Golf Among The Druids

Golf Among the Druids

by

Bryan J. Smith

Copyright © 2014 Bryan J. Smith

All rights reserved.

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ISBN: 9781310245237

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

1

It is the most delightful country to be found

Of greatest repute under the sun;

Trees drooping with fruit and blossom,

And foliage growing on the tops of boughs.

(from an ancient Celtic poem)

I wanted some competition in order to prepare for the Club Championship next weekend. There was no one at the golf course except the staff when I arrived. Disappointed and pressed for time, I settled upon practicing by playing with two balls on the course. It was a clear, cool and fresh morning. The wind was out of the east at about ten miles an hour. The air temperature was around sixty five degrees. There was a light dew on the grass.

He walked out of the ancient oak grove on the south side of the third hole with a bag of clubs over his shoulder and he carried a shepherd's staff in one hand and a cutting of mistletoe in the other. He leaped over the brook between the tree line and fairway as though he were a young man.

The blonde long haired, well-tanned stranger was dressed in dark blue wool plus fours and a gray wool crew necked sweater. He wore Celtic jewelry. The jewel encrusted golden torque about his neck must have cost a king's ransom. He was about five nine and weighed probably one sixty. As he approached I could see that he was much older than I originally thought. I felt a calm as an age old wisdom shone from his eyes.

Sir, would you care to play a few holes? he asked.

Here was the competition I had sought but didn't find in the club house. How many strokes do you want? I replied arrogantly.

None. How many do you want? was his answer, as his sparkling blue eyes held my gaze. I'm Billy, he said with a big friendly smile and extended his hand in a handshake.

We teed it up for five bucks a hole on the fourth and played through to the eighteenth. He beat me soundly! The guy putted with his shepherd's crook. I asked him where he got his clubs. The heads were raw iron and the shafts were hickory. The woods appeared to be hand carved. He said he made them himself. He birdied every hole. I kid you not. I invited him into the club house for drinks after the round. He preferred to sit outside. I wanted learn more about the strange man. On the patio I was told the wildest story I've ever heard after I asked him where he was from.

I'm a survivor of the destruction of Hy-Brasil, the man named Billy declared.

"You're what? I asked curiously.

Billy went on, "It had never been my wish to go to sea. My birth family farmed. Tragically, the land played out when the glaciers overwhelmed Europe and starvation for my family was imminent. Sold to a captain of a trading vessel at age seven, there was no choice, to sea I went. Never heard from my people again. My wish was to return to the land by getting off that ship someday. I longed to return to the land.

I was ten years old when we let the lines go and we sailed into the Atlantic Ocean to obtain a hold full of cod from Iceland. It was supposed to be a quick run there and back. At the galley table there was much kidding, among the crew, about the beautiful women that Iceland produced. They were said to be very friendly.

They're very healthy, threw in our cook as he lustfully described their figures with his hands.

The skipper was eating a biscuit and snarled spitting out crumbs as he said it, The crew is confined to the ship when we reach Iceland.

"That's when the winds roared up from the north east! We were blown badly off course. Suddenly, ahead there was a wall of milky fog.

Impossible! screamed the Captain.

The storm won and the ship began to founder. A mermaid reached up out of the churning sea and pulled me overboard into the angry ocean. I cried out for help! I did not know how to swim. I was drowning. A large and powerful mermaid appeared at my side. She told me to grab her top fin and hang on. We moved rapidly forward across the sea into the thick fog. The members of her pod closed in tight around us, which kept me warm in the frigid waters. After chatter in the mermaid's language among themselves they dispersed. My fish lady brought me to the shores of the island continent of Hy-Brasil. The heavy mists disappeared, once ashore, Billy said before a swallow of wine.

He set his mug of wine back on the table and continued, "How the Hy-Brasilians knew I was coming I know not, but they were waiting on the beach, at the edge of their beautiful golden city. I was immediately wrapped in a warm, dry robe upon reaching the beach.

One of the Hy-Brasilian men was very tall and slim. He could have weighed no more than one hundred and thirty five pounds. The man was probably six feet nine. His silver hair was thinning and was worn shoulder length like all of the other six men standing behind him. They were barefooted. As he spoke to me I noticed his teeth were bright, healthy and almost hidden beneath his thick white mustache.

I am Sadon, he said. Continuing, You are asked to assist the shepherds with their duties. Are you willing to assist the shepherds?

Happy to not have drowned I replied, Yes sir.

Arch druid Forthwind will speak with you in due course. He has more pressing business at present. We welcome you to Hy-Brasil, Sadon added, while gesturing to indicate the other men who stood with him.

As they led me away from the glittering city into agricultural lands I was awed by what I witnessed. The Druids realized my stunned state of mind. They explained the jewels that lay about were diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires, among others. My gaze wandered from the ground and back toward the city. I gasped when I took in the golden buildings of the place. Whoever the architect was had worked fabulously!

A pleasant scent was carried to my nostrils on a gentle breeze. Bright sunlight caused the precious gems lying all around on the ground to glow. Trees were in full blossom and lent many soft, pastel colors to the view.

The city of Hy-Brasil was constructed in concentric circles designed to accommodate trade and golf. The buildings spoke of luxury, ease of life and relaxation. Patios, lawns and walkways abounded, in the most convenient manner. People in long white robes walked about arm in arm, looking totally content and in love with life.

As we approached the shepherd's cottage a dog came toward us wagging her tail followed by her litter of puppies. One of the puppies immediately tugged at my pant leg playfully. The shepherd's home was modest, but met him and his wife's every need. It was located within a large farm and fruit tree orchard. The cottage was twenty feet in diameter. There was only one door which was aligned to accept light and warmth. When you entered the interior you encountered a hearth in the center of the single room. Then your eyes would take in the rear wall of the home where was located all the storage spaces for Mother's medicines and kitchen equipment. Along the other walls were bunks for sleeping. Mother and Father's home was built and designed around the hearth.

In warm weather meals were cooked outdoors so as not to heat the granite rocks that the house was founded with. When the cold weather came a fire in the hearth kept the rocks of the house heated and radiating warmth which kept Mother, Father, the dogs and I warm and cozy.

They were a couple who had no children of their own. I had had little parental love until I came to live under their thatched roof stone cottage. Like many an impoverished child I'd been sold to a ship captain and put to work on his ship as a cabin boy. The cook was an impatient man who showed me no love. In the three years that I was on the ship I was brutalized by him. It was not so with the shepherd and his wife.

The shepherd was named Fendrel. His wife was working in a compost pile. Mother was a very beautiful woman of thirty-five years when she took me in. She stood six feet tall and weighed one hundred and forty-five pounds. When I think of her now the first thing that comes to mind was her blazing red hair. Her freckles were like the precious stones lying about. They were everywhere on her body. She loved to work her gardens and fruit trees. Mother was gifted. Her plants and trees grew as if to please her. Wild creatures that she considered desirable acted toward her as though tame domesticated animals. She never smoked her bee hives when gathering honey, for example. Her method of removing undesirable flora and fauna was through mental projections. She'd catch the entity and surround it with her psychic powers and show them the gate. She worked long and hard every day caring for her farm. Her name was Arabella.

One spring there was an infestation of grubs on the golf course. The parasitic larvae were feasting on the roots of the greens. The grubs were followed by the raccoons who dug them for food. Fendrel had to solicit the help of Arabella to run them all off before the greens were completely destroyed.

The first night under their roof I was fed a delicious mutton stew. Later when Mother attempted to tuck me into bed I reacted as though it was an attacked. When I realized I was not in danger, Mother leaned over me and gave me a kiss on the forehead, which put me into a sweet sound rest. I dreamed. In my dream I saw myself as an older person. I was a golfer of exceptional skill. The dream was delightful but puzzling because I knew nothing of the game. I held a jewel encrusted trophy aloft and was about to kiss it when another dream came to me.

In the second dream I was riding a bright red sled hurtling down a snow covered slope at a speed that was immensely agreeable to me. I was fully exhilarated as I zipped past snow laden evergreens! Down and down the slope I flew past happy, noisy friends who appeared to be climbing back up slope with their sleds in tow.

In the dream I veered left in a long slow controlled arch and then the sled went into a lazy curve to the right. This was especially fun. I altered the back and forth flow with a straight ahead dive down the hill at a tremendously exciting speed. I had become like a rocket as I roared down the hill! It was balled up freedom until the sled shot sharply down into a gully and up the other side and went airborne out of control. I flew up into the air at break neck speed. What had once been a bright and sunny filled day was now a horrifying unfamiliar flight into a dark unknown place. I was utterly alone and certain that I was going to my death. I was about to scream when I awoke, in a cold sweat.

On board ship I had been among hard bitten men. They were uncultured men that crewed for a captain who ruled by his fists, sword and the lash. There was never a time that I didn't feel of the crew or captain. I had made the mistake of voicing an opinion about something in the galley early on and received a back hand across the face. That was the last suggestion I offered.

Speak only when you are spoken to! snarled the Cook followed by, Do what I tell you! You understand? He had grabbed my shabby shirt's collar and threatened with a huge fist. You understand.

Yes sir, was my meek cowering reply all the while eying the cook's filthy balled up right hand. It was the hand that often held a razor sharp clever and threatened many a crewman who foolishly criticized his cooking.

Estranged without family or friends. No one to trust. No love. I was a lonely child among men of low character, who when ashore frequented stinking, smoke filled rum dens and brothels where murders were common place.

I learned quickly snap to it or I would receive a swift kick in the ass or a wicked slap across the back of the head. As a child I was taught to respond to the others I was given and nothing else. When I arrived at Hy-Brasil my mind had been brutally trained to respond to orders and carry them out immediately. In many ways I was like the flock of sheep that I herded. Did like I was told to do. Had no experience at all in determining my own course through life. I did not think for myself. Not even for one moment!

There was no right or wrong. The only thing I anticipated was that I would turn into my bunk when my watch ended and be told what to do the instant I was roughly shaken out of sleep.

Billy continued, "When my Hy-Brasil foster parents woke me they recited a verse I shall never forget. It was sung softly to me as a kind of lullaby,

You have been ripped from your life.

No childhood to call your own.

No longer a scurvy dog without a bone.

We will love you for the rest of your life.

Billy its time to wake up. We have to prepare for the day, called Mother patches sweetly.

Breakfast scents filled the cottage. Choofee was the puppy who grabbed my pant leg the day before. She was white with black and brown patches. The little sheep dog puppy climbed onto the bed and began to lick my face enthusiastically. Her swished back and forth in rhythmic succession. The dog and I were bonded from then on.

All of the events of the previous day made me begin to wonder if I was the one who had