Neither Dead Nor Alive

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Authors: Jack Hastie
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must.”
    He sticks his knife in his belt and takes her hand.
    â€œTogether we will do the will of The Morrigan.”
    They’re walking towards the bull. I just follow. I’m angry. Fiona said I was the one of the race of Finn who would be the megastar, but then I’m glad I don’t have to. Anyway I’ve got the dirk, so I follow up close just in case things go wrong.
    The bull sees us coming and starts bellowing and pawing the ground. Then, I swear, Aidan begins to sing to it.
    â€œListen summer twilight long
    Hearken winter skies afire
    Spring and autumn hear my song
    Calling all the herds to byre.”
    He turns to Fiona. “Do you know ‘the Great Herdsman of Etive`?”
    She nods.
    â€œThat’s his song.”
    She joins in. It’s like they’re charming the animal. It stops snorting and stamping and comes to them like a pet pony.
    Aidan scratches its forehead and ruffles its ears as if it’s a dog. It nuzzles his hand. He turns to Fiona, “We need the cauldron.”
    â€œSteve; the cauldron,” she commands.
    I’d forgotten all about it, but now I’ve got to go back for it as if she’s The Morrigan herself.
    I suppose it’s real gold but I’m dragging it behind me, bouncing it off stones, cos it’s too heavy to carry. I’m out of breath when I get back to them. “What now?”
    â€œAidan says we must take the bull and the cauldron across the ford to Eriska, the Holy Island, and he’ll show us how to make the sacrifice.”
    Eriska. It’s a long way. I’ve not been there but Fiona’s dad says there’s a posh hotel on it in today time and there’s a decent road and a bridge today too. But now I’ve got to drag the cauldron all the way along a bumpy track while they swan along ahead with their pet bull.
    â€œHey, Fiona. How about taking a shot with the cauldron?”
    She half turns and puts her finger to her lips, “Aidan and I are the priest and priestess.”

    ****
    The ford’s not deep. Tide’s well out. The bull ploughs through with the water round its knees. It’s quite sloppy underfoot, though, and I’ve a bit of a struggle with the cauldron till I realise I can float it across.
    In the old time Eriska’s a bare moor. Aidan leads the bull to the highest point. There’s a big flat stone there and he tells me to put the cauldron on it. I have to wedge it with wee stones to stop it rolling off.
    Then he takes his knife and makes Fiona hold it with him, her hand inside his. They’re chanting together softly, “The Morrigan. The Morrigan.” The bull’s licking Aidan’s fingers. Suddenly he makes a quick flick and a jerk and there’s blood spurting from a gash in its neck. It lifts its head and moans softly, not that terrible bellowing I heard from the dead dinosaur. More like a sort of sad sigh. Then Aidan and Fiona put in the knife and open up the wound.
    The bull’s on its knees now, its blood gushing into the cauldron. Aidan’s in tears. “My brother,” he blubbers. The beast collapses. Aidan’s got his arms round its neck and its blood’s washing all over him. It gives an enormous shudder. Then it is quite still.
    Overhead I hear the raw ‘kark` of a raven. For a split second, behind Aidan and Fiona, there flickers the figure of a one eyed hag. Then it’s gone. Aidan must have seen it too for he’s on his hands and knees, eyes wide and staring.
    Fiona crouches beside him and they clasp hands. Then he doubles up like he’s been kicked in the stomach. He’s trying to hold on to her but, right in front of my eyes, he shrivels and slips like sand through her fingers until there’s nothing left but a little pile of dust on the flat stone.
    Fiona unclenches her fist. Some fine dust in the lines of her palm blows away in the wind.
    The bull’s gone, too, and the cauldron that was half full of

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