Page 18 of Foresyth Conservatory
This seemed to quell Leone’s rebuttal, and she proceeded. “Through these experiences, Eochaid surmised that the Druids would go into dreamlike trances in order to gain wisdom from the Otherworlds. As you all know, the act of entering such an ecstatic state is called soul flight. But these dream-states, typically altered states due to hallucinogens, made it difficult to remember the findings from these flights. So, they created songs to better remember them. Here’s the passage I found in a documented account:
Anam ar siúl, i gcoillte is gleannta,
Sióg le héisteacht, draíocht le brath,
An t-anamchéad, solas faighte.
“I’ve been working on a translation of this song, and here’s what I have so far:
Soul on a journey, in forests and glens,
Fairy whispers, magic to sense,
Free from the body, enlightenment gained.”
Sequoia’s voice softened as she recited her translation, her gaze drifting, as if she was transported to some distant forest or mist-covered glen right there in the sitting room. For a moment, the Circle seemed spellbound, as if wewere all catching glimpses of the Otherworlds through her incantation.
“And you’re trying to use this passage to prove that the Celtic Druids were shamans and engaged in practices of soul flight?” Nina asked, her tone sharper and more probing.
“Exactly,” Sequoia replied, her excitement untampered. “In another passage, it explicitly uses the wordléim,which translates literally to ‘jump’ or ‘leap’ but could be interpreted in context to meantranscend. It’s not a word that inspires physical movement, but rather a spiritual one.”
“Impressive translation, Ms. Nightingale. Though I do wish your Latin were as good as your Gaelic,” the Meister interjected, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
Nina spoke next, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I’m not an expert in astral projection or soul flight, but the passage, if your translation holds, seems like reasonable evidence for shamanistic Celts. I haven’t seen any research on it, so it could make an interesting paper.” She sounded genuine, not merely appeasing Sequoia.
Aspen leaned back with a finger to his chin, looking less than convinced. “I think it’s conjecture. We don’t have any physical evidence that the Celts used songs for ritual purposes—just the Eochaid account, which was published, what, three hundred years after the Romans overtook the Celts? And he got this knowledge through some ancestral recollection?”
Leone nodded. “Exactly. It makes research on the Druids especially challenging. Oral traditions are difficult to substantiate. Perhaps stick to a culture with more tangible records, like the Greeks or the Sumerians.”
The Meister looked over at me, his gaze inviting a response. “And what do you think, Ms. Blackburne?”
The weight of everyone’s eyes found and settled on me. I hesitated, aware of the academic alliances already forming. Siding with Sequoia and Nina would be easy, yet I didn’t want to risk my academic integrity in favor of politics. If honesty was my only reliable card, I might as well play it.
“Shamanistic practices are ancient and predate the Tungus,” I said slowly, watching Sequoia’s hopeful expression. “It’s entirely plausible that the Druids engaged in those practices. But without physical evidence, like an account from a Druid herself, there’s little weight to the argument that the song was part of a shamanistic ritual. It’s speculative at best.”
Sequoia’s expression faltered while Aspen’s seemed to brighten. “Ms. Blackburne is right; you ought to focus on written history, like the Greeks or Sumerians. Cultures that were a bit more . . . literate,” he said, a touch smugly.
Sequoia’s eyes flashed. “Oral history doesn’t make a culture any less worthy of study. In fact, Julian wrote several papers on the Celts and their extensive oral tradition,” she said, her voice pointed.
At the mention of Julian’s name, a chill fell about the room. Aspen’s face went pale, and his eyes narrowed as they fixed on Sequoia.
“Of course Julian would have preferred the Celts—romanticizing their scattered clans and tribal squabbles over Roman order. You should have known better than to take his advice,” Aspen said, his tone a shadow of a whisper.
Sequoia’s gaze hardened. “You are assuredly a Greco-Romansnob. Julian would have voted in favor of theDruids,” she said, glancing in my direction. “Unlike some of us here who seem to dismiss anything without a concrete record.”
“Enough,” the Meister cut in, his voice slicing through the air. “The group majority has recommended not to pursue further research on the topic, Ms. Nightingale. You are, of course, free to continue at your discretion, subject to peer review.”
“Julian favored you and would’ve endorsed any idea you proposed here. If only you hadn’t been so friendly with him, you could’ve seenreason,” Aspen sneered.
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Sequoia’s voice trembled with anger as she rose from the loveseat, her cheeks burning red.
“The Circle is dismissed,” the Meister said sternly. “And let me remind you both that personal matters are forbidden in the Circle. Unbiased judgment is required for the integrity of our discussions,” he added, his gaze cutting between Sequoia and Aspen.
Nina stretched with a yawn and rose. “Well, that was entertaining. Good luck on your paper, Koi. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a brine bath to fill.”
Sequoia moved toward the door, sparing a quick glance back at me. Her expression was a mixture of hurt and, perhaps, betrayal before she disappeared into the hallway. Only Aspen and Leone remained.
Leone looked up from his book. “Welcome to Circle,” he said flatly.
