE OAK PLUNDERED BY THE BLACK CROSS

CAPTIVES MOVE FROM LOWEST DUNGEON TO HIGHEST TOWER
MIDDLE YEARS THE WORST
2005 RISING OUT OF THE MIRE, 2 VICTORS CLOSE THE AGE.
1
IX.
A NEW STATE YIELDS A NEW FOREST

LONE GIANT LEADS AN ARMY OF ELVES,
SHACKLED WITHIN A KEEP OF STEELE
AFTER, THE BLOOD OF THREE COVERS ALL
X.
OF WIND SEA FIRE AND STONE
FIRE SHALL REIGN SUPREME
THE THRICE LOST WILL RE-APPEAR
SON OF SUN TO HEAL THE DRAGON
XI.
THE MOON WILL VANISH THREE DAYS WITHOUT A TRACE

THE SON-GOD WILL FALTER,
THEN WILL A GREAT DRAGON RISE UP
FROM A CITY BEARING THE HORSESHOE FALLS
XII.
YET THE SEA SHALL NOT HAVE THEM,

THOSE WHO WILL LEAD A GREAT PEOPLE
THE SCOURGE PASSES
UNCERTAIN VICTORY AWAITS THE YOUNGER
The Head 159
XIII.
THE GREATEST OF NEW PROPHETS

SHALL MAKE DEEPEST FOREST HIS REALM,
WILL WANDER HIDDEN IN HIS FINAL DAYS
ONLY THE APPLE ISLE A SOLACE
XIV.
AN ARMY OF ACADEMICS CONDEMN

THE DWELLER FROM THE RIVER ROE,
99PASSES INTO 2000
TWENTY-ONE INTO THE TWENTY-FIRST SHALL BE RE-ARMED
XV.
THE HAUNTED MOUNTAIN WILL LIVE AGAIN
A NEW LAW IN A NEW LAND,
NOT FAR FROM THE MILLENNIUM
THE ONCE-BURNED SHALL RISE FROM THEIR OWN ASHES
XVI.
DARK MOON SUMMONS OLD FRIENDS TOGETHER
ONE FALTERING SUN REKINDLED A WHILE
ARMIES OF FANATICS LOST IN THE MIST
BENEATH THE APPLE HILL,
AN ANCIENT BOOK IN ANCIENT HANDS
XVI.
UPON THIS HALLOWED GROUND
A ONCE-GREAT SPIRIT WILL BE AWAKENED
NEWHILL BEGETS A GREAT SPOKESMAN
THE WORLD AGAIN HIS STAGE
XVII.
WHEN RULES A SON OF THE DRAGON

BONES OF THE FUTURE KING ARE FOUND
A TOMB BENEATH A STONE
ENDS THE REIGN OF A DREADED QUEEN
XVIII.
THE GARDEN, UNHAPPY AND ABANDONED

CRIES OUT AS THE SUN RISES
THE EARTH TREMBLES,
ALL AWAIT THE EQUINOX OF AUTUMN
XIX.
FOLLOWING LONG YEARS OF HOPE
HE WILL NEVER COME IN ALBION,
BORN AGAIN IN THE LANDS OF COLOMB
THE OLD PROVINCE YIELDS THE NEW FOREST
XX.
SACRED NIGHT AGAIN OVERCOMES THE WOODEN CROSS
AN AGE OF RITUAL SACRIFICE ENDS,
NEW CLERGY DON THE WHITE OF OLD
LAW NO LONGER DICTATED BY THE BLACK BOOK
XXI.
TO SAVE GAIA, A MIGHTY CHALLENGE ISSUED
THE VOICE OF A RARE SONG WILL BE HEARD
SEIZED AND SUNG AMONG GREEN
THE WORLD FORCED TO DRINK SACRED WATERS
XXII.
ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD!
TWENTY PLUS ONE FREED FROM THE HUNGER,
DAVID AND SOLOMON RULE ONCE AGAIN
LEGENDS BORN OF THREE GUILDED FLAMES
XXIII.
PAST AND PRESENT JOIN WEEPING

A CIRCLE OF STONES TOP DRAGON HILL
PLUNDERED INTO FOUNDATIONS OF MARY
ISLE LOST TO THE SUMMER SEA
The Head 161
XXIV.
GREAT LODGES OF STONE AND TIMBER
OLD NAMES RESTORED TO TWENTY,
FORGOTTEN ORACLES WILL WHISPER AMONG THE TREES
WORDS OF BRAN SHALL LIVE AGAIN
XXV
A TIME OF CONFUSED IDENTITY WILL COME
WOMEN WISHING TO PARTAKE OF MANHOOD
MEN ATTUNED TO THE LUNAR SEA,
ONE BORN TO WALK BETWEEN
XXVI.
FROM AN ANCIENT LIST, THREE COUNTED AS ONE
BY DRAGON SOUGHT IN THE LAND OF SWEET DEATH
TREE WORDS BURIED WITHIN ONE SOUL
MINED BY A FOREIGN WORKER OF WOOD
XXVII.
THEN SHALL A ROMAN COME FORTH
BELOVED PROTECTOR OF THE BEAR
FALLING STAR FROM THE FROZEN NORTH
HIS LIGHT WILL UPHOLD A GREAT DARKNESS
XXVIII.
SEVEN, SIX AND ELEVEN
THE NUMBERS OF THE LETTERS OF THE NAME
THREE RED ONES WILL STAIN THREE PARCHMENTS
AFTER ADJOINING, A GREAT WONDER IS SEEN
XXIX.
BEYOND WORD AND DEED
A BOOK OF TWENTY-ONE WILL FORGE THE PATH,
THREE LOST SCROLLS ARE MADE AS ONE
THEN FOUR NEW HANDS ELECTED TO CROSS
XXX.
LATE INTO THE BLACKEST NIGHT
SILVER TREE KNOCKS SILVER BOY
FORGOTTEN WORDS CALL FORTH A SUDDEN FLOOD
VOICES LONG DEAD FROM GOBANNIUM
XXXI.
SONGSPELLS RESOUND FROM A FORGOTTEN LAKE
ECHOES SO BEAUTIFUL ONE WILL AWAKEN
AT MIDWINTER AN UNEARTHLY THAW,
THE OLD BARD PLAYS HIS HARP MAKING TWENTY
XXXII.
SLOWLY THE GREAT BLUE TEMPLE FALLS
SKY STONES YIELD UP THEIR POWER,
THOSE WHO SEEK TO WEAR THE STONES
FIND REFUGE IN THE NEW FOREST
XXXIII.
DEADLIEST OF HER SPECIES
A QUEEN RESPLENDENT WOUNDS WITHOUT WEAPON
STIRRING IN SLEEP, THE CLERGY SMILE
VOWS NO LONGER HONORED BY THE KING
XXXIV
THE ANOINTED TRAPPED BETWEEN TWO WORLDS
A PERFECT CHILD CHOSEN AS SUCCESSOR,
AS THE CENTURY APPROACHES REBIRTH
WONDROUS SCANDAL IN THE FORM OF CHRISTOS
XXXV
ECHOES OF ANCIENT STONE CRY FORTH
A VAST GIGANTUM SLOWLY CRUMBLES
CHURCH AND STATE PLUNDERED BY GHOSTS
FRESH FOREST WINDS CAUSE THE SIEGE TO BE LIFTED
The Head 163
XXXVI.
DRAGON ISLE WILL REGAIN ITS HONOR
FROM THE NEEDLES THREE FOUND BY ONE,
BOUND BY SERPENTS BLOOD BURNED IN IRON
AFTER 9 A STRANGE ERA AMONG THE TWENTY
1
XXXVII.
ALL THE GODS WILL BECOME AS ONE GOD
A COMET STANDS, BURNS ALONE IN THE AUTUMN SKY!
WOOD AND STONE FORGE A TOWER
A NEW TEMPLE NOT ACCEPTABLE TO THE CLERGY
XXXVIII.
BORN DURING HUNTERS MOON
THE BATTLE OF MARCUS REKINDLED
THIRD HOMESTEAD WILL PROVE THE ONE
AN ANCIENT PRIEST FROM THE FRIGID NORTH DESCENDS
XXXIX.
THE POWER OF A WORD TURNS BACK THE EAGLE
RIGHTFUL HEIRESS REGAINS THE APPLE COTTAGE
TWO HEARTS WITH ONE SOUL
SWORD AND CHALICE AGAIN UNITED UNDER THE OAKS
XL.
OF PASSAGE FROM THE WIZARDS HAND
RITES
TWO WILL BE BORN FORTH, AWAITING A FINAL
DIALOGUE BETWEEN COUNTRIES
NORTH AND SOUTH MEET IN THE THIRD
XLI.
THE WORLD LINGERS BETWEEN WORLDS
GREAT MASSES LAMENT THE ANCIENT TEACHINGS
FIRE AGAIN KINDLED IN THE KINGS HEAD
TWENTY OLD TREES PLANTED ANEW
XLII.
THE NORTH ROSE IS BLUER THAN EVER

SLOWLY THE CHOSEN AWAKEN FROM THEIR DREAMS,
AS SONS RUN AND SWING AMIDST GREEN FOREST BOUGHS
FROM TOWER'D HIGH, A GIANT DESCENDS IN WHITE
XLIII.
BEYOND WORD AND DEED

BEYOND PAST AND PRESENT
WRITTEN VERSE SETS FORTH FORGOTTEN LESSONS
DEAD MEN REBORN OF THREE TALES
XLIV.
THE MOUTH OF PHARON SPEAKS ONCE MORE
TWENTY PLUS ONE CALLED TO THE PROMISED LAND
OLD LODGES OF TIMBER AND STONE ERECTED
LIKE A SHADOW, THE TOWER RISES FROM SLUMBER
XLV.
WILDFIRE WILL BURST OVER THE FORESTS
ELDER TREES SINGING OUT THEIR MARKS
OGMA RETURNS WITH AN ARMY OF POETS
VOICES LONG LOST ECHO THROUGHOUT THE WORLD
XLVI.
THE SONG OF THE FOREST TREES
SUMMONS FORTH THE FOREST'S GREATEST PROPHET
MANY CONDEMN HIS MIND AS TROUBLED
YET A GREAT CLAN IS LIBERATED!
XLVII.
AND THE TREES WALKED WHERE HE WALKED
THE PRIESTS SANG A NEW SONG
FOR AN AGE, THE WOLF HOWLED ALL NIGHT
STONE HANGING FROM A TREE, HIS VOICE RETURNS
The Head 165
XLVIII.
REFUGE OF FIRE AND BLOOD CAUSES
DEATH CRIES TO BE HEARD WITHIN THE TWENTY
A TERRIBLE TUMULT STIRS THE ISLES
GOLD HIDDEN WITHIN THE MYSTIC DEED
XLIX.
NEMETON REMEMBERED
QUEST SET FORTH IN DREAMS
A GREAT FIRE IS SEEN AMID GREEN
ROSES FILL THE NIGHT AIR WITH POISON
L.
THE HEAD FALLS FOREVER SILENT

UNTIL THE MOON TRULY FALTERS
THEN EAGLE AND SUN WILL BOTH BE VICTORIOUS
TRUE FLAME CONSUMES A LADY OF WATER
LI.
DDRAGLAIS THE FLYING FIRE

TONGUES OF FLAME, THE PROPHET'S SONG
CARVEN FACES OUTSHINE THE DARK
ANCIENT CIRCLE, MESSAGES HIDDEN WITHIN A STONE
LII.
THE SILVER BRANCH WILL BE THE KEY

THE GOLDEN BOUGH UPHOLDS
WHITE FOR BLACK, OLD FOR NEW
THE NEWLY ANOINTED BRING A LONG PEACE
LIII.
A WARRIOR ANGEL
WILL BE CHOSEN SAYING NOTHING
DEVIL ABOVE GROUND, ANGEL BENEATH
HIS WINGS WILL BEAR RUIN UPON THE GREATEST
LIV.
AT LONG LAST THE SUMMONS!

HIS FAMILY NEARLY TORN ASUNDER
ANCIENT GODS THUNDER FROM THE TALLEST
LOVE FOR A CHOSEN ONE UPHOLDS THE NEW STATE
LV.
BEHOLD ALL FLESH WILL BE REBORN

ROMAN AND CELT WORK SIDE BY SIDE
THE DUKE OF CAMEL REBUILDS HIS THRONE
SHUNAMITISM THE KEY TO ALL
LVI.
THE MISTS OF CALEN DRAW DOWN

TIME BECOMES ONE THROUGH ONE
UNITY,PEACE AND CHANGE: THE NEW TRIAD
FOUR ALBANS UPHELD AMONG THE TWENTY
LVII.
FROM NOTHING NOTHING COMES

BEGINNING AND END MUST ECHO THE WHEEL
HE WHO RACES AGAINST THE MILLENNIUM
NEED ONLY HEED THE SYPHER OF BRAN
The Head 167
And then, suddenly, time seemed to start again. Men shuffled about in the
grass, great black birds scattered back into the trees, gray stone was once again
mere stone. But, alive as the world seemed at that moment, two great lives had
forever vanished from it. Never again was the voice of Bran to be heard in
Albion —never again the voice of his high priest. The old man lay quietly
dead, stylus still in-hand and parchments scattered within the weeds all
around him. Almost at once, a group of the brethren moved forward and bore
the body to the edge of the Well, where it was laid in state with grave rever-
ence. All working together, a tall wooden pyre slowly took shape in the very
center of the Nemeton, and the remains of the Elder Druid placed upon it.
Long into the twilight hours it burned, the pyre, until at last nothing but a
great pile of golden ash remained; nothing of the High Priest save the skull,
save the head! For some strange reason that none but I seemed to question, a white
skull remained intact among the embers. Then once the late night dew had
nearly cooled the gold to gray, the Druid I had come to know as Justinnius,
picked the skull out and carried it to the edge of the Stone Well.
"Now it is done..." he called out loudly, and it seemed unnatural to hear a

human voice in that place after so long. "Now we must wait on the future."
And he dropped the once-head down the shaft while making the Sign of
Three Rays.
But the Well was not content with silence! No sooner had the splash of bone-
into-water echoed back, than a strong gust of wind burst up out of the mouth,
fanning across the meadow in all-searching directions. The Ravens of Bran
departed in a whirlwind of dry croakings, never to return; the leaves blew wildly
to and fro, the branches moaned and twisted. And finally the gale made its way
in invisible leaps and bounds to the far edge of the Nemeton, to where the iron
trigong hung heavy from its Alder bough. The Dragon's Voice was filled with
instant fury — the cry went out over the woods, across the water and onto the
parched mainland where Roman fires and Druid bones lay smouldering still.
"Murderers!" it cried out, "Savage barbarians!"'it screamed, and on and on

into nothingness. But Dragoncall did not fall upon deaf ears; no, it was heard.
Somehow, amid the moans and pain and smoke back on Anglesey, heads
lifted up and took hope.
"I must somehow I must survive!" they thought, and struggled
live . . .
onward those right few. Somehow they realized that, back on the bland oi the
Holy Head, something awaited them which could not wait. The end of an age
had come for certain; but still, as the final Roman barges pushed ofl after a job
well-done, something remained un-done . . . something unknown to them,

which could easily turn imperial gold to glitter.
Yet, for what remained of that blackest of nights, none knew, none even sus-
pected, that secret flame which lay just beyond. None, save perhaps the Spirit
of Dawn which was soon to touch all with its bright rays of morning hope!
—
Behold, the Radiant Child of the Two!

The unparalleled refulgent Glory,
Bright Space, Son ofDark Space
Who emerges from the Depths of the Great Dark Waters!
—
He shines forth as the Sun He is the blazing Voice,
Dragon of Wisdom!
H.P. Blavatsky, STANZAS OF DYZAN
©draglais
^ÂRKNESS MOVED SLOWLY OUT of darkness, and dawn came at last. All
^^/the land seemed to moan under its heavy burden of blood.

"Finally . . . they have departed" whispered the voice of Justinnius from
where he sat at the far head of the circle of men, "Listen!" And it was true.
Slowly, as if waking from a painful dream, the remaining Druids dared to look
about them, dared to confront a new world full of strange, darkened cor-
ners which the new-born Sun shamelessly revealed in varying shades of bloody
pale yellow. Overhead, just above the clearing, drifted foul-smelling tufts of
blackest smoke: night demons haunting still. Yet the circle of men was calm
calm as the wind and waves and Dragon's Voice. All waited together in a
tense, exhausted unison for history to call "enough!" and move on.
Of the eleven brethren seated there, eleven survivors, no one spoke. No
animal, no insect or bird moved through the Nemeton that dawn; destiny was
reserved for others yet to come, and all sensed this with an undeniable silence.
As for myself, I felt lost. The old Druid, my friend and guide thus far, was
dead; the legionnaires, my countrymen and murderous comrades, had
departed . . . and I was left quite alone in that charred world. Feelings of great
169
magnitude raced inside me, my thoughts a conflicting whirlwind of madness,

yet I, too, waited patiently. And we did not have to wait long!
One by one they came, men of all types and backgrounds. Some swam, some
floated over on log or boat, so by the time the sun had climbed above the flesh-
black clouds to mid-day overhead, nine more appointed guests had joined the
circle . . . placidly . . . waiting with the others, as if they all understood some
secret, unspoken thing. So it truly seemed as I sat there, hidden at the fringe
beneath that ancient Alder tree, watching as history planned out its reprise; my
only companion, the iron stillness of the Ddraglais suspended just above.
Gael . . . Roman . . . Druid . . . tribesman. Each time another man arrived,
he would greet the others with that same slow, half-confused nod of the head,
and the circle would expand to accept him without question. Each seemed
certain of his place, of understanding, all but I. Then finally by late afternoon,
twenty sat at rest within that brooding ring.
"I am Justinnius Dalan, Druid of the Nantlleu People," spoke the priest
seated at the eastern-most head, "one among you called to be here by the
Voice of the Dragon." His words were controlled and clear as he rose to his
feet. "Who else has braved the tides of war and death to sit here amongst us
now?" And his words ricocheted like sparks through forty eyes, darting to and
fro about the assembly. You could see it.
"I too have heard it!" called another, "And I! And I!" Until the entire com-
pany stood in varying postures within the circle, valiant, almost triumphant;
the pains of destruction nearly forgotten in that first moment. Some of the
warriors seemed almost jubilant. "But I thought you dead!" and "I know your
people!" and "What now after this?" being exchanged everywhere with grand
support. Yes, even from where I crouched half-way across the Nemeton, the
weight of that circle could be felt — there was enormous power in it, authority
granted to only a handful throughout the long course of history. Such power
was undeniably there, that day in that island meadow.
All told, there was Justinnius of the White Clan of Gwynedd, who had
some way assumed a natural, uncontested leadership role. Three men from
the Red Isle of Eire stood side by side: Mace Umaillof Dun Da Bhenn, Mon-
gan of Cruachain and the bronze-haired giant Demne Mac Cerbhaill of Tir
Inna m'Beo. The Breton, Bareaton of Morbihan, clad about in firs and scarlet
plaids, stood by the Gauls: Vercingetorix of Taurisci, Perigueux of Lugoves and

Vergotorix of Brannovices.
Ddraglais 171
Scattered in random array were the others, three Romans and nine from the
Keltoi tribes of the Genii Cucullati. Lest history resign these brave hearts to
oblivion, they are here recorded for future generations. They were: Maglaunus,
Henuinus and Caratacus\ Brian of Gododdin, Aranon of Dalriada, Fennius of
Lothian, Avallach of Arfderydd; Amathaon of Caer Dathal, Maelduin of
Mochdref, dan of Aberffraw, Carbonek of Nantlleu and Pelleas of Cerniu.
And here they all stood, this grand mixture of souls, wondering why they
were there. In the silence that followed, waves of uncertainty, weariness and
blood washed over them, and, one-by-one, they sat. Only Justinnius
remained up.
"Nechtan the High Priest, is dead ... his mortal clay burned by our very
hands," he began low and steady. "He alone might have known in what direc-
tion the Winds of Awen blow from this day onward. But I am not he, yet I
speak: Men, we have before us a destiny to master.Were it not so, we too would
be either dead or hopelessly scattered." The men mumbled in agreement.
"But we are here . . . here to piece together a broken vase, to decide why
and how. The wise have long said that the true test of life is not what we know
how to do, but rather how we act when we do not know what to do." And
with this, Justinnius sat down.
"Perhaps we are being punished by the Gods," said one of the Eires after a
long pause.
"I agree," added Aranon the Pict, "but in our belief, punishment is incon-
ceivable without a chance for retribution. How else could the Gods expect us
to learn from mistakes? FACT: our world lies about us in ruin. FACT: we
remain. If one is to assume that some special reason stands behind all this,
then what can come of it? What are we to make of it? Perhaps this is the ques-
tion before us."
Again there was a long silence. Justinnius seemed disconnected to Aranon's
words; he had closed his eyes, and his head was inclined forward almost onto
his chest. I wondered if perhaps he were ill.
"Yes . . . there must be truth in what he says," Caratacus spoke up. "The
Gods never act without reason, no matter whose gods they be. We must act in
conference to uncover what lies in wait beneath the surface."

"No grand revelation was ever born in a conference," Pelleas interjected cyn-
ically, "but many a foolish idea has died there! Nonetheless, let US talk, 1 say."
"So let us beware, /say," cautioned one of the Romans. "There are well-
dressed foolish ideas just as there are well-dressed fools! We must be careful
not to jump into ideas before their time." And he shot an exaggerated frown
around the circle.
"To my way of thinking, ideas are like stars," added Cian the Welshman.
"You will not succeed in touching them with your hands, yet, choosing them
as your guides and following closely, you will reach your destiny."
Again the men were still, many seemed lost and pondering among this sea
of words. But then something decisive happened! All at once Justinnius

opened his eyes, stood up briskly and beamed a broad smile.
"
Brothers," he spoke with a new confidence, "I believe we indeed have a
star to follow, we twenty captured men! For your words have reminded me
that there is one thing stronger than all the conquering armies of the world:
and that is an idea whose time has cornel For ages uncounted, has this island sod
kept blanketed the greatest counsel of old: the head of Bran the Blessed. And,
although the hour of Bran has now come and gone from the Earth, yet his
flesh speaks to me through the ground somehow . . . through the very soil of
this place! And it speaks to me of an idea, an idea which must become a feat
of association. Listen well, all of you!" And he sat back, motioning the others
to tighten their circle towards the center.
Since, at this phase, I myself was but a distant observer of these happen-
ings, the words they next spoke in counsel have been lost to me. All that can
be said with any certainty, is that they continued where they sat through most
of what remained of the day. Then finally, as the last rays of the setting sun
cast the landscape into hues of red and black, the assembly broke up into
small groups and disappeared in varying directions across the field.
It seemed like an eternity before I finally became aware of just what they
were doing. Four enormous bonfires had been built in each corner of the
Nemeton to provide light, and towards the center . . . rocks, piles of them. It
amazed me that exhausted, war-torn men could work so, yet they all seemed
to be driven by something deeper; perhaps an idea? At one point I was
engrossed in watching a group of the men digging a circular ditch in the mid-
dle of the field, when a dry twig suddenly snapped on the ground behind me.
I spun around quickly to find the young Druid Justinnius standing perfectly
still just a few lengths into the shadows. Neither of us spoke. We stared at
each other in a long, tense silence, before he finally made off abruptly into the
brush. But despite this, and the mystery which surrounded it all, some things
were rapidly beginning to take shape . . . like the earthwork form which was
the obvious focus of attention.
—
Ddraglais 173
I had seen many of them before while journeying across Britain, these
giant, hollow mounds of stone and earth, but knew nothing as to their use or
purpose. The diameter of the dome seemed some four to five lengths across,
while the materials of construction were simple: soil, rock and long lengths of
green alder poles which formed the frame, bent from point to point along the
circle's edge. Crawling carefully through the brushline to better my vantage, I
wondered suddenly if the men were building a cairn a burial mound for the
dead Druid they had cremated earlier that day? From this new hiding place, I
could clearly see a rectangular entrance upheld by three lintel timbers; Justin-
nius, now in a long white robe, passed in and out several times carrying what
seemed to be small, red-hot stones which had been heated in the fires. But no
one else entered. Then at last, the original circle of men slowly re-formed
around the structure, and Justinnius emerged, raising his hands triumphantly
into the air.
"Brothers, the GHOST HOUSE is prepared. Go now, all of you into the
night, and bring back the Silver Branch with which we will bridge the
worlds!" Then with a quick gesture of blessing, he disappeared back into the
dark interior as the circle once again broke out in all directions.
"Brian . . . Aranon, over here!" came a loud voice from somewhere very
close, followed by much smashing and cracking of underbrush. "Come on,
over by the Ddraglais! Hurry!"

And I shrunk back behind a stand of Alders as a sudden black, terrible
thought came to mind. What if the accounts I had heard in Rome were true?
What if the Druids needed a sacrifice — a human sacrifice to achieve their pur-
pose? What if that dark earthmound had really been prepared for me 7 .
•> > >

Oh, God, why does not the sea cover the land?
Why are we left to linger?
GRUFFYDDAB YR YNAD COCH
Z\)c Silver Branch

H* ATE INTO THAT MOONLESS night, the wind returned at last. And this time
Xtrthe wind brought with it a strange new
new energy and mystery, a fresh
mood and message. "Come in..." it beckoned from the fresh dark mound,
"gather together your silver boughs, your stones and water and wills, and enter —
"
it is time to move on.
And they did come! From every point across the Nemeton, from every
patch of pine and needle'd grove . . . they returned, laden with branches of sil-
ver-blue. One by one they arrived at the mound's black mouth, and one by
one were welcomed in at the hands of the young Druid who still knew far
more than he told. Within a brief time, the hill had swallowed them all, all
twenty, and no light penetrated the damp night air between them, save only
the pale glow of a single candle burning somewhere deep inside.
And I still lived! Climbing free of my tree shelter, I nearly laughed aloud at
the thought of sacrifice at the hands of these men; surely, we had all had our
fill of bloodshed and death. So slowly, I edged my way out into the clearing.
No one was there. Moving closer still, I could make out the Strains of a ( bant,
or song or melody, coming from within. The mound-group sang this haunt-
ing englyn over and over again until the very glen seemed to resonate with it:
175
Song of tl?e Vision fRaker

Earth Magician shapes the world,
Behold what he can do!
Round and smooth he moulds it all,
Vision maker, make us a vision!
Earth Magician makes the mountains,

Far below he shapes the seas!
He it is who parts the valleys,
Vision maker, make us a vision!
Alone through forest wander, I,
Gathering Silver boughs in the night!
Holy vision, breath of fire,

Descending power, Bringer of Light!
I have made the Sun!
I have made the Moon!

Hurling high in four directions,
Hanging heavens to illumine!
Earth Magician shapes the world,

Behold what he can do!
Swiftly now we come together,
Vision Maker, vision true!
Over and again over the men chanted, sang, repeated the verse rising bit by
bit, repeated louder and faster each time. Back in the shadows, someone added
a drum . . . then a gourd rattle, while the others beat in unison upon the bare
earth with their hands a final refrain! And when the whole sounded as one
great, horrible heartbeat in the night, Justinnius abruptly cried out: "Dewch!
The Ghost Dance!" And. the music stopped, all but the drum-beat. I inched my
way to the doorway.
Together, silver branches in-hand, locked within the tension of group-

trance, the men stood at once. Then in perfect accord with the rhythm, they
began to move Sun-wise around the interior: left step, wait . . . right step, wait
The Silver Branch \JJ
. . . circle slowly, down-up . . . again, again, again, again, slightly faster, slightly
louder . . . "Vision-maker, make us a vision!"

"Imbas Forosnai!" yelled the Druid when the dance had reached its frenzy,
and he raised both hands overhead into the roof. Taken as a signal, the group
raised their hands likewise, tossing the bough each held onto the glowing-hot
pile of stones marking the center of the mound.
Instantly, cracking and sizzling, the green branches smoldered into gray
fountains of steam, quickly filling the chamber with a wild assortment of
wreathing, captive spirits.
"Imbas Forosnai!" Justinnius called again into the fog as each man pulled
himself suddenly bolt-upright, breathing in unison slow and deep. It was
nearly impossible to see what was transpiring between the fumes and the dark,
but one by one, the sound of bodies dropping quietly to the ground caught
and held my attention; silently, under my breath, I counted the falls: sixteen
. . . seventeen ... by the time space had finally cleared enough to see, none
stood . . . none but the one.
Justinnius! He alone remained unfallen among his comrades; he and I,
alone to witness whatever was to come. With eyes glass-like and fixed, the
young priest rigidly un-tied a blue leather pouch strapped at his side to extract
a handful of grey powder — possibly ash, which he then held out towards the
pile while reciting in a voice, half-spoken half-sung:
"A Elfyntodd dwyr sinddyn duw

Cerrig yr Fferllurig nwyn,
Os Syriaeth ech saffaer tu
Fewr echlyn mor, necrombor llun."
And the ash-dust was thrown down onto the sweltering stones. Within an
instant, hot air currents exploded the powder back up toward the ceiling in a
cascade of sparks which gathered together in mid-air . . . forming the glitter-
ing outline of a human head! I watched in utter disbelief as the form took
shape bit by bit, at last becoming undeniably clear just whose head it was.
Beyond all doubt, it was the image of the dead Druid, the man who had guided
me to this Island, whose face glared down with a vacant scowl at the bizarre Kc
nario below. For the first time that day, it seemed as if a cloud of fear passed
over Justinnian's face, and then was gone.

—
"I see that I have chosen wisely," spoke the shade of Nechtan, "for you have
successfully pieced together both what to do, and how to do it! Bran, too, was
dead, yet was sought out for counsel even in death, and now me. Yes ... I have
also chosen well; your training serves you, Justinnian. Your people are to be
commended." And the image began to fade away.
"No, wait! Arch-Mage . . . stay, I ask you!" the young priest pleaded, taking
a nervous step or two forward. "Much is left un-said between us, and there are
no others left to consult —even the Great King has moved on into Annwn."
"Ah, yes," the apparition responded heavily, "and this truly marks your own
coming of age . . . your own initiation, your first real test in what will surely be
many lifetimes of tests. Very well, then. We will proceed onward as in the noble
traditions of old: the three fixed queries. You may question me three times
regarding the issues at hand, but not more than this. Take care, novice, for the
terms have now been spoken!" Slowly, as if consumed by careful thought, the
young Druid stepped back against the wall and folded his arms.
"Even so far back as the Time of Bran," the ghost re-stated, "and the days
of the great Tree Battle, there have always been three traditional requests of
any oracle, and they will yet serve us well." Justinnius straightened himself
into an upright, formal posture.
"Nechtan, learned one in the World of Men and now Beyond, answer me
thrice as regards the mass destruction which surrounds us: Who? Why? What?"
And he relaxed his stance.
The image of Nechtan was unmoving for many long moments, consider-
ing, until the eyes finally closed and a frozen pallor overfell it.
"Justinnius..." spoke the entranced being almost in a whisper, "there are

twenty of you . . . twenty plus one. This appointed group gathered here rep-
resents a certain plan ofhope for the future. Each time the world is deprived of
one of its treasures by the hands of human folly, a time for recovery is
appointed by destiny. Likewise, each time an individual or group deprives

mankind of a cultural element needed for world growth, no matter the cause,
a chance for retribution is demanded by fate, and the stage set. By virtue of
your studies, you have no doubt learned that all universal lessons are cast in
three's —and your brotherhood be no exception to this.
You will all have three chances to rectify fate, to make up for those collective
mistakes leading to the destruction of Anglesey three scenarios before the final
test of the Second Millennium. But know this first: that two of these chances
of which we speak are already lost, history passed by; following the great Tree
The Silver Branch 179
Battle and now the Druidic demise, only a third remains." The phantom of
Nechtan opened his eyes and looked about; somewhere in the darkness, one of
the companions moaned softly, shifting his position on the floor.
"If what you say is true," Justinnius ventured into the silence, "and two
attempts at reconciliation have already been played out for naught, then where
is our edge? What exists to direct us away from error, this once and future
time? What hope is there to offer as we venture on?"
"To travel hopefully is often better than to arrive" came a calm response, "Yet
I agree that, to achieve success, you need carefully utilize all resources at your
disposal, which, luckily, are numerous indeed. Uncover your past mistakes
and learn from them . . . build on them, as the philosophy of one age is most
assuredly the common sense of the next!"
"And what might these resources be, these guideposts you speak of? How
can we uncover what is past?"
"First of all you have the Quatrains ofBran. Do you really suppose that the
Great Head dictated these as a final act, at this time, simply for posterity? For
no practical use? Do you not think he knew of your plight and what weight it
carried with it? Those verses are secret rungs of a ladder, pointing up in a
direction you need to follow. Study them . . . protect them . . . use them to
plan, to understand.
Second, the Guardianship of The Cave. From this Island, you must lead
your companions to the far eastern summit of Snowdonia, where you will dis-
cover the entrance to a vast cavern wherein lies the greatest treasure of the
Druids: THE BOOK OF PHERYLLT. The entrance is marked by three
ancient Yew trees, each growing one out of the other; you will know the sign
upon finding it. Take the Bran Parchments there; add them to the sacred book
and study the whole in secrecy, until enough is revealed to clearly formulate
your plans. Erect there also another Cairllen, another Vision Mound like this
one, and use it to dig into forgotten histories. The present and future can only
be truly understood through the patterns of the past.
Third and finally, The Enigma. Justinnius, here mark me well:
Within days, the Roman armies will return to Anglesey, and this time will
bridge the waters to Holyhead. Once here, they will continue their reign of
destruction by felling the Sacred Groves, smashing to chaffany remnants ot our
Priesthood, including the stone Head of Bran within this Nemeton. But von
and your men must move first! The mammoth head need be overturned . . DC
toppled, for underneath its flattened platform will be found U) inscription ol

remotest antiquity carved into the living rock. What it reads, none can tell, but
legend has it to be a message for a future people in a future tongue, ciphered
within the forgotten script of drowned Atlantis: Past and Future, woven
together in mystery. And this Enigma, too, must be preserved for years to
come; somehow it surely figures into plans-within-plans yet to be drafted . . .
the blueprint of gods and men. Copy it down carefully, use our Elder script, and
preserve it within the Books of Pheryllt as a whole. Only when all this be done
and bound, will hope return for us. Yet without guardians, without this
appointed assembly, none of what we have spoken will ever come to fruition.
Mark it well, Justinnius Dalan — let it be done."

Then, like a wisp of smoke which has overstayed its space, the image of
the old man began to fade, to break up into tiny sparkles of dusty light trying
to escape. Caught by this unexpectedly, Justinnius jolted to attention.
"Wait . . . please!" he called out, loudly this time, "There is one further thing
I need to know!" Still the form continued to scatter and die, now almost gone.
"Who is the other . . . the twenty-first? Who...?"Y!)\ii it was gone.
Myself, I remember having wondered about the question, although it
somehow seemed that the time for questions was far over. Many answers had
been granted, answers which would require careful time to work out.
By this point, the interior of the mound had completely cleared of smoke
and the pile of needled-stones lay cold and gray in its midst. One by one, as if
a dreamed-of command had just been given, the men lying in varied scattered
array about the circle stirred stiffly to life and stood unsteadily to resume their
original places. Within moments, the entire company was again assembled,
freed from the spell of the silver branches.
"Welcome back, Companions of the Web," Justinnius said with slow grav-
"Much has transpired
ity. while you drifted upon the Otherworld Seas . . .
much that need be told."

"I, too, have news to tell!" Carbonek of Glanum spoke up.
"And I . . . yes!"
"And I..."
"And I!" they all declared after a moment, as if waking at different points
from the same dream. It seemed that each man had something to say; for the
very first time, the dark interior was filled with voices all clamoring to be heard.
The Silver Branch 181
"So we dreamed a dream?..." stated one of the men louder than the rest, and
all fell suddenly silent. "And in that dream the High Priest Nechctan appeared
and spoke." There was a general nodding of heads and many an exchange of
approving glances before another man resumed.
"Yes, it was indeed as he says! Justinnius — the old priest ordered that we
deliver a message to you without delay. You are to be reminded that our num-
l
ber is twenty plus one, and that the one begs entrance just outside our door.
the key, "
1
The one is he ended by saying.

"No, he did not end there," intejected the Breton almost indignantly, "but
by charging that we are next to meet upon the Serpent Mound, where apples
grow on silver boughs and death cannot touch the living. That is what he said!"
All at once Justinnian's face melted into an expression of complete under-
standing and he smiled; it seemed as though the Sun had truly risen behind
his brow.
"Now I see," he beamed. "The key is right here before us all! Tacitus, please
enter and take your rightful place!" And all waited, exchanging puzzled glances.
To say that I was utterly unprepared for this would be an understatement.
These were the same men I had feared capable of sacrifice a short time ago,
and now matters seemed to demand a collaboration of some sort. Gods . . .
ghosts . . . prophecies. Confused but not knowing what else to do, I opened
my will to the universe, and it spoke back: 'OFTEN DO THE SPIRITS OF
GREAT EVENTS STRIDE ON BEFORE THE EVENTS ... IN
TODAY'S SHADOW WALKS TOMORROW,' and I forced myself forward.
Many words were spoken, many thoughts exchanged with no hint of con-
demnation towards anyone, least of all me. It seemed as though the group
instinctively grasped my place . . . our place and what lay ahead, at least as far
as Snowdonia; beyond the great peak, that would depend in part on what was
found beneath the stone head of Bran. And so we set to work, digging franti-
cally, racing the Sun against the return of the Romans.

When at last the mammoth sculpture lay toppled on its side, the first pale
light of dawn was well upon us. I, by virtue of my occupational proficiency
with scripts and languages, had been elected scribe, and so the next phase of
the recovery rested in my hands. Slowly, with painstaking care, I scraped ofl
layer after layer of compacted dirty clay from the bottom of the monument
until at last a complex series of runes were revealed, carved deep into the rock.
A gasp of wonder passed among the men as a torch was brought against the
surface; the phantom of the old priest was right . . . the writings were there!
Hope had truly been rekindled throughout the camp as I began the arduous
task of copying the script onto the back of an imperial ordinance map in my
possession.
No sooner had I finished writing down a peculiar line of Ogham hardly

noticable by the side of the main inscription, than a sudden commotion
erupted at the far end of camp.
"We must leave . . . now!The flatboats! Two Roman legions have just been
spotted. Once dispatched, they will arrive before nightfall; they bear orders to
kill any survivors, then burn the Sacred Groves! The Groves!"
| /JwXi*^ to
The three Gauls stationed as look-outs on the mainland had returned,

yelling wildly to everyone within range. Their panic sent a new shadow of
black terror falling across the hearts of all as the men raced madly towards the
central clearing.
"Friends . . . comrades, we have time," came the steady voice of Justinnius

as he climbed up atop the well-head in seeming confidence. "The Romans are
as heavy and slow as they are stupid!" His smile sent out an infectious ripple
The Silver Branch 1 83
of humor, visibly breaking the tension in the men's faces. "We have time, at
least a quarter-sun before they can possibly reach us, and perhaps more. By
that time, we will be on the open sea and long gone do not worry. Certainly . . .
we have not come this far to be waylaid by fate. Still, before any one of us
departs, we must first make certain that no clues are left behind after all, —
even the Romans have limits to their stupidity! Make haste, men, and first
level the Vision Mound, leaving no trace. Then gather together the Ddraglais
and all parchments and meet back under the Great Alder; two boats await us
on the far shore even now as we speak. Caesar comes from the southwest, we
go to the northeast! Now go!"
And they did go, attacking the mound as if the very dirt and stones were
themselves Roman Centurians; like fanatics they pushed and dug, until noth-
ing at all was left.
Time moved swiftly and, just as Justinnius had foretold, we were all drift-
upon the tide well

ing freely before the Sun shone full over the horizon. Most
of the companions fell at once into an exhausted sleep, while others were
grumbling uneasily over what was to become of us now as fugitives from Rome.
"Are we to spend the remainder ofour lives in constantfear ofcapture, now that
we are a vanquished Priesthood!'" Vergotorix called angrily over to Justinnius in
the next boat. "What now?"

Instead of becoming angry in return, the young Druid paused for a
moment as his mouth twisted slowly into a peculiar, half-smile. "To be van-
quished, and yet not surrender," he answered smugly, "that, my friend, is true
victory!" And he turned to resume his northern watch.

As for myself, I sat at the very stern of the boat, also wondering . . . wonder-
ing. In the back of my mind, I knew that the time would come when a return to
the Imperial Offices of Rome would be unavoidable; but not, I vowed, until an
understanding was reached as to my place in the scheme of events, both past and
future. Until then, a fugitive it would be; and afterwards, well — perhaps the
interest of the company could just as well be served from an Imperial Palace?
And on and on I continued to suppose into the gtay waters, until chancing
down at the stone-script which I still carried in my
to look hand. Like an
answer to my unspoken wonderings, the alien Ogham-line caught and held
my attention as silently translated the Greek words under-breath.
I
Then, like Justinnius, too smiled confidently and turned my attentions to

I
the sea— reciting the revealed verse over and over like a secret reward to
myself. Greater than the uncertainty of sea or captive destiny, these words
sailed alone above them all, shouting in grand acclamation:
"
"Forever blessed be the tie that binds...
m
--.--~ -"- - --— - .-* * -: ----- - --- '-
©nmoire #2
"2i Excerpts from The Book ofPheryllt"
I. THE SILVER BRANCH: "Creating the Bard's Charm."
II. DDRAGLAIS: "Bringing the Dragon's Voice to Life."
III. NECHTAN'S WELL: "Celtic Oracle of the Skull."
IV. SUNWASH-MOONWASH: "The Celtic Rites of Purification."
V. IMBAS FOROSNAI: "The Rite of Firebreath."
VI. STONEHANG: "The Celtic Oracle of Fal."
VII. VISION MOUND: "Building a Temple of Sight."
VIII. SPIRIT FLIGHT: "Ritual of the Stepping Stones."
IX. CAER SIDI: "The Circle of the Gods."

X. TOTEMS: "Celtic Guides and Turfs."
XI. THE RITE OF DRAGONCALL: "Releasing the Voice of Iron.'
XII. THE LIGHT SHIELD: "Three Inner Stars of Druid Doctrine."
XIII. GOGMAGOG: "Visiting the Celtic Giants."
XIV. THE SIGILS OF INSCRIPTION: "Lost Celtic Signs of Power.'
XV. SHAPESHIFTING: "The Celtic An of Change."
XVI. GODFORM EVOCATION: "Calling Forth to Sight."
XVII. NINEFOLD: "The Nine Druidic States of Being."
XVIII. DOAINE SIDHE: "Contacting the Faerie Folk."
XIX. PROSE CASTING: "The Bardic Secret of Words."

XX. THE WATERS OF ANNWN: "Preparing the Elixor of Sight."
XXI. CIRCLE OF OGMA: "Rite of the Flaming Door."
These excerpts are given in the interest of the Druidic Mythos —they are not intended
as a self-initiatory body, although one may choose to employ them as such. They are
offered solely as unique examples of practices remnant of Druidic Tradition, insofar

as it extends down through the sixteenth century pen of Llewellyn Sion. The disciple
of Druidism, after having earnestly WORKED THROUGH, not merely READ

THROUGH The 21 Lessons of Merlyn or another comparable course, should find
'
these offerings stimulating material on which to continue or augment an already

existing program. -DM
185
^m-: --i^zzzjz^z^^l:-' mamammmauam

^>:*>yx*>>>>:«<*:*:*>^^^^
I. THE SILVER BRANCH

"Creating the Bard's Charm"
THE SILVER BRANCH is an image drawn from earliest Celtic folklore, an actual
silvered tree-branch from which hung tiny silver bells in the form of apples.
"A branch of the Apple Tree from Emain
I bring, like those one knows,
Twigs ofsilver are upon it

"
Crystal brows with blossoms...
The symbolism makes perfect sense: hanging apples DO look like bells from a branch,
and the Apple Tree and its fruit have strong silver/water/female (the 'Eve thing') asso-
ciations, as in the Isle of Apples, etc. And the history of Magic and Shamanism is filled
with references to bells, chimes and metallic jingles used in ritual. Almost always, they
are associated with the element of AIR, and are made of silver. An exception in this
category would be the Ddraglais encountered in THE BATTLE OF THE TREES, a
special 3-sided gong of sorts, made of iron and aligned with FIRE. Bells are magically
used to "clear the air" before a ritual, ergo the catch-phrase 'clear as a bell.' They also
form a long-standing seasonal association with Yule/Christmas-tide, as "Bells Rung at
Dawn" is an old Celtic custom of welcoming, or 'bringing in' the new Sun, stemming
from the Druids who developed this connection. RING THOSE CHRISTMAS
BELLS, Carol of the Bells, the bells on Santa's sleigh, Silver Bells — all are ancient tools
for bringing in the new, clearing out the old, re-made modern.
With this history in mind, it is now suggested that the reader consider adding the
SILVER BRANCH to his practical stock of magical tools. The Bards have legendary
connections —they used it before beginning a song or story, a 'signal' that the saga
was about to begin. In this culture, the phone rings. But it can clear the air prior to
any work, a device of invitation and purification!
Two creational aspects need be met, in order to make one which is symbolically
effective (i.e. touches the past Archetype so power flows between the 2 worlds): the
WOOD MUST BE APPLE, and the BELLS MUST APPEAR SILVER. No stray
Grimoire #2 187
ranches from the backyard, or Greek golden apples, (Hesperides variety), will do!
No — find an apple tree or, better yet, an orchard where you will have better selec-
tion. Do not pick a branch from the ground, it destroys the "air symbolism" of never
having touched the Earth. But do choose a dry, dead branch... apple trees character-
abound with them, one 3 or 4 of your hands in length, light, with nice firm
istically
branchlets. Use your aesthetic judgment for best form-and-feel here. Go home,
remove the bark carefully and sand the whole smooth. Do not paint — never cover over
natural wood, it distorts the psychic properties. Count the branchlet ends, so you'll
know how many bells to look for.
Now for the SILVER bells. Look in hobby shops, or places where they sell tiny
bells for sewing decoration, etc. Often times your local department store has a handi-
craft section. Again, it is important to use your aesthetic eyes when choosing — don't
just buy the first thing that 'fits the bill,' or all you'll get in the end, is a strange-look-
ing Christmas decoration. Be selective. You are actually performing a spiritual act of
Magic during each phase of the construction process. Look for actual BELLS if you
can, not the stocking, jingle-bells variety, unless you have no choice. Buy as many as
there are ends to your branchlets.
To connect bells-to-branches, TIE THEM ON, so that they hang and ring freely.
Use blue or white ribbon or yarn/thread. Then carve, paint or draw your personal
sigil/symbol onto the wood somewhere to personalize it (remember Grimoire 1, #16?
Did you do it?).
Keep your SILVER BRANCH with your other Magical items (wand, shell, blade,
stone, Crane Bag, etc.), and use it to begin and end the spiritual work you do. Some
people even use the Branch to 'clear their mind' before reading or studying. Over
time, it will build up wonderful connections within your mind/psyche, then becom-
ing a work of Druidic Magic indeed.
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II. DDRACLAIS
"Bringing the Dragons Voice to Life"
Enough mention has already been made throughout the BODY OF THE
DRAGON of the Ddraglais, so that a detailed history might at this point seem redun-
dant. Yet a bit can be usefully added regarding the HISTORY of this unique and
ancient device.
The earliest treatment of which the author is aware, comes from the Pheryllt man-
uscript — quotations from two sources: the Magicus of Aristotle, and the Succession of
the Philosophers, by Soton of Alexandria. It also appears in the early Welsh Book of
Dwyfyddiaeth. Other than this, the Iron Dragon's Voice is heard in two early Celtic
tales: the Irish Frenzy ofthe Phantom, (Baile in Scail), and the Welsh saga Quest for the
Scarlet Rock, (Englynion Cynghanedd, attributed to Cynddylan of Powys, 7th C,
Reliquiae Celticae, III). Both description and usage are also given in a later compila-
l
tion, The Sentences ofBardism,' (Ieuan ab Hywel Swrdwal, 1450).
Ddraiglais
l.Cut
4P 2. Weld 3. Finish
The construction-plan itself being simple, it is the assembly that poses difficulty
needing someone capable of skillfully welding iron together. As of late, the author has
Grimoire #2 189
^X«*>:w*>xw*>ra ":".:.
seen accurate reproductions of these Celtic Gongs (as they are called in shop lingo), appear-
ing regularly in emporiums which wind chimes and outdoor 'wind-blown' lawn
carry
ornaments. Usually they are indeed of iron, and sometimes can be found in three
sizes. Before going to the trouble of locating a blacksmith in these times, make some
phone calls to local stores which might carry them.
But, of course, having one made/making one yourself, is always preferable. As in
the above assembly drawing, you will need 3 separate triangular pieces of iron, OF 3
SEPARATE THICKNESSES — the varied gauges are extremely important, for the
tones produced symbolically represent the 3 primal notes of creation: the 'I-A-O' of
the Three Rays. They must then be welded together at the top, pyramid fashion, and
a chain welded from the apex inside on which to suspend the beater. It is a device
which must be HUNG, usually from a tree branch, so an iron ring should be welded
at the outside top as well.
At our establishment, a large Ddraglais hangs suspended from the lowest branch of
an extremely old Oak Tree. The area Wind Elementals (Sylphs, the 'consciousness'
which inhabits Air at certain special times called Thresholds) have been worked with
extensively enough, so that they call us out by ringing often, with messages or weather
warnings. Sometimes other beings as well!
----''---:' - ,''-. '
.
- -
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Frequently, a well had a skull associated with it. In later times, this was said to be
that ofa saint and preserved as a relic in a nearby church. Some wells actually
have the word 'head' in their names, as in Tobar na Ceann, Well of the Head, in
the Outer Hebrides. This brings to mind other pagan wells such as that ofNorse
Mimir which was supposed to contain the giants magical head.
III. NECHTAN'S WELL

"Celtic Oracle of the Skull"
Dr. Ann Ross, the eminent Celticist, has made the analogy, 'As the Cross to Chris-
tianity, so the Severed Head to the ancient Celts — to the Druids." Dr. Ross's state-
ment is, of course, revealing on many levels. Innumerable other scholars, have
described the basis of the Celtic religious mythos, as the CULT OF THE SEVERED
HEAD, especially as it relates to the Continental Celts of Gaul and Western Europe.
Diodorus Siculus, writing in 50 B.C., had this to say:
They (the Celtic Tribesmen) cut off the heads of enemies slain in battle and
attach them to the necks of their horses. The blood-stained spoils they hand over to
their attendants to carry offas boot, while striking up a paean and singing a song of
victory; and they nail up the fruits upon their houses, just as do those who lay low
wild animals in certain kinds ofhunting
And, one hundred years before that, the historian Livy pictured the Celts' same
fascination in even more heady terms:
They embalm in cedar oil the heads of the most distinguished enemies, and pre-
serve them carefully in a chest, and display them with pride to strangers, saying that
for this head one of their ancestors, or his father, or the man himself, refused the
offer ofa large sum of money. They say that some ofthem boast that they refused the
weight of the head in gold; thus displaying what is only a barbarous kind of mag-
nanimity, for it is not a sign of nobility to refrain from selling the proofs of ones
valour.
Grimoire #2 191
So much for the attitude of the tribesmen towards the sacred head. But why was —
it considered sacred? The answer to this, is to be found deeply embedded within the
Druidic Doctrine of the Soul.
The evidence of this veneration can be found wherever the Celts are found. No
one living today can be certain what the 'Oracular Head' meant — the metaphysics
ofa culture far removed in time and experience, are usually impossible to fathom.
However, certain old manuscripts, stories and fragments lead us to believe that the
Severed Head summarized the essential Druidic doctrine concerning consciousness
and immortality. It was considered the seat of the soul, of thought and even of
divinity. Severed, it continued to retain a life of its own, with power to achieve
effects for its possessors.
G. Stanford, CELTIC SECRETS, 1993

Those readers well-versed in Celtic Mythology will, no doubt, be smiling at this
point, guessing what is coming next —and you are so right! In the Second Branch of
the Mabinogion, entitled BRANWEN, DAUGHTER OF LLYR, there is a won-
drous story which takes as its main theme, the image of the Severed Head.
Bran the Blessed, giant and king of the Island of the Mighty, was one of the finest
protectors Albion had ever known. But trouble came, and his sister needed to be res-
cued from Ireland. Wading across the sea, followed by his fleets, Bran's forces were
engaged in a terrible battle — terrible in part, because the enemy possessed the Caul-
dron of Rebirth (originally a gift from Bran himself) so , their warriors never really
died. In the end, Albion emerged triumphant, but Bran was wounded by a poisoned
arrow and lay dying. Overcome by an Otherworld inspiration, the king ordered that
his HEAD BE CUT OFF, and it alone be taken on their return voyage. The head
continued to live, talk, laugh and eat as it ever had, and a fantastic series of adventures
ensued before they finally returned home to bury the Head in London Hill.
Now, all these quotes and stories boil down to this: The Severed Head was sacred
because it housed the soul of man. It was independent of the body. supreme
It was a
symbol of accomplishment and PROTECTION — the custom of carving pumpkins.

gourds or turnips into scary faces at Halloween, stems from these Celtic beliefs! I be
original idea, was that malignant spirits and ghosts roamed the earth on \ [allowed!,
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so people needed added protection, especially the children. So, one face/HEAD was
carved for each child in the household, then placed outside on the steps to frighten
away the boogies. Can you see the direct connection with the sacred severed head?
The Head of Bran, the Great King, still protects our houses each Halloween! And the
Book of Pheryllt specifically mentions the Druidic use of a PROTECTIVE CIRCLE
OF NINE PUMPKINS used in Magical rites long ago, (see THE 21 LESSONS OF
MERLYN, Ch. 4). Wonderful stuff, this!
But let us return to the specific focus of this section, namely, Nechtan's Well.
Nechtan is an extremely old Irishgod of wells and prophecy, who later became a
character in many Celtic sagas. One story taken from The Bardic Tales ofTadhgDall
O hUiginn, ca. 1580, relates how Nechtan was involved in a skirmish one night
against the warrior Mac Cecht. In the end, he was killed, his head cut off (in true
Celtic fashion), thrown down the well shaft, and his body dumped into a nearby
river. After a time, the legend developed that Nechtan's body climbed out of the river
each full moon, looking for its head, which called out from the bottom of the well.
People would come to listen and ask questions of the Head, down to recent times; the
location is said to be St. Senan's Well, Dunass, Co. Clare. Another version of the
same story is to be found in the Welsh prose Ny bo teu dy benn, but there are three
warriors this time, and the location is on Holyhead in Anglesey.
The legend accounts for the island's name.
Now, what can be done with all this from the standpoint of practical Celtic
Magic? The Pheryllt script provides an interesting answer.
It describes a rite by which a small Head is hand-carved from green oakwood;
some models are provided just above. The Head is then taken, on a full moon, to
some ancient well, thrown down it, followed by the following incantation:
Grimoire #2 193
"Guilyth I! Guilyth 01
Guilyth I! Guilyth Of
Guilyth I! Guilyth 01
Voice ofNechtan, voice of the head!
Voice ofNechtan, I call you from sorrow,
Voice ofNechtan, I call you from the cold,
Voice ofNechtan, I call you from the waters,
From deep down under, I call you!
Voice ofNechtan, voice of the head!

Guilyth I! Guilyth O!
If all has been performed rightly, you should hear a faint, whispering response
from the well. Three questions are now allowed to be asked. If you are answered well,
an offering libation of red wine was traditionally poured down after.
The author has not to date had a student attempt this rite, it being the first time
such has appeared in print. We therefore welcome the results readers may have.
^ ::-,::- .;:?"? wr.
kd
Following the Nine Mystic Breaths, I filled my body with >A
Moonlight in preparation for the Hunt

I couldfeel was soon to begin- knowing
that such gifts as Hers would be needed
were I to survive the night.
After several minutes in this timeless suspension,

my legs and arms surged with the magnetic flow
which signaled my readiness for the Hunt to begin...
Ch. \6, Hunters Moon, from THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN
IV. SUNWASH-MOONWASH
"The Celtic Rites ofPurification*
This brief section is really a re-statement to the reader, of the universal principle of
POLARITY. This principle is actually more than a law, such as the law of gravity or
inertia, for it forms the very basis of all physical and spiritual existence. Taken to low-
est terms, all structures of form and force reduce to two basic polarities. Call them
what you will:
SOLAR LUNAR
Expansive Contractive
Heat Cold
Physical Spiritual
Light Dark
Summer Winter
Form Force
Active Passive
'
Grimoire #2 195
SOLAR LUNAR
Proton Electron
Inspiration Meditation
Visible Invisible
White Black
Outer World Inner World
Gold Silver
Electric Magnetic
Oak Apple
Infra Red Ultra Violet
Land Sea
Fire Water
Male Female
And, hopefully, our point is made — the list could go on alone for many pages. Yes,
our structure as beings is a result of the interaction between these two polarities of Life.
The Druids and other Shamans worldwide, have further divided this group again to
make four, hence our 4 seasons instead of 2, 4 elements and so forth. This, specifically,
will be dealt with in #21 of this Grimoir. But for our intentions here, the basic division
serves —and its oldest and most Shamanic manifestation, The SUN and the MOON.
While we are all a product of the two Principles in various proportions, it is an
established fact that Men are far more physically and psychologically attuned to the
Sun and His cycles, and Women to the Moon's 28-day lunar cycle. In fact, the word
menstruation is a modern corruption of the earlier and more accurate moonsuration.
Such concepts, although little considered in today's world, are exclusively owned and
concrete — there are gender connections to each of us, like it or not, and we are born
this way to develop an understanding of what forces govern us, and then how to use
them as a tool for growth. What we are saying here, again, is this: next to be recorded,
are the ancient Rites of Sunwash and Moonwash; and, while anyone may work with
any one, you will find the rite attuned to your gender the most efficacious so long —
as you go into it free of pre-concepts and determinations. Men and women are not the
same, save for those darn sexual-organ-things attached. And we are here dealing with
physical absorption of physical forces, which we will then channel to Magical ends.
The first thing to understand, is that we are not speaking of merely sun or moon
bathing here; without the proper HOUR, STATE OF MIND and PREPARATK >N,
you will simply end up too hot or too cold, but well-discouraged in either case. 11k
Sun's energy contains all those elements on the LEFT-HAND side of the chari above,
the Moon contains the RIGHT. Go into your knowing what energy you are ritual
needing to absorb —
don't go to the Moon for warm-inspiration, nor the Sun lor cold
meditation. Know the forces you are working with, and tin personal goalfl ol your rit-
ual. Do not perform these washes around people of opposite gender, their aura
: :
- ^- "
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:
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::rr~rZTZZZIZIZIir^^
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energies will interfere, confuse and wreck havoc with the results; this is not the rite for
the ol' push-pull of animal magnetisms. Magic is always best when treated as a solitary
science, (unless, of course, you are working towards three). There are 7 steps:
Kite of fRoonwaeb
1). Work at the moon's apex, preferably during the FULL phase. Get yourself
an almanac and chart the optimum times. There must be actual, visible
moonlight; this is not a theoretical, symbolic rite — the physical energy must
be there. Work outside in an open place as natural & undisturbed as possi-
ble, a rooftop is OK.

2). FAST (don't eat) for at least 6 hours before. Beverages OK, caffine and sugar
OK.
3). Stand upright throughout the rite. Do not sit or lay down.
4). Work privately, work unclothed/skyclad.

5). The WASH (prepared in advance) is made by taking 1 quart of rubbing
alcohol and steeping it together in an amber glass jar for 1 week, with the
following herbs: (Then strain).
1/2 oz. JASMINE FLOWERS

1/2 oz. EUCALYPTUS BARK
1/2 oz. MUG WORT HERB
6). With your hands, apply the WASH, slowly bit by bit, working from the feet
up. Never work down with liquid washes. And, most importantly: THINK
OF NOTHING... do not focus on feelings or thoughts, as these are rites of
simple wash & absorption. (You do not have to concentrate in the shower to
get clean, do you?) Here, thoughts will only add interfering energy.
7). When washed,' stand there, practicing THINKING OF NOTHING.

Some people repeat the wash 3 times. But whichever, when you feel you are
done — leave! For best effect, the 'wash' should be left on through the day or
night.
The seven steps for the RITE OF SUNWASH are identical to the above, save for
the herbal wash:
l
li oz. Chamomile Flowers
l
li oz. Cinnamon Bark
l
/i oz. Oak Leaves or Bark
.>:>;>>
Grimoire #2 197
„
Work skyclad the closest to HIGH NOON you can. Do not work with mixed
gender.Do not sit or lie down. THINK OF NOTHING... just let the energy work
of its own accord.
If these old rites are done properly, you will be amazed at how effective they are.
You will be noticeably affected with either a solar or lunar charge, so make sure it is
what you want before you begin. If you are working with a rite contrary to your gen-
der, its fine, but watch out: you are flooding your system with an unnatural propor-
tion of an energy as real as magnetism or electricity. You may end up "energy drunk."
"•v- -
::..^ .,.-~~.~-_~~--~^ ^~^^
^>v*:<~*v~*v»>v*
V. IMBAS FOROSNAI
'The Rite ofFire breath*
The Book of Pheryllt speaks highly of this Rite, as one coming down into the Priest-
hood "from the sunken lands," always in reference to the Island of Atlantis. It was
considered a precious legacy, and apparently, one used often — conferring the proper-
ties of STRENGTH, CLEANSING and INSPIRATION. In form, it is similar to a
certain type of yoga exercise known as 'Yuddha,' meaning encounter.
Above are two reproductions showing what is known as the SHAMAN'S or RIT-
UAL POSTURE. Study them carefully, then decide on one which will work for you.
Note both leg and raised fist posture — these are both Celtic Magical stances, having
been taken from the images within the famed Gunderstrup Cauldron. The 'raised fists'
are referred to as the INSPIRATION STANCE in the Pheryllt manuscripts, used for
all acts of concentration or amassing inner strength.
During the Rite, if it is planned to precede another, burn incense: straight
Dragon's Blood is best, or combined with mistletoe & oak bark or leaves. This will
raise the energy level of the room considerably.
Z\)c Rite of ifirebreatl?

1). Be seated (in your circle?) and assume the Shaman's Stance, fists clenched
and raised... eyes closed.
2). Breathe in HARD AND FAST through your nose, equally in and out. Push
and pull the air.
3). After about 3 minutes (better, 200 heartbeats), suddenly TAKE ONE DEEP
BREATH, holding it for as long as possible, sitting absolutely still.
4). Last, when you can hold the firebreath no longer, BLOW IT OUT HARD
through your mouth and breathe normally. The Pheryllt says it should be
repeated a total of 3 times, with three minutes in-between each set.
Grimoire #2 199
Children will evolve ritual games
from play and improvised action

which link directly to ancient religious and magicalforms.
Obviously such games are not handed down
especially today, from an immemorial past —
but occur naturally within the group play.
Bob Stewart, WHERE IS SAINT GEORGE?
VI. STONEHANG
"The Celtic Oracle ofFal"
In this section title, the term 'Celtic oracle' is intentionally used in place of 'Druidic,'
for, despite its obviously Druidic origins, there is a story which tells of its use by the
common Contained within Joseph Walker's Historical Memoirs of the Irish
tribes.
Bards, (1786), the account reads almost like an old children's game once played
among the English peasantry, called Hang-the-Stone. Throughout all accounts, the
oracle itself remains nameless. It goes something like this:
The men of the clan gathered to pronounce judgment on a family member accused
of stealing. There are Druids present. The scene takes place under an immense, gnarly
Oak tree deep in a forest clearing. A rope hangs tied from a thick branch some fifty
feet up, secured firmly to a large holed-stone which thus swings freely suspended .i
yard or so above the ground. The stone equals the size of a bull's head, with a natu-
rally-worn hole through its bulk. Directly underneath the resting stone, an iron bra-
zier filled with red-hot coals, billows out a long stream of incense smoke — carefully
tended by hovering Druids. [We are not told what the incense burned is, yet, from the
chant, we know the godform is FAL. Therefore, probably a mixture of O.ik, Mistle-
toe and Broom, the last herb being sacred to Falius]. Resting, one each, upon the (Lit
tops of three tree-trunk sections, are three stones the size ofa man's head a (W// stone.
a silver and a black one. The log-pedestals are equally spaced apart in .i triangle, whose
center is 6 or so feet from the hanging center-stone. The men gather in an circle out-
side the triangle and, at a sign from the Druids, begin to chant:
"STONE OF FAL, STONE OF FAL

FALIUS! FALIUS!
STONE OF FAL, STONE OF FAL

FALIUS! FALIUS..."
...over and over again. Three Druids take hold of the holey stone, and push it over
to be received by the circle of men, who then begin to pass it around — faster and
faster — until the thing spins by itself, kept aflight by hands waving it along. When it
can whirl no faster, the group steps back, letting it be, chanting still — its centrifugal
orbit slowly decaying inward! Then within a minute, it is all over; the path of the
stone sends it impacting against one of the pedestals — the one containing the gold
stone, knocking all to the ground. The Druids lift their hands... the men cheer and
embrace the accused. He has been pronounced innocent by the ancient Oracle of Fal.
In conclusion, let us briefly analyze the Oracle's method. An oak tree was gathered
around: traditional Druidic Oracle tree, THE KING. A circle is formed: common to
all Rites, the unbroken circle in this case representing TRUTH. Incense is burned: a
trademark of Druidic practice. The god FALIUS is evoked by chant, (an Irish god of
stones and oracles), group chanting about a circle is a powerful way to raise a cone of
force capable of creating a doorway between the worlds. [Note that the story reads
"...the MEN gathered; "it was a single gender ritual, necessary to raise force. Mixed groups
only succeed in raising: 1. their voices, and 2. a force field of confused energy]. The
HOLEY STONE is let fly, guided by the will of the god, until it hits one of the 3 sta-
tion stones. This would indicate the answer to the issue. The key is both simple, and
symbolically Celtic in nature:
* GOLD STONE— (sun stone), stands for a positive outcome.

*
— (moon
SILVER STONE stone), stands for a negative outcome.
* BLACK STONE— of Annwn), (stone signifies the unknown.
We have this very oracle set up in our forest, and use it often — certainly every
Grove Festival. It has never yet failed to be accurate, nor to delight our company with
the color, imaginative spark and Magic, for which the Celts were so well known
throughout the formative history of Europe.
— —
Grimoire #2 201
:j -:
-
:
——^
Pomponius Mela stated that Druidic training took place in "remote caves and
forest sanctuaries. " The Irish word uamh, usually translated as "cave, " was also used
to designate the vaulted inner chamber ofa mound — the sidh with its Otherworld
connotations. It may well have been that the trainee Druid had to undergo a period
ofmeditation in a sidh which culminated in his ritualised rebirth. Supplicants were
said to immure themselves inside for three days and three nights, fasting throughout.
Ward Rutherford, CELTIC LOBE
VII. VISION MOUND

"Building a Temple ofSight"
At the culmination of part two of this book, THE BOOK OF PHERYLLT, the
Druidic survivors receive desperately needed guidance as a result of building a sidh, or
Vision Mound. To the ancient Celts, and indeed to many Shamanic cultures
throughout the world, the Earth Mound was a supernatural construct —an artificial
cave of sorts —where the Otherworld could be contacted and accessed directly. A
strong connection exists between mounds and ancestors, due, no doubt to their use as
places of burial:
"Dark house, dark lonely grave,
Within your walls under Yew boughs
There is quiet sleep,
And not a of care trace

But deep forgetting on man s being falls...
There is nothing, not a creature calls
Unless those fragile airs
That stir the leaves,
Say something to the secret mound

Of many burials...
Dark house, your hours have never known

The hurry and the passion of our days,
Within that heart ofstone
^-m^^lzl^ - --
Love never beat, nor hate could
.
Nothing at till is left,
Unless
: :
m
.•* '•-•:
that (Limp cell
The dead may have a dream hi cannot

- -
live.
-:---•'
tell...
— M
But what concerns us here, are their spiritual connotations. By the time the Celts
had established themselves across the British Isles, the thousands of mounds which
dotted the countryside in great abundance (also known as tumulii, passage graves,
sidh, barrows or cairns), had already been there for thousands of years — their origins
vague or unknown. Consequently, they took on an aura of mystery and the supernat-
ural, the outstanding example of this being New Grange in Co. Meath, Ireland.
Erected in 2500 B.C. to great astronomical precision, it became the dwelling place of
the Tuatha De Danann, a race of early conquerors-turned-gods, whose origins had
also been forgotten. The Druids called them 'Caerllen,' or 'Ghost Houses.' Other
spectacular mound examples include Maes Howe, Knoweth (the only intact passage
grave ever opened), Gavrinis, West Kennet Long Barrow and the unusual Silbury Hill
in Wiltshire, England. Silbury is interesting, because its construction must certainly
have been for religious reasons (despite many official excavations, no traces have been
found to support its existence as a burial —
mound or anything else) 130 feet high and
encompassing 5 ]
/4 acres, it is the largest pre-historic man-made mound known, dat-
2750 B.C. The Book of Pheryllt mentions the mound, calling it the 'Hill
ing from ca.
of Sulis' covered-over remains of what was once the greatest ritual stone circle
as the
ever known —
formed jealously into a burial mound by the command of a certain
King Sul who wished to be buried there. Whatever its origins, or the Celts thought of
the thousands of hollowed chambers covering their new land, it is certain that they
became centers of worship and superstition. Many Druid rituals have been noted
throughout Celtic Legend as having been connected with them. They further became,
later on, the homes of Y Tylwyth Teg: the Celtic Fairy Folk. Yet throughout all ages,
they remained undisputed Otherworld Doorway's.

Now on to practical applications —what can be made of this mound-history for
the Magical growth of readers? While working with the Lakota Indians of North
Dakota some time ago, the author was introduced to one near-by branch of the
Nation, who were mound-dwellers! We were immediately abashed by the similarities
between this cultural remnant and the pre-Celtic one in the British Isles. Their under-
ground constructions involved timber, though, instead of stone, and their Earth
Mounds (as they called them) were built as dwellings for the living —they were
houses. They did have (as do almost all branches of the Native American culture)
another type of 'mound' solely reserved for religious use: the Vision Mound, or, as it is
known to them, the Sweat Lodge.

In time, the author was invited to participate in a 'men's sweat,' (in this culture,
nearly all religious ritual was sharply segregated by Gender —not unlike Druidism;
women had their own 'sweats'), and thereby gained many invaluable information
regarding the construction (all temporary) and Magical use of these mound lodges.
They used sacred stones to heat the water, and burned their sacred herb for purifica-
tion: SAGE, of which there was also a male & female version for gender specific,
divided rites! Yes —

they knew what they were doing. And, as if to finalize the similarity
even further, both Celtic and Indian tribal culture is considered Matriarchal. We even
^•>>>>>>>>>»>>x»^^
Grimoire #2 203
encountered standing stones as objects of symbolic veneration, (indeed, the commu-

nity was called STANDING ROCK).
Our point here, is to justify the comparison of an Indian Shamanic tool, into a
Druidic/Celtic study. The Druids used ancient mounds to contact the Otherworld,
the Indians built theirs —but the mechanism is identical, as are the goals and symbol-
ism's; Mother Earth... Father Sky... Vision Mound... it is all one. And since there are
few Sidhs available for use by the general reader nowadays... and since the experience
is no less valuable today than in remote times, why not explore the possibility of
building your own TEMPLE OF VISION as the Native Americans did? Their meth-
ods are well within the grasp of most following this text.
*How to do it? Start by choosing a picturesque spot near running water (stream or
creek), where there is an abundance of tree saplings (1-inch willow is traditional) suit-
able for framing the lodge, tent-style.
*Pick where the CENTER of your circular mound will be, then clear the ground
carefully in an 8-foot diameter about it, scratching the circumference out lightly onto
the ground as you go.
*Go to the stream and pick 8 head-sized stones and arrange them in a circle
around the center-spot, then return to the water and pick out 3 more to eventually be
heated in a fire; these should be solid granite, not limestone or other softer types that
harbor vapor pockets inside, that explode upon heating —import the 3 if necessary to
assure proper type.
*Now, with a small hand-saw, select out and cut 4 long, pliable saplings (or, better
yet, willow branches), 15-feet or longer, sharpening the ends with a knife. Carry them
over to the Lodge Site.
*Around your circle's circumference, gouge into the ground the "clockwork" hour
pattern: 12 o'clock... 6... 3... 9, so that the circle is quartered and you can clearly see
where the sharpened pole-ends will go. Finish by halfing each quarter, so that the cir-
cle stands neatly divided into 8 segments. It is strongly recommended that you bring
along a same-gender friend to help with the next part!
*Starting at 12 o'clock, force one sharpened end into the ground, and then the
other end at its corresponding 6 o'clock spot — like putting up a homemade tent.
Then do the same with the 3 o'clock/9 o'clock pole, tying them with twine at the top
middle where they intersect at 90-degree angles. Then complete the frame with the
remaining two, tying them as well into the central top point (which should now lie-
precisely over the 8-stone circle).

*Lastly, you will need a covering to fit over the mound teni frame. Traditionally,
leafy tree branches or willow boughs are used, but many moderner's teson to sheets oi
blankets. Either will work, but branches, of course, are preferable they 'breathe' and
contribute 'green energy' better. Don't forget to leave an entrance in the lidc facing
EAST. Now it is ready.
ZZZ^ZZZZ-^-~~~~ZIZZL^^^
The Rite of Vision and Purification may be performed alone, or in the company of
others OF YOUR OWN GENDER. Remember, this an act of Magical Energy is
which FOLLOWS LAWS and acts in specific ways. The Indians knew this — trust
their insights for optimum benefit, saving the "social sauna" for a separate occasion. It
runs as follows:
1). Choose a threshold time for your Journey: dawn, dusk or midnight; full, dark
or 6th night moon; solar solstice, equinox or high noon.
2). Build a hot fire outside the Lodge entrance, heating the three granite stone
within. When all is ready to begin, transfer these INSIDE the mound, plac-
ing them within the center circle. Close the entrance.
3). Typically, a 'sweat' is done without clothing, for the idea is to sweat out neg-
ativity through the bare skin. If you do choose to wear clothing, wear as lit-
tle as possible — a loose tunic or bathing suit. It is supposed to be hot inside!
All sit in a circle. Typically, there is a leader who gives an INVOCATION or read-
ing beforehand. When all is said and readied, the leader pours specially-prepared
water onto the hot stones, from the cauldron or chalice, (traditionally, a turtle or oys-
ter shell is used). The herbs which have been added to the water, are as follows:
MEN'S WOMEN'S
Sunflower petals Rose petals
Men's sage (broad-leafed) Women's sage (narrow-leafed)

Juniper berries Cedar berries
The pouring is often repeated 3 times, sometimes with the stones being taken back
out to re-heat them, or new, hot ones brought in. The experience can be intense;
close your eyes and turn your vision inward... leave the mound only if absolutely nec-
essary. Stay with it, as Otherworld contact is often disorienting... growth always is.
But, as in the case of all truly spiritual work, the gains far overshadow the discomforts.
Jnvocation of X\)c Sidl?

"Behold the Sidh before your eyes,
They be manifest to you from a kings mansion

Which was built by the firm Dagda...
It is a wonder, a fairy court, an admirable hill!"
THE BOOK OF BALLYMOTE

Grimoire #2 205
r^f
...but none of these legends could have arisen

if it had not been felt, deeply and intensely, how the
spirit of man is but an alien guest in a physical body,
and could take its flight from the solid world...
leaving the body entranced and motionless.
E.C. Merry
VIII. SPIRIT FLIGHT

"Ritual of the Stepping Stones"
The phenomenon of the separation between physical and spiritual bodies, is perhaps
the most widely investigated of all so-called 'psychic experiences,' with the exception,
possibly, of ghost phenomenon —which often has a connection to it. Normally, this
unique state occurs only at the moment of death, under severe illness or trauma, or
when purposely induced by shamans or yogis. In this section, we will concentrate on
the latter condition which the Druids called Spirit Flight. Note the Pheryllt excerpt:
"Knowest thou what thou art

In the hour ofsleep?
A mere body —a mere spirit —
Or a secret retreat offlight?"
In recent years, the event of ASTRAL PROJECTION, has gained much attention;
Books in Print lists over 3,000 titles alone devoted to the topic worldwide. It is
thought that at least 10% of the population experience an OBE {out-of-body-experi-
ence, the clinical term), fairly regularly and that many others have a single experience
in unexpected circumstances. Waking up during a dream ("Dreaming True"), looking
down at your body from up above and seeing the ghost of a living person are the most
commonly reported manifestations of Astral Projection. Most OBE's occur during
sleep, and often involve moving backward or forward in time an element which —
mystics have long taught was non-linear. New Age devices have also surfaced in great
numbers to help trigger such experiences: flotation tanks, cassette tapes by the dozens,
and herbal aids. When viewed in this light, death (the most feared human condition),
is simply a projection from which we do not awaken. To help US deal with this fearful
preoccupation, would it not make sense to familiarize ourselves with whatevei tech
niques might exist for mastering this phenomenon? Would death 1 grip OVCJ us not
then be lessened? Fortunately, the knowledge has long existed
zzl_^ —l—rizi~^^ aaasai

»:>>>>>»»»»»»»»»»
The STEPPING STONES are the described method once used by the Druidic
Colleges, to instill the skill of PROJECTION into their apprentices. We have found
it to be, for many years, a highly effective aid. The construction is simple:
* Go to a beach or stream and find 9 thin, flat stones (the kind used for 'skipping')
$ the size of a cookie.
* Paint a series of CONSECUTIVE: symbols, numbers, familiar images, alphabeti-

cal letters, a name, etc. onto the stones, one symbol per stone. Paint each a different
color. At my establishment, we use the tree progression of the Ogham script. It can be
any series, so long as it is one with which you are very familiar. Some people use a
money-sequence — a real incentive if ever there was one!
* Hide the stones singly in various, well-known places you go often, not too far
apart. Put the locations in a sequence if you can, such as the route you routinely take
each morning, etc.
* Each night, before falling to sleep, MENTALLY RE-TRACE the path clearly in
your imagination — see if you can 'program' your Astral/Spirit/Otherworld Body to
use them as Stepping Stones! Slowly, over time, (sometimes even suddenly, depend-
ing on the person), you will program an OBE for yourself. You will find yourself wak-
ing up, more and more in the morning, with a memory fragment of a 'trip' to one or
more of your hidden stones. Soon, depending upon the effort you put into program-
ming before sleep, you will indeed move between the stones without moving.
When a young boy, the author had a teacher who taught him projection by insist-
ing that he go to bed thirsty —and making sure he knew just where a bright red glass
of soda pop was hidden! It worked... so do the Stepping Stones.

Grimoire #2 207
Perfect is my chair in Caer Sidi,

Plague and age hurt him not who is in it.
They know, three circles offire sing before it,
And about its points are ocean s streams

And the abundant well above it,
Sweeter than white wine the drink in it!
Taliesin
IX. CAER SIDI

"The Circle of the Gods"
Druids, Celtic Magic and stone circles, have gone together without question for a long
time. A very long time. A magic circle, whether of stone or something else, should be a
microcosm — a miniature of the Shaman's universe, with the 'self at the very center.
The circle is, without a doubt, the most potent symbol known to mankind. And
known to nature. Everything revolves in a circle, from the very universe itself to the
great suns and planets, right down to the hours of the day and the electrons about the
nucleus of an atom! It is all there, in the form of the circle. Infinity.
There has been a tendency created by the Nco-Dniidic revivalists d the last 200
years, that all stone circles and monuments throughout the ( xltu countries, were [nit in
place by the Druids. This notion persists to this day concerning Stonehenge, the great
est of them all, despite the fact that n w.is already ancient beyond memory by the nine
the Druids first appeared in Britain. The Priesthood Jul, however, have .» thorough
•—" :
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—8—
understanding of the astronomical relationships such monuments were built to employ

And they are known to have engineered a distinct group of them themselves
These stone circles which did have the "Druidic trademark" stood apart clearly due
to one shared element: they all had eight stones, instead of the more common 12-stone-
or-more variety. Why eight? Because that was the number of the Druidic Ritual
Zodiac, as well as the master-key number behind the elemental worlds — the number
of times each year, when the Otherworld opened its doors to the World of men. This
was the guarded secret: each of the 4 elements (earth, water, air & fire) had two aspects
in which they manifested throughout the physical world — an active and a passive.
This was the relationship:
ACTIVE PASSIVE
Earth Stone
Sea Water
Wind Air
Flame Fire
The ninth was the greatest secret, for it was hidden... swallowed up by itself! It was
the center-point, the invisible Alpha and Omega around which existence revolves.
The point where, when we occupy it, we become ourselves THE TRUE SHAMAN,
self-empowered, revered and respected by all. The elements surround us, but we our-
selves are the secret center — the mystic 'Ninth wave of the Sea.' Taliesin, the greatest
Bard of all, once sang:

Druid... wise one... prophecy ofArthur!
I was createdfrom the Nine Forms of the Elements...

Cad Goddeu
These NINE FORMS make perfect sense, when one considers that the Druidic
number of manifestation was 3, and nine is three times itself... a triple sacristy! And
the Druids were famous for their THREE CIRCLES OF EXISTENCE, as recorded
in the Barddas: The 1st Circle of Abred, the physical world where we live; The 2nd
Circle of Gwynedd, the blessed realm of the Otherworld; and The 3rd Circle of Ceu-
gant, the Great Beyond, where none exist but God. The rendering is given below:
"
Grimoire #2 209
These concepts concern us, as establishing a sacred personal circle — one's own
CAER SIDI, requires complete knowledge of its symbolism to be effectively magical.
It is not unlike a single drop of water, falling onto the still surface of some universal
sea:
"We, the Shaman, stand upon the earth at the center ofall — the 1st Circle; the
Caer Sidi, the sacred stone circle, exists as the Otherworld boundary all around us,
the 2nd Circle; and beyond this, lies the Eternal ocean of the unknown, the 3rd
Circle ofInfinities.
And did you know that it is a matter of established scientific fact, that standing
stones and circles, generate magnetic energy? And stone circles concentrate this Earth
Energy towards the CENTER... in towards infinity? Quite true. Following the work
of researchers like physicist Dr. Alan Raliegh and Gary R. Jacobson of Harvard who,
in the early 1970's conducted extensive testing at Stonehenge and other megalithic
sites, there is little skeptics are left to say. These ancient stone monuments do... some-
thing. They work.
Now to discuss how they can be harnessed to work for you, the motivated reader.
The simple answer: pick a good wilderness site, and build your own ritual Caer Sidi,
according to the basic guidelines set out below:
* Choose a good site, exposed or wooded, but be sure it is secure — private, and
will not be disturbed. The Otherworld doorway you are building, is yours alone.
* Decide carefully where the center of your circle will be, then mark it with a
wooden stake driven deep.
* With an 8-foot length of heavy cord tied to the stake, swing a 360° arc, and
scratch your circle lightly into the soil with a stick, knife or sickle.
* Having brought a compass with you, mark out the 4 cardinal points (N-S-E-W),
with small stones or stakes, (we use long, iron nails), well outside the circle.
* Now choose your 8 stones. A creek, hill or farmer's field is often a good place to
stone-hunt! They should be HEAD-sized or bigger if possible (the bigger the better,
here). Clean them off, and place them around the circumference of the circle, switch-
ing and trying various combinations, until you find a placement which feels right...
seems to fit just right. The first 4 in place, should be directly N-S-E and W, then
space the last 4 equally between.
Now it is ready for use. If there is a need to work indoors, or to work on Kind not
your own, a permanent circle is impossible. The Druids had .» corresponding practice
to address this situation.
y^ ^ I II I I I HIIIHmmuuimi
210 The Lost Books op Merlyn
•^k zz~zzzzz~zzrr~^^
Buy yourself (or better yet, make it) a small, blue leather pouch with a top draw-
string. If you find a shop which carries or makes them, buy several — the idea of car-
rying magical items on one's belt is very Bardic, as is BLUE LEATHER (originally
woad-dyed).
Search out 8 small stones (coin-sized) that appeal to you; a beach or stream is an
ideal place to look. Take your time, or collect them over time. As the author travels
various places in various cultures, he keeps 'modifying' his 8-pouch portable circle, by
replacing stones with "better, more symbolic ones!" This is a good practice. But
whichever way, choose your beginning set and a portable Caer Sidi is yours. Always
lay them down SUNWISE clockwise, to your right), and collect them in reverse. Use
them inside or out, and over time, they will gain in symbolic power.
Grimoire #2 211
'~'~-~-' - -
----^- - - - -:-- . --.- " TJ-'^'^r^ ~ ~~~ '--' - T -'- -- - -' • -:'•- "
••
---
Q«^« Maeve, frightened, journeyed to see her Druid.

She said nothing.
"There is a fair young warrior, "he noted,
"making light work ofall your fighters!"
Maeve asked by what name the youth was known.
"
"His name is Cuchulainn, the Hound of Ulster,
the Druid divined,
"
"for the fates of both boy and animal are one.
BOOK OF THE DUN COW
X. TOTEMS
"Celtic Guides and Turfs"
Another practice shared by Shamans worldwide, is that of Otherworld guides.

all
Most often, these come in thenon-human form of trees or animals particular to the
mythology of the culture. Theories of attunement suggest that we are all born with
"spiritual preferences — attractions" to a specific path, stone, color, food, type of per-
son, plant, animal, etc., which we must both discover and follow if we wish to reach
our full potential within any given lifetime. The modern term for this is 'finding your
true self.' Let us recall here, the inscription which once adorned the entrance arch
leading to the ancient Greek Oracle at Delphi: KNOW THYSELF. An echo of this
timeless wisdom is to be found within the 20th century writings of Alister Crowley,
'
from his mystic Book of the Law: 'Know thyselfshall be the whole of the Law.
The main shamanic lesson to be learned here, is that we arc BORN \\ I II 1 (i.e.
have accumulated as a result of countless lives), certain affinities with certain ele-
ments — be they a stone or an animal. Children are often deeply attuned CO mcfa
„^_i^^—rzzziz^^
—

--^~~~~~. —" ;
,- -
.
; -;
; : ;;<. ; , _; ; ; _ , , ; ; ; : : y : ; ff
"invisible play-mates" before the unfortunate advent of hormones and modern accul-
turation erases most traces between the two. Our job as attuned adults, is to re-trace
and re-capture this innate knowledge.

The BOOK OF PHERYLLT speaks of three categories or classes of in-born
Totem Companions:
1). A Totem Tree.

2). A Totem Animal.
3). A Totem Ancestor.
According to Druidic doctrine, these three totems are already a part of each of us
we need only remember them. How to begin? It is rather like digging for gold, gath-
ering specks and dust a bit at a time, until you have enough substance to "cash in." It
requires focused meditation.

Scan your life from today backwards, as far as you can remember. Take each cate-
gory in return: tree, animal & relative. Which have attracted you the most — captivated
and held your attentions? Many people perform this process without realizing it, since
the answer is often very close to the surface; soon in the process, they not only obtain
a favorite animal, but a collection of miniatures as well. The author has many friends
who collect miniatures: horses, elephants, ducks, hippos, unicorns, owls, swans. What
does their choice tell you about the person? Much. Do you have a friend like this? Do
you yourself collect? What? Ask yourself why . . .dig! What about a favorite relative
who has passed beyond? Do you realize that special bonds between ancestors almost
always survive beyond the grave? A common expression describing the result, is: 'Oh,
I must have a guardian angelf And they are probably right — often a Totem Ancestor.
And what about trees? Has one ever reached out and yelled at you —
the Oak where
you maybe built your first tree-fort, or the old pear tree that grew outside your grand-
mother's living room window on Ide Road? Think! Look for connections... this leads
to Magical thinking. Be analytical; decisive. The author takes himself, for example:
* Favorite Tree: the Quaking Aspen.
* Favorite Animal: Great Northern Raven.
* Favorite Ancestor: my paternal Grandfather, always near.
The "WHY" to all the above? ...I'm not going to tell you, but only that their roots
go deep into my personal history. What about yours?
Look just below, and see the unique Totem manifestations of three Celtic tribes,
millennium ago. They are called Turf Totems, are clan symbols, and are cut into the
ground —some measuring 360 feet in length. The HORSE PEOPLE... the GIANT
CLAN... the DRAGON TRIBE. Where could you fit in comfortably? You, too can
cut one of these... we did!
Now, what to do with this information once you uncover it? LIVE WITH IT!
Collect leaves or fruit... stones or bugs... revert back to your childhood.,, see your
Grimoire #2 213
wmm =•»>>>:
nearest pet dealer or start a collection of miniatures... frame that old picture from the
family album! Each time you do such a thing, you are performing a valuable act of
personal Magic. It will put you in touch with your inner-self.
These 3 Totems can also be directly incorporated into your ritual work. Wood for
your staff or wand... leaves, bark and nuts for incense... ancestor name reduced to
symbolic initials or ritual signs. How the Totems are used is up to you; your task is to
acknowledge that they are there, a deep source of strength... waiting. Give them a call!
%"^c -
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—
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Murder! murder! with voyce ofi 'rn

the Dragon cryed, alack! for grief;
Had you but miss't that place you would

Have done me no mischief
Broadside Ballad, 1685
XI. THE RITE OF DRAGONCALL

"Releasing the Voice ofIron"
Careful readers will recall the earlier accounts given throughout part 2. of this book,
contexting the use of the Ddraglais, or Dragon's Voice, in the Olde Worlde. Grimoir
#2 of this same section, gives construction details.
The Book of Pheryllt outlines a brief rite, once used to summon the energy
and upon occasion, a manifested presence —of The Dragon. Symbolism with which
the reader should be thoroughly familiar before experimenting with Dragoncall, is
given below:
* Name: Draco * Incense-Dragon's Blood

* Element-Fire/Flame * Number-2
* Alignment-Solar * Symbol-Dragon's Eye
* Planet-Mars * Gender-Male
* Secret Name-Vermithrax * Weapon-Sword
* Metal-Gold/Iron * Habitat-Mountain Caves
* Threshold-High Noon * Festival-Midsummer
* Color-Blood Red * Offering-Virgin Red Meat
To perform the Rite of DRAGONCALL, first take into account as many of the
above symbolic elements as possible. Wear red... go to a high, open, sunny spot at
noon... kindle a fire, burn incense & offering if you wish... raise your ritual sword
high into the air, towards the Eye of the Sun, take a deep breath and call aloud the
following Pheryllt Invocation:
£<*>;<<*:*:*:*:*:*:ww^
Grimoire #2 215
XII. THE LIGHTSHIELD

"Three Inner Stars of Druid Doctrine"
Within our physical anatomy, all of us who belong to the kingdom of living beings,
have vast networks of transport which function to sustain us: blood vessels, nerve net-
works, endocrine systems and so on. Similarly, within the spiritual anatomy, we have
networks of another kind which are every bit as crucial to sustaining life: the CHI lines,
which circulate vital energy from the 3 main generating centers outward through the
etheric, or 'matrix' body. To translate this into Shamanic terms which the Druids
would have understood: the 3 star-centers within the
material body produce CALEN (prana, or life-force)
which then Dragon Lines within.
circulates along the
In Eastern terms, we are, of course, speaking of Chi

lines (the ones the accupuncturists follow) and Chakra
centers (of which there are 7); these are the basis for all
Oriental techniques of healing. The Druids also
referred to the magnetic ley lines which flow with mov-

ing, watery energy deep beneath the Earth's surface, as
DRAGON LINES—as above so below, OR that which

is visible in the physical world is mirrored in the Other-
world. This internal system of "energy blood vessels," is
neatlyshown at right, with the 3 star-points clearly

marked in black.
In addition to producing the Life Energy which
keeps us alive, the 3 Star Points also generate a bio-
Grimoire #2 217
electrical field AROUND THE EXTERIOR OF THE BODY commonly known as

the AURA. Hundreds of books surface each year on this topic, and science is currently
investigating many aspects of the phenomenon. But the Aura, or LIGHTSHIELD as
the Druids termed it, is no new discovery — it was known as far back as ancient Egypt
and well before; Magicians, Shamans and Psychics have always been aware of its pres-
ence. Many thousands of interested people each year, spend large amounts of time
and money to develop the ability to see the Aura. One new product we recently
noticed on the market, was AURA GOGGLES, an ingenious combination of Kirlian
lenses set in glass frames! Dr. Kirlian invented a method of photographing the energy
field around living beings, which has generated a great deal of provocation in the sci-
entific community.
For the readers' benefit, below is given an interesting exercise we use when intro-
ducing visitors to the world of energy:
AGAINST A DARK BACKGROUND, HOLD YOUR TWO HANDS

WITH THE FINGERS ALMOST TOUCHING EACH OTHER, THEN
MOVE THEM SLOWLY APART. YOU SHOULD SEE WHAT APPEARS
TO BE BANDS OF GREYISH LIGHT RUNNING FROM THE FINGERS
OF ONE HAND TO THOSE OF THE OTHER.
TO ASSURE YOURSELF THAT THIS IS NOT AN OPTICAL ILLU-
SION, TEST BY LOWERING ONE HAND SIX INCHES OR SO BELOW
THE OTHER. NOTE THAT THE RAYS STILL CONNECT THE FIN-
GERS, WHILE NOW RUNNING IN A DIAGONAL DIRECTION
BETWEEN THEM!
A GOOD EXERCISE IS TO PRACTICE PROJECTING THE GREY
LIGHT FROM ANY ONE FINGER TO ANOTHER. TRY IT WITH A
PARTNER— OR MORE REVEALING, WITH A PARTNER OF BOTH
GENDERS. HERE YOU WILL NOTICE SOME INTERESTING AND
TELLING "POLARITY EFFECTS."
According to the Pheryllt charts, each of the 3 Star Centers is aligned to one of the
three controlling principles of the universe:
1). GALAS — the 'Earthy' nature which resists growth, star seated in the region
of the sexual organs. Means HARD or FROZEN.

2). FLUIDITY — the 'Watery' nature which also applies to the element Air (i.e.
a 'stream or current' of air), controls emotions and anything which flows.

Note that the star is located in the solar plexus region, where exist the
HEART (organ of liquid blood flow) and the LUNGS (flow of air).
3). NWYVRE— the 'Fiery Space' nature which grants thought, intelleci and
inspiration. Notice that the BRAIN is located there; also the Third I\<
ter (brow), site of the mysterious PINEAL BODY/glaiul, thought In many
to be the seat of higher consciousness and Magical ability. The Nwvvrc prin-
ciple governs all things expansive and open to the Universe.

^>>>:^>>>>>>»»»>»»»»»>»
In addition to the many Star-Lines of energy which flow within us, there are also
three main 'channels' horn which the others branch: the RIGHT SIDE of the body,
the LEFT SIDE and the MIDDLE TORSO. In Eastern Yoga, these are called pin-
gala, ida and shushumna; but in the Druidic System, are known as the THREE RAYS,
or the 'Three Illuminations of Awen:'
* Right Ray — solar, masculine, Nwyvre.

* LeftRay —
lunar, feminine, Fluidity.
* —
Middle Ray crystal, balance, separation, Calas.
And lastly, a word need be said here regarding EMOTIONS and COLORS, for
these are base manifestations of the inner energies in the outer world. We exist and
move within a continual Sea of Color. Simply BEING AWARE of the energy and
color around us, will eventually enable you to glimpse or see it clearly — be patient. As
for the concrete connections between the color of a person's Lightshield and their
emotional state of mind, please see the table of correspondences below — all time-
tested and firmly rooted in the human psyche:
* ROOT STAR— Fluidity, lower spectrum colors, water.
—
VIOLET spirituality, clear thought, inner mastery.
—
INDIGO mysticism, awe, hidden depths.
—
BLUE religiousness/compassion, devotion, love, sadness.
* MIDDLE STAR— Calas, mid-spectrum color, the Green Wall.
GREEN — balance, healing, learning, regret.
* HIGHER STAR— Nwyvre, upper spectrum colors, fiery space.
YELLOW—creativity, intellect, happiness, reluctance.
ORANGE—contentedness, curiosity, authority, control.
RED —passion, inspiration, anger, power.
Lastly, YOU can change the color of your Lightshield, thereby changing your emo-
tional state... and with experience, that of others. If you are feeling angry (red), con-
centrate on filling your lightshield with the opposite color BLUE. Need a clear head
to study? —think of yellow. Going to worship? — blue is a great color for that! Remem-
ber: the Lightshield responds to directed thought. This is a fact you can use for self-mas-
tery in your life.

Grimoire #2
XIII. GOGMAGOG
"Visiting the Celtic Giants"
Although little is thought today of this extremely ancient and complex duplex of
gods, their significance in the history of the Celtic races is almost unparalleled... their
legacy deserves attention once again.
The author was not aware of their degree of importance, aside from brief mentions
in minor sagas, until reading the short ritual segment contained within the Pheryllt
script, entitled THE VISITATION OF GOGMAGOG. According to our source,
this god is simply a re-naming of a prehistoric cave god named Ushun G'Shik, wor-
shipped in the Isles over 30,000 years ago! Within a Celtic framework, however, Gog-
magog is really two gods in one: Gog, and Magog — two brothers, cave-dwelling
giants who migrated to Britain along with Brute in 1130 B.C. They were said to
exceed 12 cubits in height. Celtic legend assigns their identity to two huge, well-
known earth-works/turf figures: the Long Man of Wilmington, and the Cerne Abbas
Giant (see Grimoir #2, 10 for photos). In addition, Dr. T.C. Lethbridge, in his fasci-
nating book Gogmagog: The Buried Gods, contends the extreme importance of these
gods in the remote history of British mysticism. Outside an Iron Age Fort in the Gog-
magog Hills of Wandlebury, a Totem turf figure of the god still looms amongst a
dense cloud of local superstition and legend; shown below.
i£i
^>v>:^*x*:^*:*>>>v<*>:»w^
Noted within THE HISTORY OF THE BRITONS, written by Nennius in AD

769, Magog is called the second son of Japhet, son of Noah. And indeed, within the
mythology of the Christian Bible, Gog and Magog are mentioned as dark forces
(Ezekiel 38 and 39, and Revelations 20). Our point: these gods are special — their
presence extremely ancient and deep-rooted, much worthy of our attentions here . . .
reflecting that which the Druids surely considered a powerful Magical ally.
Considered from the standpoint of etymology, the name Gogmagog is interesting

indeed. Beyond all doubt, there is a direct connection to the Celtic god of learning,
poetry and letters OGMA Sun-face. The telling 'OG' root is present in both halfs,
which probably signifies the duel 'light-dark' aspect so characteristic of solar deities.
The real reason this connection is brought up here, is because the Pheryllt script
gives a series of letters, labeled the GOGMAGOG ALPHABET, the origins of which
are not mentioned. But, remember the famed OGHAM TREE LETTERS which
were said to have been invented by the SOLAR deity Ogma? ... an interesting con-
nection, especially noting that there are 12 letters in the Gogmagog Alphabet —and
twelve is the long-established SOLAR number. Here is the 12 series:
• w
A A f*
3 E 4>
1 I 1
D K M
J L >)
M M \M
v\ N \A
A » $
q R 1
Z s X
y T X
V u V
As you can see, there are 2 versions given in the text diagram —one bearing a sun
overhead, and the other a moon. Clearly, a solar (day) version, and a lunar one meant
to be used at night; or, possibly too, consulted during dark-half/ light-half divinatory
grove festivals. But we are ahead of ourselves.

While the text is none too clear as to their specific use, a clear mention of 'stone
inscription' is made, indicating oracular function. Putting the pieces together, a work-
able picture can be extrapolated as follows:
Grimoire #2 221
^>>>:^^>>>:«>>>>>>>>>>>^>x»>>^^>>>^^v.: >:.^m«>M«^^:<
* At water-side, collect 12 flat, biscuit-sized flat 'skipping' stones.
* Choose which version, solar or lunar, you are going to use. With a stylus (steel or
iron pen), inscribe the 12 signs onto the 12 stones, one per stone, leaving one side of
each blank.
* Keep them together in a pouch, and consult them by: VOICING A QUES-
TION, then REACHING IN and taking out each stone, laying them before you in a
clock-wise circle pattern, starting with 12 to the right (sun-wise) or 12 to the left if
using the lunar version. Make sure you lay the stones down exactly as you extract
them — don't turn them over, the 'blanks' are important.
* Ever play word association games like Scrabble? Well, this is an authentic way of
consulting runes, too! Look for the first word or series of words which come to mind
as your eyes wander around the circle. There is your insight... let your superconscious
mind work on the problem, perhaps under the influence of the ancient Gog-Magog
giants! Lastly, there can be found within an old British collection of children's non-
and Stories of the English Peasantry, 1830), a
sense ballads, (William Carleton, Traits
song which echoes our theme with wonderful innocence and simplicity. It could eas-
ily be used as an invocation prior to using the Gogmagog Stones — at least that is how
the author uses it!
EDaulking Song
Two tall giants went a-hunting,
Ho a Ho ma Gog ma Gog!
From a cave they took two sacks,
Two great clubs upon their back,

û-v-""--" "' -
- .... —— na
;>>>>>y»>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>v
/ know that I hung on a windswept tree,
through nine days and nine nights.
I was struck with a spear, and given

myself to myself—
on that tree, which no man knows
from which roots it rises.
They helped me by neither bread, nor drinking horn.

I took up the runes, screaming, I took them!
Then I fell back from there...
The Elder Edda, UTTERANCES OF THE HIGH ONE
XIV. THE SIGILS OF INSCRIPTION

"Lost Celtic Signs ofPower"
The purpose of this section is two-fold in design: to specifically emphasize the enor-
mous importance of symbols, scripts and language within the Celtic framework of
Druidism — and to provide the reader with four old and forgotten Runic systems
remnant of the Bardic tradition, which may then be creatively incorporated into
practical work.
m^b*
A A
3 E
4 F
n H
i J
> K
v" L
A\ M
M N
4 P
q R
i S
t T
0£>>»»»> **^^mM^Mfm^^m^M^y^^yy^
. ' —
Grimoire #2 223
v..:,.: :. TTITrTTr~ ..: v: ', ;.:..".., ..::.. \z:::"\' /

For wont of a better name, we have elected to call this script the LUGH LET-
TERS. Look carefully at the ogham inscription which occurs at the head of the chart.
It is taken from a story deeply embedded in Celtic mythology, where a mysterious
Ogham message is sent to the warrior-god Lugh from a magician named Ogmios.
More we cannot easily deduce, save for the idea that the script is in some way tied to
Lugh, and therefore perhaps to his grove festival of Lugnassadh, celebrated for the
thirty days surrounding August 1st. The rune has 13 characters — the Lunar signature,
whereby it is also interesting to note that Lugh's august-festival was originally called
Lunasad, in honor of the White Goddess of the Moon.

There are few clues to be seen within this mysterious set of 4 scripts. The letter
equivalents are given in their Old Welsh versions. Perhaps this compilation demon-
strates various versions of TREESCRIPT commonly used by different Druidic Cors
(colleges) across the country?
axiV/imng
<7 y -urn- <jâ»i -jd ±u£ ft ml tyz&p^G,
ttfmmmimmmimwu
^ >> > > Tf Ailim
cCHS
00 b* to PD W* Beth
ooQ
> o /^
> > _f Gort
21 Zkt* \> *4 Duir
fet m AT \4 oii Eaciha
-^ v T -U» * Fearan
* ^ l
H—
—
* i^.
«*i
m X
— X —
— — X W
~i rU Icxll.a
*g 7* 7T
<*
^ * Coil
ILm < ^L h Luis
Mum
3 £ ? * If
5§
^ * T ^ ^> Nuio
* * JM -*
£
o o On
2?
SS u -i T -T u Potfa
-* -* TUT * 3
-* jo -£> # 32,
^Q 7* V a ^D Run
CO to /Vv /v i Suil
-V H H H ±r Tinne
< < -< X -> Uath
«>« 1 « * *
2*
mmmwmmmmmmu
^_—-— -_„__„ „ aaa—am—
^*:<<:<^^<*>:^*:w^
The following 2 scripts may have been adopted from the line given above. They
are given simply as "Early Bardic Alphabets, derived from the Ogham and Runic."
What follows beneath each line, are their English letter equivalents.
\ XX¥I AhOO «ahf-B-L-F-S-N-D-T-C-Q-M-G

Ng-Ss/Z-R-A-O-U-E-I
A-B-C-D-E-F-G-H-I-K-L-P
^
M-N-O-Q-R-S-T-U-X-A'-Z
Lastly, what follows are two page reductions directly from our sources, showing
the Bardic practice of Hand Coelbren as well as a numeric system which should be of
great help to any intending to use the old knowledge presented here.
H
12
^^5 U
4567 3
J)
8
99
9 10
Anil
iom j( % *. n cro 9 ©
.fOBAU aairTDDUITH T» HUT QTlrtT.
aXF YR AWQiyÛiD.
J Un 5 Chwwh
"J
d*u y\ Saith
3 tri 8 ^Jth
^ pidwar 9 oti
pomp dtg
JT34 96A890
?
i i 3 a « a a s 9 e
II
Ae
MM189
o fod«i anil
0'nia
\ 1 ? 4 S 5 A 8 9
I 2 ? * S .'6 t 3 ' 9 * •«
-$* cast, nta Qf . oaf. C h»frd 100 '
-06/ mU-Wrd .^ htfyd -Q hefrd 1000

Grimoire #2 225
OOELB1XK OF SIMPLE LETTERS.
Oecasionallj the Bards kept Coelbrens of simpU Utters,

that is to say, one letter on each pieee of wood
aad by ;
patting them together, according to the requirement of word

and name, they mutually communicated one with the other,
and understood and acquainted themselves with each other,
without speech, and in secrecy. Every one of the pieces of
wood was foucsided, baring six surfaces to each, and a Ut-
ter on each surface, differently coloured, so that what was
wanted might be obtained at sight without much searching.
The arrangement of twenty-four was found to be the best
for those Coelbrens ; and from obtaining mutual knowledge
by means of the said Coelbrens secrets were ascertained,
which caused much astonishment as to how it was possibU.
PALM COELBBEN.
The palm Coelbren U that where twenty-four are cut on

small dice, that inasmuch as each die has six sides, and
is*
a latter on each side, there will be on the four dice twenty*

four letters, besides what may be obtained otherwise, when
the die U reversed, in order to show a different letter.
Thus, AA ^ $ < &y XM ^ others, being
reversed, wiUnakt V V M^ 8 >< XX W.4c

that is, a, a, e, S, ng, m, turned upside down will
e, d, y, y,
make w, w, p, £ agh, By holding eome of
d, dd. 1, U, w.
these in the palm of tho hand, and puttin? them together in
the presence of a man of secrecy, dumb conrersatiou can be
carried on.
PETTHTin COELBSEH.—PALM COELPBEX
BfeWHHmffim^
;*:>>:>»»»»»»: ZjXJtZl „-;vv,-^" ,';:':;, '.
Then there grew upon my head

two antlers with three score points,
so that I am rough and gray in shape.

After,
my age has changedfrom feebleness!

Tuahn MacCaerel
XV. SHAPESHIFTING
"The Celtic Art of Change"
One of the most colorful elements present throughout Celtic Mythology, is the prac-
tice of transformation into an object or animal — even, more commonly, into a series
of them. The Druidic term for this is TRANSMIGRATION. But such a fantastic
element is by no means distinctive to the Celts; it is common among all cultures with
a Shamanic base. Worldwide, the descriptive term used above others, is
SHAPESHIFTING. Why, even modern-day psychologists have coined their own

phrase for the phenomenon; they call it metempsychosis. Isn't it wonderful how
respectful a science Magic is becoming?
As a delightful means of introducing we would like to recount the most
this topic,
famous example of this practice to be found among the old Celtic Story Branches:
The 1899 Moyra Caldecott version of the TRANSFORMATIONS OF TALIESIN:
"The Lady Caridwen seeks the advice ofpriests and scholars, consults the Books ofFfer-
yllt, and decides to boil a cauldron ofInspiration and Knowledge for her son that he may
one day so surpass all men in wisdom and the art ofprophecy, that no one will notice his
ugliness. Carefully she gathers herbs according to the cunning ofthe astrologers and sorcerers
she has consulted, each pluckedfrom the Earth at the rising or the zenith or the setting ofthe
planets and of the moon, each holding the influence of the particular moment, each an
invisible thread in the web of the universe. One by one she gathers them and sets them in
the cauldron, each following each to bring new influence, to bring new virtue to the brew.
She chants their names and the secret relationships between them that only the great sages
.
Grimoire #2 227
know. All the wisdom of the ancients she puts into the cauldron and all the wisdom that is
yet to be... the Three Names of God... the Names of the Spirits ofLight and the Names of
the Spirits ofDark... the secret code by which crystals form or the seed in the women grows...
not herselfknowing the Whole Design she feeds in the essence ofAll that Is...
At one side of the cauldron she a blind man named Morda

to chop wood and keep
sets
the fire kindled beneath it; Gwion Bach, the son of

at the other side she sets a young lad,
Gwreang ofLlanfair in Caereinion, Powys, to keep it stirred. A Year and a Day must pass
before the brew will be ready and in all that time nothing must interrupt the boiling and
the bubbling. A year ofsummer and autumn, winter and spring, and beyond this, a day
that is out of Time. At the end of this, only three drops of the liquid must be swallowed.
Three drops will give the inspiration and all the wisdom a man can absorb: one more drop
will destroy him.
Impatiently the Great Lady waits... impatiently she watches... her son Avagddu an
abomination in the sight of men....
Gwion stirs, weary ofhis stirring: his playmates play: his fathers cattle are unattended.
Day by day he stirs, and the ladle grows heavier, the cauldron grown fuller, and the magic
brew thicker. On the last day, when his arm is aching, his back is breaking, and his eyes
are blurredfor lack ofsleep, a bubble on the surface bursts and three drops fly offand scald
his finger.
Instinctively, he puts it to his mouth and sucks.

Instantly Time stops, ofLife bursts into blossoms offire: from the Beginning to
the Tree
the End Gwion sees what Was and Is and Shall Be. For a moment he crouches, stunned,
not realizing what is happening, his mind expanded beyond the Universe to See what has
never been seen before... to dream what has never been dreamed... Words richer than the
jewels in a kings ransom form on his tongue, but even they cannot express the beauty and
the magnificence of what he sees in that moment... the Great Design... the Meaning
beyond meaning. . .
But the beauty of the Whole is not all he sees... he sees pain before its transformation...
and he sees his own immediate danger from the Lady Caridwen! What should have been
her gift to her son has been given to a common village lad. Her anger will be greater than
thunder in the mountains, lightning on the high peaks, flooding in the valley's....
He drops the ladle andflees....

The cauldron rumbles as the liquid over-boils... the sides crack, the now poisonous
potion roars down the hillside, scalding and destroying everything in its path. The horses in
the field below, whinnying with fear, are trapped and lie floundering in its wake, to die
slowly....
The Lady Caridwen, knowing the brew is almost ready, had gone to fetch her ill-
favoured son. She returns to see what havoc has been wrought... what waste.... She sees tin-
shards of the broken cauldron, the burnt and shriveled grass. She sees the blind mem cow-
ering behind the pile of wood. She seizes a tree trunk and clubs him on the bead, St ream-
ing invective. Sobbing, he tells her he is innocent....
atm»aima miwwa^^ i
.
m m -
v. •;
: . '^zîînTTr^T^Tr.
Then she looks for Gwion, and to her his absence proves his guilt. Shrieking curses on
his head she sets offin pursuit, her hair streaming out behind her like whips offire, her eyes
like burning coals....
Seeing her coming Gwion changes himself into a hare and springs across the sward, dis-
tancing himself with every bounce and bound....

"Ay-e-e-e-e!" she howls, the wind in her nose, her ears as keen as a hounds.
Heart thumping, Gwion knows he is pursued and knows that death will be brutal and
bloody. All that a hare knows he knows... but as a man who has drunk of the Cauldron of
Caridwen he knows more.
The river bank with willows is before him, the water running deep and wide. He
changes into a fish and leaps the white of the rapids, darts and gleams and swims.... But
behind him comes Caridwen, the otter bitch, sliding through the water, curving with the
waters curve, shadow-grey beneath the surface, eyes relentless, fixed....
All that a fish knows he knows... but as a man who has drunk of the Cauldron of
He leaps, and as the air touches his silver scales, fills his lungs, his body transforms to
bird and wings away, drops of water falling from his feathers.
Filled with air and light, rejoicing, he soars and coasts, sees the land far below...
jagged cliffs and hilltops, slopes ofgreen and forested valley s, tiny villages with plumes of
hearth-smoke. . .
Across his shining vision falls a shadow. Eye-bright he turns his head... and sees Carid-
wen the hawk about to stoop.
Fear-filled, he twists and turns a downward spiral, her beak and claws reaching for
him, the thudding ofher wings close upon his back....
All that a bird knows he knows... but as a man who has drunk of the Cauldron of
He spies a heap of winnowed wheat on a threshing floor and drops upon it, changing
in the instant to one of the grains.
Black beating shadows of the hawks wings scatter the grain wide andfar, but she can-
not find him....
He believes himselfsafe at last... until... mighty hawk to barnyard hen, she feeds on the
grain... peck, pecking, nearer all the time, scratching with her feet, tossing the wheat hither
and thither.
All that a seed knows he knows... but as a man...
This time he is too slow, and she swallows him before he can change.
In her dark body he lies for nine months. The Earth turns, the moon waxes and wanes,
the Sun grows faint and strong again.
For nine months she waits in hate for his re-birth.
In spring, on the day of readiness, he slides from her body as her son Avagddu had done,
but when she looks at him with knife raised to kill, she cannot do it, for he is beautiful
beyond anyone she has ever seen, wise with the knowledge of all that is in the Earth and
Grimoire #2 229
all that is above it, his eyes the eyes ofa Seer, his tongue ofa poet... weeping, she wraps him
in a leather bag and throws him into the sea.

"
The day she does this is the 29th day ofApril...
The author has elected to include the entire narrative, because of its importance
not only to the topic at hand, but to Celtic Literature as well. It is a prime myth, ooz-
And it is not the only example of SHAPESHIFT-
ing with Celticism at every corner.
ING many more: The transformation of the beautiful Etain
in the genre, there are
into water and worm and fly... Gwydion and Gilfaethwy punished into a carnival of
animals... Blodeuwedd made of flowers... Llew into an Eagle... the list goes far. Find
and read them!
But what of practical applications, which are a prime goal of the Grimoirs? What
can be done with SHAPESHIFTING and ritual? The only such applications to be
found within our sources, involve the transformation of man by means of herbs and
chemical compounds too dangerous to be included in any book destined for the gen-
eral public, and so none are included here.
We feel this is wise. Let the reader be content to read and dream the magnificent
tales of Shapeshifting, using them as affirmations to become better attuned to the
world of Totems and standing stones.
Find them... read them... memorize and live their essence... dream them; tell them
to your children or grandchildren, and you will truly, across their young faces, see
wondrous transformations indeed!

. .
^»»>»»»»»»»»»»
In the ancient mysteries it was taught that in order
to become ruler over the elemental realms, the Magician must be without fear of
the elements themselves.
He who fearedfire, could never control the salamander gods

who dwelt within...
He who feared water, could never hope to gain power

over the undine gods. .
Hence many of the pagan Mystery Rituals included ordeals
ofInitiation through gloomy caverns... across open sea or

streams filled with eddies or whirlpools...
Or rings ofsmoke andflame ... air-hung over a chasm...

It was further asserted that none in whose nature
were found the vices of the elemental planes, could
control those planes. .
A passionate man, the plaything ofFire Gods...

A greedy one, the pawn ofsome ancient, forgotten
God ofEarth...
A.E. Waitc, THE OCCULT SCIENCES
XVI. GODFORM EVOCATION

"Druidic Secrets of Calling Forth to Sight"
There is a definite difference between Invocation and Evocation in a Magical sense.

Invocation (In Vocatis) means to call/invite in; Evocation (E Vocatis) means to
call/demand forth. Point being, that this book is fairly brimming with invocations of
every kind — invitations to a deity to come in, join and bless you. Being "filled with
the Holy Spirit," is a good example from the Christian mythos. But this chapter deals
with something very different, in the good-old-fashioned tradition of the medieval
conjurers. Within the Druid philosophy, we do not regard god-forms as being supe-
Grimoire #2 231
rior to ourselves —only more powerful, and perhaps more knowledgeable in certain
areas of their expertise; each god has his allotted place, his area of dominance. That is
why there were/are so many Celtic gods... each a personification of one facet of the
One God "made flesh and dwelt among us." And not just gods — Elemental Kings,
the spirits of Wind, Sea, Fire and Stone, belong here — serving beings that may be
compelled. What follows here, are graphic depictions of the first two of the Elements,
Earth and Water: The passive elements.
In all Evocational Magic, there is some degree of risk involved — unlike Invoca-
tional practices. This makes the art of supreme challenge, the 'sport of Magicians.'
For this reason, Evocation takes place within the confines of a circle (supreme symbol
of protection), the compelled forces appearing without. Compelled by what?... one
might ask. The answer is a small word with a lot of Magical meaning behind it:
AUTHORITY. Without building up Authority over the Otherworld, one's words are
just that... only words. Re-read the prologue-verse which began this section, it will
give you a better idea of what the concept involves. Authority — the Druids built their
whole educational collegiate system around it (see THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN,
Prologue, for more analysis). Now to war.
Why would I say 'war?' Ait we trying to scare someone? No and yes. The idea is
that Evocation is a battle of WILLS and of Authority earned... intentionally, or as a
result of Life Experience (or past-life experience). One never knows how naturally
well-adapted to the Art one is, until you try. Here are the rules:
1). Pick a good spot (do we always start off this way?), which means PRIVACY.
If there isn't a permanent Stone Circle there, then bring your portable one
and set it up. At least one body length outside the circle to the North, set up
a small fire suitable for burning a quantity of incense (we use a medium
sized iron Cauldron).
2). Decide on your deity/godform, or elemental. The DIRECTOR OF

DEITIES at the end of Grimoir #1 was created especially for this purpose.
Write the NAME of the entity on a clean piece of paper (the Druids used
Birch Bark), and keep it with you.
Incense the key. This is a formulae given in the Phervllt text which spells out
3). is
the incenses needed for a Dniidk Evocation. Two of the three are .ilw.ivs the
same, the third varies depending upon the godfbrm or elemental. bey
I are:
ONE PART MISTLETOE TREE

TWO PARTS OAK BARK/LEAVES
THREE PARTS HERB SACRED TO GODFORM
How does one know the herb sacred to a godform? By researching the Deity you
intend to Evoke; read about them, study their histories, they all have associated sym-
bolisms. Godforms need a material essence to manifest in, ergo the crucial use of
incense. Several more formulae are given, specifically blended to produce the right
type of smoke capable of supporting a visible manifestation. These follow below:
* Dragon's Blood * Mastic Gum

* Bistort * Dittany of Crete
* Mastic Gum * Giliad Balm
* Henbane Root * Acasia Resin

* Fresh Vervain * Myrrh
* Oak Leaves * Wormwood
4). Once the coals are red-hot, drop the name-paper atop them, waiting until
thoroughly burnt. Call aloud the name of the entity you are evoking, clearly
and confidently. Place a fairly large amount of incense mixture on the
embers, and return to your circle.
5). When there is an ample column of smoke, close your eyes and call forth the
second CHARM OF MAKING three times without error or hesitation:
ANAIL NATHROCK
UTHVASS BETHUDD
DOCHIEL DIENVE
Then open your eyes. The evoked entity may be asked 3 questions, but its pres-
ence will dissipate naturally with the incense. But DO NOT LEAVE THE CIRCLE
to put more on! Never leave the circle until the incense is completely consumed.
.
Grimoire #2 233
Druid... Wise one... Prophecy to Arthur,
I was createdfrom the Nine Forms of the Elements

From the Ninth Wave of the sea I was formed!
Then uneasy was my chair above Caer Sidi

Whirling 'round without motion
Between three principles. .
Taliesin
XVII. NINEFOLD
The Nine Druidic States ofBeing"
To the Druids, nine was the number to end all numbers. For them, manifestation was
a result of 3's, and the interactions between groups of three's. A holy number times
itself would be specially sacred... as indeed it is.
As is highly visible throughout the breadth of the Pheryllt text, primary groupings
tend to be in three's (3 Circles, the Trinity of Gods, the Welsh Triads, the 3 Principles of
Matter, the Three Rays, etc. ad infinitum). From this quantity of informations, we have
extracted three 'categories of knowledge' which seem to fit the scope of the present text.
All three are usable in multiple ways or another, assuming the presence of an enthusi-
astic creative spirit which, beyond doubt, exists to the fullest extent in our reader!
<TI?e Hinc Z)raugl?t6 of Cleuaia

There was a fascinating custom among the Druids of Britain, which may have
evolved as the result of contact between the Priesthood and visiting philosophers from
:."':
Greece. The custom of the KERNOS (bearing near too close a resemblance to the
Celtic name KERNunnOS?), traces back to the very earliest years of the Celtic habita-
tion — 400 B.C., the date of the Cad Goddeu. As a picture's worth a thousand words,
see below the results of a dig on Anglesey during the 1930's —Greek, ritual terracotta
dated to the 4th C. B.C.!
ZIZZ^ZZZZZZZÔZ^^ - • - I
—
Several old sources mention the NINE DRAUGHTS, sometimes called the Nine
Bright/Sparkling Wines, or the Nine Draughts of Oblivion, which were ritually drunk
from a Kernos. As you can see, the basic is very Druidic-Solar, based upon the
design
old 8-spoked solar wheel, with the ninth amphorous element in the center. Sound
familiar? If not, re-read the Grimoir sections on the Druidic Zodiac and the CaerSidi;
the pattern fits identically. Now, the ritual design behind the Kernos is interpreted
like this:
"The theme ofsacrifice is overshadowed by that ofspiritual attainment, whether

through invoking blood or the sacred drink of Eleusis from the Kernos. Each of the
eight cups contained one of the elements of the divine drought which, when mixed
in the central bowl — the symbolic cauldron or graile —
opened the way to higher lev-
"
els of being.
But the mystery, of course, revolves around what the eight sacred herbs were
which, when mixed together, threw open the Flaming Door to the Otherworld. The
Pheryllt script does not specifically say, yet contains a mention within the herbals, of
the Eight Herbs ofElysium, which can probably be taken for the same thing. They are
so listed:
1). Artemis Herb 5). Dittany of Crete

(mugwort, Gwyons Silver) 6). Laural Leaves
2). Quercus (oak) 7). Rose
3). Matricaria Romanus 8). Mistletoe
(Roman Chamomile)
4). Elder Flowers
The herbs are infused in water. As an incense, a mixture of Juniper, Cedar and Yew
was burned nearby. The ritual participants (8) sat in a circle. One began by lifting any
of the Kernos vessels and adding it to the center one, while saying: Nuadh-Uile-
Iceadh! (meaning new- all-heal in Gaelic). The turn passed to the next man, until the
circle was complete — then each drank a mouthful. It was thought that this combina-
tion produced an elixir of spiritual enlightenment.
An alternate formulae is also given when HEALING is the specific outcome focus.
This HEALING FORMULAE is:
HERB MEDICINAL USES

1). Catmint/Catnip fever, nerves, sleep.
2). Ginger Root relaxant, cramping, colds.
3). Chamomile sedative, stomatic, ear/tooth.
4). Lobelia nerves, spasms, hysteria.
5). Garlic antibiotic, heart and blood.

6). Plantain detoxifier, bites, rashes.
7). Coltsfoot coughs, asthma, bronchitis.

8). Comfrey heal-all, all body trauma.
Grimoire #2 235
•k<*>:*>:^v:w.:v>>>>>>^
Z\)c nine States of fRatter

When Taliesin declares in the prologue quote, that he is "made from nine elements,"
he is speaking of a Druidic mystery that is also shared with the Greek Schools. As all
existence is segregated by duality, so too the elements possessed an active and a passive
side to their natures, making eight phases in all. The mysterious ninth element, Tal-
"Ninth Wave of the Sea," is the AKASHA, the unknown principle behind it all;
iesin's
the Water of Annwn. Below is a chart which simplifies the concept and symbolisms
behind the Nine States:
Element Phase Symbol Principle Color Direction
STONE (P). .Calas Black North

EARTH (A) ...a.. .Calas Green N-East
WATER (P). .Fluidity Blue West
SEA (A). .Fluidity Silver N-West
AIR (P) .Fluidity Yellow East
WIND (A). .Fluidity Gold S-East
FIRE (P) A.. .Nwyvre Red South
FLAME (A) .Nwyvre White S-West
The final group in our mini-series, is called the Nine Eachtras of the Wise in the
text, and is drawn from various sources throughout the Celtic Mysteries. Apparently,
as they were singled out, these nine fragments represent a special group of teaching-
verses used in the Druidic Cors. The term 'eachtra' is a very old Irish classification of
literature, denoting an adventure, or more specifically, an Otherworld excursion

(usually brief), where a hero/narrator brings back some jewel of knowledge he 'won'
en route.
1. Druid €acl?tra
Grant, O God thy protection,

And in protection, strength
And in strength, understanding
And in understanding, knowledge
And in knowledge, justice
And in justice, the love of it
And in that love, the love of all life
And in that love of all life
The love of God and all goodness...
Lwmmwwwwwiillllllllllll mm
jf^v:^^
2. €acl?tra of Kestgnatfon
We, the gods, will give you the land:
But since our hands have fashioned it
We will not leave it utterly.
We will be in the white mist that clings to the mountains

We will be the quiet that broods on the lakes
We will be the joy-shouts of the rivers
We will be the Secret Wisdom of the forest.
Long after your children have forgotten us,
They will hear our music on sunny raths
And see our great white horses
Lift their heads from the mountain tarns,
Shaking the night-dew from their crested mains.
In the end, they will know that all the beauty in the world
comes back to us,
And their battles are but echoes of ours...
3. €achtra of tl?e 6ards

There is no God but what cannot be comprehended.
There is nothing that cannot be comprehended,
but what is not conceivable.
There is nothing not conceivable but God.
There is no God, but what is not conceivable.
4. <TI?e €acl?tra of Columbine

I call today on the strength of heaven..
Light of Sun!
Radience of Moon!
Splendor of Fire!
Speed of Lightning!
Swiftness of Wind!
Depth of Sea!
Stability of Earth!
Firmness of Stone!
Grimoire #2 237
5. Z\)c €acl?tra of invocation

To bathe in the Waters of Life,
To wash off the not-human...
I come in self-annihilation,
And the Grandeur of Inspiration!
6. Cl?e €ach)tra of X\)c Seven Colors

am a stone hidden under the Earth!
I
I am the purple depths of the sea!
I am a blue-crested wave under the Moon!

I am an ancient emerald forest!
I am a yellow tear of the Sun!
I am an orange turnip in a field!
I am a flaming door!
7. Z\)c l£acl?tra of Jlmergin

Iam a Wind of the Sea
Iam a Wave of the Sea
I am a sound of the Sea...
I am a Stag of Seven Tines
I am a Hawk upon a Cliff
I am a Tear of the Sun...
I am the Fairest among Flowers

Iam a Savage Boar in Valour
I am a Salmon in a Pool...
am a Lake upon a Plain

I
I am a Hill of Poetry
I am a Spear-point in Battle
I am a God who kindles Fire in the Head!
Who but I can unfold the secrets of the un-hewn Dolmen?

Who but make known the Ages of the Moon?
I
Who but can show the secret resting place of the Sun?
I
;:::: ^ '^îî^j^^l^^
—
\mmm>-- • • • »>.• - •
• >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>:»»»
8. €acl?tra of txfc
I died as a mineral and became a plant,
I died as a plant and rose to animal,
I died as an animal and I was man.
Why should I fear? When was I ever less by dying?
Yet once more I shall die as man, to soar
In the Blessed Realm; but even from god-hood

I must pass on...
9. lEacbtra of Dieter?
Soar beyond illusion!
The unwary soul who fails to grapple with the

Mocking Demon of Illusion, will return to the Earth
As the slave of Illusion.
To become a master of fate
You must first become a 'Knower of Self.'

When you can repose in comfort between the wings of your Dragon,
Which is not born nor dies throughout ages eternal,
Then will shadows vanish forever
Leaving that which within you knows...
For it is Knowledge
Not of fleeting lifetimes of illusion,
But of a real man that was, that is
And that will be again

For whom the hour shall never strike!
Grimoire #2
Morgaine clung to her horse's bridle, suddenly afraid of losing her way on the
once-familiar paths. And then it was as ifcold water flooded down her back... had
she wandered into that enchantedfairy country which was neither the world of
Britain nor the secret world where the magic of the Druids had taken Avalon, but
that older, darker country where there was neither star nor sun.. J
Marion Zimmer Bradley, THE MISTS OF AVALON
XVIII. DOAINE SIDHE

"Contacting the Faerie Folk"
Fairies... elves... brownies... pixies... pookas... leprechauns... merfolk... knockers...
gnomes... gentry... boogies... seelies... banshees... spooks... pucks... boggles... bloody-

bones... shellycoats... hags... nightbats... scrags... fantasms... hobgoblins... hob-
houlards... dobbies... kelpies... satyrs... pans... fauns... spoorns... hobby-Ian thorns...
knockers... mad-tuttles... old-shocks... tutgots... sprets... spunks... tantarrabobs... scar-
bugs... shag-foals... bolls... wrathies... waffs... gallytrots... imps... gringes... bone-
lesses... hudskins... hellwains... mawkins... kobbolds... lubberkins... thrummy-caps...
cutties... laries... woodnymphs... foliots... harpies... valkyries...
...and the list goes on and on forever, literally if one considers the worldwide tally
among all cultures and times! Why should this be? Why should the belief in little peo-
ple who live hidden amongst us, be so rampant and widespread as to be universal
throughout culture? Perhaps... just perhaps, there may be something to it... (we whis-
per in a day and age of computer logic). And so there is...
Within our forest, we make it a daily business to acknowledge and be-friend the
little folk — they are neither strangers nor figments to us; they exist and live, as we
ourselves do, and are often seen and interacted with. Where?
As the opening quote suggests, the fairy folk occupy a unique 'niche' between
worlds... slipping with ease to and from. In this day and age, it is often very difficult
to encounter any of them, let alone overcome their vast distrust of the human race.
Yet it is absolutely possible. What follows, arc sonic general guidelines to consider,
should you be interested in finding out lor yourself just wli.u it is like to experience
l£1^^L^^ZL1.\ .
,
'
aBBWBMHBBBBBI
the Realm of Faerie —even for but a moment. The more of these guidelines you
choose to follow, the better your chances at success.
* Fairies dislike urban settings. You need to search in the most natural, untouched
environment you can find.
* Fairies are seasonal —they stay 'indoors' (usually under doors) during the winter,
so don't bother searching then.
* Fairies dislike noise. Be as un-disruptive as possible.
* Move slow and sit a lot, patiently, along-side trees.
* Entrances to fairy dens, are almost always hidden by logs, trees, rocks or large
bushes. Should you happen on one, NEVER disturb it; just "hang out" there. It is
said that one may open the entrance to a fairy hill, simply by walking around it coun-
terclockwise 3 times. Try, but don't touch.
* Fairy 'haunts' are often situated by running streams — the picturesque "babbling
brook." Fairies also LOVE moss, the furry green kind that grown on rocks and trees.
They also love FERNS, and all flowering plants.
* Leave OFFERINGS once you have found a good contact place. They love sugar
(...plum fairies?), seriously, in the form of simple, fruit-flavored candies and cookies.
(Note: they do NOT like edibles containing ARTIFICIAL SWEETENER, as we
have found consistently from experience; it probably is not good for them). Other
food-loves, include: sweet, red wines; candied ginger root; honeycomb; breads (esp.
sourdough); milk or cream; yellow cheese.
* Also, in the way of offering gifts, fairies love trinkets. Bright, metallic bells or
buttons — finery like colorful feathers or coins or pearls; costume jewelry! Remember,
nothing too big. Their average size is only 6-inches, although they are sometimes
MUCH smaller (W-W) or up to 18" occasionally.
* Along with jewelry, fairies adore bright, cheerful colors: GREEN, red, blue and
yellow's. Wear them if you'd like to attract their attention in a positive way. Also
plaids.
* They love to be read to. Take a book. Fairy stories, perhaps?

Grimoire #2 241
* They love music, especially of the old-world, melody type: flutes, wooden
recorders, harps, whistles, drums. The author has a Welsh lap harp which he takes
"fairy-ing" often, with unbelievable results... especially when smoking a pipe; they love
that, too. Many of the old Welsh tunes, were said to have originally been fairy melodies!
* The "fairy-time" is twilight, just around dawn or dusk.
* It has long been said, that normally 'invisible' fairies can be seen through a
holey-stone: a hand-stone with a naturally occurring hole through it. We have never
tested this.
* Fairies are often hidden or invisible to us, due to their magic, or "fairy glamour"
as it is known. They can enchant. To counter this, find and carry with you a 4-leaf
clover — this melts their enchantments. Why? Who knows...
And these would certainly seem to be ample tips to be starting out with! If you are
a person of the "notoriety type," forget it — fairies never photograph on film, and they
hate cameras as well as other tech-toys. And they are highly telepathic as well, so watch
out what you think around them! Once you succeed in be-friending them, they are
often very generous in exchange. The author has a small box-ful of articles left for him
over the years... some of them quite wonderful.
Lastly, it is commonly known throughout the British Isles, that should you desire
a fairy friendship, be certain to call them by their proper name: "Bendith YMamau,"
which means the "Mother's Blessing!" Good Journey...
>:<.:<<^<»:<»:<v»>:v»>>:<»>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
Invoke, people of the sea, invoke the Poet
that he may compose a spell for you.
For I, the Druid, who set out the Ogham letters,
I, who walk between heated armies

will approach the rath of the Sidhe
to seek a cunning Poet,
that together we may concoct incantations...
I am the Wind of the Sea!

SONG OF TETRA
XIX. PROSE CASTING

"The Bardic Secret of Words"
It has long been said in the world, that three things enrich a poet: 1. Myth, 2. Poetic-
power and 3. A store ofAncient Verse. In the Druidic tradition, the Bards held all three
of these tightly in-hand —and their listeners as well. The history of the Bards is one of
unparalleled excellence within the realms of story and song. Nearly all royal courts in
the Middle Ages had appointed Bards, which were both well-respected and well-paid.
But the fact that their roots were deep within the Druidic tradition, means that pre-
cious little is left today of their once-brilliant presence — like the Druids, their legacies
were completely oral. Here, we will pay tribute to what we do have, and in so doing
perhaps add something "new" to the public store of knowledge.
From the mouth ofTaliesin is the Bardic Mystery,
concealedfrom the Bards!
Cyndellw, 12 th C.
We are going to ask the question: what could this Bardic Mystery be? The Bards
were originally representatives of the SECOND SCHOOL OF DRUIDISM, that
which was responsible for preserving history and legend WitWm the framework of poetry
and song (i.e. verse and music). They were highly accomplished artists, trained in the
Mystery Tradition. But what kind of training...
Grimoire #2 243
As begin the mythologies of Genesis: "In the beginning was the Word..." — so
begin the basics of Bardism: the mysteries of speech and voice. See here an actual
excerpt from our source, concerning this:
The symbol
of God's Name from J,he beginning was /|\» afterwards
^ | \/ t
and now
symbol proceed erery form and sign
OiW; and from the quality
of foice,
of this
and sound*
and name, and condition.
THE INVENTOR OP VOCAL SONG. — THE FIRST RECORDERS OP

BARDISM.— ITS FIRST 3YSTEMATIZERS.—THEIR REGULATIONS.
—MODE OF INSCRIBING THE PRIMARY LETTERS.—ORIGIN OF
THEIR FORM AND SOUND.—THE THREE MENWS.
And so, speech is not simply speech — it was a method of empowerment and
authority through sound, gained by careful training. The Gnostic mystery school
called it, "the FORMATIVE VOICE: the thunders of human speech, song and
music of the heavens which moves us profoundly." To the old schools of Alexandria
and Greece, the greatest secret to be discovered, was the hidden name of God — the
actual sound of it. To quote Dune: The voice which can cure or kill with a word. And
for those under the Cult of Christianity, was there any greater miracle, than when the
"Word was made Flesh to dwell among us?" No—we are speaking of a great truth
here, the power of the formative voice being almost universal. It brought light out of
darkness
— "we have a bright idea!" we say, or "lighten up! I'm so bright, my father
calls me 'son.'" Indeed, the Word is ILLUMINATION.
In all I speak, there shall be sight.
Edipus
In actuality, the Bards had a term for the powerful device of poetic delivery. They
termed it THE ILLUMINATION OF RHYMES: Teinm Laeghda, the 'cracking
open of a poem.' This Druidic practice is well-explored in THE 21 LESSONS OF
MERLYN, chapter 17: The Power of a Word. What it all boils down to. is a [earned
way of resonant speaking (or singing) a 'quality of oration' like — Hitler had. bill
turned to better uses. A way the Golden Dawn called VIBRATING speech.
The utterance of vowels and consonants is connected with breathing and among
the ancients there was a very profound knowledge of this: it was passible, through
speech, to produce really magical effects
— such Oi included the elements of healing.
M.Arnold, On The Study of Celtic 1 iterature, 1864
j\ :::::::. '::: ':,.: ZlZZZZZZZZI^ZZZZi n

;^m:<«vvmmmmww^^^^^
Yet these descriptions and concepts mean little, unless a method is made known of
utilizing the hidden powers of speech. Fortunately for us, the Book of Pheryllt records
three pedagogic devices the Druids once used in their Bardic Colleges to train the for-
mative voice — set, in true fashion, within the context of a triad. A gloss precedes them:
"Fionn mac Cumhail was possessing of the

Thumb ofKnowledge,
A treasure of three gems stolen from the Otherworld!
Thirsty Druids, keepers of the gods:
Would you know of these secrets?
Of theempowerment of the Spoken Word?"
THROUGH.
THE EYES THE VOICE THE BODY
Wide Open Speak in Rhythm Move Slow
Half Closed Speak in Reserve Move Deliberately
Shut Tight Speak in Rhyme Move Dramatically
Note: these are the 'encoded' secrets of Bardic Charisma, given in the three 'guises
of presence.' They contain great power and wisdom, if one but thinks on them... then
puts them to work again in the world of men.
Yet, despite all the talk of voice and speech and mysterious power, Taliesin, the
greatest master of all, has this to say:
"Know, that at the far end of our toil
Languages shall pass away...
The ardent soul

Shall be voyaging through the clouds
With the Children of Don,
Gliding on shall be thy people

To the liberation of Elphin."
; B
Grimoire #2
The Shaman knows that there is a Sea of Consciousness

that is Universal,
Even though we each perceive it from our own shores...
He knows ofa World Awareness we all share,
Experienced by every being.
Antonio Morales, SHAMAN
XX. THE WATERS OF ANNWN

"Preparing the Elixor ofSight"
This section is, as they say, rather short and sweet. It has but one offering, yet is not
without considerable interest. The Book of Pheryllt has a short section toward the
very end of the script, which speaks of the tree Pingwyddon, from which is made a
magical elixor with three properties: it "extends life beyond ones allotted years, brings
otherworld sight and bestows the gift of sensibility for a time." Certainly an interesting
enough combination of benefits to warrant investigation!
The results of our investigation identified the tree (word in old Welsh, composite) as
EUROPEAN WHITE PINE, a rather common variety with long needles and the famil-
iar, Christmas-wreath, 'sap-dotted' cones. Apparently, to judge from the tiny Pheryllt
excerpt, this tree may have been the British AILIM (understood as the Silver Fir oi the
Ogham tract — the letter "A"). Many different variations of Ogham tree assignment
have survived, some of them quite different, and so this hypothesis IS QOl too in
fetched... especially if one takes into consideration the fantastic mystical claims macU l<>i
the tree!
t-tm^n-:-t -:
There are two ways mentioned of using
:. ;':>v ;:,': . :
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this tree; lets talk
':
-
:
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H 8—
about them.
I —
P~^x"""w^^ -:/:,:. :- ;:>/;• TTTr-: /:;'-:

av-:^
1). The needles, gathered during the 6th night of the New Moon, are made into
an elixor by infusing them in hot water —but water "drawn from the deepest
of wells, which has never seen the light of day." This is to be taken as a drink
once every three days.
2). The resin is to be gathered 'from an old tree of exceeding age and grace, with-
out Steele nor iron." Apparently, the resin accumulates where branches have
broken off by storm damage or lightning —but in no way should the
Shaman cut or injure the tree in the gathering process. The resin is to be
burned upon a fire-bed and breathed in, once every three days, prior to
drinking the tea. Both these ritual elements should be observed in early
morning, before sunrise.
The Pheryllt credits the secret consumption of this tree, with the reputation of
longevity and wisdom enjoyed among the Priesthood. And who knows without try-
ing?... it may well be.

Grimoire #2
Beyond the North Wind and the Thirteenth Night,

...the Land of Ghosts and the Pillar of Time,
Beyond the Flaming Door, scarlet and bright,
A circle stands — blue with light!

Quest for the Scarlt Rock, DANTA GRADHA, 15th C.
XXL CIRCLE OF OGMA

"Rite of the Flaming Door'
The importance of the circle in world symbolism has already been established in an
earlier grimoir; its protection, eternal presence and concentration a universal constant.
Circles of stone, such as the Druids and other Shamanic systems made use of, func-
tion by drawing the force of the Macrocosm down into the Microcosm of the Magi-
cian, at its center. It is a function of empowerment. But the Pheryllt scripts also speak
of another type of circle — a non-physical one, transient with the Blue Flames of the
Otherworld. Such a circle has another function, that being PURIFICATION. There
are actually two mentions of such circles in the text: THE CIRCLE OF BLUE
FLAME, and the CIRCLE OF HEADS, (a reference to carved-head images of the
guardian-god Bran). The former will occupy us here.
To the Druids, the Blue Flame Circle was the most potent form of protective and
purifying Magic known. It was established as a means of ridding a person of unwanted
energies: fear, trauma, hate or psychic attack from an outside source. It was thought to
"vanquish all evil to the Realm ofCythrawl." To implement this powerful Rite, observe
the steps below:
* Procure in advance the following flammable liquid: 1 gallon of FIREWATER

(old term for grain alcohol, either vodka, brandy, or common rubbing isopropyl alco-
'
hol) and a COPPER bowl. We use 1-gal. alcohol mixed with 1-tbs. copper sulfate
(CuS04), sold at most pharmacies or hobby shops where chemistry labs for kids arc
sold. CuS04 is a blue crystal which burns blue — but pouring the alcohol from a cop
per bowl will have the same effect, and is the authentic nut hod.
^Xv<»>v^x»>>:»v<^:<<<^*>>>>>>>>>>>>>>:
* Pick a PURE outdoor site —one with undisturbed earth, where you will be dis-
turbed by neither image nor sound, and where you will not be seen. Go there at a
THRESHOLD time of either Dawn, Dusk or Midnight. Bring this book with you.
* With a knife, sharp stick or your ritual Sickle, trace out a circle on the virgin
ground, diameter equal to your own height. Then scratch/gouge it down to the depth
of 2-3 inches.
* If you are going to robe yourself —or disrobe, do it now. Place this book in the
center of the circle and relax until you are in a receptive mood.
* When ready, pour the prepared FIREWATER into the circular ditch you dug,
walking along and gauging the amount carefully so that there will be enough to com-
plete the round. It will sink in — don't worry about that. Place the container well
away, and carefully set the circle alight with a lighter, saying:
NUNC HABAE EMOS LUCEM! ET CALOREN!

* Move to the center of the circle and open this book to the Eachtra which fol-
lows — a very old one, which will automatically focus your mind to the proper
state/level for purification. Read it through until the flames have completely died,
then you may leave. You will notice the pronounced delayed-effect any time from 1-
6 hours later. The effect is wonderful, leaving a lasting clarity.
€acl?tra of tl?e Inner SCgt>t

If there are five senses, then I am looking for a sixth,
Forever fleeing the changeable muse who wears
horns about her neck, and fingers all my senses
as I sleep.
Behind closed eyes, a voice hisses out of the darkness.

As I swirl about, the room explodes into fireworks
Even a wizard would be proud of.
Then suddenly, I drop into a coldness — as it were, into
An abyss of shadow, smelling of ashes and sulfur,
Unable to deliver the benediction.

Grimoire #2 249
'~'.~-~ -,---
. ,:
-
r>
^
Wrapped in black, I pass beyond, falling slowly-

Through shafts of dust, revolving without motion into
A dark storm which fills that space in which all things form.
Knowing this space truly exists, only makes living harder,
As no initiate is allowed to know its name.
How many will herald the New Age of Water Bearers?

We will inherit the Mystic Ice.
It will replace our very blood as it melts into streams...
Into rivers and ever-changing oceans
Flowing through crystal veins.
We will all walk on water, wishing we could not.

But this won't be the miracle.
The miracle will be one of true proportions,
Not mere maximums or minimums... nor bare essentials.
Everything will mean nothing once again.
All new-born men of water must re-learn the ancient law:
The Law of Individuality.
What is there, after all, but our own lives?
Except, perhaps, the collective primal scream

Which terrifies our inner ears,
Traveling light years to orbit an undiscovered star

Still pulsing with the promise
That the next destruction will not be by water,
But by fire...
^%
%mm.
n-rt n--
-
:^
-
:.-'-:-:-:-'... -^ ' •
sanmmnannmmma
Part 3
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...island Valley ofAvilion;
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,

Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadow'd, happy, fair with orchard lawns

And bowery hollows crown 'd with summer sea.
Tennyson, IDYLLS OF THE KING
Z\)c 6orcl?an of fRaeldrew

A Foreword
rHIS TIME, I AWOKE with tears of loss down my face, sobbing

streaming
miserably to myself. My head pounded and ached. To know a tragedy is
one thing, but to discover that you played a causal role in it is entirely another.
How to redress a loss...? this appeared to be the common theme throughout it
all. But comfort came quickly upon hearing, alive, the familiar voice over
which I so lamented.
"So, the second chapter is read. . . the second layer ofthe picture exposed? " Merlyn
almost whispered from the shadows. "We will speak of the whole soon enough,
but why the tears? Surely you have not forgotten the transient nature of life?
You mark my loss, yet we speak... surely this says something: that the fruit of
the spirit never passes away. Judge a tree from its fruit, not by its leaves!"
"No, it's not just you," I answered slowly, as the Druid put on an exagger-
ated expression of mock-surprise, "it's more than any one thing. The dream
the vast picture you always speak of Why did it have to be broken at all?"
"Think, Bear Cub, think of the obvious answer'" he challenged back. "Why
would The Maker create a life-puzzle at all? Answer: for the sheer experiem
253
putting it back together again, what else? Your mind is as bright as it ever was,
you must use it; never underestimate the worth of the intellect. After all, the
brighter you are, the more you have to learn!"
And at that moment, there was a terrible screeching and flapping of

wings in one of the tall pines overhead. The owl, my silent mascot, had
apparently attacked a crow at roost for the night; they, ancient enemies. But
Merlyn laughed.
"There, my friend, is a perfect example of intelligence, courtesy of Mother
Nature! Perfect, planned thought."
"You mean 'instinct,' don't you?" I took the bait, my head aching too badly
to be really interested in the question though.
"Humph...!" the Druid shook his finger at me indignantly. "If an animal

does something, we humans call it 'instinct;' but if we do the same thing for
the same reason, we call it 'intelligence!' All too often, man measures intellect
by how easily one learns; when, in reality, the test is how well we understand
what we have learned."
And the wings of the great owl set a chill breeze in motion which passed us
by like a wraith in the night, granting breath, one final time, to the Dragon's
voice. But also upon that same breeze, rode the whisper of another voice.
"
Now, at last, it is your turn..." Merlyn said amongst the dust and swirling
leaf, "... your turn to understand what has already been lived, and what may
come of it." And the breeze moved on, blowing my soul along with it, back to
where it all truly began.
All my hopes and dreams
centered around the one wish that, somehow,
I could be swept away from this isolated place
and back
into Merlyn s world ofMagic.
This dream alone meant everything to me...
Douglas Monroe, THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN
IDarrior Bngel
^JJND FOR NINE DAYS the final battle, The Battle of Camlann, had raged, hot
-4Tland bloody, like a hungry ravaging beast across my land — destroying all I
had lived and worked for these past twenty years. The Pax Arturiana, the Great
Peace of Arthur the King, had come to a close. Camelot was burned into the
ground, its King mortally wounded; the Saxons were triumphant at last.
"Are you comfortable, your Majesty?" my old friend Cai had asked, and I
nodded a slight smile. "The Captain of Horse says that we must continue on
without delay. A Saxon war party has been spotted just across the border; they
may suspect that you are here." And again I nodded.
Strange to tell, but now that all was in chaos and ruin, I suddenly felt at
peace: Now that all was said and done, I felt more myself than I had since those
long-ago days with Merlyn as a boy up on Newais Mountain. Looking back,
those were the times which really mattered... now that all was said and done.
We broke camp on a gray, cloud-filled morning in the spring of the year
516, heading back onto the old Roman Road bound for Avalon. Wounded as
I was by a spear point to the chest, I was forced to travel by closed litter; my
255
1
physicians were afraid that a fever might develop. But what did it matter?
Camelot, my dream, was no more, and barbarians were soon to dominate the
l an d — }
powerless to stop it. How it plagued my heart to hear the pleas of the
country folk we passed, crying out for a once-glorious monarch to reclaim

as
his kingdom. Where was King Arthur now? Was he dead? And where were the
companions, the guardians of Britain?
The companions. They had either deserted in favor of Mordred's campaign,
been killed or were hopelessly scattered throughout the countryside in a futile
attempt to restore order. Even Gwenhwyfar, my beautiful and once-faithful

wife, even she had been given to the wind by the Bishops — the Church. Her
only concern throughout twenty years of successful reign, had been the wel-
fare of Christ's Church, and I had relinquished my true nature time and time
again to keep peace with her, my true nature as a student of Merlyn, as a
Druid. And now it was too late.
My Queen had taken refuge at the Convent of Amesbury in active support

of my enemies, the Druids were driven from the land and the Church of
Rome gained a stronger foothold at every turn. I had duly failed both church
and state, and now mortality pressed down like a lead weight upon my soul.
There truly seemed no time left for dreams to be salvaged.
Outside the litter I could hear horses and men passing back and forth in con-
stant vigil; "what would happen should the King be captured?" — "the people would
truly be without hope then"" Through fear, they too suffered my fate.
No, clearly the legend must live; common folk must never know that
the
redemption is not just around the turn! And I sighed with the responsibility
of living just until we reach Avalon. Yes, the Isle of Apples! The one constant
throughout the years, unwavering in purpose, never yielding to outside pres-
sures as I had done; never bending to the new tyrannies. Never remitting...
and I flushed with fever, or perhaps anger.

"Whom the gods would destroy, they first make angry!" came a familiar voice
from somewhere close by. "Never submit to anger, for this truth is far more
important than anything else you have mentioned! Let us examine matters in
perspective, shall we?" And a well-remembered laugh filled the litter.
I tried to sit up, but a tearing pain in my chest warned me not to move
again. I turned my head and called out, but there was nothing.
"Sire, should I call the leeches?" came the concerned voice of Cai as he
pulled open the curtain.
Warrior Angel 257
"No, no... all is well my friend, go back to your post. Things will be all
right for a while yet," I said with all the kingly confidence I could muster, but
we both knew it was a lie. Things were not right.
But then my heart leapt in memory: the voice! And I looked about at the
walls, puzzled. Then finally I understood.

"That's right..." it returned calmly, "close your eyes. For now, there is really
very little difference between my world and yours!"

"Merlyn?" I sighed, "It really is you, after all this time." But I was still
uncertain. Mist churned all around me and I could see nothing at all. Then
suddenly I remembered something... something from the shores of Lake Bala
long ago. I settled down, letting my mind wander off of its own accord, and
the words flooded back like water:
Thrice round this place to weave

Thrice blessing in thy dance
Thrice cleansing in thy fire!
And I smiled secretly as a distinctive sound began to surface from the dis-
tance. Rising slowly as if not to break the charm, I made my way confidently
towards it and, within moments, was standing face to face with Merlyn's Cave
back under Tintagel!
"So, Bear Cub, you have come back at last!" came the Druid's voice from
just inside the mouth. "And does it take a lifetime of triumph, then a twilight
of defeat to finally bring you home?" And he walked out slowly with arms
outstretched as I ran, like a small boy again, to join him.
"Why the tears?" he asked softly, holding me at shoulder's length and look-
ing me square in the face. (And it seemed strange at that moment, for I had
never actually met Merlyn eye-to-eye before)
"Yes... I've come back," was all I could manage to say, "although how and
why are unknown to me."
"Does it really matter, now?" he responded kindly, as if addressing the
small boy. "Things always happen for a good reason, although we rarely know
why at first. Have you truly forgotten so much already?" And he smiled.
"Oh yes, I have forgotten more than you could possibly imagine," mum- I
bled together. "So much of what is really important in life. So many years of
—
making mistakes so many years of watching other men's mistakes. Merlyn, is
there nothing to be done now?"
"Mistakes, Mistakes!" the Druid chuckled, "Mankind and mistakes; all part
of being human, part of the learning process. What really is important,

Arthur, is to remember that the wisest of men learn by other mens mistakes,
lesser men by their own!"
"Then I have indeed been a fool, and now Britain herself is in peril on
account of it... and the Druids are gone. What really hurts is having failed
both worlds that you once charged me to live in equally. I have failed, and I
have been failed."
At this, Merlyn stared over long and hard for a moment, shaking his head
slowly in concern. "Don't fall into that trap so late in the game!" he warned.
"To wrong is one thing, but to be wronged is another; actually such hurt
means little, unless you continue to dwell upon it."
"But Merlyn," I surrendered to confusion at last, "what goes on here? Are

you dead and I alive, or the reverse?"
The Druid laughed. "You are alive, to be sure; you have things yet unfin-
ished... yet to resolve. But as for me, well, who can say? I dwell here most of
the time now; it is so peaceful that I seldom stop to question my state of
being. But what can be said is that my work, too, is nearly complete. Nearly"
And he sat down on one of the boulders, motioning that I do the same.
"Once, long ago," I pondered, "I found myself lingering here between
worlds with you, confused and direction-less, and you pointed the way. Back
in the world of men, I am dying, Merlyn. Some say history repeats itself. If so,
tell me then, please: what is there left to do, that could possibly make any dif-
ference now?"
The Druid shook his head slowly. "This time there is little advice I can
offer, for the end of an age has indeed come. I cannot say exactly what is left to
do, but only perhaps... where. Continue on your present course to Avalon,
where fate has led you, and have faith. I can say nothing more than this."
"Faith has need of the whole truth, does it not? All of the facts?" I coun-
tered with one of Merlyn's pet axioms.
"Clever boy!" he laughed back, "Yes, the truth is always more important
than the facts. A faith that cannot survive collision with the truth, cannot be
worth much. So, have faith and remember when all seems like a direction-less
road: the Lady still dwells in the Isle ofApples! Remember this one thing... cling
to it." And the Druid stood up.

"But what of the Priesthood? The Christians?" I remembered, "They who say
that the days of the Druids are ended, and Christ can be the only King now?"
Warrior Angel 259
"If ten million people say a foolish thing, it is still a foolish thing," Merlyn
chuckled.
"Yet perhaps the Lady of the Lake knows of a way for the Christians to be
shown?" I pondered, "... to be convinced that all men must have the freedom
to choose; religion must be bigger than any one dogma. Can such a point be
forced?"
"I am certain it cannot, no," he replied matter of factly "Men convinced
against their will are not convinced. Yet this I do know: that the natural forces,
(the old gods if you will), will eventually crush and destroy those who trans-
gress and defile them, as they destroy one another."

I thought about this for a while, silently. "It seems that my entire life has
been spent searching for peace in the form of compromise —which once
seemed right to me. Yet experience has taught, that covenants without swords
are but words. And so now, here at the end of my life, I am still confused and
fearful of many things." And I buried my face in my hands.
"Yes, let us talk about you in these brief moments that remain," Merlyn
said, understanding all. And he placed a hand on my shoulder. "It is not death
that a man should ever fear, but only having never lived at all. Yet whether in
success or failure, you, Arthur, have indeed lived as few others before you
have! Your name will be remembered in greatness a millennium hence and
more from today. But now — now I must leave you, for the Summons calls.
Hear it?"
And indeed I did hear something in the background, like a sweet chime
calling me, too, back from another world. "Merlyn..." I called after him, "I
am so tired... so spent. Can't I remain here with you... forget and leave the
world to fight its own battles for a while? Hasn't my time come... have I not
earned it?" And the mysterious sound grew louder.
"Arthur, child offire" came Merlyn's voice back as if bolstering me up from

a great distance, "remember this one thing: you are a bright flame who has
lighted the way for many who are yet to come. And a bright Sun still, be you
approaching twilight or not! So riddle me this, my warrior angel: What is a
sun-dial in the shade...?" And his laughter trailed to nothing as I was suddenly
jarred awake.
The litter had been pulled to an abrupt halt; once again, the sounds of
horses and men were all around. I was hot, burning hot, and my body pained
and resisted as I tried to sit up, yet I succeeded. And sure enough, the deep
sound of a gong filled the air.

— —
And I knew this sound! This sound from my dream — I remembered the
great copper gong which hung from the branch of the ancient apple tree, close
to the shores of the lake; with the tall, carved Totem Guardian of the Mother-
hood standing nearby. We were...
"Sire, we have called the Barge," interrupted the voice of Cai as he tugged
open the flap. "It should be here within moments. Will your footman
attend you?"
"No, never mind — I will make due myself," I answered with a taught smile,
smoothing my tunic and shifting the thick wrap of bandages about my chest.
"Are you... sure, Majesty?" he inquired again with a concerned scowl.
"I said, we will manage!" The abruptness was intentional. "Go and see that
my bag is made ready to load on board; notify me as soon as the flat arrives.
We will rest here until then."

"Yes, sir." And he pulled the flap back.
"And... Cai?"\ lowered my voice so that none else might hear, "Cai... did
you hear anything unusual inside the litter while we were en route? Anything
at all?"
My friend answered with a strange, worried grimace and a slow shake of

the head. "No, Arthur. Well, perhaps something. For a moment you must
have been talking in your sleep, for I heard a voice speaking of a Summons
a meeting, and some nonsense about a 'sun-dial in the shade." It did not sound
like your voice at all, so I, fearful of a problem, checked. There was no one
here after all, thank God."
"yl sun-dial in the shade..." I pondered, resting my head back on the pil-
lows. "Cai? Tell me: what might one do with a sun-dial in the shade, were
such nonsense really the case?" And again, a cloud of concern passed over my
old friend, as if he were truly afraid for my sanity.
1
Warrior Angel 26
"Well, I don't rightly know, Sire," he responded with some hesitation. "I
suppose one might move it to a better place, then await the return of the Sun."
" Thank you Cai, you may go now," and I suddenly realized just how appro-
priate his simple answer was. "A final place... the return of the Sun..." And his
cryptic words filled me with a calm sense of purpose, a sense of master plan.
"Then let it be so!" I decreed to myself after a long thought. Parting the
canvass, I stepped through confidently onto the marshy green, somehow
strengthened from below by those magical apple orchards.
"Come on men, let move forward," I called loudly over an astonished
us
legion. "Let us —
go out with the dawn go out, all of us, seeking the Return of
the Sun!"
Briskly I strode forth into the pale, pre-dawn calm where I beheld for one
last time the beautiful Tor of Avalon, rising above the misty Lake like a slum-
bering Dragon. But the long years of slumber had finally come to an end;
now it was time for the Dragon to awake...
At Newyn in Caermerthyn, a litel hille there is,
Wode he dwelles Merlyn tweyne.

He tolde oute his prophecie Jul sure
Vnder kyngArthure alle...
Merlyns Tweyne, POLYCHRONICON, 14th C.
Z\)c Summons
>^^%EEP IN THOUGHT UNDER the same pale sky sat Vivianne, High Priestess
*^* of the Isle of Avalon, feeling the weight of the world upon her shoul-
ders. There, within her small stone cottage nestled snugly amid an ancient
apple orchard, she sat on a low wooden stool and dreamed desperate dreams
into orange coals. The Dragon was moving; she could feel the weight of it, the
weight of the Tor, lumbering with its great ring of stones just above her
rooftop like an untamed monster awake after all these years.
"Lady?" came a timid voice from the shadows, "Are you asleep? It is almost
time." And the iron latch clicked softly on the wooden door. A thin draft
swept in a sudden hint of muddy dawn air.
"No... thank you, Gwyar," shivered Vivianne from her trance, "I can man-
age. But see to it that the sacred path is cleared, I wish to work alone this
morning."
"Yes, Lady," and the door closed quietly.
As if herself awakened from long sleep, the priestess pulled a dark woolen
shawl from its peg and slowly arranged it about her shoulders, then shuddered
again. Although she was old and failing, still she knew more than an inkling
of what must come to pass in these final days — these next few, final days; and
263
this thought was far more chilling than any early morning breeze. And yet she
moved forward, knowing with thoughtless certainty what her Goddess

expected of her.
By the time Vivianne had finally banked the fire and stepped out onto the
damp flagstone walk, traces of thin, spider-web clouds could be seen reflecting
over the eastern edge of the marshes. The stone path wound its way from
under the dark tanglement of ivy and wood which was the cottage door, and
meandered down through a mysterious garden still dripping with soft colors
and crystal dews. Vivianne loved her garden best of all — to sit just outside
cottage windows glowing golden in firelight, and become lost while seated on
a rock overhung with mossy vines, bluebells and ancient boughs of apple-blos-
som pink.
But on this particular morning she brushed past them all without a
thought, pressing on towards another path, one carved into the hillside long
before the earliest memories of priest or peasant. There before her, lay the
deep-worn Dragon Labarynth leading to the top, where stone giants stood
silently awaiting the dawn priestess.
The climb was always a strange one, she had never become used to it even
after all these years; snaking slowly along side-after-side, it became the magi-
cal spiral of life... the way of the spirit. Above, long blurs of stars still shone
brilliantly like sparkling eyes turned towards her, intent upon her every move.
Glancing down, another myriad of tiny stars lay mirrored in twinkles of can-
dlelight from countless cottage windows still blanketed in sleep.
As she passed overtop the neatly thatched roof which was her own
dwelling, Vivianne turned with a sigh and looked downward, wishing she
were there, asleep again before her fire. But the time had surely come for fate
to be satisfied in full. Fate keeps on happening, she whispered underbreath,

forcing herself on with a sacred song. The Song ofLife Returning, taught to her
.
The Summons 265
by a Bard upon those very slopes as a child. And then, for what pathway
remained, the Divine Child returned to walk with the Priestess as she sang:
I AM THE PATHWAY, AM THE EARTH. I
GWANWYN, HAFFYN, HYDREF, GAEAFYN!
TREAD THE MOTHER, WALK THE GIRTH.

GWANWYN, HAFFYN, HYDREF, GAEAFYN!
MARIVONNIK CIRCLE SPINS,
MARIVONNIK NEVER ENDS.
PATHWAY, EARTH, MOTHER, GIRTH,
WINDING PASSAGE, DEATH TO BIRTH!
"Winding passage..." she stopped to ponder the words, before being sud-
denly jarred back by chill air and wet grass. Again the grim reality of her mis-
sion up those sacred slopes set in. Somewhere, she realized, beneath her feet,
lay the salvation of all... somewhere hidden along the serpent line lay the
entrance, the Gateway of Gwynn ap Nudd! Then, like so many times before,
she felt suddenly stricken with age and ignorance at the thought. She, High
Priestess and Lady of Avalon, had no idea where the entrance lay. She, prophet
and mouthpiece of the Goddess!

"Hmmph. .
" Vivianne responded to herself indignantly, "We may become
the makers of our fate, only when we have ceased to pose as its prophets," she
quoted stiffly from the Book of Avalon, then hurried on into the shadows.
Within moments, the final bend of the Labyrinth revealed its keep: eight
great standing stones formed an ancient circle, black as char against the sky;
the electric sight never failed to quicken her heart. She stopped and raised her
head to look... then to listen. Somewhere close by in the darkness, the gentle
ripple of a harp broke the still air. Again she felt indignant. Who dared be here?
Who dared disobey her orders? And Vivianne stormed silently to the edge of
the circle.
"Morgainne!" was all she could force out, "Morgainne?" and the girl
stopped playing, placed her beautifully carved harp on the ground with care,
and approached Vivianne.

"Mother of Avalon, we are in great danger," said the girl with a calm, care-
fully steadied voice. "I have come to help where I can," she added, dropping
lightly to one knee in a gesture of respect.
. —
The old priestess studied the younger one thoughtfully for a moment
without speaking. Dressed in the simple dark shift of a novice, she had
nonetheless been Vivianne's chosen apprentice for nearly fifteen years now
her only apprentice. Her favorite. Her successor. Had it been anyone else
awaiting her there. . .
But it was Morgainne alone who looked up and smiled, and with that
smile Vivianne instantly realised that this girl understood the weight of the
moment like no one else on the Island could have. Her stance softened.
"Thank you for being here... for choosing to come," she returned a tense,
half-smile and raised Morgainne to her feet. "As only you know, I am far too
old for The Sight." And she walked out between the stones to the very center,
where stood the Darkenstone in all its dark majesty.
"But Lady, I surely count it as my right to be here," Morgainne supported
herself firmly, "my... birthright. Arthur is my brother, after all." And she
joined the Lady opposite the monolith. "Let me be your Second Sight now."
Vivianne smiled, this time a softer smile, looking down. Her mind wan-
dered as it often did these final days, back to sweeter times. She remembered
Morgainne as a small girl, as part of the company of Avalon journeying to
Arthur's confirmation within the ancient Henge of Salisbury. She, in robes of
blue silk, a much younger woman full of hope for Britain and Avalon together.
The stones... the flickering torchlight... Arthur standing high above it all with
his golden hair, himself but a boy — and Merlynl How Vivianne missed Mer-
lyn. How many years had it been since the Druid had last been seen? Twenty,
thirty years perhaps? And her mind fell back even further...
"We must see to it that Arthur comes safely to the throne, against all odds,"
Merlyn spoke from her dream. "We are far too close to admit defeat."
"Yet there are those who would oppose us, powerful forces across the
land — like the Church." Vivianne twitched nervously.
"The Church!" And Merlyn drew back to consider for a moment. "Yes, per-
haps... yet our job is not to waylay Christ's Church, but only to show that
theirs must not be the only way; in grand diversity lies our growth, our fate,
theirs and ours.

"Whatever limits us, we call fate!" the priestess snapped back angrily. "The
Christians do not see matters as broadly as you or I; they never look beyond
the walls of their biblical box! Remember Anglesey? The blood? Those were
your forefathers who died there; let us not forget this when talking of Arthur's
future and the Church!"
.
The Summons 267
The Druid sighed. "The first manner of avenging ourselves, is by not resem-
bling those who have injured us. I will do what I can to encourage the boy along
these lines, but... there must be more behind it. We need a plan within the plan."
"I most certainly agree. And since Anglesey is no more, Avalon must be the
logical starting point..."
"...Which is precisely why I have sought you out for counsel," Merlyn
broke in to spell it out. "But a word of caution before we begin: it is often a
mistake to look too far ahead. Only one link of the chain of destiny can be
handled at a time."
"Yes —and we both know the name of that one link!"

"We do." And again the Druid took a long pause, seeming to weigh his
next words with great care. "Vivianne, Arthur is our strongest link for certain,
but... there must be another ready to support him, and support us, should
plans fall short. Deep within the Tor of Avalon..."
"The Gorchan? The Gorchan ofMaledrew?"'The Lady's eyes grew wide with
mystery — mystery and bitterness. "Is this what you speak of?" And Merlyn
nodded. Vivianne tested: "But that may be nothing more than a myth!"
"It is no myth, and you know it," Merlyn replied steadily. "Your resent-
ment still shows that any save you should dare know the secret. Need I
remind you of who first raised the great stone circle atop the Tor? And who
first charted the sacred caverns beneath, filling them with the Thirteen Trea-
sures? The legacy is mine."
"It is a dead legacy
— " Vivianne struck out. "The Pheryllt are fled, their
name only a legend, and Avalon now keeps the sacred fires!"
There was a long silence before Merlyn settled back against a rock and
smiled a momentary resignation. "Differences challenge assumptions, and so
are good. now plan as one; after all, both our legacies are endan-
But we must
gered. Lady of Avalon, if we cannot now end our differences, let us at least
endeavor how to create our world safe for diversity! Agreed?"

"Aye, agreed; this task is ours to face for certain," and she returned his
smile tensely. "If not us, then who? There are none of the Old Code that
remain save ourselves."

"And Arthur, who has been well-trained... and you have Morgainne who,
sight tells me, may figure well into the final picture before the end. Rely on
her, Lady, when you have need of strength, plus your own good advice deliv-
ered to Arthur this very night. What was it, Vivianne?" And his voice faded
into nothingness like an echo. . .
—
"Lady what is /V.^'came the concerned voice of Morgainne as she reached
over and gently placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Is it the Sight?"
"No, no, child," came a dazed response. "I was just... thinking back, pon-
dering matters to this point. Has it been long?"

"No, Mother, not long... but you did cry out once. I believe you spoke the
name 'Merlyn.' Something about your advice to Arthur. Do you mean the old
Druid from my brother's childhood? Is he not long dead?"

"Yes, yes, most surely he is. Word reached the Isle many years ago from far
Northern Caledon, that he was no more." And Vivianne leaned heavily upon
the Darkenstone, looking forlorn and spent. "And so... now, there is but
myself."
"None but us, Mother," Morgainne added confidently. You have trained
me well, rely on this!" And she untied a small leather pouch from her belt and
offered it over. "Dawn is nearly upon us."
And so, together, they set to work. It had been years since Vivianne had
dared consult the Darkenstone — terrified, perhaps, of what she would see
within its midnight depths; terrified, perhaps, that she would behold nothing
at all. But now there was little else left to do; with Merlyn and the Elders of
both Islands either dead or vanquished, she felt sharply alone. Empty. With-
out answers.
"Lady, are you prepared?" asked Morgainne, more out of courtesy than
anything else.
In answer, Vivianne bent her head down slightly and closed her eyes,
thinking. "Morgainne, yes, we still have her —her strength and her blood-tie with
Arthur. Merlyn foresaw it, even the girl herself seems to sense it. Perhaps there is
still a way..." And she reached into the pouch, extracting a handful of the crys-
tal powder it contained, spreading it across the face of the Darkenstone with
one smooth sweep.
The Summons 269
THE DARKENSTONE, ancient survivor of legend and lore, had lain

within the Tor's Great Circle since before the earliest advent of human mem-
ory. No myth remained of its origin, no legend told of its people: a history as
hidden in darkness as the name itself. Perhaps, as some say, it fell to earth long
ago in a trail of fire from the stars? ...perhaps a lone surviving relic of lost
Atlantis or drowned Lemuria? ...A thousand children's tales told by the com-
mon folk; but despite them all, the monument stood as a mystery, consulted
by kings and priests since the dawn of legend.
The first rays of the morning sun had just begun skirting the stone tops, as
Vivianne began the invocation. Almost instantly, the waking birds ceased
their song and a dizzying silence settled slowly into the circle. It was if the Tor
itself lay waiting to hear.
AROSY—YAROS
GWAYR, LLAIS CERRIG, GOLWYG —
LLEUAD, TAWYLL PRYDD, ARWYDD —
AROS —I AROSI
The spellchant echoed inside the circle, again and again. Dusted across the
surface of the Stone, the tiny crystals of powder began to sparkle and glow
with life: theDust of the Ancients. Swirls swirled and points of light melted
together, the air grew heavier. Morgainne suddenly gasped in a tiny breath
then straightened up severely, her hands planted hard against the rim of the
Darkenstone, knuckles, face, white with tension. Then everything relaxed.
The terse expression melted off the continence of the young priestess like ice,
who then spoke forth in a chill voice drained of all human warmth.
u
Now I see..." she began slowly, "understand... know what must be done. The
cross comes! White Druids buried by black priests... red, scarlet red! One group
moves through time, their efforts distorted. Battles... the golden king falls under
his own blood. Vows broken, a chaste queen marries the bishop! Thirteen trea-
sures concealed underground... gateway guarded by the ancient one. Then

comes a Saint who settles in the far North, a hater of women; the Motherhood
crumbles... immortal stones taste mortality! A great council meets upon the
dark moon... the Summons goes forth. Once more will the gateway open, once
more the Book is read... all are consumed by the mists unleashed! Under the
vanishing apple boughs, dies the golden one... the golden one summoned
beyond..." And Morgainne collapsed back against an upright stone, sliding
unconscious to the ground. Vivianne took a deep, controlled breath, then

moved slowly over to stand nearby. She, as a High Priestess, was well-experi-
enced with suspension states, knowing that it was best to leave the entranced
alone until they woke naturally. Sometimes this took hours... yet she had much
to ponder many enigmas to unlock in little time.
over,
The sun was warm and full by the time Morgainne began to stir. Far below
on the meadow flats, the company of Avalon moved from out its night slum-
ber with cheerful voices. Doors unbolted, windows swung open, the sound of
women's far-off chatter filled the air. Vivianne could taste the smell of fresh-
baked bread, crisp upon the morning breeze.
"Morgainne, daughter? How do you feel?" she asked after a moment, help-
ing the girl to her feet.
"Well enough, Lady, my thanks," came a weak response. "But please tell
me, what transpired? Were our efforts met with success?"
"They were..." answered Vivianne quickly with a nervous smile, "and far
more than you may realise. But, small talk is a luxury for which we have no
further time! Morgainne, child, listen well: there are things that you must do.
Go immediately to the Cottage of Maidens and select a small group of your
most trusted novices, those with a knowledge of letters and writing. Prepare a
Summons to be delivered without delay to all Druidic strongholds of

Edeirnion yet surviving —Olwen knows the places. Advise the Elders that the
time has come for the final Summit of Avalon. We counsel upon the morrow.
Charge them by their lives to be here. Next, ride you to the village and dis-
patch whichever horsemen you trust to carry the message. Tell them the Lady
of Avalon so orders it. Meanwhile, I will meet the others at shore." And she
started back down the path.
"Others, Lady?" interjected Morgainne quickly, "Tell me, please, if my
brother be among them? Is he well?"
As if half-expecting the question, Vivianne then paused and turned back.
"Yes, Arthur is there... as you suspected. You are a fine priestess, my child. I
am very grateful that you are here for us now. And, if the Sight has not left me
entirely, I believe there may be one final thing you wish to ask of me?"
The girls face bloomed in amazement. "Why yes, Mother, in fact there is!"
And she walked over with a smile. "Earlier today when you called out from
your dream, you spoke of some special advice you once imparted to my
brother upon his coronation. Might I ask what this was?"
"
The Summons 271
The old priestess swallowed hard and glanced down, searching the grass as
if looking for a lost sunbeam. "I reminded him... yes, I remember, that we are
taken amidst deep waters not to drown us, but to cleanse us; and urged him not
to delay in his coming, for the land bleeds... and Avalon fades in the blood. I
never sawhim again." And her voice trailed off into the wind, a single tear
moving down her cheek.
"And now he comes, finally after all these years," Morgainne echoed. "I
pray to the Goddess that it is not too late."
Vivianne nodded almost imperceptibly, saying nothing more for many

long moments. Then she leaned over and embraced the girl, holding her at
shoulder's length, looking deep into her eyes.
"Now we must be brave, and endeavor to live ourselves by that advice I
gave your brother so long ago. Yet as to the future, well, it seems clear that our
task is no longer to foresee it, but to enable it. Go now, the Summons must
ride forth before nightfall." And she watched wearily as Morgainne disap-
peared down the green.
"Lest this nightfall be our last," Vivianne thought, frowning to herself, "lest
.
this nightfall be our last. .

. —
Behold all flesh is as the grass,
And all the toilings of mankind, are also as the grass.
And, lot The grass withereth...
PSALMS 90: 3-6
Behold 2M jf lesl? . .
J^HREE DAYS FOLLOWING THE Summons, there was a perfect sunset. One by
\ône from the surrounding cottages, a curious mixture of the carefully-
chosen from every part of the kingdom, filed solemnly in to sit before
Vivianne's great wooden table. It was a time of both crisis and celebration; the
Old Code faced extermination, and Avalon along with it

— yet three days
more had passed, and Arthur, wounded as he was, still lived. It was a time of
rare miracles.
As we have said, Vivianne's stone cottage lay comfortably nestled within

the twisted limbs of the oldest apple orchard in all of Britain. There, at the
foot of the Tor, moss grew thick upon garden-ivy walls, and time itself
appeared to pass unnoticed by the outside world. 'Welcome pilgrim,' it seemed

to say, 'come inside, stay with us... stay forever, Come, stay! Sleep soundly. Stay...'
And upon that night of the perfect sunset, gray smoke twisted out the
chimney top, mingling the scents of cold autumn air with applewood and
damp leaf. Twenty souls sat silently before the fire that night twenty plus one.
And the one was dying.
"Friends... companions these many years," Arthur began, the task of break-
ing the silence, his. "We are here to regard the passing of an age, a glorious
273
age! As you all know too well, great unrest has outgrown the Court of
Camelot, spreading violence and bloodshed throughout my realm. We are
under attack from both within and without — the foundations of the Old
Code have crumbled. The Queen now controls the conscience of Christ's
Church within these Isles, and ruthlessly pits it against any and all followers of
the Old Faith; thus has Avalon been targeted for certain destruction at their
hands. Such dread comes upon us now, even as we speak.
Word has also spread among the common folk that I, their King, am dead
with the collapse of Camelot. As a result, the lesser kings and nobles have
withdrawn deep into their own territories, and reign violence upon any and
all others, Briton or no. Even now, an immense army of Christian Celt and
Saxon, along with former companions under my own son, is making its way in
pursuit of us. Truly, friends: very soon all roads will converge here, and final
destiny will be decided. Our responsibility now lies in choosing just how des-
tiny may be nobly satisfied." And Arthur, seated upon a couch at the far end
of the table, fell slowly back out of breath as all eyes watched in fearful
despair. Morgainne moved quickly to attend him.

Across from the King sat Vivianne, silhouetted like a crone shadow against
the blazing hearth. Pulling herself upright, she instantly sensed that it was her
place to continue where Arthur could not.
"As it has already been said," she began solidly in the trained voice of a
priestess, "great forces of darkness are swiftly moving in upon us, a truth we
have confirmed within the Darkenstone. I, therefore, summoned this council
in order to resolve how this danger shall be met. It has been wisely said, that
only an awareness of the dangers menacing what we love, allows us to sense
the dimension of time —and to feel in everything we see and touch, the pres-
ence of past generations. So now, friends, I tell you truly: the blood of our her-
itage, of our past generations, cries out to me for salvation... for preservation and
justice! As Lady of Avalon, know you all that mine is their ear and arm, until
a resolve be met." And she gave a quick nod to Sian, her attendant waiting at
the side, to bring in food and drink.

Like the Isle of Avalon itself, the food was sparse and rare. Small loaves of
brown bread, rich yellow cheese, dried fruit and honey mead. Soon the long
applewood table, covered like glass with years of polished beeswax, was cov-
ered with fare as well. Yet no one spoke of this finery.
"Friends, let us give thanks, each in our own way," said Arthur, wrestling
against a thick wrap of bandages to sit upright. "For we will surely have need of
Behold All Flesh... 275
such nourishment in the time before us." And he picked up a loaf and broke it,
placing the halves carefully on his wooden plate — yet ate none of it himself, a
fact which conveyed itself around the table in an exchange of worried glances.
"You must eat something, your Majesty," said Caius who was always seated
to his right, "for you more than any of us will have need of such strength." He
picked up the plate and held it over, but it was waved away with a sigh.
"Please, brother, for me?" added Morgainne with a painted smile from the
King's left. "Just a bit of something?" And she placed a goblet of honey wine
into his hand, closing her own around it. Arthur, smiling back, took the cup
and drank a shallow mouthful to please her. Looking down, Morgainne sud-
denly noticed that a blood stain had appeared through the clean bandages; she
looked up at Cai, who returned her concern with a blank, helpless stare.
"The past, at least, is secure," Arthur sighed quietly, laying his head back.
"That triumph cannot be taken from us, no matter what."
"To eat bread without hope, is still slowly to starve to death," interjected
Marcus Cunomorus of Dore in a low voice, placing his own bread down in
symbolic gesture.
"Aye... time and words can't be recalled," mirrored Gwalchmai with a
shrug, "but the question is, what more? We are assembled here to formulate a
plan beyond the past."
"And I tell you, the past is a bucket of ashes!" Bedwyr raised his voice in
impatient anger. "Lady of Avalon!"

"Beyond the past?" echoed the King weakly, "Is there truly a beyond?" And
all were again silent under the same spell of despair.
"Arthur," Vivianne spoke up at last, "never forget one thing: there is glory
in a great mistake —glory for both the past and future. And the mistake is far
greater than yours alone; it is shared in varied proportions by each person pre-
sent here, but none less than myself. Lady of Avalon I am, but master of the
Tor I am not. Only the BOOK OF PHERYLLT claimed record of such
secrets as lie hidden here, and none still living have ever claimed access to this
information. And so, where does this leave us? I am not certain."
Mac Erca, one of the Elder Druids from Iona, cleared his throat loudly. "In
my land, they tell tales of another holy book: a book hidden away here in Avalon.
Perhaps it could lead us wisely now; they say it contained untold power from the
distant past, from the Time of Legends! Lady, know you of the Gorchan?"
— .
At this mention, all eyes looked up and exchanged unison glances of fleet-
ing wonder; there were none present who had not heard of the legendary
book. Only Arthur remained unmoved.

Vivianne shifted nervously in her seat, sensing that hers was the next voice.
A tense moment later, she shoved her chair back unexpectedly and stood.
"No..." she stated flatly, "I am truly sorry, all of you, but the Gorchan is
not in my possession. I, too, have heard the tales and passed on the legends,
but never once myself actually seen the parchment or knew of its resting place.
So there it is, revealed: my deficiency... my shame. Camelot is dead, Avalon is
dying; and I here, powerless to stop it."
Following those words, a low mumble of disbelief seemed to fill the room;
it was always assumed within the Legends of Maeldrew, that the Lady of the
Lake guarded this sacred book, using its magic to shield Avalon from harm.
Vivianne, consumed by the despair of shame and expectation, sat down
slowly, buried her face in her hands, then drew an unsteady breath. She was
empty... there seemed nothing left to say.
Then, from the far end of the table, Arthur sat up unexpectedly and smiled.
In that moment, the sun seemed to rise and tension to melt from the air.
"Might I now return some of your own excellent advise to you, Lady of
Avalon? for our lack of solution is surely in no way any fault of yours! One
common bond between king and priest, has always been a realization that 'he
who does not fill his world with phantoms, remains alone. '
You are blameless for
yours. And as to the Legend, well should some great saving secret lie waiting
here beneath green turf..."
The King's words were cut short by an unexpected commotion outside.
Men's voices rose and fell with great excitement, torchlight glared in through
the windows, footsteps clustered along the path towards the cottage. Taken by
surprise, all attentions arrested as the door was suddenly thrust aside. Un-
announced, two aged figures entered, each wearing robes of coarse fiber and
skin —each carrying a flaming brand held high. Vivianne flared up from her
seat, stunned at the apparent indignation of it all.
"What goes on here?" she lashed out angrily, "Who dares..." and her words
were cut short in turn, as another voice entered like a sombre ghost through
the doorway:
*
"Behold allflesh is as the grass. .
. . —
And upon hearing, Arthur, wounded as he was, struggled wildly to his feet
as if jolted suddenly awake —hands shaking—braced against the table, face
drained white. Alarmed, Cai and Morgainne rose swiftly to steady him on
both sides.
"... and lo, the grass withers!"
Arthur's eyes, wide and unblinking, were transfixed on the door as the two
torch-bearers parted to make way. Some of the company simply watched in
confusion while others let out a shout of astonished disbelief. Vivianne, hav-
ing stood in anger, found herself sliding back down, weak, into her seat
awe-struck.
u
It isn't possible..." was all she could whisper, again and again, while the
King was visibly beyond any speech at all. In between the two men, had
appeared the bent frame of an even older man; clad in thick layers of gray
tunic, his hands held fast to a beautifully-carved staff of dark, twisted wood,
surmounted at the top by the royal emblem of the Welsh Dragon. His thin
hair and beard were purest white, while his eyes, like his robes, were a clear
gray... ageless and sparkling.
"Lady of Avalon," the tallest of the two guides bowed deeply, "my name is
Lailoken, and my companion is Maeldinus. We have journeyed far at your

summons, and have brought our Lord Taliesin safely from the Caledonian
Woods. It was a difficult passage for him, my Lady, but one he insisted on
making without delay. We now entrust him into your care." And they both
bowed again in unison, backing out the way they had come.
"Discover thou what is!" tike man spoke at last, and his voice, parched with age
yet sure, sent chills of distant recognition like an icy wind to blanket the room.
The strong creature from before the flood
without flesh, without bone, without vein, without blood.

It often issues from the heat of the Sun
and the coldness of the Moon. .
One being has formed it out ofall creatures

by a tremendous blast. .
"Tell me, what be the answer?" and Taliesin laughed to himself, making his
way in aged yet secure steps to the end of the table where Arthur half stood.
"Merlyn..." rasped the King. "Merlyn, is it you? Alive?" And Cai caught
him by the arm just in time, carefully easing him down onto his cot. Again
the old man laughed.
"Merlyn? Hmmm, Merlyn! No... not unless I be the same name as the
wind! Am T your answer, then?"

"Sit here, my Lord Druid —we are much honored by your presence," said
Morgainne as she rose gracefully to her senses, her smiling voice betraying lit-
tle doubt as to the true identity of the visitor.
The old man returned the gesture with a smile. "Before I join with you, let
me put away this 'icon of the aged,' lest any of you begin to think me
infirmed!" And he walked across the room slowly, propping up his staff
against the wall behind the door. "Ninety one years is not so great an age,
after all, is it?" Chuckling loudly, he returned to the table and took Mor-
gainne's seat next to the King. "Have the years obscured me so much, then?"
And the Druid held out his arms toward Arthur.
"Merlyn, it is you! Beyond all hope, it..." and he moved forward with tears
streaming down his face, until the bandaged head found rest within his beloved
past. Then, for the next few moments, all was right with the world again.
u
Merlyn? Arthur of Newais Mountain? ...these are names I have not heard
in a long, long time," the old man mused as Cai helped the King back down
into his chair. "Yes — it has been a lifetime since anyone called me by that
name! You see my boy, after your marriage, I journeyed with a large group of
my fellow Druids north of the Great Wall of Alba, to found a colony where
we might live out our remaining days in peace; here, I was given the name
'Taliesin' by the hill-folk, who take it to mean 'light-giver' in their tongue.
And there I have dwelt in secret gardens ever since... at least until the turmoil
of Avalon reached my ears." And a dark cloud seemed to pass across his face for
an instant. "The messengers told us that our King still lived, but that his days
were growing few; the idea that I might be of some assistance occurred!" Then
his eyes twinkled with mischief once again.
"Great soul, we have been truly lost without you," said Vivianne, more set-
tled now and smiling; relieved would be a better word. She filled a plate with
food and offered it down.
"No, thank you kindly," said Merlyn, shaking his head with a gentle smile,
"but I cannot think of food while my Bear Cub lies here so very hurt." And he
bent over to inspect Arthur more closely, again shaking his head. "Truly the
years have taken their toll on you, my boy. Morgainne, child, will you ask
Maeldinus to bring in my satchel? We shall see what the Sixteen Leeches of

Diancecht can do for our King."
"At once, my Lord," and the girl hurried over to disappear behind the
door, followed closely by Peredur and Gauvain.
"And Vivianne... dear Vivianne my sister, I see countless years of duty writ-
ten across your face as well; yet you are still as beautiful as you have always
been!" The old Druid gazed down the table as if he were truly looking back
into the past, then noticed a single tear upon her cheek.
The Lady of Avalon blotted it away with a quick gesture. "You know as
well as I, my brother, that, in the end, the gods do not look us over for
medals, degrees or diplomas —but for scars. We all have them here! And she
smiled. "No... well, its just that fate often works in the strangest ways. You
have been presumed dead these many years."
"Dead!" snorted Merlyn cynically. "Well, the art of living is all too often the
art of knowing how to believe lies! But in this case, eyes are more accurate wit-
nesses than ears could ever be. Wouldn't you say?"

Everyone was chuckling as Morgainne returned carrying the Druid s leech-
chest. This he opened at once, sorting out a variety of pouches and tiny bot-
tles into piles.
"Might I insist that all present retire back to their quarters for a while?"
he asked busily. "All but Cai and my attendants. The King has need of my
full attention."
"Yes, of course," responded Vivianne formally, motioning those at the table
to stand. But as she passed to exit with the others, Merlyn took hold of her
sleeve, drawing her down close so that none else might hear.
"Sister ofAvalon... perhaps I might have a cure for what zAsyou as well!" He
beamed with a curious half-smile. "See to it that torches are prepared, as well
as spades for digging. As soon as I am finished here, we will meet out at the
foot of the Tor. A Legend awaits us, which may prove our best hope." And
Vivianne left them alone without comment, knowing that nothing more
should be said.
I looked up finally and grinned like a small child with a scraped knee. Mer-
lyn bent down, placing his aged hand on my shoulder — meeting my troubled
gaze with a look of calm assurance.
"Not to worry, Bear Cub. We will find a way of setting things to right. But
first drink this." And he handed me a tiny vial of orange liquid. "Now, close
your eyes... be at peace, and listen."
And the Druid chanted in a whisper:
CUM SINT DIFFICILIA ARTURUS TRIA

QUARUM BRENNIUS NESCIT PENITUS
QUOD EST VIRI VIA IN ADOLESCENTULUS
Although the words held no real meaning for me, it seemed to matter little
if at all; Merlyn had spoken them, and this was enough. Their effect, however,
or perhaps that of the herb, was instant and powerful: my head swam, and my
body ceased to hurt. But there was more!
Outside the cottage window, a quiet but persistent tapping could be heard.
And I somehow knew that, if I opened my eyes and looked suddenly, a great
black Raven would be seen perched on that sill! ... it would be there! And I
continued listening to the old voices like counting sheep, as my mind drifted
back into a dream of dreams from which I hoped never to awaken. Why?
Because I was home at last and knew it —we had touched base one final time.
Beyond all doubt I knew that I was safe, once more, within Merlyn's
plans...
Mysteries of this sort cannot be revealed
except where there is most urgent needfor them!
IfI were to utter such secrets as an entenainment

or were there no need at all,
then the Spirits which empower me would truly forsake all
amidst the moment ofgreatest crisis.
Geoffrey of Monmouth, HISTORIA
d?e£Ri6te of Calen
3T WAS SOON AFTER midnight, the moon dark as pitch, by the time our
group had slowly assembled at the base of the Tor, ready to ascend. Ten of
my old companions bore flaming torches that ripped and shredded the black-
ness into a sea of apple-limb shadows. And the air appeared colder than usual
that night, forming an eerie grey fog which drifted and crept across the warm
turf at our feet.
Merlyn stood alone to one side, leaning heavily on his staff, deep in
thought. He seemed utterly remarkable for a man past ninety, but then again,
he was always remarkable at any age! Then finally Vivianne arrived, attended
on each side by Morgainne and Sian: the three furies dressed in black. As for
myself, I sat calmly waiting on a rock, the burden of pain gratefully lifted by
Merlyn's arts. While it was true that my tortured body felt greatly relieved, the
Druid was careful to point out that he could only forestall fate, not change it.
But however ominous such thoughts sounded, the blessing was, that my mind
felt clear at last; the curse was, that an army of violent men had surely divined
my location by this time, and was soon to break like an invading storm upon
the peaceful shores of Avalon. I shuddered at the certainty, as Merlyn suddenly
raised his staff into the air. Within moments, everything had fallen silent.
281
—
"Comrades — old friends, chosen of the gods! Few have ever been witness
to that which you are soon to behold. We now have a monumental task
before us: to reach beyond the confines of this world, and preserve for all time
the essence of what we are, and have aspired to be. Alone, such is not a matter
of mere fate, but of prophecy; long ago the Quatrains of Bran forewarned this
moment in history, forewarned the moment, but also foretold a solution. This
solution, my friends, lies enshrined within these enigmatic words:
DARK MOON SUMMONS OLD FRIENDS TOGETHER

ONE FALTERING SUN REKINDLED A WHILE
ARMIES OF FANATICS LOST IN THE MIST
AN ANCIENT BOOK OPENED 'NEATH AN ANCIENT HILL
"Such have been my clues, my guideposts over the years. Now we must
move together, under this dark moon, to search out for ourselves the secrets of
this ancient hill. Arthur, Dragon-son come to life, will you walk once again by
my side?"
Merlyn held out his hand and I joined him, a pair of old men feebly wan-
dering together up a path! But hidden inside us both well-away, there was a
great, beaming, unspoken joy at being exactly who we were and no less.
The labyrinthine walkway wound around in such a way that we stood fac-
ing the grand blur of stars known to us as Caer Arianrhod. It was here we
paused for a while as the Druid carefully surveyed a large catch of boulders,
which seemed to have been 'stuck' clumsily into the side of the hill. Back and
forth he paced across the same patch of ground, thumping the turf heavily
with his staff until, finally, a hollow sound answered back from down under.
Merlyn laughed out loud.
"Aha! "he declared triumphantly, sounding almost relieved, "I knew I could
find it again knew that I hadn't forgotten! Fergus, Budic, Cato... you men
over there, heave to and move these cap-stones! Hurry! We will find what we
seek buried just beneath the grass. Come on!" And the men came forward, pit-
ting their strength in one grand unison effort against huge stones which had
been in place so long, that they had nearly become a part of the earth there.
But slowly they moved... one by one... five in all, the rest of the company
already in place digging and tearing at the topsoil. Merlyn stood nearby wearing
a smug, half-grin on his face, no doubt amused at watching such enthusiasm
—
The Mists ofCalen 283
that none but he understood! Why are you digging, my friends? and what are you
lookingfor under all that dust? I could just hear his silent glee!
Yet no one was kept long waiting for an answer. Within moments, a thick,
round, oaken well-cover had been unearthed, solidly overlaid with heavy iron
rivets and a ring. The company stood back with a barely-audible gasp, await-
ing word.
"Caius!" Merlyn called over, "Try your arm against this, will you? Pull it
up!" And Cai, by far the largest of the men, left my side for the first time that
evening, and walked slowly over to the cover. He surveyed it carefully for a
long while before grasping the ring, adjusting his feet into position, and giv-
ing a solid pull.
Then, as if the very Tor were breathing out, the wooden top slid aside and
a stout burst of ancient air exhaled from inside. Cai grimaced at the stale
draft, then resumed his original place by me. Merlyn walked over to the edge
and peered down, shaking his head in satisfaction.
"Now listen to me, all of you! This passageway has been known from earli-
est antiquity, having even been mentioned in the Book of Pheryllt itself as
'Gwyn's Gateway." In our time, to those who have known its location, it bears
the name: THE HOLLOWS OF BRITAIN, and is considered an Other-
world entrance of unsurpassed importance. It was here, when the Roman bar-
barians plundered our beloved Anglesey long ago, that a brave few thought to
conceal the 13 TREASURES OF THE CYMMRY, so that they might remain
securely guarded by Gwynn ap Nudd, mightiest of Underearth Kings, until
the end of the world. Or, should I have said, 'until the gravest ofperil arises...'
which is here at our doorway now, my friends, as are we too. Bring over the
torches, men!"
And they were placed in the ground around the shaft, so that its dank inte-
rior was exposed to view... dank and fertile. There were two chiseled blocks of
stone up against one side, which looked as though they were intended to step
down upon; and on the other, an archway trilithon of three great stones
which led back into the mountain-side darkness. Only the gods knew how
long that entrance might have lain secreted beneath the boulder heap, but its
age was soon betrayed by thick layers of dust which swirled and rose out, as
the tunnel breathed once again after an eternity.
"Three of you will accompany me inside!" Merlyn decreed through the dust
and wind, "...only three, for so the ancient laws command it." He pondered
over the gathering for a moment. "Vivianne, Morgainne and and Prince
Arthur, if you are feeling up to such a mystery as this." And I nodded, joining
the Lady and moving forward to the pit's edge. It felt almost like one of the
Druids old boy-hood challenges again —my stomach recognized it far better than
my memory!
Merlyn signaled the group to stand further back until they blended invisi-
bly into the shadows, then stood aside himself. Together, the three of us
peered down inside the tunnel, trying hard to discern details which the sharp
angle would not easily allow. The Druid did not carry a torch, but a small,
black oil lantern like the ones the Romans used. Slowly he lowered it in; his
flame alone standing firmly against the hillside winds which sporadically
whipped the others into a churn of unsteady, flame-streaked smoke. Merlyn
suddenly closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, a gesture I remembered well;
the veil of suspension was descending over him... a god was about to speak!
"Ipse nihilominus Terra Coelum Mare...

Ipse quoniam Dominus serpens avis est et Navisl
"
Cuius non difficile sed impossibile vias investigare.
"He is nevertheless the Earth, the Sky, the Sea..." Vivianne chanted after
him in a glassy, ghost-like echo. "He as He is Lord; is a Serpent, a Bird, the
Sky! He whose ways are not difficult to comprehend — they are impossible..."
"Whose ways?" I bent down close.
"Why, He who is King of all this Hill, don't you know?" Her voice was like
a faint whisper of sand. "Lord of the Hunt, Keeper of the Underhill Lands
even before the Pheryllt so named him: Gwynn ap Nudd! We will need His
omen before we dare enter. Listen! Do you not hear it... the Dragon's
Breath?" The Lady's eyes became wide with awe as I strained to sort out a sign
from amid the shifting and tangled winds.
And then, beyond all doubt, I did hear! From somewhere deep within the
Tor, came a sudden rush of air— unlike the others, for it carried with it the
sound of a massive and terrible voice just awakened after a millennium of
sleep. My awareness flared with images of blood and splendor, battles and
stone circles and finally an emerald tor above an inland sea... fire and sword
and at last the image of a dark god upon a dark, underearth throne. The ruler
stood just as the vision faded into the serpent's breath.

"Now we have leave to enter," Merlyn forced a smile, pulled himself
upright and straightened his robes; his footsteps rang hollow on the stone
"— —
blocks as he eased down into the passageway, bending low to clear the
trilithon entrance. "Arthur

—
For a moment I hesitated, then followed with the two priestesses close
behind. The air was rich and damp against my skin as we entered the Hollows
of the Hill; a cold shudder ran through me as I viewed that massive interior in
the light of Merlyn's small lantern. Morgainne glanced around nervously at
the shadows, then took hold of Vivianne's shoulder; the Druid had dropped
down to one knee, head bowed, before what looked like a round stone table
of some sort.
When finally my eyes had adjusted, I saw that we were standing along the
edge of a stone-lined chamber of gigantic proportions, in the midst of which
loomed a great stone altar, not unlike a wheel turned upon its side. Across the
surface was scattered an array of objects which appeared to somehow glow in
their own light. Against it, I could just make out the silhouette of Merlyn, still
unmoving in the mysterious gloom... perhaps waiting?
Then a sudden movement caught my eye; a dark shadow seemed to sweep

like a wraith across the chamber. Morgainne gasped aloud and moved against
the closest wall —Vivianne stood still as stone, eyes fixed upon the Druid as he
slowly began to speak forth in some terrible voice not his own. And the priest-
ess edged backwards as well.
AM HE WHO ADORES LONELINESS

"I
AND SOLITUDE IS MY BREATH...

MY FEET ARE SOLID UPON GRAVES
AND THE RESURRECTION OF THE DEAD IS MY FOOD!
FOR AM A KING-
I
PRINCE OF ALL THINGS ON EARTH AND UNDER

AND IN ALL WHITE PLACES OF THE STARS
BUILT ON THE DARK WALLS OF TIME
ABOVE THE ABYSS!"
"We acknowledge your station, O Underearth King," Vivianne correctly

responded, "this without question... but we ask that you heed our desperate
plight in return. For the Land your land — bleeds, sinks under the weight of
many dark oppressions." And she averted her eyes, swallowing hard. "We fear
that it might already be too late. The Book the Gorchan — there is great need
— —
that it be opened again, that the Hollows of Britain be protected... removed,

ftom this human world of folly which now endangers them. As Lady of
Avalon, faithful and long-time keeper of the Sacred Mysteries, I beseech you:
do not allow the articles of our faith to fall unto profane hands."
And Vivianne lifted her head, surprised at her own voice; surprised that
hers should have been the voice of request and not the Druid's. Then, as sud-
denly as it had come, the mysterious shadow-presence withdrew like the
flicker of a bat's wing into the hidden corners, and faded away. All that
remained were a few thin, dusty rays of sunlight falling upon the round stone
surface. Merlyn moaned softly then stirred, catching himself against his staff
as if awakening from a long, frozen sleep.
"Bless you, Lady of the Lake..." he managed after regaining his breath. "Your
words were indeed inspired of the Goddess... and, I believe, may have saved
us all. Look!" Struggling stiffly to his feet, Merlyn gestured toward the stone.
From the background, an almost inaudible gasp once again escaped from
Morgainne's lips.
Filling the empty space just above the altar- top, was a ring of deep purple
light. It began as a faint sound, like a distant humming between the eyes, a
vibration growing steadily stronger until the air virtually buzzed with the
energy. Blue energy. Then you could see it, a cloud of azure haze which settled
overhead, seeming to call 'here they are... take them up, take them off to safety.
Here... come!' Merlyn and Vivianne moved forth in exactly the same instant.
Both removed the outer layers of their robes, spreading them out along the
edge of the stone. "Come on, Arthur... Morgainne," they whispered, each
motioning to the two of us in the shadows. "Carefully now, help us wrap these
sacred treasures while the Light of Achren remains. They must be safely taken
out atop the Tor before the moon sets this night. We have little enough time!"
Then, with great care, the holy assortment thirteen in all —were placed
within the folds, ready to depart their thousand-year keep.
"Ah..." Merlyn's face went wide with wonder, the wrinkles of ninety years
smoothed suddenly away. "Here it is! To think that I should ever live to see
the Gorchan!" And he crossed himself with the sign of Three Rays, his face
exultant. The Druid picked up the book like a cherished thing, tucking it
greedily under his free arm. "And now we are truly ready to depart!" he added
triumphantly, "Ready to wage a battle of our own. No man can say that we
are now outnumbered... none!" Then, amid a defiant flare of robes, Mor-
gainne and I followed the Lord and Lady out into the expectant night.
—
The Mists of Calen 287
A sudden murmur spread like a wave across the waiting company as we

finally emerged, carrying with us not only the Spoils of Annwn, but the hope
of Avalon as well.
"Are you hurt, your majesty?" Cai, ever vigilant, pushed his way to my side.
"No, my friend," I answered truthfully, "Somehow the pain has passed me
by, for the moment at least." Smiling, I patted his shoulder reassuringly and
began to search the crowd for Merlyn. But he was nowhere to be seen.
Then, finally, I caught a glimpse of him; there, far ahead, the Druid had
begun the climb up along the processional way to the summit —both
Vivianne and the legendary Book at his heels.
"It should be me there instead, at his side, " I thought to myself in a flash of
jealous remorse, "... as it used to be," when Cai gently took hold of my arm to
urge me forward.
"We must follow, Sire, if you can," he pointed a finger over at a long line
forming up the path. "Shall I send for a litter?"
Smiling in answer, I shook my head and filed in behind the others. Glanc-
ing back over my shoulder, a sudden strange chill came over me; what was it?
Moving along, snake-like in its wake, a sinister-looking grey fog had begun to
wind its way up after us from afar...
By the time we reached the top, Merlyn had already stationed himself at
the very heart of the stone circle, busy arranging the two bundles down with
immense care. Slowly he parted the cloth, exposing the articles to view, then
lifted a thin hand to quiet those gathered along the perimeter. A spell of tense
silence quickly fell.
"My dear friends, this night our world is full of suffering," the Druid began,
the gray fog catching up at last to surround us, "but it is also full of the power
to overcome it." And he held aloft the Gorchan, its bronze bindings shimmer-
ing like unleashed fire in the torchlight. "It has been said that religions are such
things as dreams are made of... and dreams must always march onward! Yet in
dreams begin responsibility. Tonight, our task must be to preserve our reli-
gion our dreams for future generations — for the Earth herself! This is our
responsibility: to remove the greatest spiritual treasures we possess, from the grasp of
those who care nothing for the Human Spirit. Such treasures lie here before us,
just as, upon the shores of Avalon, spiritual wolves now lie in camps awaiting
dawn. What remains to be done? Only for our champions to stand forth, will-
ing to escort the Hollows of our world safely into the Mists of Calen. Who,
—
then, is willing to go? Who among you has hopes for a better life amid the
Otherworld mists? Stand forth, guardians of Avalon!"
There were none present who were unwilling to pass beyond; each man
and women stepped bravely forward, faces set with stoic determination, ready
to do whatever needed be done. But once again, Merlyn raised his hand.
"Yet all here need be cautioned," he glanced about, his face set in warning,
"for once within the Mists of Calen, there is no return to the world of the liv-
ing your battles will then be won. Hear me! Within the Gorchan of Mael-
drew, is given the most powerful Magic known to man: THE RITE OF
EXILE, capable of removing the accumulated treasures of the Celtic Soul to
sacred safety for all time. But each Hollow must have a guardian, and once
chosen is chosen — once spoken, is done. Having heard this, those who wish to
decline may do so with my blessing."
Merlyn waited a long while, yet none turned to leave. Far off in the east, the
first rays of dawn were pushing pale pink shafts of light up over the horizon.
Lost in the silence, I wondered if perhaps the Druid didn't intended me to
accompany the Thirteen Treasures into exile? The thought seemed fitting, as
there remained little left in the world of men for a King without a kingdom.
"Very well then, let us make ready our plan!" Merlyn announced confi-
dently, walking over and picking up the first of the holy relics.
"Caius, first in service to your King, guard well the flaming sword CAL-
IBURN — the weapon of Arthur!" And Caius took up my sword hesitantly,
glancing over as I nodded approval across the stones.
"Ulan Emrys of Leinster," he continued as my old friend stepped forward.

"Here is the HORN OF BRAN, whose magic will heal any who drink from
it, from any affliction.
Cador of Kelliwic, you are to keep the RING OF GORTIGERN for all
time. Throughout history, it has endowed its wearer with the gift of speaking
in tongues.
Fergus of Dal Raida, take now the WAND OF MATH, which once
formed a maiden from the flowers of three.
Cato of Dumnonia, the HARP OF CERAUNNOS, the Good God of all
knowledge. Its healing tones have ferried poets' souls across the Seas of
Annwn, granted peace, knowledge and protection.
The Mists of Calen 289
Budic of Quimper, the LIFEBOARD OF GWENDDOLAU is entrusted

into your keeping. Since before the Time of Legends, battles uncounted have
been waged upon its sacred squares.
Ewein of North Wales, guardian of the STONE OF FAL, the Lia Fail — the
Stone of Destiny — Jacob's Pillow, Albas Bane, whose voice knows the right-
ful ruler; Lapis Exillis, keep it well.
Agricola of Demetia, the CLERIC'S BOWL, the Mwys of Gwyddno,

whose food has never failed even an army.
Gerontius of Glevum, the STAFF OF SEASONS, the Slatan Druideacht,
which has turned the tides of Summer and Winter from the days of the
Pheryllt.
Catwallaun of Dyfedd, this is the MIRROR OF ATMU, the hidden one,

whose face lays bare the skeleton of destiny.
Dyfnwal Dafydd of Clyde, the SPEAR OF LUGH is yours for all time.
What army of old ever dared to stand against it? When did it ever miss its mark?
And to you, Vivianne, High Priestess to the Goddess, is bestowed the

CAULDRON OF CERRIDWEN; in it was brewed the primal Elixor of
Inspiration on the shores of Lake Bala so long ago. It will never have been in
better keeping!" Here Merlyn paused, looking deep into Vivianne s eyes with a
terse smile, waiting, offering the choice as befitted her high station. The Lady of
the Lake returned his gesture with a deep nodd of acquiescence.
"Good," he said, "then Morgainne: you will be appointed Lady of Avalon
from this day onward. Please return to your women below and have them
prepared to ride by mid-morning. We cannot vouch for their safety after
that time."
It was plain that my sister had not been prepared for this turn of events, for
she looked over at Vivianne with an expression of utter confusion. But then,
it seemed as if something unspoken passed between the eyes of the two priest-
esses, for Morgainne suddenly pulled herself upright, bowed low before the
company, then disappeared into the paling gloom.
"And finally, Arthur, this is for you." Merlyn held out a folded bundle
towards me. "This is the legendary CLOAK OF PADAEN, which imparts
invisibility on its wearer... sets him apart unnoticed from the surroundings of
the world. Yet to future generations, this garment is destined to bear a new
name; folk will call it the Mantle of Arthur, renamed for the history to be
accomplished this very day! But know you this, Once and Future King," and
—
here Merlyn deliberately raised his voice so that all might hear, "...your task
remains unfinished, your final battle unwaged! Your time to pass in peace
among the Mists will come, but that hour is not yet upon us. Here, Bear Cub,
put the Cloak about you and stand by me."

The Druid positioned us at the centerpoint of the Ring, then went from man
to man, arranging the other twelve treasure-bearers in three concentric circles
outward, until finally the largest became tangent with the stones themselves.
Merlyn returned to stand beside me, glancing up and around to inspect the
human sculpture he had created. "Know you all the Ancient Magic we do
here... three, four, five! The inner circle of Abred, three in number as are the
three principles of worldly manifestation. The mid-circle of Gwynydd,^>«r in
number as are the four great divisions of the material world. The outer circle of
Ceugant,^^ in number as are the five Divinities of the Spirit: the Triple Goddess
and the Duel Gods ofLight and Darkness. And at the Center: Cythrawl the Spider!
the thirteenth, unaffected yet attuned to all that surrounds it — the beginning
and the end, the unmanifest point which begets and swallows everything.
And now, companions, we stand ready to form the mighty Web o/Achren,
the breastplate of Cythrawl which will carry both Hollows and Guardians
safely beyond the confines of the World. All others who would wish to go,
stand amongst the twelve hand-to-hand, forming the cosmic web. Do it now!"
And they came forward, filing silently in and amongst the standing stones,
until the top of the Tor lay captured in a giant living net of hands and limbs
and heroic hearts. I could feel the immense power channeling through the cen-
ter, through a circuitry of human arms joined inseparably under one will and
that will was Merlyns — his, the foresight and focus behind the miracle.
1
Every eye followed the Druid as he made his way slowly to the far eastern
edge of the assemblage, to where the first rays of Dawn bathed his head and
shoulders in an aura of pale gold. Setting his staff aside against a stone, he
opened the ancient Book and studied with grave attention through leaf after
yellowed leaf. Seeming finally to find what he sought, Merlyn fingered down
the page time and time again, mouthing, practicing, balancing the strange
words silently to himself. Then, placing the Gorchan down behind a menhir,
he raised his fisted arms high into the air and breathed deeply, drawing upon
the bright strength of Dawnlight. And finally the moment was born...
"ZAMA, ZAMA, OZZA...

RACHAMA OZAI,"
... he intoned loudly, over and over the mysterious phrase, until the words
were picked up by the Web of Achren and echoed in strung layers of sound
across the Tor. Building... rising, high and low... falling, back and forth, call-
ing outward... calling! And the Mists of Calen came in answer.
As a legion of vaporous serpents, the gray fog slithered in slow, dense belts
between the tall stones to envelope the land. In and out of the Web it wove
like cloudy wool upon a loom, swallowing the companions, one by one,
behind a thick wall of ghostly fabric. The Druid could no longer be seen from
where I stood, so I pulled the Cloak of Padaen up tightly around my head,
shutting out the unwanted sight and listened... listened as the sea of sound
churned and crashed about me still. Then at last, when it seemed I could
stand no more, the voice of Merlyn needled suddenly through the tapestry,
calling thrice out over the chanting multitude:
"ANAIL NATHROCK...UTHVASS BETHUDD...DOCHIEL DIENVE!"

And in an instant rush of whirling vacuum, the violent turmoil's ceased.
Everything — the sounds, the motions, all vanished into a stillness so abrupt,
that it was almost painful to hear. Unknowing of what to expect, I lowered
the Cloak to my shoulders and looked around.
We were left standing completely alone, Merlyn and I, atop the Tor. No
companion remained, no voice or mist rose in that peaceful loneliness which
lingered... only the silent presence of stone sentinels, patiently warming them-
selves in the morning sun. But that peace, like all peace, was a delicate thing
easily broken.
Merlyn stirred to an instant alert, tilting his head from one side to the
other. "Arthur, do you hear that? Listen!" And indeed I did hear. Somewhere,
from across the marshes, the sound of men breaking camp drifted clearly
towards us. Horses neighing, drums beating, metal clashing together.

"Yes Merlyn, I hear it." My heart sank inside me. "It would seem that we
were just in time... yet the Treasures of Avalon are beyond reach, are they not?"
In answer, the Druid shuffled over as if tired at last, placing a thin arm
around my shoulder. "Truly, they are gone safely from this world," he said,
smiling. "And we alone remain. You know, it should take some time before
the crusaders manage a way to cross the Lake. So, Bear Cub, shall we use what
fragile time is left, as a gift to ourselves? Come... let us try and forget that
they are even here! Let us talk,y*?r our sake alone, of the future."
And then a great wondrous, happy, insane forgetfulness came over us as we

walked down towards the eastern light, down the grassy slopes and among the
ancient apple trees where we could speak, just one final time —speak of Truth.
He who binds to himselfa joy
Does the winged life destroy.
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in Eternity s Sunrise!
William Blake
1£* TL\\)i\o n\\)\\ jf it
3S IT TRUE THEN, Merlyn... have I indeed failed both Albion and Anglesey,
my faith and my fatherland?" The Druid sat back heavily against an apple
tree, sending a cascade of pink blossoms drifting down upon our heads. "At
times there is much to be said for failure," he answered with the old, sly twin-
kle in his eye, "... it is often far more interesting than success!"
A bright Sun had risen well over the tops of the surrounding hills, warming
away all traces of a hard Winter. Bees buzzed among orchard boughs, deer
grazed upon green hillsides dotted with wildflower — it seemed a perfect
Spring day in Avalon, save for the host of enemy soldiers seeking passage that
very moment across the Lake.
Maiden Cottage lay deserted and empty since mid-morning, most of the
priestesses having ridden forth seeking safety in the surrounding villages.
Vivianne's house, too, lay cold and vacant; no cheerful fire danced upon the
hearth that day, yet all was not wholly abandoned. Out in the rock garden sat
Morgainne, surrounded by a small company of ladies who had elected to stay,

come what may. She was just about to give orders that food and drink be
taken to the men, when one of Arthur's scouts, who had been stationed
nearby on shore, came into view. He stopped by the edge of the path and
293
bowed slightly, waiting for leave to approach. Morgainne motioned over with
a sign of blessing.
"My Lady" the man spoke, obviously out of breath from running. "There
is great activity upon the far shore — men making ready to cross, rafts under
construction. And Our spies name
there be not one, but two armies as well.
one commander as the King's own now call 'Mor-

son, Amr, who his soldiers
dred' following the success against his father at Camlann. The other is an
army of common Christian fanatics, led by a young monk named Gildas.

They say the monk raised his forces with the help of Queen Gwenhwyfar!
They move against Avalon!" The man shook his head, feeling helpless and for-
lorn. "I must go to my Lord Arthur, Lady. He will know what to do."
"The King is chambered in meeting with the Lord Merlyn," Morgainne

replied strictly, "and is not to be disturbed. Rest assured, your message will be
delivered in good time. Meanwhile, might I suggest a return to your station?
Gwyar, sister... Luned! See to it that food is sent back with this good man.
The blessings of the Goddess go with you."
Once again the soldier bowed, then made off in haste towards the landing.
"It is much safer to obey than to rule..." Morgainne thought to herself, for
now she was truly troubled. What to do? The barbarians came not only for
Arthur, but for her Island as well. And today, she was Lady of Avalon; the
responsibility to preserve was now hers in greater part. Ailinn, one of the
youngest priestesses, appeared from Vivianne's Cottage to find Morgainne sit-
ting diswrought, her head buried between her hands.
"Lady, shall I go to fetch the King? Perhaps he should be told..."
"/will be the judge of such things!" she snapped, then softened instantly. "I
am sorry, my daughter. Its just that grave matters have been thrust a bit too
quickly upon us all. Your intentions were good, child, but — ,"
and here she
paused to reconsider for a moment, "but, no. Not yet. Should their council
not be broken by high noon, then you may go with my blessing, thank you."
Ailinn smiled nervously, bowed, then disappeared back into the cottage.
"Yes, perhaps it could be true," Morgainne consoled herself. "Perhaps Mer-
lyn and my brother will emerge with an answer. And the Goddess has been
good... Arthur still lives, beyond all odds. But do the waiting armies know
this?" She absent-mindedly twisted up a handful of clover growing in between
the rocks. "Do they realize that a poorly extinguished fire is quickly re-kin-
dled?" Then, for the first time that day, Morgainne smiled.
Ex Nihilo Nihil Fit 295
"It is easy to live for others" Merlyn said in between puffs of pipesmoke.
"You have been doing it admirably all your kingly life. For today, at least, I
call upon you to live only for yourself, the answer to all this is inside you,
remember? Its so very hard to fight an enemy who has outposts within your
own head!" The Druid stood up, stretched and crossed over to where I was
stupidly dissolving clouds. "Sometimes I wonder if it was indeed you, Arthur,
who lived all those years in my cave, or not?"
I looked down from the sky to meet his eyes — the same ageless eyes I had
known so well as a boy. "Yes, I do remember. If one seeks to understand the
whole universe, he will understand nothing at all. But ifone strives to understand
himself then he will come to understand the whole universe. Is that not it?"
Merlyn looked pleased. "Thank the gods... the boy is still in there kicking,
somewhere! And that boy, as a man and King, is unique beyond others. The
great majority of men spend their lives solely as bundles of beginnings. But you
have created a living legacy that will endure beyond the rest of us. You started
with the belief that freedom in life is worth living and dying for, and your belief
helped create that fact. Now, in the end, let go the fledgling and watch it fly!
Truly, great is the art of beginning, but greater still is the art of ending. Watch!"
He pointed a finger up at the cloud I had been watching, then closed his
eyes and blew a tiny puff of pipesmoke towards it. Almost at once, the huge
billowy shape began to break up, until soon there was not a trace of it left at all!
"Life is often like that," he went on, "that the most beautiful thing of all is
when, after the measures of a grand form are accomplished at last, that they be
allowed to pass away with dignity. You, like the cloud, must let go your past
now... it is over, for better or worse. Only until you willingly relinquish your
station, will you realize what a burden it was, and what freedom again is!"
I forced a smile. "For whatever time remains, I will try to forget... but."
And a sudden pain in my chest caused me to double over, unable to breathe.

Merlyn lowered me to ground with a look of grave concern.
"Do not worry, Bear Cub," he said as if comforting the small boy again, "for
I have foreseen your time... and it is not yet quite upon us; I say so!" He pulled
open one of the many pouches tied at his side, and removed a tiny lump of
dried herb. "Here, put this under your tongue and things will be better."
Always true to his word, things soon were better. "Problems, Arthur, what-
ever their form, are messages. There are still things you must see in this world
before passing into another; still things you must understand. He let his last
word ring in the air for a moment.

"
"Nothing in this world can be understood, before it is first known," I
countered through the pain. "Sometimes it seems as if I understand little of
what has happened."

The Druid helped me gradually to my feet. "In youth we learn... in age we
understand! Let us make our way back up the Tor perhaps some — under-
standing's there waiting for us?" Taking an unsteady step forward, I cringed
again, trying to work through the ripping agony in my chest. "Master, I... I
do not mean to complain, but..."
He cut off my words with a curt wave. "Once upon a time, I remember
complaining because I had no shoes... until the day I met a man who had no
feet." And we smiled together, knowing that the gift of life was still in us for
a time.
Ever so slowly we crept along the processional labyrinth toward the top.
There, the great stone circle awaited us in all its dark majesty. My old friend
then guided us to one side, where stood the Darkenstone, magic mirror
between the worlds, on which I placed my unsteady hands for support.
"I have brought you here, so that you might witness the full spectrum of
your life before you leave it." Merlyn stated calmly. "The best way out, is
always through!"
"Good," I responded in a weak whisper, my wound still burning like hell-
fire, "for if there is one thing my life has seemed to lack, it is answers."
"Ahh..." retorted the Druid dryly, "there you go once again, wanting to
color the world all black and white!"

"Not black and white, just to find my place in it... my legacy. If only you
hadn't gone, then maybe
—
"An answer is always a form of death." Merlyn's tone told me that we had
indeed reached an impasse. "And as far as my leaving court, well, you know
what was behind that as well as I do."
"Go ahead, say it," I disparaged, "speak the name if you will! Gwenhwyfar
was my one true weakness; I had no choice but to listen."
"What lies in our power to do, lies also in our power not to do!" he quoted
hotly. "Besides, your Queen was never herself in all those long years; her voice
was that of the priests... and still is! You know who financed the holy war wag-
ing at our door this very minute, do you not?"
My head spun in dizzying circles; I was in no shape to defend my life's
shortcomings a moment longer, and the Druid seemed cut down when he
saw this.
"Yes... but of course you know every painful detail," Merlyn steadied, his
face transformed from callousness to remorse. "You lived through a lifetime of
it, when I was not even present for your support. Truly I am sorry, Arthur,
forgive me. My intention was not to reproach, but to show another side of the
same coin. Gwenhwyfar was not a bad person; simply blinded by her intoler-
ance toward others. Why— even she, too, had another side. It's simply that
religion must always be a guide, never a jailer"
I could only nod my understanding as Merlyn prepared himself for the
magical act. Placing his hands lightly on the rim of the stone, he closed his
eyes and began to hum a chant. Through fluttering eyelids, the Shaman called
forth three times the ancient words of power:
"ADVARIN MACH CUMHAIL...

MACH CUMHAIL ADVARIN...
CUMHAIL ADVARIN MACH..."
"Look below, Son of the Pendragon!" rasped the Druid in his ghastly ritual
voice I had come to know so well. Obeying, I bent my gaze over the ebony
surface and looked deep within.
For many moments I beheld nothing at all, save swirling patches of

long
reflected cloud and leaf. Then something dark and warm seemed to radiate
outward like hot sun on my face, pulling my spirit down to meet it. Colors
exploded silently, forming themselves bit by bit into a collage of images and
shapes — the world of Tor and army and Stone Ring drifting beyond reach. I
was impelled to draw a sharp breath, as if about to be plunged underwater.

The Darkenstone reeled, cycloneing the images into a whirl of confusion end-
ing in an abrupt blackness.
My head was almost face to face upon the stone. Drawing back, I noticed
that micropoints of pure white light had begun to form themselves into tiny
concrete pictures, remote and pale. Too weak to pull away, I relaxed and
allowed the carnival of forms to parade by.
Scenes of my infancy in some faraway place appeared, scenes I had never

known. There sat my mother, Igraine, a young woman before an enormous
stone hearth, feeding a baby whose identity was all too easily divined. Melting
into the fire, the visions gathered around an old man walking a steep, lonely
path along a roadside forlorn and sea-battered; bells tolled, monks chanted
Latin hymns, austere and beautiful... and a child appeared in the midst of it
all, a boy delivered from Pagan Druid to Christian Abbot, a boy to Magic born.
Years glided by in that sea of liquid time... apple blossoms whitened and fell,
great black Ravens soared high above caves and low over bleached chalk flats
mottled grey with ringstones... torchlight glinting back and across a lake of
upheld swords! And in an instant I knew my place, like a story re-told from
distant childhood, suddenly recognized as an old friend amid the re-telling...
echoes of a lifetime spent and too easily forgotten.

Lost joys and sorrows surfaced through the turbulent triumph of Camelot;
the coming together of the Companions, like the slow aging of a fine wine...
the Queen, resplendent before the Altar of God... Amr, my son by the Old
Enchantments, warrior-born of ambitions secret and treacherous... how often
do we give our enemies the means for our own destruction? ... Merlyn!
I saw him now as an old man upon the mountain slopes of Caledonia, sur-
rounded by legions of seekers... walking... walking by the stream, by the lake,
by the sea... lifting a hand to point across, across to what lay beyond; 'Arthur!'
he calls over the waters, and I am there... 'look through the Mists ofCalen...
your legacy to the future!'
Then the strangest things of all pass before me... British peasants armed
with but little, defend their homes, their families with the war-cry: "Remem-
ber Arthur!... Remember the Great King!" ... native sons, proudly bearing my
name for generations... jagged cliff-sides and high places throughout the land
abounding with fortresses of stone, massive, hung over with red, Dragon-
emblazoned tapestries: the banner of my house! Warriors of iron, swearing
noble acts in my name... Kings yearn for roots within my blood... Bards and
harpers sing valiant epics of our battles for peace... authors compose books,
books by the thousands... people dream the heroic dreams of Camelot...
laughing children wield wooden swords high, calling out: "Excalibur! Excal-
ibur!" ... children at peace. All the children at peace...
The journey, my journey, faded away into a gentle calico blur of life — my
life, truly an exotic tapestry of rainbow weave. I smiled in resignation. All
was quiet around me, save the bright songs of birds as they feasted down
happily upon swarming honey'd bees among apple blossoms. Before me, the
Darkenstone stood lifeless, its black bulk heavy with warm sunlight; high
noon had come and gone.

Merlyn opened his eyes and forced an exhausted smile; in the full morning
light he looked old, now —very old. I tried to speak, but a fresh rush of pain
shot through my chest, forcing me down with a gasp. Faltering, the Druid
made his way to my side, carefully straightening out my limbs as best he could.
U
I have wasted so much time my life," I whispered over as Merlyn sat
in
down stiffly beside me, "and now... now time has wasted me" My teacher
looked troubled.
"Too low they build, who build beneath the stars!" he quoted with a
dreamy conviction. "Have you learned nothing this day, Bear Cub?" His con-
cerned face bent close to mine. "Have you not seen? You, of all of us, have
spent your lifetime reaching bravely for the stars... and your success is
recorded among them! But your mission continues on, remember that."
I felt What was he talking about? For better or worse,
dazed and confused.
my work was surely done.
Merlyn read the message; bending, he brushed the tangled locks of hair
from my eyes — then, with the skill he always had for answering an unasked
question, said: "Arthur, all wise men know, that every exit is really an entry
somewhere else. Just because your body has come to an end, do not assume
that your souls' work ends as well." He shook his head slowly, then placed a
hand upon my brow; a flow of clear light seemed to fill my mind.

"It does not end here... ex nihilo nihilfit, nothing comes from nothing! You
have been in many forms before coming to be in this one..." And the Druid's
countenance changed, as the conditioned calm of the Bardic trance descended
over him.
YOU HAVE BEEN A RAY CAST FROM THE COSMIC MIND

YOU HAVE BEEN A GRAIN OF SAND UNDER THE SEA
YOU HAVE BEEN A PURPLE ROSE UPON A VINE.
YOU HAVE TREAD, AS GWYDION, EACH PATH OF THE NEW FOREST

YOU HAVE FOUGHT, AS TACITUS, BY THE SIDE OF ROME
YOU HAVE WORN, AS ARTHUR, THE CROWN OF THE RED DRAGON!
WHEN SHALL THE THREE BOOKS BE JOINED AS ONE?
WHEN SHALL THE WORDS OF BRAN BE HEEDED?
WHEN SHALL THE PRIESTHOOD INHERIT THE EARTH?
"These are your tasks, my friend, past and future," his voice its former
kindness. "The legacy you leave behind, promises to elevate man to a new
level of civilization; the legacy yet to come may save the Earth — quite the
combination riding on your shoulders!" And he looked down, waiting, won-

dering if I were hearing him or not, whispering "... but you will know well
"
enough when the day comes, King yet to be.
"Merlyn? Was I dreaming? You are still here... I'm so glad," I half opened
my eyes. "Unless, perhaps, you yourself are a dream?"
The old man chuckled softly. "Who is ever to say if we dream the Waking
World or not? Or whether Reality begins the moment we close our eyes in
slumber?"
"I was thinking back, remembering" My mind wandered in a calm fever.
"...We were sitting high on the bluffs of Tintagel, watching the gulls in the
wind! Remember?"
Merlyn nodded with a strange, far-off look. "When life seems like a direc-
tion-less path," he paused, "yes... sometimes our only retreat is into the past.
The past is always secure." And tears seemed to come before his eyes for an
instant, the only tears I had ever known Merlyn to shed.
"And now, my boy, I have something for you," he said in mock surprise,
wiping a sleeve quickly across his brow, "something of yours I have kept safe
all these years." I was no longer able to sit up easily, so the Druid held the
small carved, wooden box up before me and opened it.
"Now you are truly ready for a journey across the Seas of the Otherworld,"
he said softly, placing the tiny glass boat in my hand. Then, for the first time
between us, there seemed little left to say.

" . —
Once again within my keep, I turned the little Crystal Ship over and over
again, feeling, drinking in its smooth, cool mystery with boyish happiness: the
gift of Avalon so long ago! The Lady's laugh was still in my ears, my thoughts
overtaken by dust in sunlight and memories in corners. Then, from one of those
faraway corners, came the sound of guarded footsteps along the path. Merlyn
turned, moving off in a quiet rustle of robes.
"We did not wish to intrude, my Lord," Morgainne and her ladies wore
looks of grave concern. "But when you did not return, we thought perhaps..."
she caught herself short, "...we thought perhaps we could be of some service.
Tellme please, how does my brother Arthur?"

The Druid took her arm and turned away a bit, the others following at a
distance. "Your brother, child, is at peace. I have done what could be done
he does suffer greatly."
"Suffer?" Morgainne echoed in a bitter whisper, "of all the souls that
deserve not to suffer
—
Merlyn's smiled understanding^ and nodded. "But tell me, Lady and
Priestess, of what worth are convictions that bring not suffering?"
"Aye," she consigned through a sigh, "such has indeed been the history of
"
suffering. But that does not. .
A sudden violent clash of sounds from across the Lake silenced all talk.
"Great Mother, listen!" called out one of the girls, cowering back against a
standing stone. "What was it?"
"War drums... I must go!" \ too was jarred awake, again a king-at-war trying
desperately to sit up.
Gesturing the women to remain where they were, the Druid hurried to my
side and eased —
me gently back down pain written across both our faces.
"There now, Arthur, you... you must not try to move again," he said in an
unsteady voice, visibly shaken. "Things will be all right, I will see to that.
"
Trust me.
And with those words, Merlyn reached down and slipped the golden
Pendragon Ring from my finger. I recoiled sharply for a moment, then
relaxed. Trust... yes, him I would always trust. Yet still, I began to move back
into my dream, still it was pain of another sort, to feel the serpents leave my
finger forever...
Merlyn rose and hurried over to Morgainne. "Take a delegation of your

ladies and go swiftly to the edge of the Lake," he ordered firmly. "Place this
ring into the hands of Arthur's son, then deliver this message to Gildas the
Monk:THAT THEIR EFFORTS ARE WASTED FROM HEREON IN —

THAT THE KING IS NOW FAR BEYOND THEIR REACH. They will
understand. Go under the banner of Avalon." And with this all eyes glanced
up, hesitating, full of dark questions.

"By this token, Avalon may be saved for another brief handful of years,
but..." the Druid bent his head, "Gildas will return all too soon with another
named Columba; the great stones will be pulled down, thrust upon the foun-
dations of their Church. I have foreseen it." The Lady of the Lake looked hor-
rified. "For inevitability is ever the strongest Magic of all," he added sadly.
"But now, where w\\\ you go?" Morgainne asked with an air of resignation.
"One last journey awaits me," Merlyn exclaimed, almost in relief. "As the
last of the Pheryllt Elders, the responsibility of seeing the Gorchan of Mael-
drew to safety is mine. It must be taken beyond the boundaries of Avalon, to
rest in the great cave on the slopes of Snowdonia, beneath the Black Stone of
Ardan. Then some day, when the Earth cries out, the Body of the Dragon
may once again be made whole."
Across the circle, I began to cough up blood. "Now go!" Merlyn insisted to
Morgainne as another dense rumble of drums echoed from within the

Marshes, closer this time. The company of Avalon listened, frozen with dread,
then bowed low and fled down the path toward shore.
"Merlyn?" The hostile sounds drew me back to consciousness once again. "It
would seem as if all the gods are dead, except for the God of War —and I will
soon be among the rest!" I opened my eyes and tried to smile, but the painful
coughing returned. "Yet now, now at last, I think perhaps I understand... see
why. As you have said, nothing comes from nothing, and so, surely, nothing
goes to nothing as well. I refuse to die, Merlyn! Do you hear me?"
Then for a second time, tears gathered in his old eyes. "Gods... death..." he
murmured. "Hear me when I tell you this, Arthur: the King never dies."
Looking up over the tops of the ancient stones, it seemed for an instant
that I beheld the familiar image of a Black Raven perched there. "Come on,
forget the worldfor a while—follow me!" he laughed off into the treetops, and I
knew my boyhood games were once again afoot.

"Solomon... gods of war..." I echoed weakly, then looked up into Merlyn's
beloved face one final time. "My sun sets to rise again, " I assured him as my
eyes fell slowly closed, this time of their own will.
"Truly, I do see a god in you " the Druid whispered through unshed tears,
"... a spirit that will never die. Until another day, then," and he lifted my hand
with great care. "Until another day, sleep well my Bear Cub."
The pains of life were ended, my spirit freed at last from the edicts of man. Yet,
still, ifI chose to turn that way, I knew it was possible to look back upon the world
left behind; to see an old man bending in griefover a broken body, lifeless and cold,
once home to me. Solomon laughed, trying to tease me onward, yet something wise
told me to stop... said that eternity could wait for just one brief moment longer.
And then I was glad to look back and remember — to look back in death and
honor he who once taught me how to live 1
. Far in the distance Merlyn knelt,
remembering my life as I was his, wrapped in a weary contentedness for a task he
knew was well-done. Then, as smoke from evening hearthfires began to drift up
gray from the cottages below, he spread the Cloak ofPadaen ever so gently over
Arthurs body and watched as it faded from view. Halfan orange sun gazed over,
hot and heavy from the horizon, casting long, tired shadows before the evening
star —pointing the way.

"But soon, it will be I who come to find you? the old Druid smiled as he
gathered up the Gorchan and set off wearily towards the Lake.
Only one small task remained to be done...
Brtl?ur Speaks
j £ROM THAT VERY MOMENT of death, it seemed as if I really did dwell
Jf between two worlds — the two worlds Merlyn was always teaching me
about. One world seemed content to lie there, spent, upon the green turf of
Avalon in some form of eternal sleep, while the other lay waiting and deter-
mined to awaken by an old cave in Wales, ages and ages hence with another
mission, another Quest to follow... something else needing to be done.
The schism of the two worlds was fantastic, yet quick and impatient to sur-
render before the Impulses of the Universe: Choose! Break Out! Move Beyond!
Find Your Dream And Live It! Grow! ...and then return, if you dare to try
again. The Impulses of Life.

And yet, always in my mind's eye, shines the memory of that last day; like
a map, or a voice, or perhaps a thought left over for some reason. Perhaps on
purpose?
I can still see Merlyn looking up at that strange, drifting star, thinking his
own still thoughts. I see myself, lying there, eyes filled with tears because our
adventure had truly come to an end... the play was done. We knew there
would never be another time like this. Neither of us said anything. We just
looked up at the sky, breathing in and out, thinking the same thought. But
nobody said.
Yet someone does finally have to say, don't they? And I knew that someone
had to be me.
The Sword Excalibur still waits within the mists.
My beloved Camelot still stands,

poised in sunlight on the summit ofCadbury Hill.
Merlyn s lone star still drifts and burns
in the night sky ofan as yet unburied Spring.
Why and how?
Because I say it is so.

©rimotre #3
"21 Excerpts from The Gorchan ofMaeldrew"
I. THE CLOAK OF PADAEN: "Weaving the Mystic Faed Feea."

II. SPELLSOF LIGHT AND DARKNESS: "Journeying to the Source."
III. VANQUISHING THE CYTHRAWL: "Druidic Rites of Protection."
IV. THE HOLLOWS: "Amassing the Sacred Regalia."
V. THE WEB: "Sweet Cauldron of the Five Trees."
VI. SUMMONING THE CALEN: "The Rite of Exaltation."
VII. DANNWNIAU: "Ghost Dances of the Druids."
VIII. SALUTATION: "Rites of Solar and Lunar Attunement."
IX. BLUESTONE: "Ancient Battery of the Gods."
X. THE ART OF SONGSPELL: "Musical Offerings of the Druids."

XI. THE RITE OF SHADOWS: "Sacred Order of the Blinded Wanderer."
XII. GWYNN AP NUDD: "Calling the Lord of the Mound."
XIII. DARKENSTONE: "The Search for Atmu: The Hidden Oner
XIV. BARRIOR: "Where the Veils are Thinnest."
XV. DRAGON RODS: "Tracing the Ley Lines of Force."
XVI. SPIRALRITE: "Meditations on the Open-ended Curve."

XVII. THE TOWER: "The Strength to Stand Against the World."
XVIII. RITUAL OF FIRE AND STONE: "The Flame of Annwn."

XIX. MASK: "Turning Toward the Inner Sight."
XX. THE HARP OF ERIN: "Secrets of the Bardic Song."
XXI. THE RITE OF EXILE: "Banishing the Indifference of Mankind."
These excerpts are given in the interest of the Druidic Mythos — they are not intended
as a self-initiatory body, although one may choose to employ them as such. They are
offered solely as unique examples of practices remnant of Druidism, insofar as it extends
down through the sixteenth century pen of Llewellyn Sion. The disciple of Druidism,
after having WORKED THROUGH, not merely READ THROUGH The 21 Lessons
ofMerlyn or another comparable course, should find these offerings stimulating mater-
ial on which to continue or augment an already existing program. — DM
307
The magical Poet's Mantle is one of the oldest
forms of Welsh magic to come down through oral tradition.
A specially prepared linen was dyed with the secret essences
ofplants, to be placed as a covering over the poet

—a prophetic trance state being induced thereby.
Pphd, BOOK OF THE DEAN OF LISMORE, 1516
I. THE CLOAK OF PADAEN

"Weaving the Mystic Faed Feea"
It seems that the 'magicians cape' has long been part of the conjurer's image, con-
stantly being portrayed or mentioned in sketch or story. It also seems that this tradi-
tion traces back through the Celtic times as well; The MANTLE OF ARTHUR and
the Shirt of Mannanan being good examples. And what would the image of Merlyn
be, after all, without his Druidic robes? True, a Shaman has no true need of 'finery' in
any regard, yet objects of symbolic power absolutely affect ones state of consciousness,
and can therefore be valuable assets — especially in a our case here, where a ritual frag-
ment is tied to an object.

First let us deal with construction, and then later to ritual suggestions. You will
need about 2 square meters/yards of superb white fabric or linen. Go to a good fabric
store, spend a long time looking, and do not haggle over price... never fret about cost
when it concerns a magical object, this is an old rule. If you do not have the money for
something you instinctively know is perfect, come back when you do. The fabric may
be light or heavy gauge, coarse or fine weave, the choice is yours so long as it is color-
less and seems suitable. It must appeal to you. Take your 2y x 2y of special fabric
home, and round off gently what will be the bottom 2 corners of the cape.
Next it must be prepared: FiAND DYED to the proper color with the proper
plants, which is a necessary tradition here. Decide which color is magically appropri-
ate — again, you must allow your inner shamanic voice to speak. Parameters of choices
are all inclusive, with the exception of WHITE or BLACK, which are not colors (they
are presence or absence of it) and strictly reserved for initiates. [Those Rotary-Club-
type, mail-order Druidic fraternities one sees parading around in white sheets, are an
abomination on all levels
— pay no attention] So . now that you have chosen a color
Grimoire #3 309
with which you are well-attuned for clear reasons, consult the chart below, which lists
those plants producing good color pigments. We have compiled the listing in order of
rainbow/spectral color sequence, and only those which we use or have tried ourselves.
DARK/black: Blackthorn
English Oak
Yellow Dock
VIOLET: Elecampane
Common Plum ...;
;::^|
Heather v
O^
PURPLE: Vine (grape) Oî

Black Elder ^V
Tall Field Buttercup >c
BLUE: Woad/Indigo
Cornflower
Hollyhock
GREEN: White/Canoe Birch

Coltsfoot
Beard Grass/common grass
YELLOW: Chamomile/Golden Pipes

Marigold/Sunflower
St. Johnswort
ORANGE: Goldenrod
S umac/Jewelweed
Broom/Aspen
RED: Red Alder/Holly

Pokeweed/Poinsettia
American Ivy/Rue
You can order any of these plants at your local health food or nutrition store; pur-
chase 1 -ounce of herb per 1 -pound of fabric weight. To dye your cloth, bring the
dried plant to a low boil in 3-4 gallons soft water. Strain. Add V2-cup of iodized salt
and let boil 20 minutes. Add fabric, wetting evenly and return to boiling. Turn off
heat and allow to sit until cold. Rinse briefly in one change of COLD water, no more,
then air-dry on a line outdoors. Now it is ready!
—
To wear, the only other necessity your cloak needs is a neck clasp or BROOCH
of which the Celts were both inordinately fond and famed. An outstanding example is
shown at the beginning of this section. There are many stores/mail order places where
authentic Celtic brooch reproductions can be purchased; we order ours from a shop
called THE WELSH DRAGON, but there are many these days if you but look.
Now on to Magical applications. The Book of Pheryllt, following in the Bardic
tradition outlined at the opening quote of this section, gives an "inspiration exercise"
involving the Cloak of Padaen.
Z\)c Blindfold Rite

* This Spirit Flight may be done indoors or out. Strangely enough, this time there
are several good reasons to work INDOORS; the idea being to minimize distraction
and sound — this is an INNER quest, not involving mastery of the outer world. The
landscapes are inside you.
* So decide on your work space, based on the objectives above. You should be nei-
ther too tired nor too alert. Clear the area and set up your portable circle if you are
not using a permanent outdoor one. As always, your Circle is a potent protective ele-
ment.
* Although there are few restrictions built into our task, this ritual is far more
effective if done in a darkened area; light is a distraction we will try to minimize.
Time your rite at dusk or later, or before sunrise, or darken the room.
* Light a single white candle and place it in the east, beyond the circle. Do not
burn incense.
* Lay down in the bare middle of the circle, arranging your Cloak so that it covers
you from head to toe completely and smoothly.
* Relax. If, like the author, you experience anxiety at having something covering
your face, work up to it bit by bit. One does get used to it after a while. One physical
purpose is that, with your mouth and nose covered, the CO 2 (carbon dioxide) level in
your blood increases significantly. This helps open the Otherworld Door, like a 'little
death,' although there is no danger involved. People with breathing disorders should
not participate. Begin a ritual breathing pattern based on counting heartbeats: 2-in, 2-
out, and increasing up to 6-6.
—
Grimoire #3 311
:;:.;,. ,:....
~~~~ .: V \/~~~^^Zu3Z^
* Soon you will begin to see COLORFUL FLASHES of light within your field of
vision. Good — this is the Otherworld Barrier sign. Once this pattern appears, simply
will your consciousness into it. The rest, they say, should be history.
No one can predict the outcome of a ritual Spirit Flight. If you focus beyond the
lights on a particular topic or concern, then you will dictate your own terms. If not,
you are at the delightful drifting mercy of the Sea of Annwns' currents and eddies.
Centuries of the greatest Bardic poets have found inspiration and creativity there
and brought it back to the World of Men. Remember that the true voyage of discov-
ery lies not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes...
L.w;>y^:". -- ';<:;- - v>; : . ,

•; , ; ;
".:
; . rt ':';; '.'.:. :
:".
, _rzn '.
-fit. -\ -li
—
:*w>>>>>>>>>>>>>^^^
We priests must live in Two Worlds:
The World ofForm and the Otherworld ofForce,

for true enlightenment lies balanced between them.
Let our goal therefore be:
To live and thrive amidform and force,
Being in the World but not of it.
St. Cornneille, 'The Yellow Book of Ferns'
II. SPELLS OF LIGHT AND DARKNESS

"Journeying to the Very Source"
The objective of this grimoir is a very simple one: substantiation. While it is under-
stood and expected that the very wrath of the gods may descend by so trying, still — it
should be done, standing to benefit even the uncritical reader. But before so doing, let
us see what one great and ancient Kabbalist had to say on the topic of revelation of
religious mysteries.
THE PEOPLE always mock will at things easy to be understood; it must

needs have impostures A . . spirit that loves Wisdom and contemplates
Truth close at hand, is forced to disguise it, in order to induce the multitude
to accept it . . . Fictions are necessary to the people, and Truth becomes
deadly to those who are not strong enough to contemplate it in all its bril-
liance. If the sacerdotal laws allowed the reservation of judgments and the
allegory of words, I would accept the proposed dignity on condition that I
might be a philosopher at home, and abroad a narrator of apologues and
parables ... In fact, what can there be in common betwrcn the vile multi-
tude and sublime wisdom? Truth must be kept secret, and the masses need
a teaching proportioned to their imperfect reason. Synesius, Bishop
Grimoire #3 313
Just what bombshell are we preparing to loosen? One which fell with my last book
THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN... its shrapnel still claiming a victim from time to
time. By so feeling a need to validate our sources, we are indeed invoking the old
Druidic loathing for "laying things out clearly for all to see' — so that they may then, in
turn, be profaned. Yet by deciding to expose these worn pages to view, we hope to
reduce the Arms Race considerably.

The controversy surrounds the two CHARMS OF MAKING given throughout
the Merlyn stories. My assertion is that they are very old — certainly not to my own
credit, even though one was used in an excellent 'Arthurian movie re-make' back in
the 1980's; apparently the screenwriters had sources that, despite writing, we have
been unable to ascertain. Our sources are to be found on the three pages to follow.
Both Charms are to found within the Pheryllt Mss., and have been cross-refer-
enced. The first — the 'movie' version —was found mentioned in a mid- 19th C. study
on the Druids, which is shown here. It can, when thrice spoken by a true Initiate,
affect all matter governed by the SOLAR ray.
18 TIIK DRUIDS. NIK HHUIIlH. 119
astrology ami divination. The niiciYnt (? recks fined to the few knaves who practiso it, and the
and Romans had their oracle* nml sibyls. These silly dupes by whom it Is accepted The fairy
two words are quite familiar to the renders of the of Ihc inexhaustible purse of gold is known to
old classics ; and yet, even the learned are unable be walking abroad; but no one can capture him.
to give of them a satisfactory derivation. The The llnnshcc, or sui>cruatural waller, is reported
language of the Druids seems to supply the defi- as having been often seen in her white robes, by
ciency. Sibyl, in Latin, sibylla, is formed Trim!
lonely stream nnd in deep valley, announcing in
tuil-bhcil,which means "the eye of the mnulh;"or the mournful tones of the native cnoinc, or funeral
" the eye-mouth," that Is, the eye that sees, nml wail, the approaching death of some worthy
the mouth that announces future events." Kven member, young or old, of the ancient respectable
In Scripture, those who foretold future events families. The word fairy is formed from the
were called seers. The Lathi word, omentum, Celtic /Wrr-ir, which means "a man of the super-
"oracle," appears to be the literal representative, natural world," from /car, "a man" and it, (pro-
in that language, of the Celtic words tnit-blieti, nounced thee), " the mysterious world." Ban-
that is, erit-ocultts, "the eye of the mouth." thce means " a woman of the supernatural life,"
Sibyl and oracle thus appear to l>e the same, from bout, "a woman," ami ti, " the su|>crnatural
both in the words and in the meaning, nnd, also, existence." In the Irish language, a male fortune-
to be derived from a Druidicnl source. It appears teller is called fear-feasa, "a man of knowledge,"
that females were, at one time, admitted to the and a female of the craft, bntn-fetttn, "a woman
order or fraternity of the Druids, and that they of knowledge." This knowledge Is understood to
were appointed to fill certain offices in connexion be derived from some supernatural or mysterious
with the oracles or tuil-b/nit. llcncc, the name source. Even some of the old Druidicnl cabalistic
of sibyl or tibylta, of the Latins, A
female of expressions used in evoking, or calling up, the
this class was called a bctn-Hmci, that is. M a spbil of divination. Mill rxial surh. for instance,
;
woman Druid f and by the name was meant a "

anail tmlhrork, ullwnv hrthtirfH, Harhirl Hirniv"
priestess, prophetess, or enchantress.
Some vestiges of the ancient divination nnd Htrsr lallci woidssrcm tolx a soil of >ai batons I
wonder-working can still be traced in ll»c li form of an am i«ni ( Vllic extension, ami are
isb
customs and language of the people of this among the olnYsi smvivfng fmgmrnls or pit hiv
country. Fortune-telling still lives, though con- Imir vrrse In Ik- inimnil (torn Ogham his<ii|>-
ZZL— ';.:,',:':;';'-':, '-'::->,:; :r:' L-J_ZZZZL_~ ZZZ~-^L~-J~L

The LUNAR ray of matter, found in both the Pheryllt

second, affecting the is
pages, and THE GORCHAN OF MAELDREW—works separated in publication by

300 years! Experiment with the power of these verses if you will, but remember: some
things must first be believed to be seen...
HAIL ye mortals!
Dancing downward smiles the sun;
From tree to tree the Charm is whispered
By common wood:
"A Elfyntodd Dwyr Sinddyn Duw

Cerrig Yr Fferilurig Nwyn, Os
Syriaeth Ech Saflaer Tu
Fewr Echlyn Mor Necrombor Llua"
ancient Code, the grove protected!
Now Earth's farthest bounds

As on we wander,
Art thou my home —

1 of the White Robes .
Nowashapeshifterbe!
; ; ; : ;; :
Grimoire #3 315
l'ilRHVU,T
Talhaiara's Prayer.
<§ob. Ujp |
3nb in prauraon. strength,

3nU in Btrtngtfj. reason
3no in reason, knotofeoge
3no in knomUbge. truti) ; /
3no in troth, rnan'tt
3no in [usritt. toot
3nb in loot, the taor oL0oo
3nft in the lone of ôOit (one of
AXN WM -BTWTD— SIARWOLACTn.

Pmha It 9 mae 3nnton»
.4-
«L pnpmanp be 'r Octal
a &&tcbont r cr bpm a'r bptopb.
3 mtspaf e'r matur Ijtb gptttor
mmrptD.
iBttl) ptd banrtogion bftopb?
»*ga£nbtr goletnrf gtons
agaflpgrebb. Sefxt.
3f ti) ptn bannoqinn nnbau 'r mart)'
THECORCHANOFMAElDftEW , THE BAUD OF PRYDAIN.
3 elfrntoo opt srnbbm buto

tf rriq rr fterllnrit ntnpn
osmaeth tth saeKer tu
tore etfjbm mat mtxombot Han.
316
'-•-
-
— ~" '
' - - ~^r~-T7,
A closed circle
and especially a stone one at that
is the most potent form ofprotection for any worker of magic,

whether Druidic or otherwise.
Ch.5, Of Wind Sea, Fire & Stone, from THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN
III. VANQUISHING THE CYTHRAWL

"Druidic Rites of Protection"
The folklore of Shamanism abounds with magical means to invoke protection and
blessing. Into his monumental work, CARMINA GADELICA, the Scotsman Alexan-
der Carmichael poured 44 years of collecting Celtic hymns, prayers, charms, rituab,
incantations, omens and auguries within the pages of one immense volume. While it is
beyond our measures to guess how many verses are represented there, it is far easier to
estimate that a good 75% involve protection in one form or another. It is a volume well
worth the trouble of locating (Lindisfarne Press, Hudson, NY), for the reader will
surely find many useful invocations which really "touch home," and can be used
throughout ones lifetime in rough moments —always reminding us that there is help
in the Beyond, whether that 'beyond' happens to be within or without us.
Life-protection often involves the power of PRAYER, with its related symbols and
rites. Since the availability of these rites as preserved within Celtic collections is great,
the writer has elected to focus ONLY on that contained specifically within the
Pheryllt Manuscripts. Here are five:
1), This symbol is the ancient DRAGON'S EYE, a very old protective symbol
brought over into Celtic mysticism from the Pheryllt —and most probably
from the Atlantean priests before them. It was worn, etched, embroidered,
jewlered, etc. The Red Dragon has long been a protective element in
mythology, whether he is guarding a master... or his treasure. The power
with this symbol was said to be released through this invocation.
INVOCATION OF THE DRAGON

"Cum saxum saxorum
In duersum montum oparum da,
In aetibulum
In quinatum —Draconis!"
~
Grimoire #3 317
:,.:r,,,;;_;:i^;::;, :,;;.:;:::;
—
2). Another old verse, calling forth the Elements themselves for protection, is
said to have been used even by St. Patrick himself:
"I call today on the strength of Heaven

Light of Sun
Radiance of Moon
Splendor of Fire
Speed of Lightning
Swiftness of Wind
Depth of Sea
Stability of Earth
Firmness of Stone"
3). Another powerful symbolic gesture developed by the Welsh Druids, was the
SIGN OF THREE RAYS. There is good evidence that the Catholic Culdee
Church based its of the Cross (as in 'signing yourself) upon this
later Sign
model. Unlike the Christian sign which was usually invoked into ones chest,
the 3-Rays were usually traced out in front of you. It was believed that this
act banished darkness by invoking the light-the three inspirational rays of

Awen. Here it is:
5.
3.
INVOKING
active/male
1.
A\ W BANISHING
passive/female
4). The author's favorite (because it is wonderfully effective) is an ancient invo-

cation known as Talhaiarn's Prayer. All attempts to trace this verse back-
wards have failed, but we do know that several versions of it appear
throughout the medieval and latter liturgies of the Roman Catholic Church.
Here it is given exactly as it appears in the 1588 Pheryllt script:
1 „: . JZIZZZZZZIZZIZIIZIZZ^^
: ; ::

~^:y." ~"~ v ~7rrr~77~77r7Z
1'iinaTM.T
Talliaiarn's Prayer.
£o&, fip protection

3no in protection, srrcnqtl) ;
2nd in strtngtf). reason

2nd in reason, krvotufr bgr ;
2na in knooleoqe. rrati>
3no in trutf). monte

3no \n justice, looe :
3no in loor. the looe of <flob :
3no in the loot of £ofir. fit looe of
eorrr animation.
5). Lastly, as the «>r/<f is the acknowledged universal protective sign, a tiny rite
to this basis is here given. The Pheryllt Mss. refers to it as the ACTION OF
CEUGANT— Ceugant
\
being the great Circle of Infinity beyond which
dwells the Dweller. The 'action' itself is simply tracing out a sun-wise circle
into the air before you:
Intoning: "NID DIM ON D'DUW—NID DUW ON D'DIM.'

Grimoire #3 319
:rzzszs::z:::::s:z:z,y
To live in the world

without becoming aware of the meaning of the world
is like wandering about in a great library
without touching the books.
It has always seemed to me that Symbolism
should be restored to the structure of world education.

The young are no longer invited to seek the hidden truths,
dynamic and eternal —locked within the shapes and behavior

of living beings...
Manly P. Hall
IV. THE HOLLOWS

"Amassing the Sacred Regalia'
The mythology of every country, culture and religion has its own articles of mystery,
which correspond to the British Hollows. The term simply means: precious relics, hav-
ing a clear magical or holy overtone. A good description is given of the Thirteen Trea-
sures of the Cymry in part III. of this book, ch. 4, which is the WELSH version. There
are also British and Irish versions, amassing quite a variety. For clarification, they are
shown below in chart form:
BRITISH WELSH
1. Sword of Caliburn Sword of Rhydderech
2. Horn of Bran Horn of Bran
3. Mantle of Arthur Cloak of Padaen
4. Ring of Gortigern Hamper of Gwyddno
5. Wand of Math Knife of Llawfronedd
6. The Lifeboard of Gwenddolau Chessboard
7. Stone of Destiny Lapis Exillis
8. Cleric's Bowl Crock & Dish of Rhygenydd
9. Staff of Seasons Mantle of Arthur of Cornwall
10. Mirror of Atmu Chariot of Morgan
11. Harp of Ceraunnos Harp of Erin
12. Cauldron of Cerridwen Cauldron of Dyrnwch
13. Spear of Llew Halter of Clydno Eiddyn
izzizizzzzizzzirzizzzzzzi_ :
_zi~~" - ^ ^ Li
The Irish list is brief—only comprised of the Four Treasures of Tuatha de

Danann:
1 The Spear of Lugh
.
2. The Sword of Nuada

3. The Cauldron of the Dagda
4. The Stone of Fal
It is interesting to note that there are four items shared between the 3 lists: a stone,
a cauldron, a spear and, (if you can take Llawfronedd's Knife for a blade), a sword.
The reduced basics boil down to the 4 elemental weapons of the Druids! These we
have already dealt with in a preceding grimoir.
The is simple: AS A SHAMAN, YOU MUST
practical lesson for this section
WORK TOWARDS BUILDING UP YOUR OWN SET OF HOLLOWS —
YOUR OWN COLLECTION OF SACRED REGALIA. No one can do for you, it
neither can they tell you what your regalia should look like; as the chart above shows,
the articles vary even among the nations who gave them principle form. This is the
work of a lifetime — personal symbols: keys to unlock and empower your world of magic.
Grimoire #3 321
.--;-,— ,.
v .^^^^-.
^;'ff--'\-~-^-'-
In my day, it is by the ends of his finger bones that the Druid accomplishes the
rite in this manner: When he sees the person or thing before him, he makes a verse
at once with his finger ends, or in his mind without studying, and composes and
repeats at the same time.
Cormac's Glossary, DICHETAL DO CHENNAIB
V. THE WEB
'Sweet Cauldron of the Five Trees"
When the Druids spoke of the Web during the twenty-plus one years of training
which was required, they were not speaking of spiders —they were speaking metaphor-
ically, saying one thing and meaning something else. Their 'web' was simply a
metaphor for the human hand, a part of the elaborate code of secrecy they observed,
and by which they were sworn to live. The Poetic Rite known as Dichetaldo Chennaib
(i.e. 'recital from the finger-ends') is both a means of communication among initiates,
AND a potent form of Magic in its own right. It was used to intensify verse. The
Pheryllt illustration is given on the following page.
The scholar-poet Robert Graves, once composed an interesting verse based on the
powers of the five fingers. However, this poem is based upon the Beth-Luis-Nion
Ogham version, and not the Boibeloth (B-L-F) which forms the basis for the hand
diagram given below. He, and many scholars since his time, agree that the B.L.N, is
older than the B.L.F.. The story/mythological explanation behind this variation is
interesting — as it involves the BATTLE OF THE TREES.

What distinguishes the BLSFN from the BLNFS that the letter N, is nuin the Ash,
the sacred tree of the God Gwydion, has been taken out of the dead period of the year,
where it is still in black bud, and put two months ahead to where it is in leaf, while
Fearn the Alder, the sacred tree of the God Bran, which marks the emergence of the
solar year from the tutelage of Night, has been thrust back into Nion's place [Gravesl.
It all has to do with that wonderful sequence where Gwydion guessed Bran's name
(the ancient 'riddle game'), from a sprig of Alder, and so triumphed over him, win-
ning his place. But, returning to the Web, here is Graves' rendition:
±ZZZZ1 — \
;
';':': '?:. :.:. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZi
"—~^—
zzztsj
Tree powers, finger tips, First pentad of the four,

Discover all your poet asks, Drumming on his brow.
Birch peg, throbbing thumb, By power ofdivination,

Birch, bring him news of love; Loud the heart knocks.
Rowan rod, forefinger, By power ofdivination,

Unriddle him a riddle, The keys cast away
Ash, middle finger, By power of divination,

Weatherwise, fool otherwise, Mete him out the winds.
Alder, physic finger, By power of divination,
Diagnose all maladies ofa doubtful mind.
Willow wand, ear finger, By power ofdivination

Force confessions from the mouth ofa mouldering corpse.
Finger-ends, five twigs. Trees, true-divining trees,
Discover all your poet asks, Drumming on his brow.

Grimoire #3 323
There are many symbolisms present within the Cauldron of Five Trees (another
metaphor), also known as the Five Trees of Paradise: Ailim (silver fir), Ohn (furze
pipes), Ur (heather), and Ioho (yew); the five planets: Venus (thumb),
Eadha (aspen)
Sun (ring-finger) and Mercury (little). And the list goes
Jupiter (1st), Saturn (middle),
on and on. But what we must here end with, is the practical use behind the Secret
Web. And the Pheryllt text supplies it!
We read, that any Magical formulae "cast out upon the Web, rather than in a
vulgar tongue, " is endowed with three times its spoken potential. Quite the value,
ritually... a good reason for someone working in a Druidic system to master it. We
have found it highly effective in spelling out invocations, ritual words of power, or
either of the two Spells of Making —even more so, when used in unison by a circle'd
group. Use of the Web over the spoken word, seems to cast the verse directly adrift
onto the waters of the Otherworld... bypassing the inadequacy and frail shallowness
of human speech.
JMMSttTOMMMfflX^^
»»».. > ;, >>>>>>>>>>>:0 ;OmV<^^
The undeniable ritual element
is that of the magical ceremony where certain acts and words,

analogous to spiritual processes, must be carried out
in certain specific rhythms and order.

Only when the act is done in the manner prescribed
can results be obtained.
Bob Stewart
VI. SUMMONING THE CALEN

"The Rite ofExaltation"
Music is the language most greatly acknowledged for its ability to touch our EMO-
TIONS directly — the Universal Language, the Language of the Soul. It can, in an
instant, throw us onto the stairs of mounting exaltation, or falling down into pits of
the deepest despair. It is a Magical element, and the Druids knew it all too well. An
entire rank of their Order — the Bards —was dedicated to its propagation and use.
Here, we will make use of modern technology to summon up the same exultant state
of emotional energy, THE CALEN, that the ancient Shamans would have called
'mystical ecstasy.'
What is the goal of this ritual? The accumulation of High, directed ENERGY.
What can the ENERGY be used for? Anything you can direct your mind towards.
What do I need to perform it?
Here is the list: a good quality portable CD player & and a specified disc, (why
CD? Because there is no background noise); a Robe of your choice of color; a stone
circle (small/portable, in a pouch) of 8 or 12 stones; and a private place to work (where
excessive sound will not be a problem to others).
Like all ritual, you must have a chosen goal in mind, which you will now attempt
to bring into manifestation through Musickal Magick. Work this at night, the later
Grimoire #3 325
the better. Why? Because darkness creates the illusion of isolation in one's mind, and
minimizes external distractions. Select your area, wooded outdoors or grassy field is best,
but indoors is OK.

Prepare your ritual area — incense is a great idea; the name of the game is HIGH-
ENERGY-ATMOSPHERE. Incense suggestions are: Gum Mastic, Dragon's Blood,
Acacia, Sandalwood, Benzion Gum, Cinnamon, Mace, Clove, Red Pepper and
Juniper (or any Pine Resin you can collect yourself off the side of a conifer). Use any
one, or in combination —be creative!
Finalize your GOAL by writing it down (in a magical script?) on clean paper, and
place where the center of your circle will be, next to a lit candle. Then arrange other
candles around the area, so that it is illuminated to your taste. Place the CD player in
a good spot on the far edge of your area and adjust the volume so that it is stunning...
good bass, good mix... stunning! CD in on pause. Put on your robe (changing into a
robe, changes your state of mind from an ordinary "street mentality," to a mystic
one), take a deep breath, ready your pouch of pebbles and push PLAY.
Now, the rest of the ritual YOU create. The idea is, during the course of the piece,
to build up a cone of emotional energy within you, then direct it at the finale towards
some goal & waiting by a candle in the center of your circle. All
you have written lit
this requires LETTING GO OF ALL INHIBITIONS, AND MOVING AS THE
MUSIC MOULDS YOU. The selection of composition crucial, since the music is
must follow the path we wish the energy to take, and not exceed 10-20 minutes. You
may use a piece of your own choosing, or, as music is the author's specific collegiate
area, he makes the following suggestions:
* CARMINA BURANA by Carl Orff, (O Fortuna, 2:46).

* ADAGIO FOR STRINGS by Samuel Barber (8:56).
* THE PLANETS by Gustav Hoist (Mars, 7:09).
* TOCCATA & FUGUE IN D-MINOR by

J.S. Bach (4:50).
* IN THE FiALL OF THE MOUNTAIN KING by E. Grieg (2:30).
* NIGHT ON BALD MOUNTAIN by Mussorgsky,
(7:00).
By Richard Wagner:
* THE ENTRANCE OF THE GODS INTO VALFiALLA, (6:36).
* THE RIDE OF THE VALKYRIES, (5:29).
* SIEGFRIED'S FUNERAL MUSIC, (12:27).
By Peter I. Tchaikovsky:
* SYMPHONY #5 (movement IV, 12:31).
* SLAVONIC MARCH (9:29).
* 1812 OVERTURE (15:29).
* NUTCRACKER SUITE (Russian Danse, Waltz of the Flowers).
J££l££-^^
* SWAN LAKE (movement I, 3:56; Mvmt. V, 3:33).

* SLEEPING BEAUTY (Mvmt. 1, 4:29; Mvmt. XI, 4:24).
Lay the circle out to the music, THEN LET GO. Soar, dance, fall, sing, fly,
become angry... sad... rapturous! There is no one watching, so BECOME the music,
let it mould you, let it take and hold you in its emotional magic!
Then, at the finale or whenever you feel the music has elevated you high enough,
move dramatically to the middle of the circle and BURN THE PAPER in the candle
there. Sit down, relax... meditate as you unwind... then dress, gather back your circle,
your articles & return to the normal world. Perform this Exaltation Ritual for 3 con-
secutive nights for best results. Remember: privacy's the Key —you can't let go, can't
step outside yourself into the Otherworld if you are self-consciously being watched or
listened to! The most powerful Magic is a solitary act. Now let go!
And the Trees awoke and knew him,

And the wild things gathered to him
As he sang among the wooded glens
His music manifold...
Song of Hu the Mighty

Grimoire #3 327
A person who was pure in body and spirit

could receive a sacred dance or other knowledge.
"
The old shamans called this "crying for a vision.
A young boy, just before manhood, was required to achieve this.
He would go to a secluded spot, for three days to fast and watch.

An eagle, raven, stag or another animal would appear,
singsongs, chant and give knowledge.
Often this knowledge was in the form
ofa dance.
Wakan Tanka, THE GREAT MYSTERY
VII. DANNWNIAU
"Ghost Dances of the Druids"
'
The translation of the Pheryllt word Dannwniau is a very awkward one, as there
seem to be no clear modern equivalents. The one offered, therefore, is the authors'
alone. The GHOST DANCE is a tradition the Celtic Priesthood shared with many
other shamanic cultures throughout the world. It would make sense that the Druids
had their sacred dances (although mention of such is extremely rare), as the Celtic cul-
ture has always been inordinately fond of dancing — often times being referred to as "a
nation of dancing people." And so it came as no surprise to find three descriptions of
Sacred Dance among the Pheryllt section dealing with poetry and music. What fol-
lows below, is a physical diagram describing a 'ritual circle dance in 4-beat steps.'
3 2
3 2^
3 2
T
Movement always enhances ritual acts with power magicians have always —
known this. The fact that the Druids had so many rites involving motion (e.g. Rite
of 3 Rays, Dragoncall, Sunwash, etc.), justifies their knowledge of this element, and
the inclusion of this section of grimoir. Only three dances are described in the
Pheryllt, yet it can be easily assumed that they had many more. Once the reader has
had occasion to study the examples given here, as well as exploring them in a ritual
y??^-tziis? :: r -
—
izzzzzzzzzs:
context, an excellent 'next step' would be to then design further dances for specific
occasions and uses: healing, Beltaine/May Day(well-dedicated to Maypole Dancing
by tradition), perhaps a Spear Dance for Lugh on Lugnassadh, etc. ad restoratum).

As usual with the motivated soul, there are few limits to what might be 'restored' to
the Druidic annals of Sacred Dance through the application of creativity. Use the fol-
lowing as general models only, as some do not conform to our standard idea of what
a dance is; each is paraphrased by the author.
Z\)xcc Circular <5\)ost ©ances

1. Spiral Chain-Dance: divide the ritual group into three circles within circles,
the caller (ritual song or chant leader) at the exact center. At a signal from
the center, the inner circle begins revolving sun-wise (clockwise), the middle
circle moon-wise (counter-clockwise) and the outer, sun-wise.
Weave a spiral SLOWLY as you pass others — passing to the extreme

the inner through into the outer circles, an exchange. THE MIDDLE CIR-
CLE REMAINS CONSTANT. This is a great movement to accompany
group chant, or call-response chanting or singing —always building the cone
of force from low to high energy, yet maintaining a slow, tightly controlled
weaving pattern and speed. Do not become focused on EYE CONTACT as
you pass and weave — move by blind intuition.
2. Spin-Dance of the Three Voices: Group begins as one large circle sur-
rounding a central caller/leader — if each can extend their arms sideways
without contacting a side partner, the circle is the right size.
The caller begins by intoning the first sound of the sacred name (IAO),
"I" (pronounced eeeeee) the circle joins, revolving slowly sunwise. Move
as if underwater.
The caller, when the moment is ready, introduces the second sound
change, "A" (pronounced Ahhhhhh) the circle joins, continuing to
revolve, BUT NOW SLOWLY TOWARDS THE CENTER. When all
members have condensed to form a shoulder-to-shoulder circle facing in

around the center, stop moving.
The caller then introduces the third and last sound change, "O" (pro-
nounced Ohhhhhh) the circle joins, slowly raising quivering hands
toward the sky, awaiting the spin-off call.
The caller, when the moment is right, yells out loudly: "A-BRED!" and
members spin out swiftly from center, returning to the original circle. The
cycle then repeats itself.
Grimoire #3
3. Affirmation Dance: This dance is a group empowerment ritual. Group

divides into two equally-numbered circles facing each other, one within
another, around a central caller. Each member stands squarely facing a mem-
ber of the opposite circle.
When all stands poised and ready, the Caller speaks out loudly: "THE
TRUTH AGAINST THE WORLD!" at which point each man either
clasps arms together, or shoulder to shoulder, and echoes in unison the affir-
mation confidently into the eyes of his partner. The circles shift in opposing
directions, by each member taking a step to his LEFT, stopping to face a
new partner.
The motto is repeated in unison, then the shift, until members stand fac-
ing their original partners. Then each circle turns toward the center, calling
out the unison motto towards the center, raising their hands high overhead,
[performance note: the Welsh motto-version may be used: Y GWIR YN
ERBYNBYDj.
Lastly, we have a version of the SPIRAL DANCE which works well for us, to begin
or end a Grove Gathering. As soon as the ritual fire is lighted, our robed men gather
in solitary pattern throughout the forest, each close enough to be in sight of the fire.
When the time to start arrives, the Caller begins "calling" —slowly drumming from
the fire, (2 heart-beats per drum-beat). All men move to the edge of the clearing, one
stepping out in time with the drumbeat, forming a sunwise circle around the fire
which slowly spirals toward the center. One by one, the men step out to join the spi-
ral dance, until all have come to stand as a group around the fire. Then the Caller
speaks the benediction.
To end a gathering, the motions are exactly reversed. The Caller begins drumming
as before with all standing at a central fire-middle, then the original dance-leader
heads out to form a moonwise spiral the others will follow back into the forest.
MMMMMXW a^ 4MPWm)«ttM^^
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^>>>»>>>>>> zr~ -•-

. —
/ move along the columns ofage,
Along the streams of inspiration...
Along the fair land of knowledge
By the bright country of the Sun
And along the hidden lands which by day
the Moon inhabits...
Along the first beginnings of life.
Ancient Poet's Song
VIII. SALUTATION
"Rites of Solar and Lunar Attunement"
Acknowledging the sun and moon in their phases, is a custom almost universal among
Celtic culture. Even today, "woe to the maiden" who fails to acknowledge the new
moon! Other Celtic branches burn incense, or toss a lunar/solar herb onto the fire
—
and this is in the 20th century! so one might well imagine the weight of historical
impetus behind the custom. A brief listing is given, of common plants burned as offer-
ings by the country-folk at key solar and lunar (esp. lunar) change-points:
SUN PLANTS MOON PLANTS

Rose Ivy
Heather Lavender
Red Clover Yarrow
Chamomile Jasmine
Sunflower Wormwood
Basil Thyme
Grimoire #3
A wonderful accounting of sun/moon salutations, is to be had in Carmichael's

'
GADELICA, where the author devotes one chapter each to the New Moon and The
'
Sun Prayer. '

Here is what one old-timer had to say:
"In the time of my father and of my mother was no man in town who would not
there
take off his hat to the white sun ofpower, nor a woman who would not bend her body to
the whitemoon ofthe seasons. No, my dear, not a man nor woman in Barra. And old per-
still, and I will be doing it myselfsometimes.
sons will be doing this
Children mock at me, but ifthey do, what ofthat? Is it not much meeterfor me to bend
my body to the sun and to the moon, that the great God of life made for my good, than to
the son or daughter ofearth like myself?"
The people addressed invocations to the sun and moon —sometimes the stars.
Men and women morning sun and hailed the new moon. The practice
saluted the
prevailed, nor is it yet obsolete, though now a matter of form more than of belief. The
people hailed the morning sun as they would a great person come back to their land;
and they hailed the new moon, "lochran mor an aigh," (the great lamp of grace), with
joyous welcome and acclaim. The sun was to them a matter of great awe —but the
moon was a friend of great love, guiding their course upon land and sea, and their
path wherever they went. Another elder Scotsman had these valuable insights to add:
"The men ofold were observant ofthe facts ofnature, as the youngfolk oftoday are not.
They would not think of killing a pig nor sheep nor goat nor axe-cow at the wane of the
moon! The flesh ofan animal is then without taste, without sap, without plumpness, with-
out fat. Neither would they cut withes of hazel or willow for creels or baskets, nor would
they cut tree make a boat, in the black wane of the moon. The sap of the wood
ofpine to
goes down into the root, and the wood becomes brittle and crumbly, without pith, without
good. The old people did all these things at the waxing or at the full of the moon. The new
moon was goodfor clipping hair, for cutting peats, for reaping corn, for shearing sheep, and
"
for many things of that nature.
So be it — there is little an author can add to wisdom's such as these, truly. This
man was speaking out of genuine attunedness with the Earth, something exceeding
rare today. There is nothing we can add — unless, perhaps, it is two fragments of salu-
tation from the Book of Pheryllt. We use these exact same verses constantly, to
acknowledge and draw down the energies from these bodies, through attunement.
They have been found to be especially effectaceous when combined with the Rites of
Sun/Moon Wash (see grimoir 4, #4). Here they are:
snnnfmnnnn
;'-.,,...../...
Hail to you —Sun of the seasons!
Greeting as you travel the skies on high

With your strong steps on the wing
of the heights:
You are happy father of the stars.
You sink down in the perilous ocean

Without hurt and without fear —
You rise up on the east wind
Like a young king in glory!
Be thou my morning!
ffloon Salutation
Greeting to you,gem of the night!
Beauty of the gem of the night!
skies,
Mother of the stars, gem of the night!

Foster-daughter of the Sun, gem of the night!
Majesty of the stars,
Be thou my light!
.
Grimoire #3
During Stonehenge II, about 2100 BC, the Bluestones were erected. What was so
important about this stone? First, they come from only one place in the world, and
had to be brought 25 miles over land and 215 miles over stormy sea. Modern
engineers figured it would have taken 110 men working every day for 540 years to
pull those 82 bluestones over the land portion of the trip! Why would they be both-
ered? Because the Beaker people strongly believed the Bluestones possessed magical
powers and could heal disease. .
Nancy Lyon, MAGICAL BLUESTONES AND SHAPELY SARSENS
IX. BLUESTONE
"Ancient Battery of the Gods"
The mysterious Bluestones which comprise the inner circles of Stonehenge, exist in
only one location in the world: the Preseli Mountains in south-west Wales. One of the
greatest acknowledged feats of ancient engineering, was the transportation of these 82
stones —each weighing up to 5 tons — across 240 miles of treacherous Channel coastal
waters, up the River Avon, and finally across 25 more land miles by log-rollers. The
reason for all this work and trouble, has eluded archaeologists for ages. Only recently
have clues begun to emerge —
clues which lend credibility to long-ignored legends
which themselves shed on such major questions. But isn't that the way its always
light
been: down-played legend and superstition later receiving "substance and verification"
from science and archaeology? Yes.
The Bluestones are absolutely unique, being of several different types of related
stone, (spotted dolerite), they can be found in only one location on earth. Why should
this be? Geologists side-step the question, but legend does not. Ancient mythological
history tells us they came from the sky —came in streaks of fire to impregnate the hill-
sides with the magic of the gods [Pph'd, Dialog entre Seanchan Torpeist ha Guynglaff
dan Bretounet, ca. 1340]. Legend says they were a meteor shower.
It has been long substantiated, that the Bluestones arrived on Salisbury Plain well
before the larger, sarsen sandstones brought from the Marlborough Downs —sand-
stones which were to become
enormous trilithons most visible today. But, guess
the
what? Some of the Bluestones show definite signs that they once stood as trilithons
themselves —but definitely before they arrived at the Stonehenge site! Some are caived
with joints and mortise holes, the same construction method as would be later used to
^>:*>w*>:<^^
...
•>„ ......
, . -. .';
hold together the giant sarsens, (see photo of dressed bluestone, at beginning of this
section), yet archaeologists have proven that they were shaped and dressed before being
floated over. What does this indicate?
It clearly implies that the Bluestones once stood as an independent stone circle of
trilithons somewhere else before being brought to Salisbury. This would explain why
they were carried all that way — they were already a sacred temple, which the Beaker
Culture simply chose to re-locate to another site! And this idea is supported by Geof-
frey of Monmouth's pseudo-historical Historia Regum Britanniae, in which he states
emphatically that the stones were an OLDER temple RE-LOCATED (from Ireland by
Merlyn... granted), to Britain. In this accounting, however fantastic, the elements of
transportation and re-erection are amazingly present; Geoffrey is famous for his mixture
of real history and shadier myth. Clearly then, it would follow that the later, bigger
trilithon'd Stonehenge was probably patterned after the original design of the smaller,
older Bluestone one. This is also the solid implication made within the Pheryllt text.
Here is a verse fragment from one of the many quatrains which mention Stonehenge:
"Bran deemed it a marvellous work,

as larger ston'd than he,
this dance of blue, this temple olde
was stole from 'cross the sea."
There is further evidence that bluestone was considered an especially sacred sub-
stance — for the Beaker People who were
monumental transport responsible for their
from Wales, also were in the custom of wearing made of blue- tiny axe-shaped amulets
stone, for totem clan-identification. This accounts for the alternate name by which
they were known in their own day: THE BLUE AXE TRIBE. Their use of bluestone
clearly extended beyond the bounds of mere symbolism it was a religious, magical —
element. Now, why? What properties could this stone possess that would elevate its
ancient worth to a religious level?
Here, the author's own findings can be spoken of with a considerable degree of con-
fidence, for much delving into the mysteries ofbluestone has gone on over that last 1 5 years!
And many old and forgotten secrets have come to light as a result. We were fortunate,
those many years ago, to have run across several editions of the superb American Jour-
nal STONEHENGE VIEWPOINT, published out of Santa Barbara, California. These
editions included a unique catalog of "Stonehenge/Stonehenge related" gift items —one
of which caught the immediate attention of the author. It read:
STONEHENGE KEYCHAIN
Made from genuine Bluestone
minedfrom the Preseli Mountains,
from which were taken the original
Stonehenge Bluestones.
Grimoire #3 335
Our mouth dropped just long enough to grab up the number and get to the
phone. Within a week, we were in possession of five small, bluish-gray pieces of
ancient mystery — clumsily glued to silver-plated key chain tops, of course! But these
were easy enough to dispose of, leaving the genuine mystery behind. Tourist souvenir,
or religious icon? That was to be the question over the next decade. What follows, in
straight, linear-format, are our major answers:
* Bluestone only looks truly 'blue' when wet.
* The properties which make BL-S unique, are PSYCHIC qualities, not physical
ones. They do not show under a microscope.
* The stone is highly responsive to SOUND, or specific series of resonances

within it.
* The stone stabilizes aura energy around the body, by releasing energy when nat-
ural levels drop.
* The stone is SOLAR-responsive as opposed to lunar. It "picks up" an amazing

charge when left in sunlight. Women friends who tested the stone for 'lunar reception'
over a 3-year period, did not feel it was moon-aligned. Many of these same women
also reported excessive nervous energy with elevated levels of menstrual pain during
extended contact — effect-types opposite to that which the men experienced, lending
support to our general "solar-male, lunar-female" energy guideline.
* The stone acts like a modern storage battery, absorbing surprisingly large
amounts of active energy — in direct proportion to the activity level of the body. We
have found sound-methods for triggering the wholesale release of this energy during
ritual. The stone is sound-sensitive.
After years of such work, one can only wish for 5, long-lost minutes of time, to speak
with the Beaker Priests who REALLY understood the wondrous stone. But here it is
today, relegated to the status of a tourist souvenir — save for the accounts in this book!
So, what of practical applications for the reader who might care to explore the
ancient Bluestone? We wear ours on neck-chains beneath clothing — skin contact is
important — after having drilled a tiny hole through the top. For this delicate task
(bluestone breaks easily), we use a ! /i6" or V32" carbide-tipped, masonry drill bit.
izz:/:v:v:v:A^r^v:;vy^
Finally, keeping in mind the above results carefully noted over the years, key-chain
specimens of bluestone may still be obtained for $10.00 US plus $5 p/h, from:
FORTRESS HOUSE (distributor) PRESELI CRAFTS (Manufacturer)

23 Saville Row Road Allt y Bwla Hen, Cenarth
London, ENGLAND WIX-2HE New Castle, Emlyn, Dyfed
WALES SA38-9JU
The stones are great

And magic power they have
Men that are sick
Fare to the blue stones
And they wash those stones

And bathe away their evil...
Layamon, Brut, ca. A.D. 1200
Grimoire #3 337
The more one studies Druidism

and especially that side of it connected with the Bards,
the grandeur of the Dionysian Depths — the reflection
in Man of the sounding thunders and organ tones
of what the old Indians called

The FORMA TIVE VOICE of the Heavens
moves us profoundly...
E.C. Merry
X. THE ART OF SONGSPELL

"Musical Offerings of the Druids"
Being his principle vocation, the author has spent considerable effort over the years,
investigating the connecting lines between Druidism and Music. There are many, yet
the key element to unlocking the treasure-trove, began with just one: that the Bards
employed a musical notation system based upon the OGHAM alphabet, which looks on
sight to resemble ordinary ogham script —which it is not. After acquiringmy Xerox
copy of the Book ofPheryllt back in the 1980's, I had in my possession a section clearly
described as BARDIC MELODIES, yet appearing to be an extensive, meaningless
conglomeration of Ogham lines which defied all attempts at deciphering.
Our first clue came from reading Dr. Sean O'Boyle's ground-breaking book:
OGHAM: The Poet's Secret, (1980, Gilbert & Dalton Ltd., Dublin), ch. II, entitled
Ogham and Magic. And there it was — the key I had suspected existed, but couldn't
seem to locate:
Here, then, in modern musical notation, is the sequence
of notes which I
maintain is indicated by the Alphabet of the Ogam:

Then, all at once, "Let there be Sound!" Those long lines of Musical Ogham were
finally heard for perhaps the first time since 1588! Our friends said "Hmmm...," our
musical colleagues (the few we dared show) voiced "interesting..." between half-
sneered lips, yet—we knew we were right, and what else does one need to begin with,
other than this? Attempts to check the association by cross-reference, soon produced
Bob Stewart's fine study WHERE IS SAINT GEORGE? (Moonraker Press, 1977),
which provided the following insights:
* "Ogmias invented the ancient alphabet of Ogham, and is one who binds (the
twig or notes to the staff). An ancient image of Ogmias shows his leading a
to the rope,
troop of men by chains attached to his tongue." [p67]
* "A further conceptual link, is that the Ogham alphabet is closely connected with
the chant-systems of the Druid or native religion. Ecclesiastical plainsong in the West
is likely to have derived from this source, and is aimed specifically at making 'other-
world' contact. Ogmias is therefore the presiding deity of magical music." [p67]
* "The early notations of plainsong were 'shape notes' indicated by the hand {see
#5, The Web), and there may be a connection between this chironomic system and the
earlier Ogham alphabets of the Druids." [pi 04]
* "It has been suggested that Ogham spelt out on the fingers of the hand, rather
than the form in which it was cut into stones and sticks, was a secret code system."
[pl05]
* "(Ogham)... was a non-verbal communication-process for use in ritual or musi-

cal situations where spoken instructions would have been unsuitable, spoiling the
effect or concentration. Hand-movements and finger joints are used to indicate spe-
cific phrases and pitches rather than individual notes, as is the convention with writ-
ten music." [pi 05]
* "Early alphabets, music, mathematics and images were all related as symbolic
CYCLES. These systems were integrated in an attempt to render the Universe mean-
ingful. They flow into one another, and are as inter-linked as the seasons. A letter was
a note... was a god or goddess... was a tree, was a star, was a season. All were cycles of
the divine harmony of the music of the spheres." [pi 06]
* "THE PLAINSONG USED ADAPTED VERSIONS OF THE SYMBOL-SYS-
TEMS REPRESENTED IN BRITAIN BY OGHAM, AS ALPHABETICAL AND

MAGICAL KEYS. THE ACTUAL PHRASES OF MUSIC AND PATTERNS OF
NOTES MAY HAVE BEEN TRANSLATABLE ORIGINALLY AS SYMBOLS..."
And there, especially present in the last bolded quote, was the academic confirma-
tion needed —which, when coupled with Dr. O' Boyle's research, produced the prod-
uct now presented for the reader's practical use. This use, of course, presumes some
Grimoire #3
knowledge of music- reading on the part of the reader, necessary to realize the modern
notation. If such ability is not the case, all is not lost: it is easy, this day and age, to con-
nect with someone who has it. Your grandmother... the local piano teacher... your son
who plays trumpet in school band... there are many possibilities; music, fortunately, is
no longer a skill reserved for Bards or nobles. Better yet: learn to play it yourself!
What will be offered hereon, are transcriptions of 2 classes of musical compositions

which the Book of Pheryllt refers to as THE SONGS OF CERAUNNOS, and THE
ENGLYNS OF GILGALI. In all, there are over 85 lines of ogham-music given, but
we have had to abide by both available space and proportional appropriateness. To
provide some criterion for selection, the author has elected to concentrate on nine
ROUNDS, a class of material which comprises the greatest bulk of the collection.
(Wouldn't this focus make sense, given as rounds are cyclic songs, based on the circle-
pattern, and highly adapted to ritual group work?) Also within our focus, are the nine
Songs ofGilgali, whose titles follow the 9 star houses of the Druidic zodiac. All these
pieces would originally have had words (none are given, only titled), or most likely,
many variations of words, and been sung 'a cappella' (i.e. unaccompanied); while we
have no answers as to original lyrics, we do have a clue: the rhythms or skeleton of syl-
lables are given. Much can be done with these rhythm patterns; we suggest the reader
create a set of lyrics that fit both the given syllabic outline, and the 'title theme.' The
author has provided a suggested-start for each piece. A simple drum beat may also
have been employed with these songs. But today, of course, "anything goes" — so feel
free to try combinations with period instruments, some of which are:
* Drum/Tambor/bells/sticks/rattles
* flutes/recorders
* harp
* horns
And many of the melodies do resemble chants and hymns common to the Christ-
ian service... this fact never making sense, until reading Mr. Stewart's revealing com-
ments (he is himself a professional musician and composer). Just as parts of the
current Christian framework can be directly traced back to pagan rites, so, too, must
the Bardo-Druidic musical material have worked its way into mainstream liturgy.
Having worked in "Church Music" allhis life, and thereby having noticed these pecu-
liar traits, these connections cleared up many long-standing questions for the author.
Our hope is that these melodies, having so long lain dormant, will find many new ears
to enlighten as well...
%
* %#%# %# %# *
% THE ENGLYNS OF GILGALI %
* Contents
*
% 1).
2).
Englyn of the Stag
Englyn of Mabon %
& 4).
3). Englyn of Cu Chulainn
Englyn of the Flower Maiden *
% 5). Englyn of the Red Dragon
6). Englyn of the Eagle %
* 8).
7). Englyn of TaJiesin
Englyn of the Sacred Head *
Englyn of the Hounds
% 9).
%
& THE SONGS OF CERAUNNOS *
% Contents %
* 1). Song of the Vision Maker
2).
3).
Song of the Wind
Song of the Raven
*
% 4). Song of Life Returning %
* 5). Song of Rhiannon
6). Song of Sparks
Song of Tydain
7).
*
% 8). Song of Faith
9). Song of Darkmoon

%
*
*%»*<&*%*&*
Grimoire #3 341
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Rare illustrations showing the relationships between the 7 musical tones/notes (i.e
do, re, mi, fa, sol, la, ti) and the universe, come from the following sources:
* Kircher's AEDIPUS AEGYPTIACUS, 1714.

* Montfaucon's ANTIQUITIES, 1803.
* Fludd's DE MUSICA MUNDANA, 1696.
Should the reader wish further information or materials relating to the Bardo-
Druidic system of song, we recommend THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN, (Mon-
roe, Llewellyn Publications, 1992),
Chapter 1 1 , Songspells, and appendix The Eight Songs of Cycle.
ADDENDUM:
For those readers who intend weaving poetic lyrics to fit the rhyme-schemes of the
songs —BRAVO! Be a Bard... To help you get a good start, we are leaving a few ideas
in the form of beginning phrases intended for you to continue... expand and finally to
finish. Remember that you are free to use what we call "non-sense syllables:" Oh's...
Ah's... Eee's... La La La's, Fa Fa Fa's, Oooo's, etc; be creative!
They are given below to the order in which they appear in print:
1). SONG OF THE VISION MAKER: "We call upon the forces of might..."
ENGLYN OF MABON: "Darkest night, yet burns brightly candle flame; to us
who journey far to call your name..."
2). SONG OF THE WIND: "Come upon us, wind of the seasons; swirling fiery
sparks into flame..."
ENGLYN OF CU CHULAINN: "Mighty hound of warrior fame..."
3). SONG OF THE RAVEN: "Blackest wings of mid-night, fall across the pattern
of the moon-light, as..."
ENGLYN OF THE FLOWER MAIDEN: "May morning, maiden flowers..."
4). SONG OF LIFE RETURNING: "Glorious sun-rise, shadows of gloom-

darkness of Winter gone..."
ENGLYN OF THE RED DRAGON: "Sword of Arthur, Lord of fire..."
5). SONG OF RHIANNON: "Three birds sing softly, let..."
ENGLYN OF THE EAGLE: "Pounding, soaring, broad-wing over us; Lord of

Wind-song, come to us..."
6). SONG OF SPARKS: "Blazes crackle, fires cackle —embers spitting Into the
night..."
ENGLYN OF TALIESIN: "Stirring, churning, bu-ba-ling cauldron..."
7). SONG OF TYDAIN: "Sing us a song, O Mas-ter: play upon your pipe merrily..."
ENGLYN OF THE SACRED HEAD: "Darkest Samhain, night of Dread;
Mighty Bran of the sacred head..."
8). SONG OF FAITH: "Song of wonder, song of starry light — voice of promise
sung in the night..."
ENGLYN OF THE STAG: "Thrash, run and hide! Winter wind ride!...
9). SONG OF DARKMOON: "Moon darkness fills the forest..."
ENGLYN OF THE HOUNDS: "Hark! Bellowing voices— Race! Echoing moun-

tain-side! Sharp! Thundering horses as hunting we ride!..."
:<<*>>>>>>
.
Grimoire #3
Iftruth is given in a mystical veil

it is assured against contempt,
And serves as a stimulus to philosophic thinking.

Plato
XI. THE RITE OF SHADOWS

"Sacred Order of the Blinded Wanderer"
Above the title, is printed the mysterious symbol of the empty or blinded eye, exactly as
it appears in the Book of Pheryllt. For years, this tiny fragment of forgotten lore has
fascinated the author to no end — truly, a thing of veiled mystery! Let us explain...
It is a peculiar story: a blend of Druidism and folklore, and the sole example of its
sort to be found in the script; fascinating, for it hints at a bizarre sub-division of the
Bardic Order... perhaps rooted in the worship of a lost god like Balor of the Baleful
Eye. One thing seems fairly clear, however, which is that the 'mystery' is intended as a
Druidic ordeal for students at some specific point in their training. Let us first present
the Ritual Drama, then speak of its interpretation.
Z\)c Sacred ©rder of X\)c Blinded IDanderer

—
"Remove your blinds and look into the fire do not look elsewhere. Look deeply into the
scarlet-blue which leaps toward the sky like the Flames ofAnnwnl Alone... there is none
here but us and the fire.
Twenty ages of the stag have passed, yet the Blind One still wanders the earth. Druid-
born, one ofthe chosen, his eyes were put out for failing to save the sight ofanother. Taken
far beyond familiar boarders, he was left to wander the world without light... without
hope. Yet he lived —survived not only, but thrived, roaming the night with a message to
all who encounter his fire. Here, in this place, tonight — this is one ofthose fires! Seekers: it
isa miracle of which we speak, for the Blinded Wanderer has passed this way. And to all
ordained who come across his blaze, will find the empty eye sign of dark destiny gouged —
deep into the earth, and a wooden of Ogham, driven far deeper into its heart. What
stake
message does it leaves us— ofa hundred, hundred years? What needed wisdom
this specter
calls us out by the wooden voice ofOgma? Take heed and learn, seekers after the light, for
his message is briefyet hard-born ofdarkness. VISION... VISION IS THE HEART OF
SEEING THINGS INVISIBLE. .
$>>>:*>>>>:*:*>>:*>>:*>:«^^^^
Now loose yours! Sacred members of the Order, put fast your blinds and go back into
the night. Wander between forest and hearth to your slumbers, yet forget not this charmed
time nor the lesson it has wrought. Seekers... forsworn!"
And that is all that is given within the Pheryllt text. No notes, explanations... noth-
ing! The rest is left to speculation. What we believe this is, is an example of a Celtic
Mystery Drama, the sort which were played out in ancient schools of initiation like
Babylonian, Greek and Egyptian. Or perhaps this is a remnant of one —we have cer-
tainly attempted to track it down. But it definitely follows the old "initiation
schematic" of SUBMERSION-ENCOUNTER-EMERGENCE, so was certainly it
intended as some sort of mysterious pedagogic tool. A phantom Druid wandering

eternally through the night, building sacred fires... scratching empty eyes into hot
ashes... leaving cryptic messages for those who need to find them most? What can this
drama do for us? Let us finish with a brief true story of our own.
There is a place —a forest known to us, where people seek and experience this very leg-
end today. They are sane people: a teacher, a lawyer, a librarian, a veterinarian; good,
intelligent folk. Seekers indeed, all.
Yet at the dark of the moon, somehow —someone is sure to slip away, unnoticed, from
the fireplace and the food and the company, to wander this specialforest, seeking a blazing
fire which often appears left out of nowhere... bearing an earthen eye, and a stake, and a
message needing badly to be heard. And none speak of it, save to the voices of their own
souls, for — even today — the oath binds them. We are allforsworn to the truth, that vision
is the heart ofseeing things invisible.
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the

source ofall true art and science. He to whom the emotion is a stranger, who
can no longer pause to wonder and stand wrapped in awe, is as good as dead;
his eyes are closed The insight into the mystery of life, coupled though it he
with fear, has also given rise to religion. To know what is impenetrable to us
really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant
beauty, which our dullfaculties can comprehend only in their most primitive
forms — this knowledge, this feeling is at the center of all true religiousness.
ALBERT EINSTEIN
a
Grimoire #3 363
About 33,000 years ago, when the first recordings ofshamanism appeared, we can
find the ancestry of the countless phantom hunters embedded in folklore. Gwynn s
hunt flourished in Wales until recent times, where dressed in grey, he would lead
the 'hounds ofhell' and a string ofdead souls who could be heard and seen on
nights when midwinter gales howled their most boisterously.
W. Rutherford, CELTIC LORE
XII. GWYNN AP NUDD

"Calling the Lord of the Mound"
Those readers familiar with THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN, may recall the chap-
ter entitled Hunters Moon, which tells of the Wild Hunt of Gwynn ap Nudd —
Welsh King of the Otherworld, appearing in many old sagas. He is especially famous
for abducting beautiful women into his underground fortress; Gwenhwyfar, Arthur's
Queen, being the most notable example. When at last he vanished from the eyes of
the world, it was said he chose Glastonbury Tor: Avalon, as his final fortress, dwelling
deep in the underground chambers beneath ever since. This is very old legend. For
this reason, Gwynn is always associated with the 'sidh-folk,' the little fairy people of
Avalon, as their King.
Local belief that the Tor is really hollow, is a long-standing one, with many notable
testimonies across the years by visitors claiming to have seen entrances appear and dis-
appear mysteriously — consistently at Samhain (Halloween) and Midwinter (Winter
Solstice).
The most condensed culmination of Gwynn ap Nudd's present mythology, would

run something like this: At midnight on Samhain, The Lord ofthe Hunt rides forth from
of Glass beneath the Tor with his pack of terrible Hounds driving the Hosts
his Fortress —
of the Otherworld Dead shrieking before him. He is indeed an awesome image, much
feared and revered through the years. Yet the Book of Pheryllt gives a clear, concise
formulae for summoning this god to appear. We will give it, for the sake of offering,
but not without this word of caution.
^~^±~^JZZZZZZZ!Z=ZZZZ- ^WflBWflOBOBflWBOBH
^:*v»i*v%:*>^
The author himself has no experience with this particular rite, yet once gave it to
an interested student... a good student who, we suspect, prepared all too well for the
success of this summoning. Our student, according to the formulae, was allowed the
Celtic standard of three questions. Armed with these, and the necessary artifacts, he
set off at 1 1:00 P.M. into a bitter-cold Midwinter's Eve.
It was well after twelve before the author and company decided to bundle-up and
"make sure things were alright over at the site." They were not. We found our friend
unconscious in the snow, nearly frozen to death.
It was a long while before he would talk about what happened, but when he finally
did, it was something about hearing invisible dogs barking all around him... and a man 's
voice laughing... and being knocked over by some unseen thing like an enormous, cold
"windy-snowball. "That's exactly what he called it.
The purpose in giving this account is not to frighten the reader from experiment-
ing, but to simply suggest that the work be taken seriously. It's all too easy heading off
for a ritual, only half-believing what you're doing. That, we're afraid, was what hap-
pened to our student...
Calling \\)c tord of tl?e fRound

Late on toward midnight, when the wind howls open the doors of All-Hallow's,
take a pine pole carved into three hounds heads and drive it deep into the frozen earth
before the mound, strewing good meat all about and crying:
GWYNN, BE A DOORWAY, OPEN AND FREE!

FOOD FOR THE HOUNDS OF ANNWN THERE BE...
QUIT YOUR MOUND WHERE HEADS ARE THREE!
;•> x*>>>x*>>v<v:vx<*x<w
Grimoire #3
The Greatest ofall things is Space,
for it comprehends all things.
The most rapid is the Mind,

for it travels through Space in a single instant.
The most powerful is Necessity,
for it conquers all things.

But the most wise is Time,
for it discovers the Nine Secrets ofLight and Darkness.

Thales of Miletus, 500 B.C.
XIII. DARKENSTONE
"The Search for Atmu: The Hidden One"
The great renaissance seer and mystic, Nostradamus, was probably the first clairvoy-
ant to popularize the notion of the 'magic mirror,' which he used to divine and proph-
esy. According to his own account, he would en-trance himself by staring deep into
an iron bowl filled with water, late at night, after a series of "prayers and prepara-
tions," —which were most likely magical Latin incantations of some sort. In his own
way, Dr. Nostradamus was on a quest, searching for Atmu the Hidden one, dweller
across the mirror, bringer of dreams and visions. His apparatus was well-known by the
middle much used in secret by magicians of all persuasions.
ages,
But much further back in the old Celtic days, the Druids called their magic mir-
rors STONES, or DARKENSTONES —
shiny, translucent or opalescent mineral sur-
faceswhich were gazed upon to yield visions. A good example in context, is to be
found in Part 3 of this book, especially the last two chapters. The element which dis-
tinguished the magic mirrors of the Druids from those of Nostradamus and other
medieval magicians, was their origin: made by nature, as opposed to man-made. I be
Druids firmly believed that nothing truly magical could come from less than the hand
of God — i.e. the hand of Nature, and not from man's imperfect efforts. So the idea ol
"making" a seeing-glass was utterly foreign to their philosophy.

^ : .^y^.ûttt^
What did the Druidic Darkenstones look like? There were many variations, all
with the same manufacture (natural) and use. Crystals and gems were worn (the ori-
gin of our modern 'crystal ball'), and embedded in magical instruments for 'bringing
on the second sight,' as were the interiors of oyster shells with their optic-shifting
mother-of-pearl lining. Surfaces of holy wells, springs and pools were commonly
employed as teaching tools, as were, on later occasions, sacred iron Cauldrons of
Ceridwen — the prototype of Nostradamus' iron dish. The Holy Grail, source of
Arthurian quest and illumination, has the same roots exactly.
Please note the rare Alchemical manuscript below, created in Naples in 1606,
denoting instructions for the creation of an alchemical SCRYING BOWL (i.e. a man-
made magic mirror, which the apprentice is holding in his hand), for use in seeing
through the "veil." The word scrying means SEARCHING.
*is &/JU
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Now on to practicality. The art of scrying, second-sight or crystal vision^ is an

acquired ability over time —although we all possess the potential in varying degrees of
visibility. The Book of Pheryllt speaks much of this art, but from a shamanic stand-
point. Druids did not make Darkenstones, they encountered them; finding one was
considered a gift from the gods. A stream which flows into a small, quiet pool... a con-
cave in a stone boulder, filled naturally with rainwater... the still surface of some old,
forgotten well... a place where rain collects across grey shale. There are infinite mani-
festations of such 'natural mirrors' in nature, yet the finest are said to involve the inter-
action of WATER & STONE. Water (anything crystal) has always represented the
—
Grimoire #3 367
Otherworld-element (i.e. The Seas of Annwn, etc.) while stone embodies the accu-
mulated wisdom of the earth. Together, they equal the Manifestation ofDarkenstone.
Once you have found your own secret magic mirror, go there often to practice
to 'encourage' images from the water. Do not look at the surface per se, but through;
when one comes to a window, you don't focus on the physical glass, but at the images
beyond the glass. Same here.
PATIENCE is the next key for success in 'gazing.' Sit quietly and comfortably, in
amanner easily maintained for a duration. Always have a subject/question on which
you desire illumination. Concentrate on this. A sure sign that you are making
progress, is when a cloudy blur seems to settle over the surface — like a door, eventu-
ally opening to reveal the vision. According to Pheryllt doctrine, ATMU The Hidden
One, is the keeper of this between-world door.
The Moon rules water-visions. Due to the heavily passive nature of water & stone,
it is optimal to work during the equivalent passive-moon phase: THE DARK or
NEW of the moon. And when you go to your mirror at this special time, wear dark
colors to become "one' with this distinct energy... hence, the origin of the term Dark-
enstone. The you "dab the water on the eyes, ears, mouth and nose,
text suggests that
to shut off the physical senses, and open others."

Our source lists an HERBAL INCENSE to be burned just prior to magic-mirror
work, which brings Y Golwg, (the sight). The formulae is given as such:
one handful of Black Nightshade

one thimble of Black Clove
one hand of Laurel Leaf (5 leaves)
Lastly, the Pheryllt quotes an ancient invocation taken from The Elusinian XV,
which is to be "spoken softly but with no less intensity into the waters, before com-
menceth the visions."
dark as 1 await fltmu

Jill is
*3idden ©ringer.
X\)c
Vermes! Roii back X\)c veil! Aesculapius!

fltmas
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...Morgaine saw dimly, fading from shadow into reality and back again, the fig-
ure ofa young girl standing in the water up to her ankles, and crying. Then suddenly
she knew what had happened.

The veil had thinned, as it did occasionally in spots ofsuch concentrated power,
and somehow this girl had had enough sensitivity to be aware of it. This happens,
sometimes, as a momentary vision, so that someone could see the Otherworld as a

shadow or a brief vision; but to move through into the other world was rare...
Marion Zimmer Bradley, THE MISTS OF AVALON
XIV. BARRIOR
Where the veils are thinnest"
The idea that there are points of entry between this physical world and other world of
the spirit, is a common thread which runs through the tapestry of world religion. For
the Celts, there were many such channels of access: wells, caves, mountain-tops, pools
of water, etc., but none so potent as the three THRESHOLD STATES, or veils of
twilight, darkness and mist. THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN devotes an entire unit
(#19, To Linger Between Worlds), to their investigation. But for the present study,
we will confine our efforts to one particular exercise which the Pheryllt Text names
THE BARRIOR RITE.
The Celts represented the spiritual barrior between the 2 worlds symbolically as a
nebulous sacred labyrinth of spiral patterns, often dividing two things. This stood for
INFINITY as well, or for that innate inability man has to comprehend the Infinite
that frustration we are all born with and die with —
that awe we experience when look-
ing up into the star filled sky at night, totally unable to grasp the rational "beyond" of
it all. This feeling was a central point of mystery for the Druids and Celts.
But now to a look at the BARRIOR RITE, an exercise designed to aid humans in
the ability to "slip through" the Celtic barrior of time and space. It is both unusual
and effective.
To experiment with this training method, you will need access to an expanse of
natural forest, where you will be uninterrupted by people, street lights or noise — as far
away from suburbia as possible.
Dress in dark, close-fitting garb, which will not be inclined to catch and tear easily
upon tree branches.
Grimoire #3
Choose a work time best suited to provide the least amount of outside-world inter-
ference: NIGHTTIME is optimal, for a key goal is to limit physical sight. After one
is well-practiced and comfortable with the mechanics of the Rite, a THRESHOLD
TIME will be required to actually enter into an Otherworld portal: DAWN, DUSK
(the twilight hours) or MIDNIGHT—but the finest, most stable portals, are always
to be found amidst heavy FOG or MIST... especially just prior to storm.
Lastly, you will need a BLACK VELVET BLINDFOLD (the alternate name for
this exercise, is the Blindfold Rite), which ties, and is well-fitted to your head. Now
you are ready.
* Move to the center of the forest.

* Fit the blindfold well onto your head.
* Stand firm until relaxed, becoming aware of your heartbeat.
* When your inner voice yells "GO!" —begin moving out blindly
into the forest in any direction, counting heartbeats closely.
* Now keep as rapidly as possible. Don't stop moving
moving,
or counting untilyou reach 1000 heartbeats.
* Stop and slowly remove your blindfold.
This Rite acts on the principle that BLIND INTUITION is a superb way to locate
and pass through an Otherworld portal —without soliciting interference from the
rational, 'thinking' mind. Motion... counting concentration... darkness... threshold.
These are the centripetal elements which are capable of catapulting you through. It is
rather like fishing in the sea; the sea is big and mysterious — often you get something,
less often precisely what you were fishing for. But there is the sport of it, the experi-
ence of it... the chance of catching the big one for your wall.
When successful, you will feel the shift through the portal. It will make your hairs
stand on end, literally. From then on just be calm, no matter how impossible it all
seems. Take your time, for Otherworld time means nothing; no matter how long you
choose to stay, when you return only a moment will have elapsed here. Experiment
and enjoy, for one never knows when the 'next time' will be. When you decide the
"time" is finally right to return, simply employ the ancient Druidic charm for banish-
ment of Magic:
PUT YOUR RIGHT THUMB BETWEEN YOUR TEETH,

AND BITE DOWN HARD.
Believe it or not, throughout all the ages,

it has never been known to fail...
even once!
fflia'ffi :
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The revelation took place when Watkins was 65 years old.
Riding across the hills near Bredwardine
in his native country, he pulled up his horse
to look out over the landscape below.
At that moment he became aware ofa network of lines,

standing out like glowing wires
all over the surface of the country, intersecting
at the sites of churches, old stones

and other spots of traditional sanctity.
John Michell, THE OLD STRAIGHT TRACK
XV. DRAGON RODS

"Tracing the Ley Lines ofForce"
It has long been known to shamans, that straight lines of bio-magnetic force run
underneath the surface of the earth, criss-crossing and meeting at points which are
often designated as 'unique, special or Holy.' Sound psychic theory denotes that the
ancients were sensitive to these lines —which they called 'Dragon Lines' —and at their
crossings, erected temples, stone circles, wells and sanctuaries along them. First
known/recognized by the country-folk as 'the old straight tracks," many maps have
emerged over the years, showing remarkable alignments and patterns. Based on these
findings, many experts (John Michell, most notably), have concluded that the coun-
tryside of Britain was once laid out \w a deliberate grid-work pattern based upon these
un-seen current-lines of magnetic energy, dubbed LEY LINES. Aerial photographs of
the landscape, when looked at in this light, are nothing less than remarkable.
Certainly the most time-tested folk-device for locating underground sources, is the
DIVINING ROD. This is traditionally a long, thin, branched fork, cut from a Wil-
low tree — a tree forever associated with water and the moon! A person holds the rod
by the two fork-ends parallel to the ground, over which he walks, noting a spot where
the single end bends and twists downward. Here will be found water, or whatever else
one is divining for. This brings up two interesting points. One: divining rods only
work for certain people — it is something you either can do, or you can't. Old timers
Grimoire #3 371
say "it runs in the family" Two, what you ultimately find, depends on what image you
were concentrating on while dowsing! Amazing.
These remarkable facts elevate this old, old phenomenon into a class of psychic sci-
ence, or Magic. Many ask, what generates Dragon Lines? This is a complex ques-
the
tion, for there are many separate elements which contribute together to form a
finished picture.
ai— t,
' - rn i
The major lines are generated by the North-South magnetic fields which connect
the poles by long rays extending the longitude of the Earth. Lesser factors which
depend largely on geologic terrain, but which influence the lines by either construc-
tive or destructive interference, include: underground waterways, metallic/magnetic
ore deposits, general contour of terrain, underground magma flow, and fault lines. All
added together, these factors produce the Dragon Lines of old.
Now, what effects can these energy lines produce? Back when people lived in close
attunedness with the Earth, the points where two or more lines crossed, (called nodes),
produced a unique atmosphere conducive to tranquillity and spiritual feeling. And so
temples and churches were built on these special points... slowly taking on the look of
straight lines, since the leys they followed were straight! It took until the turn of this
century, for modern eyes to notice the patterns felt by their ancestors long ago.
Another effect of Ley Lines concerns crops and trees. The first modern evidence of
Leys, came from aerial photographs showing strange, long lines appearing among crop
coloration. These extended vast distances across fields growing different types of
crops, and were at first attributed to lines of mineral deposits. But when, by viewing
the larger, geometric picture, it became apparent that minerals were not the cause, S( i
entists began to search for other explanations. Regardless of their wide range of
hypothesis, the simple fact is: crops grow of Dragon Lines, due to tin-
differently over-top
presence of excessive energies. They grow noticeably bigger, greener and more healthy;
yes, in streaks! Trees do too. A tree with an average life expectancy of, say, 75 years,
which is lucky enough to be growing on a Ley Line crossing, may rind it.self living to
be hundreds of years old, while its surrounding relatives died off lifetimes ago. You've
all see it: one huge, gnarly, ancient tree growing in a woods surrounded by much
younger trees? Why? Again — excessive access to life-force from a Dragon Line cross-
ing! (These special, aged trees, incidentally, are what shamans search for when trying
to locate the perfect ORACLE TREE. See Grimoir 1, VII).
But what concerns us here, is how this ability may be put to use for us. The knowl-
edge of exactly where the Dragon Lines lay in one's own life area, and where they
cross, can make a prime difference in where magical work is carried out, where stone
circles are situated and so forth. Where the author lives and works, every building and
ritual site is situated according to the grid-pattern of the Leys. Every one. Here in this
way, the Earth can actually assist us in growth. How did we acquire this knowledge on
which to build? By use of a modern adaptation of the old wooden divining rod.
(D
J
Z)ragon Rods
Please study carefully the above diagram. You will need three things:
1). a pair of pliers
2). two metal coat hangers

3). two 6" pieces of l
li" drilled dowel, available at any hardware
or home improvement store.
STEP ONE: With the pliers, cut the two coat hangers where the dotted
lines show.
STEP TWO: Straighten out the two bottom sections until they resemble the
given shape.
STEP THREE: Insert the shorter ends into the wooden dowels so that they
swing freely.
—
Grimoire #3 373
Now they are ready to use. These are wonderfully useful tools in the field of magic;
once, our grandmother found a set of long-lost car keys using a set of Dragon Rods
she had never used them before! But they can take practice as well.
Hold them by the wooden ends, one in each fist, so that they are pointing straight
—
ahead of you parallel at about 8" from each other. Concentrate on whatever you are
looking for: an object, water, metals... whatever, and walk slowly, intentionally keep-
ing the Dragon Rods as parallel as possible. Then you will suddenly notice some-
thing: the rods will abruptly cross themselves through no effort of yours! Examine the
area underneath.
In time, as you become more Dragon Rods, try searching out
proficient with the
straight ley lines. Draw a crude map of your forest or work
area, and begin filling in
the Leys. Soon patterns will develop, leading to crossings, and —

hopefully to new—
sites for spiritual work you never would have dreamed to try before!
««€M€€M#:*>X^^^^
The Celtic artisan-philosophers
were inbued with the idea that the Eyes of God

would detect errors,
and that they worked solely to glorify Him.
George Bain
XVI. SPIRALRITE
11
Meditations on the Open-Ended Curve"
You cannot stand back from the work of the Celtic craftsman, you must go with
—
him downward into the spiral of his world, where space and time bend and swirl
before your eyes, and the very edges of reality fly off and spin away!
The very most important thing which need be understood, is that the aim of Celtic
artwork was not to express reality, or to reproduce it, but to express religious philosophy.
The finished designs were not dedicated to human eyes, but to the eyes of God for —
who else of mere mortal perceptions, could possibly appreciate the infinitesimal world
of the infinite, which Celtic artisans created?
Two foremost experts in the field of ancient British art, had these revealing com-
ments to make:
—
Grimoire #3 375
':::.:_;
The extreme minuteness ofPictish manuscript art creates the impossibility of ordinary
eyes perceiving and the tools that enabled them to draw
much. Whatever aids to eyesight
lines with an exactness beyond the skill of moderns, may never be known. Thus, the con-
tents show, conclusively, that the artists did not display their skill for human eyes and
human applause. George Bain —

In the space ofabout a quarter ofan inch superficial, I counted with a magnifying glass
no less than one hundred andfifty-eight interlacements ofa slender ribbon pattern formed
of white lines edged with black ones upon a black background. No wonder that tradition
should allege that these unerring lines should have been traced by angels! — Professor J.O.
Westwood.
And so the Celtic craftsman was far more than a mere artist, his work literally
aspired toward divinity. It is indeed a world of frozen thought... an entire universe of

myth and magic forever traveling without moving. Rather like a placid drop of pond
water exploding suddenly into a microcosm of life and color and movement — under
a microscope. Its like that, and we want you to experience it.
For the author, no one (unfortunately) exposed him to the world of Celtic art. It
was something that caught him in time.

Countless occasions found him flipping through books on Celtic matters, only to
be confronted with a facsimile page from one of the Books of Durrow... Lindisfarne...
and the world's greatest manuscript, THE BOOK OF KELLS. "Hmmm..." he would
reply, "very... ornate, busy —don 't have time to look at it now!" And he would rush on by.
But as years passed, time after time, he would find himself pausing for a moment
momentarily captured, transfixed by a one square-inch doorway of design... pulling his
head down like a vacuum. And then the madness would pass once again.
Well... would that the madness had taken him sooner! And these days find the
author taking time out to purposely meditate within this unique and wondrous Celtic
world — as fabulous and colorful as any of their sagas, if given proper chance and
attention. Which is where this grimoir comes in: NOW IS YOUR CHANCE, AS
ONE INTERESTED BY "THINGS CELTIC," TO HAVE SOMEONE INTRO-
DUCE YOU PERSONALLY TO THIS WORLD. 'Introduce' we say, for this par-
ticular universe is vast and immense, with many mysterious and unexplored corners.
For equipment, let us suggest just one tool for the journey: A MAGNIFYING
GLASS. Seriously, a magnifying glass. And last, take time-out to meditate... to be
hypnotized by what you see; let it grab you and pull you under — follow the un-end-
ing curves of your own life and destiny as it leads, unstoppable, into the great beyond
But before setting out in earnest, the author would like to acknowledge an impor-
tant person — a dear friend, although he was long passed away before the writer was
born. George Bain — teacher, writer, designer and 20th Century Celtic Artist, who
first sent us on this most engrossing quest by means of one pedagogic masterpiece: his
book, 'CELTIC ART, The Methods of Construction,' (Dover Publications, NY, l
l
>73).
From someone who truly understands Celtic Art like Mr. Bain, a book like his is lit-
BL :
erally a
: '
v- ' •
key to unraveling the complex labyrinth surrounding
: ':
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"•"*. '
. t, v<W. :
: -L B—— a treasure trove
•'>;i>;m .• .- r^^-^^^ •-
Grimoire #3 377
One of the oldest surviving Celtic illuminations, this work from the
BOOK OF DURROW (ca. a.d. 650) is called a 'carpet page,' due to its
opulent design-universe.
'-:• '
'
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•
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...
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Lastly, from the most famous Celtic Manuscript of all, comes a preface
page from the BOOK OF KELLS, ca. A.D. 850. Two Greek letters symbol-
ize the Divine Name: a huge chi, and a smaller letter rho. Note the exquis-
ite, gem-like ornamental universe.
Grimoire #3 379
We strongly suggest that you add this to your arsenal of "things Celtic," using its
contents as a source of creative inspiration, or calm meditation. Let yourself be pulled

into their world...
"It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is
"
the journey that matters, in the end.
In Idris I have dwelt, where Serpent Stones
And flow 'rs ofdusty violet merge to form
A glimmering gate of wonder...

Whereto bones of warrior dead are gathered in a storm
Of whirling clouds and cauldron flames

That roar beneath the tower d skies
Where great ravens soar.
Song of Dwyfyddiaeth
i giSts
Ml i^-&—:
[li 1 jlll
^b 1 M | ifll
1
"——^~u
XVII. THE TOWER
"The Strength to Stand Against the World"
Ever since the legendary account of the Tower of Babel, the archetype of the Twr
Uchel —the High Tower—has become paramount throughout world mythology. The
reason for its inclusion here in a book on Druidism, is on account that its form is
mentioned, in one context or another, more that sixty times — that's in addition to the
Tower Rite, a poetic meditation aimed at tapping into the archetype.

Caer Wydyr, the glass tower on Bardsey Island, is where Merlin retreated with the
Thirteen Treasures of Britain to end his days... then there is Conan's Tower of Glass,
on Tory Island by the Fomorii, probably the same one Ethlinn was later impris-
built
oned in... and Gwynn ap Nudds Tower-Fortress on the Glass Isle of Glastonbury,
where he imprisoned Gwenhwyfar... and the Tower of Wonders, where Perceval finds
the Grail at last... or the Dun na Sciath, an immense circular tower of stone... or the
invincible Tower of Delbchaem... or the mysterious purple-glass tower of Caer Idris,
hidden always behind a skirt of silver clouds... or the White Tower Hill, where Bran's
Head lies buried beneath the present day Tower ofLondon... and the list goes on and
on. All this simply to show how strong the idea of the tower is in Celtic saga.
THE TOWER as an archetype, guards something; that is its function. To keep

something out, or something in. Often the tower is an Otherworld symbol, sur-
>:^^^^M^^^*^^«:»î©
Grimoire #3
rounded by seas... or clouds... or mist: all symbolic of the protective Veil separating
the worlds. And many times the material of construction is GLASS or CRYSTAL
an Otherworld substance. Point is, that towers always exist in BOTH worlds, often
lived in by mysterious guardians of hidden knowledge — the magicians. They stand
against the world of material chaos and spoil —above and against, guarding wisdom,
sacred treasure and beauty. How many kings' daughters have you read about, jealously
imprisoned within a tower? And always there is a seeker. a rescuer.
Within the Pheryllt text is given a meditation, titled THE TOWER RITE, pref-
aced without explanation by the symbol above.
But the text does mention the Tower ofCwy several times. Trying to cross-refer-
ence the name CWY turned out to be a real challenge, for it is treated with mystery in
both other sources in which it appears: the war-epic BELLUM SEQUANICUM by
the early Celtic poet Valerius Cato, in which Cwy is a Druid residing in a tower of mist,
and in the ENGLYNION OF OSSIAN, as is re-told in William Bottrell's Traditions
and Hearthside Stories, Vol. II., 1880, where Cwy the magician casts an enchanted
sleep by means of a spell contained within his tower library. In both instances, Cwy is
associated with a tower.
So where does this lead into practical matters? Possibly on two levels. Ollf, the
TOWER is a long-standing symbol of magical knowledge. The author actually lives
{^^^^^_zzzzzzzzzi2^^ ;-Mwm«««mmmH)u
a tower built specifically on account of this symbolism — the 'Tower Lodge' as we

call it. Many visitors attest to the atmosphere of energy present there... they experience
super-alertness... some can't sleep, others sleep and dream there with unusual depth
and clarity, but nearly everyone has something to say about the Tower. Why? Maybe
because of the archetype. Try it, if you ever make the opportunity to fit such a myste-
rious architectural structure into your Quest. It certainly might add some magic to
your life — or bring it out!
Two, one can still experiment with the magic archetype of the Tower, by using the
TOWER RITE meditation given below. Our guess is that its original purpose was
similar to others which have been termed affirmations, or empowerment prose, like the
Song of Amergin, or many of the Taliesin verses. As a visualization just prior to Rit-
ual work, many have reported it to be highly effective.
Z\)c Cower Rite

Woe to the world without sight!
High rises the Tower ofCwy since the day I was born!
Citadels ofCaer Fandwy —ofDefwy or Nimrhod,
none can compare to this!
For I am gifted with all knowledge, keeper within stone.
Guardian of the sacred watchtower!

Grimoire #3 383
As the Creator of the Universe

has seen fit to cast matter into four elements,
so man has said that the greatest virtue among them lies between
fire and water!
This is folly indeed, for I say truly that the deepest
mystery ofall lies hidden within the realms
offire and earth...

Pythagoras ON ENTELECHY
XVIII. RITUAL OF FIRE AND STONE

"The Flame ofAnnwn"
The author has contemplated the possible meanings of the above words of Pythagoras
for many years, as they might relate to the Druidic Ritual ofFire and Stone. Why did
the compiler of the Book of Pheryllt choose this preface? The fact alone that it was
quoted from a lost work is enough, yet some other strong connections have also
become apparent over time. Foremost is the mystic connection between the elements
of Fire & Stone—that of formation and solidification. Fire has always been ritually
built upon a foundation altar of stone, just as stone was originally formed by the heat
of fire... it takes some thought! But there are some very deep mystical connections
here, which seldom come to thought within the realm of the 4 elements. Connections
between fire & water... between fire and air... yes, but between fire and stone? These
run a bit deeper.
The ritual which is here to be delivered, is unique on two levels. First, it is
extremely primal, in that the forces it evokes are undefined and untamed — as religion
once was at the very dawn of civilization. Second, it is the only rite contained within
the Pheryllt which clearly involved all four elements under one working: STONF
BOWL for Earth, WELL WATER for Water, 3 MISTLETOE BERRIES for A... ..
FLAME for fire, and the BLACK CANDLE for the fifth unknowable element of
Nwyvre. This is unique and powerful, the Pheryllt text calling it "the most ancient
spell known to our collection."
^>>:o:<»:<<<»>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>:»>> 'WWW«Wflflflfl«Wi""^^^
—
To experience this Oracular Ritual — for that is what it really is, you will need to
obtain four specific and unusual items:
1. A QUANTITY OF WATER, drawn from a very deep well. A gallon

should certainly do.
2. A STONE BOWL. This can be an actual rock, with a deep, bowl like
indentation in it, about the size of a dinner plate. It needs to be at least 2"
deep. Hunt for this ALONE (true Magic is an individual, solitary art),
down at your local gorge, beach or stream/river bed. Take your time hunt-
ing. ..make sure the stone fits the bill as closely as possible.
3. THREE MISTLETOE BERRIES. See your local herb store or health food
shop to order you some; they usually come mixed in with the leaves. Or
buy them at Christmas time in cute little plastic packages at the check-out
line of your favorite department store... ready to kiss under...
4. A NATURAL BLACK CANDLE, the most difficult of the three. While it

is possible to purchase a 10" black candle quite easily, it is more important
to make your own if at all possible. Obtain 1 package of white paraffin or
bees wax at your local store and melt it down with ONE of the following
herbs, (all 3 yield a black color):
MEADOWSWEET (herb)
COMMON PLUM (pits, crushed)
BLACKTHORN (bark)
Now for the ritual, which may be executed indoors or out. For optimum results,
work on either the DARK MOON (for stone) or the FULL MOON (for fire). Work
robed. This operation is oracular, so decide upon a series of yes/no/unknown questions.
The author personally works with this method several times each month and, although
it is almost childish in its simplicity, has never once failed to provide a correct answer
—
Grimoire #3 385
its accuracy frightening at times, evoking ethical issues like "is this something I really
want to know? ... is this something I really should bz asking? Make sure of your ques-
tions, intentions and motives...
Lastly, the author has no idea whatsoever concerning the origins for the barbaric
words of power given, so please don't ask! Apparently from the translations, they are
god-names in some primal dialect drawn from a time well before the Druids or even
the Pheryllt priests walked Albion's shores. More than this we do not claim to know
except that the Ritual of Fire and Stone is one work of ancient magic deserving of both
caution and respect.
Ritual of iFire and Stone

* As an incense, burn upon a bed of coals the following ground to a powder: white
BONE, black COAL, yellow SULFUR.
* Facing to the North, fill the stone basin with deep well water, in the midst of
which has been fixed a candle of blackest beeswax.
* Tinder (light) the candle, while calling aloud the names of the Spirit Lord of all
horned animals... Spirit Daughter of Wind and Rain... Spirit Lord of the Colors of
the Earth... Spirit Lord who inhabits the Eyes of Man and Beast!
MANGASHAR!
DAIANASHIRA!
THUMUG!
URSCUMOK!
*
When the fire settles, ask your questions. The flame will rise up to affirm, fall to
deny... unknown or unworthy will die into the water!
„v ,.
vv v v
. ,., ,
u.,.,,
V V
.,
,,
y ,...,.,
:
.,,. f
—
m ?//::..--lil— zz
/« ancient times, Samhain Masks were made by the Druids from living trees. The
carver banished himselfinto the forest, only after having dreamed of what the mask
would be. Selecting a sacred totem tree, incense was burned at the base of it as an
offering. The Druid then rubbed the bark with beeswax and myrrh as he spoke
awakening enchantments, asking the tree to impart its life, essence and character
with the mask about to be carved from its trunk. Such masks were blind, set about
with facial carvings horrible to behold, frightening not only malevolent spirits, but
beyond the soul of the Priest deep within the confines of the Otherworld, (pph 'd).
Llywelyn Sion, THE BOOK OF PHERYLLT, 1588
XIX. MASK
"Turning Toward the Inner Sight"
Immediately following the section containing the FAED FEEA, there appears within
the Pheryllt text a startling page on Masks. Startling — as, although a very common
element in world shamanism, the author had never before encountered a reference
adjoining masks with Druidism. By the fact that it immediately succeeds the subject
of a ritual cloak, the two might easily be taken as related regalia, for each indeed share
one obvious, outstanding element: THEY ARE BOTH TOOLS OF BLINDNESS,
turning the sight inward, away from the visible world — a trademark of shamanic ini-
tiation. The masks described have no eye-holes!
This grimoir is destined to be a brief one, if only because there is virtually nothing
contained within the written Druidic tradition to draw upon! But then again, we are
reminded of the old Christian philosophic debate: "did Christ laugh?... there is nothing
->>>>>>:>»>»»
Grimoire #3 387
Artafrifrrfrri-r*- _~^_^_-~___
in the Scriptures which said that he did" The obvious response to this, would be: but
there is nothing in the Scriptures which said that he did not! Just because the topic of
MASKS has not been written about (recorded), does not mean that the practice went
un-incorporated into Druidic ritual.
Masks would have been a very logical inclusion to their repertoire — hidden, secre-
tive, mysterious... all those elements the Druids thrived upon as primal mystics.
:
^>>>>:.>>>>>>>>>>>>»»»»
The Harp of the Bards

is a symbol of the love-impregnated soul
which is able to transmit the Heavenly Wisdom
from age to age.
E.C. Merry
XX. THE HARP OF ERIN

"Secrets of the Bardic Song"
Of all the instruments known to have been employed throughout Celtic culture, the
harp is by all accounts, the King of them all. Symbol of old Ireland, trademark of the
Bardic Colleges... more spoken of in saga and song than any other!
Our purpose here, is to instill an active interest in you the reader (if, that is, one
does not already exist), and to encourage the purchase, practice and pleasure of this
most Druidic and authentic of all Celtic musical legacies. Today, a revival of interest
is taking place not only with the harp, but in Celtic interests in general. Many fabu-
lous recordings are available for those wishing to touch Celtic music, and thereby
come closer to the original archetype. And so, to begin with, the author suggests a trip
to the best music store you can locate in your living area —go into the city if you have
to, this is worth it! —and take a look at any of the suggested recordings listed below,
with an eye on purchasing some. This is our starter wish-list of 2 1
*x*>:<*:*:*x<w^^
Grimoire #3 389
STEP ONE: APPRECIA TION OF CEL TIC MUSIC IN GENERAL

*ENYA "The Celts"
"The Memory of Trees"
"Shepherd's Moon"
"Watermark"
* MYSTIC VOYAGE "Stonehenge"
* THE CELTIC CONNECTION "Over the Sea to Skye"
* CHIEFTAINS "The Celtic Harp"
*CLANNAD "Lore" & "Legend"
* MAIRE BREATNACH "The Voyage of Bran"
* GREEN LINNET "Heart of the Gaels"
* HEARTS OF SPACE "Celtic Twilight"
* MAGGIE SANSONE "Mist & Stone"
"Dance Upon the Shore"
* WINDHAM HILL "A Winter's Solstice I-IV"
* CAROL THOMAS "The Enchanted Isles"
* RUBEN CORREA "Celtic Sea Whisperings"
* JOHNSON/DUNNING "Songs from Albion I & II"
* SUE RICHARDS "Grey Eyed Morn"
*NARADA "Celtic Odyssey"
* JULIANNE BAIRD "Greensleeves"
STEP TWO: ACQUIRING YOUR HARP

Now, the second reason we wanted the reader to visit a fine music store, is to
request to see a. price list of instruments which includes HARPS. The type you want,
is called a LAP HARP, also sometimes listed as a MINI-HARP or BARDIC HARP.
By whatever name, the proper model has anywhere from 16-21 strings — the 21-
stringed type being the best. Prices will range between $100-$200, and usually come
either assembled or in do-it-yourself kit form. Obviously, the kit is both better and
more reasonable... always do it yourself if an option. Your harp will have to be
ordered, so be patient up to a month. In the meanwhile, do some ritual-listening to
the music from STEP ONE above, and learn the basics from STEP THREE below!
LEARNING TO PLAY
Nearly all LAP HARPS are tuned in "F," which means the lowest note is an F, (it is
the longest, thickest string), and the other strings climb according to that scale (a series
of 8-notes = do, re, mi, fa, etc.): F-G-A-B-C-D-E (F-G, etc. up); you can follow the
scale on the piano diagram above. This diagram is meant to indicate how the string! on
your harp relate to the notes on the piano keyboard, and then to actual music (see tec
tion X. of this Grimoir). The lowest note shown on the piano diagram, is also the lowest
\&&<$#w^
note/string on your harp. Re-read the last sentence, please, looking at your harp — this is
an important visual connection, HARP to PIANO to NOTES. If your harp strings are
not TUNED to the scale-notes when you get it, seek help to tune it from a school
music teacher, a local piano teacher, or anyone you know who plays piano.
11*4-5
We are now going to teach you how to play harp by number. You will notice that
the notes on the piano diagram ARE NUMBERED, starting with 1 at the bottom
(equal to your bottom harp string) and going up to 9 (and then beyond, but not
shown). The NUMBERS for your harp will go from bottom 1 -string up to top 21-
string, or however many strings your instrument has. So, starting with the lowest #1-
string on your harp, count up to be able to play the pieces we are going to list for you.
j&urou Jntnan (garni
H'l^''<H* Hffi 9 W
4-56)7
I 5+3 534 6 4-4
4
Tii.tFHi.iti,^
8856 7655 654+
i i
nm
54-43
1
Hintiu'friui'
4 4 33.1 43 ' 4-4-5
i u^
H8 1
la.
4-
zzzr~-~~~
m~-~~~~ ..- -. ..-
„^:: wmmmmm ssBBk
Note the music HURON INDIAN CAROL given just above. This is a very old
and rare notation, French 1540, which we use to practice. The author has written in
the string numbers under the notes, so the reader can play by these. Here is the
melody sequence in three lines as shown, reduced to string NUMBERS:
>
K
* LINE 1: 1 4-5-6-7 6-5-4-3 4-4-5-3 4
* LINE 2: 4 8-8-5-6 7-6-5-5 6-5-4-4 5-4-4-3
* LINE 3: 1-4-4 3-2-1 4-3-1 4-4-5 6-7-8-14
This can easily be played on the piano as well, by simply studying the keyboard
diagram briefly. To close this "crash course" on harp-playing, we are going to tran-
scribe three of the ancient ogham melodies given in Grimoir #3, section X— "The Art
of Songspell," into number format, for your practice and pleasure.
The Harp of the wood plays melody,

its strings bring perfect peace.
Color has settled on every hill..
haze on the lake offull water.

Unknown Irish author, 9th C.
Song of Sparks:
1-1-2-2 3-3-4-4 5-8-6-4 3-4-5-2
1.2-3-4-5-6-7 8-5-6-5-4 5-3-4-3-2-1
Song of C?dain:
1-1-1 5-4-3-2 1-2-3-4-5 3-2-1
8-8-8 5-4-3-2 1-2-3-4-5 1
€ngl?n of tye Stag:

2-3-1-2 3-4-2-3 5-5-5 5-4-3 2-3-1-2
2-3-1-2 3-4-2-3 5-5-5 5-4-3 2-3-1-2
,
iHiiniiimiiiiB
392
pfflMfei'. ^ ^T — ~^^
There is another side of the ancient Mystery-wisdom of Albion which, in its
metamorphosed form, is pressing upon humanity today:
...Long ago, the Earth was regarded as a living Being. Every part of the Earth was
felt to be alive, sending out quite special forces from its different geographical areas,
which directly influenced the human beings who lived there — workingfar more
deeply than mere type.
Rudolf Steiner
XXI. THE RITE OF EXILE

"Banishing the Indifference ofMankind"
It is fascinating to note that, had the great "Royal Bright Star," the Celtic missionary
St. Columba, not uttered the initial verse of the ancient RITE OF EXILE to banish
"a corrupt gathering of blackest idolaters" into the jaws of hell, we would have no record
of it today! Or so the chronicle goes, that Columba once fought fire-against-fire by
using one of the Druids' own most guarded rituals against them. And why not? For it
is also recorded that Columbine was (in the beginning) an initiated Druid of the high-
est order, and thereby knew all their secrets. There might well be considerable truth in
this, for the saint is famous for his duel role in both supporting and condemning the
Druids; upon inspection of surviving writings, there is much to make one wonder
what hidden depths Columba might have had within himself. But inany event, some
good monk was kind enough to scribble down sufficient of Columba's hellfire, to pro-
vide us with a badly needed puzzle-part today. The Pheryllt records the RITE OF
EXILE in three parts, crediting the first directly to the St. Columba —quoting an ear-
lier Saint Patrick!

But before the Rite is given, a word of caution is perhaps in order. This is a very
old and potent remnant of Druidism tinged with traces of Eastern Zoroastrianism,
Grimoire #3 393
possibly indicating a point of origin —with many altercations to the course of history
having been attributed to its influence across an immense span of time. While the
'built-in safeguard' of AUTHORITY is always in affect, (i.e. that principle which rel-
egates an initiate unable to perform any act of mysticism, for which he has not earned
prior mature authority), it isalways wise for a student to treat the old magics with
respect and caution. The author has never dared to experiment with this Rite a
'childhood caution,' so to speak, ever since hearing as a small boy, how Merlyn once
used it to remove his Magic Realm from the clutches of the world's profane!
CI?eKiteof€fUe
1). When all stands in readiness, as ordained by the gods, the Priest speaks
among the shades of twilight, these words:
"IN ACCORDANCE WITH DESTINY

IN THIS FATEFUL HOUR,
I PLACE ALL CREATION WITH ITS POWER:
AND THE SUN WITH ITS TEARS OF BRIGHTNESS

AND THE SNOW WITH ITS FELL OF WHITENESS
AND THE FIRE WITH DRAGON'S STRENGTH IT HATH
AND LIGHTNING WITH ITS RAPID WRATH
AND THE WINDS WITH THEIR SWIFTNESS ALONG THE PATH
AND THE SEA WITH ITS DEEPNESS
AND THE ROCKS WITH THEIR STEEPNESS
AND THE EARTH WITH ITS STARKNESS...
ALL THESE I EXILE
BY ATMU'S ALMIGHTY HELP AND GRACE,
BETWEEN MYSELF AND THE DARK REALM, FAR FROM THIS PLACE!
BBBHHBBi
^^r^^^^ , :
,,, _
,
y VV , V
2). Then, while gathering the inner strength of the Magi, needed to empower
the final words, the Priest chants the mantra:
"ZAMA, ZAMA, OZZA

—RACHAMA, OZAI..."
3). Finally, to fuel the cargo of destiny on its ordained voyage across the Seas of
Annwn, speaks the Priest three times the Words of Power:
"ANAIL NATHROCK...
UTHVASS BETHUDD...
DOCHIEL DIENVE..."
Thus ends the Rite
... And so, too, havewe come end of our Magical Journey—which
to the no is
end, but a beginning —of our "Ancient Mystery." The world magician woven has a
beautiful tapestry, and leaves the threads of it in our hands so that we may complete
it; and in the center, a space is left for us in which to weave that Figure whose face
and form elude us still, though we have held the threads to fashion them with for two
thousand years...
A jumble, you may say; a fantastic mixture of legend and superstition and pseudo-
history. But perhaps, here and there, the innocent beauty of some old tale may have
stirred your heart so that you had to say, "It is true."
There is, stirring beneath the surface of things, a secret urge towards the establish-
ment of a new Celtic Spirit —a
desire for the birth of a purely external political
'Celticism. The Folk-souls of the past have another mission today; they are no
'
longer the soul of a PEOPLE, but the soul of a spiritual awakening of mankind.
King Arthur will not be roused by the blast ofthe horn ofany national egotism, but
only at the cry ofthe Earth, Mother ofBeauty, who will come singing into the hearts
of men like aflame upon dry grass, like aflame of wind in a great wood.
E.C. Merry, THE FLAMING DOOR
Epilogue:
(Tl?e Body of tl?e Z)ragon
I^ÊRLYN ALWAYS SAID, THAT if the Druids ever did lose sway in the world,
&T£that the Earth: The Body of the Dragon, would be in a state of utter
crisis... without caretakers, without guardians, until their imminent return
ages and ages hence. And he was so right. It certainly follows that the Great
Dragon might also begin to die, once wizards began vanishing from the cen-
ter-stage of society and government. Both wizards and dragons have been
inseparable comrades since the very dawn of time. So now let us hear what
we, the Druids of yesterday's today, can do to save the Earth.
t>ropl?eo? of tl?e fRorrigtwn

"I shall not see a World that will be dear to me...
Summer without flowers,
Kine will be without milk,

Women without modesty,
Men without valour,
Captures without a King...
Woods without mast,
Sea without produce."
395
—
THE CRISIS is the Earth. It is dying. She is losing the battle against her
inhabitants, the ability to repair herself. Man against the Earth. Re-read the
ancient Irish prophecy above. The Ozone layer, here for our protection, is
irreparably damaged already — millions of tons of unnatural chemicals pour
into our water each year, killing off the life-giving balances there. Our air, my
God! Each day, the cities of our globe cover themselves with a dense layer of
black, industrial smog; the land, now home to the mountainous plastic refuse
of humankind and a million growing tons of leaking, radioactive materials we

know not where else to put: " The Mother will take them all in." These are the
'distant dangers' which man, isolated in home-comfort, looks the other way
on. Dangers which have already been discussed in the PROLOGUE to this
book. So where have we arrived, now at the Epilogue? How does the THE
LOST BOOKS OF MERLYN help address this crisis?
Answer: />does nouyou do. Books are only catalysts for ideas which people
then carry out, or not. And our Crisis is definitely a 'people problem.' The
Earth, alone, can take care of Herself just fine: the mark of Divine Balance is
everywhere to be seen across her face. The Celts revered, mirrored and copied
this balance incorporated it as an integral part of their lives, stories and art;
the Druids based their religious philosophy in honor upon it. No. It is only
where people have blindly lived, thinking only of themselves as isolated beings
guilt-free to do whatever they wish, that imbalance and destruction arrive.
Here is the Crisis.

Where has the Honor gone? Are we a part of the Earth, or simply beings
destined in a handful of years for Heaven or Hell — just visiting for a while?
Where are our sights focused? If we are a part of the Earth, then we are
responsible to live protectively among Her balances, for they are our lives too.
But if we look at ourselves merely as visitors, then we are largely absolved of
responsibility altogether, save, perhaps for our children in a far-off, fuzzy,
parental' sort of way. What is that wonderful verse from Biblical Genesis,
which first sets out man's relationship to the Earth? What was it? Man's orders
were to:
"...fill the Earth and subdue it."
And there it is, written with finger-upon-stone for all time, the sanctioned
doctrine of: 'you are the masters, you can do as you wish to your world... it's OK,
'
I said so.
Epilogue 397
And since the Bible is currently in fashion as the centerpiece of Western
thought, the State Religion, then those who fall under its doctrines rarely
extend their thoughts beyond its confines. The Bible-Box. Yet this, in and of
itself, is not a problem. Man, in his quest for growth, must always be free to
live whatever manner of thinking he is drawn to. We all live in boxes of dif-
ferent sizes, yet should strive as a general rule to live amongst the largest ones
we can find each time. This size difference denotes stages of spiritual growth.
But why has the author chosen to involve religion in the Crisis, anyway?
Because, over the years, he has received many hundreds of letters from indi-
viduals and churches quoting Genesis, and feeling that we not only have the
right to destroy the Earth unquestioned, but have been ordained by God Jeho-
vah to do so as well! ...The Earth as an expendable by-product.
But why, then, is the author expanding this sentiment beyond the Bible
Box? "/, being a Christian or not, do not feel this way..." people will say.
Answer: because, globally, to judge by the on-going destruction alone, it
seems typical of how modern man thinks and cares, (or, rather one could say:
does not think or care). The sentiment, above expressed, seems to have 'put its
finger on the crux of the matter.' Man, through myth, has isolated himself,
misplaced and forgotten his position among the natural world... exalted and
raised himself up as some sort of 'Lord over the Lowly Earth,' not a part of the
whole. Does might make right? Does our level of technology give us the right
to subdue the Earth?
Arthur and Merlyn tried to address the essence of that very question some
1500 years ago, among civil war and invasions; this same essence also forming
the moral basis for the Atlantis account, 10,000 years before that. What were
the answers then?What are the answers now?
What What What? What have all the words amounted to? 1). The func-
tion of the PROLOGUE was to pinpoint precisely what the Crisis was. 2).
The function of the BOOK itself is to pinpoint precisely why the Crisis is. 3).
The function of the EPILOGUE, to suggest a body of historic philosophy
from which a solution may be drawn. The three-fold solution again:
1). PROLOGUE: What the Crisis? is
2). BOOK: What causes the Crisis?

3). EPILOGUE: What remedies the Crisis?
And, naturally, the out-cry of the 3-fold solution: "Are we to turn back our
level of technology?... Go back to Dark Age medicine and warfare?... Turn
from computers: our next incarnation of the divine among us? What... go
back?" To this, the author yawps a resounding "NEVER!" which will, no
doubt, like Alka Seltzer, come as a genuine relief to many readers. If history
has indeed taught us anything, it is that willing retrogression is impossible;
only the un-willing, imposed variety figures in... the type where the natural
Laws of the Universe step up and cry: "No, you can't do this any more! Take this
flood, Take this famine... Take this nuclear solution!' 'This is where the age-old
cliches: 'History always repeats itself or '
What goes around, comes around,' enter
into the picture. And so we truly cant go back, and really shouldn't; growth
means more than retreat! So if we don't want Fate to step in somewhere dur-
ing our thoughtless destruction of the Earth, (which it has had a record of
doing), then what are our options?
Here the ancient manuscripts, collectively known of old as the BODY OF
THE DRAGON, suggest some very real, mystical possibilities. But how to
implement mystical' solutions within an age of Techno- Reason, remains our
prime hurdle. Yet:
The fact that we are all the product of countless prior lifetimes, and that many
of us therefore have deep-seated, waiting connections to Earth Consciousness —prior
respect, needing only a 'trigger' to re-focus —may prove to be the needed answer.
The author and his legion of ghost-Druids, at least, are counting on it.
Such an answer is two-fold, the solution lying deep within delicate interpreta-
tions of the ancient manuscripts themselves, as well as within the hearts of
those called to listen and respond. But before any such examinations are
started upon, let us first re-state the path for clarity:
WE HAVE A CRISIS.
THE PLANET EARTH—THE BODY OF THE DRAGON-
IS DYING.
HUMAN BEINGS ARE THE CAUSE.
PEOPLE ARE UNAWARE, ISOLATED OR UNCONCERNED.
TECHNOLOGY AND RELIGIOUS MYTH HAVE GENERATED
INSENSITTVITY
AND AN ARTIFICIAL IMMUNITY FROM RESPONSIBILITY.
Epilogue 399
SOMETHING MUST BE DONE SOON.

THE SOLUTION DOES NOT LIE IN RETROGRESSION.
MAN MUST CHANGE HIS WAY OF THINKING.
With this final most important line, we begin with the age-old premise: A
MAN CONVINCED AGAINST HIS WILL IS NOT CONVINCED.
No amount of applied government, military or social force, will solve our
global Crisis. Force of any kind will not do it... it is too easy a solution, even
when possible. No. As the above verse clearly states, the true answer lies in
changing mankind's WAY OF THINKING — a far more formidable chal-
lenge, involving means beyond the imagination of most. Man must somehow
be brought to see the value of caring, if his Earth is to survive much longer. Of
course, the question is how, which is really the major thrust of this Epilogue...
the 'how' of it.
If the idea of changing man's perception on a world-wide basis may lie
beyond normal imagination, then so perhaps do the means as well. This

would not be surprising, as the solution we are about to outline is Magical in
the real sense, a sense that is typically conditioned out of us by the ripe old age
often. Thoroughly conditioned out. Yet Magic does exist, every child is born
knowing it, yes — in a 'real sense' that would stand up proudly before today's
Techno-theocracy if only tested with unbaise. [Where I live, and in the com-
pany I keep, it does so all the time... nobly, every day]. Here, it will have
helped considerably if the reader has worked through the author's first text-
book: THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN, for then to him, the objective

World of Magic could indeed be no stranger to question.
But what the author is here asking the general reader, is for an impartial
hearing: to suspend judgment until enough time has been taken to carefully
consider and examine the whole picture. After all, the stakes are enormous,
and they are your stakes no matter what the verdict... our stakes, we the inhab-
itants. Shall we begin to dig?
THE QUATRAINS OF BRAN— that's where I began years ago, what gave
me my first clues. An entire book could easily be written in commentary on the
Quatrains alone, but for now, only specific supporting verses will be referred CO
following my extrapolations. And let me here at the start point out two factors
to avoid later confusion: 1). for a reason unknown to this author, there are 57
Quatrains given in the Llywelyn Sion 1588 Pheryllt text, not 50 as the title page
indicates, and 2). I, as editor, have re-ordered the verses in what might be con-
sidered better topical sequence; they were un-numbered in the Sion text.
But let me make it easier for the reader than for myself in the beginning,
for I can provide him with a starting premise: an entire picture! It is infinitely
easier to note something, if you have a good description of what it is you're
looking for. Over the years, enough pieces of the puzzle have surfaced and
been labored together, to make this possible. Many years of searching. The
mirror was shattered neatly into the following shards:
* Both the QUATRAINS and the PROPHECIES OF MERLIN speak of

the "Three Lost Books of Wales made one" Then will be the time for 'Fire
Fathers' (i.e. the Druids), to rise again. With the completion of this book,
THE LOST BOOKS OF MERLYN fulfills this prophecy.

[see Quatrains: #6, #10, #22, #26, #28, #29, #36, #43]
The QUATRAINS speak of "20-plus-l" souls who have journeyed

together through each legend re-told here from the Lost Books: the Battle of
the Trees, the Book ofPheryllt & the Gorchan ofMaeldrew. When this group re-
joins together toward the year 2000, (possibly 2005, see Q-#8), a chance to
restore Druidism to its former guardianship will be had. Such a search is even
now in progress.
[see Quatrains: #2, #8, #12?, #14, #15?, #22, #24, #31, #36, #41, #42?,
#43?, #44, #48, #52?, #56]
The QUATRAINS speak of the establishment of a geographic place, where

this re-born group will meet and work to help re-establish Druidism; the
'New Land, New Forest,' also the re-building of 'The Tower.'
[see Quatrains: #5, #9, #15, #19, #24, #32, #37, #44]
The QUATRAINS speak of an individual being 're-born of Arthur,' to

lead the Druidic re-construction. He is 'the One' from the '20 + 1,' on whose
head success or failure seems to lie. He also appears to be the same 'One' who
is charged with joining the 'Three Lost Books in One,' in accord with older
prophecy.
[see Quatrains: #6, #9, #10, #11, #14, #16, #19, #25, #26, #34, #36,
#41, #42?, #46, #53, #55, #56, #57].
1
Epilogue 40
*Lastly and most important of all, the QUATRAINS speak of (or some
might say "hint at"), the Crisis we have discussed, as well as the magical solu-
tion also mentioned. The solution follows the story sequence involving
Gwydion in THE BATTLE OF THE TREES, part 1 of this book.
According to legends found among a wide cross-section of diverse cultures
(European, Indian, Oriental & Native American), TREES once, (often in a
Lost, 'Golden Age'), were far more conscious in a human-sense, than today.
Almost all cultures, most notably the Celts, attributed the Trees with the
power of 'thought' as well as 'speech.' Trees were sacred beings. Then some-
thing happened — it varies from legend to legend — that reduced the Trees to
the mere "lawn decorations" they are typically thought of as today. What hap-
pened? An evil magician's curse... a willful exile... the wrath of a god... a
princesses' enchanted sleep... an enemy's revenge? All of these, and more. The
Legends from various peoples contain tremendous variety, yet all exhibit strik-
ing similarities as do creation, flood,' and other prime myths.

But what here concerns us is the Celtic Branch of Mythology, and what it
tells And this: THE TREES ARE

about prophecies and solutions. it is
ANYTHING HAS THE POTENTIAL TO INFLU-

ASLEEP. YET, IF
ENCE THE WORLD CONSCIOUSNESS OF MANKIND TOWARD
EARTH-PRESERVATION, IT IS THEY... ancient comrades of man.
Remember our premise that it is the thinking of man which must be influ-
enced? Well, Tree language holds such a potential, as a telepathic language of
the Soul... pictures and dreams and emotions and sensitivity: areas needing to
be awakened again in man. And the Song of the Forest Trees provides the prac-
tical "how to" methodology to accomplish this.
Now, the reader has already been warned concerning the 'unique strange-
ness' of such an idea as awakening the Trees in the twentieth century to combat
global destruction. Ridiculous? Magical fantasy? Remember the promise of
delayed condemnation you might have made!
Now to the evidence that this far-fetched scheme may have been suggested
in Prophecy millennia ago. The author cannot by any means take credit tor
such an idea, as its roots are verifiably planted in the Quatrains and elsewhere.
For example, look back at the provocative quote by E.C. Merry which opens
this Epilogue... or at Geoffrey of Monmouth's Merlin writings. Cross refel
ence! You will be amazed each time. And, yes — the author is a firm believer in
Natural Magic, and conscious Trees, and in the Universal Truths behind all
Legend. But, do tell: What type of ideas would the following vetses plant in
your mind?
XIV QUATRAIN:
WILDFIRE WILL BURST OVER THE FORESTS
ELDER TREES SINGING OUT THEIR MARKS
OGMA RETURNS WITH AN ARMY OF POETS
VOICES LONG LOST ECHO THROUGHOUT THE WORLD
XXI. QUATRAIN:
TO SAVE GAIA, A MIGHTY CHALLENGE ISSUED
THE VOICE OF A RARE SONG WILL BE HEARD
SEIZED AND SUNG AMONG GREEN
THE WORLD FORCED TO DRINK SACRED WATERS
VI QUATRAIN:
FROM THE SKY A NEW WAVE BREAKS
FRESH ORDER AMONG THE TREES
HIS NAME WRITTEN ACROSS THREE BOOKS
And thete are more. Verses 26, 46, 47 and 51 also allude to calling up an
army of trees. By combining elements from each of the 3 Quatrains above,
one may arrive at a clearer picture thus:
TO SAVE GAIA
(to) A RARE SONG (that) WILL BE HEARD
VOICES LONG LOST (are) SUNG AMONG GREEN

(by) AN ARMY OF POETS THROUGHOUT THE WORLD
THE WORLD then) FORCED TO (a) FRESH ORDER

(is
And should the reader indulge us an added measure of 'Poetic License,'

the prose could thus be rendered into plain English:
TO SAVE THE EARTH MOTHER

A PERSON IS REBORN INTO MODERN TIMES
TO RECOVER AND TEACH AN ANCIENT MAGIC
TO THOSE CONCERNED.
—
Epilogue 403
ITS FORM IS A SONG

TO BE SAID TO THE TREES FOR THEIR AWAKENING
BY MANY OLD FRIENDS FROM PAST TIMES,
ALSO REBORN TO HELP.
IT CAN SAVE THE EARTH, DESPITE RESISTANCE
Re-ordered this way to reveal its structure, the shards seem to fit neatly
back together, forming a mirror which can only reflect our own faces in
answer. Us... you, who have been drawn to reading this book for whatever rea-
son, it is your face looking back through these ancient prophecies; the answer
always somewhere inside.
It would be remiss to omit the fact, that these remarkable stanzas also fit
neatly into many other reflections as well. The astute reader will have already
noticed that the entire framework of my re- tellings of the 3 Lost Books —even
down to chapter titles —have all been drawn, in various proportions, directly
from them. It only seemed fitting.
So now, let us delve back into one such reflection for a moment: The Song
of the Forest Trees, for it, alone, can yield up the needed formulae. Here, then,
is a practical format for bringing a Tree back to consciousness; one that can be
easily added to our daily life-skills for the Planet's sake.
"
...opening the Gorchan, I sang by the thin light of Dawn, the first
verse of the Song of the Forest Trees — high and strong. Boldly, I spoke
aloud the secret Name of Power which Ogma Sun-Face had given that
tree at the beginning of time, then finished by knocking three times
upon the mighty trunk. And I could feel it — right through the ground
at my feet, sure as rain a tremor*. A shudder of awakening ran smoothly
through its being from leaf to root..."
SONG OF THE FOREST TREES
Like nearly all Celtic magical formulae, this Charm is cast in 3 traditioti.il
parts: INVOCATION, the EVOCATION (chant or song), and the

the
BENEDICTION. Each is treated separately for clarity's sake. Important: only
yon can
20 specific of this Archetypal System; these arc the only ones
Trees are part
awaken using the following formulae. What about other Trees or plants not on
the list (even your favorites)? Don't worry about them — the 20 are more than
enough for the task! Concentrate solely on these.
1. THE INVOCATION
This word means 'to call/invite in.' It notifies the tree that you wish to com-
municate, like a telephone ringing. Approach the tree alone, touch it with
your hand or staff, and recite the second SPELL OF MAKING softly.
NATHROCK
"ANAIL (Ah-Nahl Nahth-rock)
UTHVASS BETHUDD (Oooth-Vass Beth-Ooodh)
DOCHIEL DIENVE" (Dough-chiel Dee-ehn-veh)*
Now you have the tree's attention; it has sensed an ancient sound sequence
which belongs specifically to the Celtic/Druidic archetype. (*Note — in the
word Dochiel, the 'ch' sound is un-voiced, not hard like the word Sicken, but
soft like the Scottish word 'Lor/;').
Should you wish additional information on the workings and applications

of this Charm, see THE 21 LESSONS OF MERLYN, Monroe, Llewellyn
Publications, 1992.
2. THE EVOCATION
This word means 'to call forth,' and can be either spoken (chanted) or sung
(on one or more musical pitches). It notifies the Tree that you call on it to
awaken, like the message portion of a telephone call.
Across the surface of the Tree's bark in front of you, trace the OGHAM
SIGN for that particular tree (see chart to follow), with the fingers of your
right hand. While tracing, speak the TRIUNE NAME which will bring the
Tree to consciousness. This name has three parts, receding from the present
into the distant past, e.g.: English... Welsh... Gortigern. For example, the tri-
une name for the Oak recites as follows: OAK... DUIR... DAIBHAITH, and
is explained as follows.
OAK (English, present)...

DUIR (Welsh/Druidic, past)...
DAIBriAITH (Gortigern, distant past)...

Epilogue 405
They should be spoken clearly, with solid authority. Only following the
sequence of sounds exactly will bring the desired results — it is a precise for-
mulae, like a specific key, and will only open the archetypal lock if correct.
Any deviation and the Tree will not 'recognize' the pattern; ever try to open
your car door with your house key?
For those who wish to add the authentic dimension of MUSIC to the rite,
know that the pitches themselves are not all-important. The intonation is.
Now, what is pitch' and 'intonation?' PITCH: the specific frequency of vibra-
tion, like any one note played on a piano. INTONATION: the quality of
vibration, like what distinguishes a trained 'public speaker' from an un-trained
one; the depth of resonance, like turning up the BASS on a stereo system. Do
you sing songs in the shower? Those are pitches. Do you sound like Pavarotti
when you do?... if you do, (or try), you are using intonation. The Triune
Name should be sung on one or any combination of notes, WITH INTO-
NATION. Let your mind generate the notes. You should feel the notes
vibrate through your chest if you're doing it right. Now, which notes to use?
It does not matter. The author does make this one suggestion, however: for
the passive-element Trees, aligned to Earth or Water (see chart below), use
LOWER tones; for active-element Trees, aligned to Air or Fire, use HIGHER
tones. But whether low or high — vibrate them, regardless of how loud or soft
you sing! Trees sense both energy & vibration.

The chart to follow, supplies three vital areas of information you will need
to study carefully before setting out to use this Rite. Note on pronunciations:
the English has not been included; it is assumed the common Tree name will
be familiar enough.
TRIUNE NAME (pronunciation) OGHAM SIGN EIEMENT
1. Birch-Beith-Boibel Air
(..., Bay-ith, Boy-bell)
2. Rowan-Luis-Loth Air
(..., Loo-is, Lowth)

\
3. Alder-Fearn-Forann Fire
(..., Fairn, For-ann)
i
4. Willow-Saille-Saliath Water
(..., Sail, Sah-layth)
5. Ash-Nuin-Neiagadon Air
(..., Noo-ihn, Neh-agah-dohn)
6. Hawthorn-Huathe-Huiria Fire
(..., Hoo-ah-thuh, Hoo-ee-ree-uh)
7. Oak-Duir-Daibhaith Fire
(..., Do-ear, Dye-buh-eeth) y

8. Holly-Tinne-Teilmon Fire
(..., Tin-uh, Teel-mohn)
9. Hazel-Coll-Cae Water
(..., Kole, Kay)
10. Apple-Quert-Kaliap Water

(..., Cairt, Kay-lip)
.
Epilogue 407
TRIUNE NAME (pronunciation) OGHAM SIGN ELEMENT
11. Vine-Muin-Muriath Water

Mew-in, Mew-ree-eth)
(...,
t
12. Ivy-Gort-Gath Earth
(..., Gort, Gahth)
i
1 3 Reed-Ngetal-Ngoimar Air
(..., Neh-tahl, No-ee-mahr)
14. Blackthorn-Straif-Stru Earth

(..., Strayf, Strew)
15. Elder- Ruis-Riuben Earth

(..., Roo-ihs, Ree-oo-ben)
16. Fir-Ailim-Achab
(..., Ay-limb, Ach-ub)

t Earth
17. Furze-Ohn-Oise Fire
(..., Own, Oo-eese) \

18. Heather-Ur-Urith Air
(..., (S)ure, (S)ure-ith)
19. Poplar-Eadha-Essu Water

(..., Ay-ah-duh, Ay-sue)
20. Yew-Ioho-Iachim Earth
(..., Eye-o-hoe, Eye-ah-him)

3. THE BENEDICTION
The word Benediction means 'the blessing,' as in a goodbye, or rather like
hanging-up after a telephone conversation. It notifies the Tree that you have
said all you wish to, and asks that it consider/act on your request. This third is
indeed the most simple step, as it involves nothing more than KNOCKING
THREE TIMES on the trunk of the Tree with hand or staff. Nothing more.
Now with these three steps given, let us condense the whole Ritual —one
which is extremely simple once learned. In fact, the average length of time to
enact it, is 15-20 seconds!
1). INVOCATION: approach Tree, make hand contact, and recite
the Charm of Making.
2). EVOCATION: with the same hand, trace the Ogham sign across
the bark while speaking/singing the TRIUNE name.
3). BENEDICTION: break hand-contact with Tree, step back and

knock three times solidly against the trunk.
And that being it, what then? This depends upon many factors. Within a
period of time, (that depending upon Tree-type, season, weather, ley-line

geography, etc.), the Tree will gradually awaken into a state of super-con-
sciousness and seek communication with other awakened Trees. If enough
people awaken enough Trees all over the World, eventually a network of uni-
fied consciousness will extend around the globe — then, human consciousness
can begin to be affected. It, like anything goal-oriented, is a process requiring
time. But it is a fabulous process, this plan!
What, then, is your place in it all? First, buy the best Tree Book you can
find and learn everything about the 20 special Trees. Then learn the SONG,
making it your own personal every-day ritual. Use it whenever you can, wher-
ever you can; it is short and quick, but all adds up. If enough people can be
motivated to participate in this program, grand network links will soon
develop — like a Green Internet —and man will soon find himself living in a
sea of new consciousness... a green school where he will learn without know-
ing it! In both theory and practice it will work, but not without the imple-
mentation of a very special group referred to in Quatrain 45 as:
Epilogue 409
"AN ARMY OF POETS...

VOICES LONG LOST TO ECHO THROUGHOUT THE WORLD.'
And so the true scope of THE LOST BOOKS OF MERLYN has been
revealed in full. Whether this research and planning actually helps our planet,
depends on you who are reading this book at this very moment. The author is
counting on the fact that many Druids from bygone eras are the ones doing
the reading and buying the books... people who may feel a peculiar affinity to
what has been told herein, some odd connection that cries out against the
"rational illogic" of it all! To those, need be said: listen to your inner voices.
Take a chance and then see. The Mother Earth can yet be helped, saved, by
such a neglected thing as Magic.
So now that you have heard everything about our stories, our Magical
dreams and aspirations, how about living some of your own? Let us hear
something of your grand adventures! And remember this foremost — the mys-
tic turf of the New Forest patiently awaits us all...
Douglas Monroe
THE AMERICAN INSTITUTE, Ixtapa, Mexico
August, 1998
^ Look For The Crescent Moon
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Arthurian Legend / Magic / Male Mysteries
Come, t\)oec in searcl? of initiation,

into X\)c ancient masteries of tl?e Druids.
It is time to walk farther down the druidic path with the mystical
lessons taught to King Arthur by the wise magician Merlyn. As new
secrets are revealed in three mythological tales taken from The Book
ofPheryllt, a famous and rare 16th-century text, you will undergo a
vision quest beyond the confines of the normal world. Delve deeply
into this ancient knowledge — it is time to reawaken the wisdom
and magic of the druids.
A grimoire that explains the magical elements in the stories follows

each tale, providing instructions on how to reenact the lessons and
replicate the rituals. Like a magician's personal Book of Shadows,
each grimoire contains knowledge specially reserved for a chosen
apprentice — you!
Rich with authentic lore and magical techniques, this work of

traditional, Celtic-style storytelling and scholarship serves to
unlock the doorway to your imagination. This powerful follow-up

to The 21 Lessons of Merlyn holds the spiritual nourishment and
practical shamanic methods you need to reclaim the essential
spirit of the ancient Celts.
Douglas Monroe (Mexico) has been involved in
practical Earth magic since his first apprenticeship
at age 10. He is founder of the New Forest Centre

for Magickal Studies and has made many excur-
sions to Celtic Britain to collect original materials
on Druidism and Arthurian lore. Mr. Monroe has,
for the past several years, been Professor of

Humanities at the American Institute in Central
Mexico, where he is involved in building both a

Department of Celtic Studies and a European-
based Shamanic Centre.
ISBN 5b71fl $14.95 US

$20.95 CAN
St. Paul, MN 55164-0383
781567"184716 PRINTED IN THE USA

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DRUID MAGIC FROM Trf^AGE OF ARTHUR

~ ~ the Cost Books of

accomplished this very day!

past several years, been Professor of Humanities at the American Institute in

Central Mexico, where he is involved in building both a Department of Celtic

Zo Write to t\)c Kutl?or

.^^<ri}e tost Books of

in critical articles and reviews.

Cover design: Anne-Marie Garrison

Author photo courtesy of F. Trias

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

The lost books of Merlyn : Druid magic from the age of

1. Magic, Celtic. 2. Druids and Druidism. I. Monroe, Douglas, 1957-

Printed in the United States of America.

A wall offorest looms above,

All the birds make melody

There sings to me the night owl

God's doom! May the Lord protect me,

Unknown Irish Monk, 9th Century

The Druids now, while arms are heard no more,

A tribe who singular religion love,

And haunt the lonely coverts of the grove:

Ifdying mortals' dooms they sing aright,

But forth they fly, immortal in their kind,

And other bodies in new worlds they find.

And, like a line, death but divides the space:

But rush undaunted on the pointed steel.

Provoke approaching fate, and bravely scorn

"...To illustrate, to justify a need for the re-emergence of THE DRUIDS in

Why the Story? viii

Prologue: Part One ix

Prologue: Part Two xix

PART 1: The Battle of the Trees

Grimoire#l: 21 Excerpts from The Battle of the Trees 65

PART 2: The Book ofPheryllt

Grimoire #2: 21 Excerpts from TheBookofPheryllt 185

PART 3: The Gorchan ofMaeldrew

Grimoire #3: 21 Excerpts from The Gorchan ofMaeldrew 307

Epilogue: "The Body of the Dragon" 395

that is the ivay they taught.

But Artos wakes... opens his eyes inside me.

"It's time!" he says.

"Time for what?"

whispers Artos in my soul.

...and the price of knowledge.

Parke Godwin, FIRELORD, 1980

tem survived? And if so, how can this tradition be utilized?

THROUGH WHICH ONE IS TAKEN BEYOND THE BOUNDS OF

dominant presence throughout a world cross-section of culture. Initiation is

Initiation: theculmination of an archetypal Vision Quest beyond the percep-

Throughout THE LOST BOOKS OF MERLYN, I have drawn upon

Then in addition to the three prime mythological re-tellings, I have

usually of an esoteric or magical nature. This describes precisely what these

without comment — but, unfortunately, no longer. Second, due to the

nal, ancient or recent — exists as an absolutely fascinating collection of writings,

The writings have power, as well as a clear, well-defined literary connection to

now, if we are alone to judge by the mountain of correspondence THE 21

this chance today.

often associate with my work: the doctrine of GENDER SPECIFIC MAGIC,

ualizing sexuality in a symbolic or actual sense. Certainly the large groups

today acknowledge gender energy in ritual — then go on to do nothing con-

stands as a contradiction of terms, historically and religiously. The confusion

to be written down by Christian monks, the pure tenants of the Priesthood