‘Manannán is said to have lived on an island of apple trees,’ Bells said, perking up. ‘He was the Irish God of the Sea and it’s said that he guards the passage to the Otherworld where the gods came from. Perhaps it’s apple wood? I don’t know …’
‘That’s what I thought as well,’ Remi said with a smile. ‘But then I was faced with what it might look like. Some translations suggested it was a “quadrangular” instrument.’
‘Which gives it four sides?’ Dylan asked. ‘Like this one?’ He pointed at the Lyres of Ur.
‘Exactly. The problem is, the harp we recognise today as the Irish harp has three sides.’ Now she did slide a photograph forward. The classic symbol of Ireland that was seen on so many things – the Guinness logo being the most famous. ‘This harp has a curved top, which sits across the other pieces to form a “V” shape.’
‘So youdon’tthink it looks like a modern harp?’ Nicole asked.
Remi shook her head. ‘No, but I’ve realised that putting all my hope on old sources might not be useful and my best bet is checking any possible candidates myself. Which leads me to one of the oldest Celtic harps we know of: the Brian Boru Harp, currently in the Library of Trinity College in Ireland.’
She slid a final picture across. This fit the classic three-sided shape and its dark, inscribed wood gleamed against a moody, extravagant library.
A whisper of fascination trailed up Nicole’s spine.
‘You think it’s the harp you need, even though it’s not four-sided?’ Bells asked, twisting the ribbon at the end of her braid around her fingers.
‘Honestly, I don’t know, but it’s worth checking to start somewhere. This harp was only made – according to humans – in the medieval period. But if it was really the harp of a god, it would have been made much earlier, thousands of years earlier. Maybe a million years, I don’t know.’
‘But if the gods left the world to humans and creatures that long ago, it must be varnished or magical to have survived?’ Nicole asked the others.
The Irish gods were gods of the arts. Craftsmen who dealt in magic, in life and death, and the primal powers of nature. The sun, the earth, the sea. Was it possible that items crafted in celestial forges or made by divine hands could have remained? How magnificent they would be …
‘The gods still visited in mine and Kyan’s time,’ Callum said, voice like a spell. ‘So notthatlong ago.’
‘They did?’ Bells asked, a glitter of excitement in her dusky eyes.
Callum grinned. ‘Oh, yes. They could come and go from the Otherworld for many years.’
‘If they left it here, wouldn’t someone have found it already?’ Nicole asked.
‘I wondered that,’ Remi said. ‘It’s likely it’s been hidden, which is why I want to find out if the one in Trinity College has been varnished to justlooklike a medieval harp. I read that it’s been restored several times.’
‘So, someone could have used that process to smother its true power,’ Nicole realised.
Remi nodded. ‘It’s a logical part of the conservation process, and a place to start. So I want to check it out.’
Dylan leaned his elbows on the table. ‘Remind me about the Dagda, then, if we’re looking for a harp associated with him?’
‘The Dagda,’ began Callum, his mouth quirked with a hint of amusement, ‘was one of the most powerful of the Old Gods of Ireland who were known as the Túatha Dé Danann, or, more accurately, the Túatha Dé.’
‘The former,’ Kyan explained, ‘translates to the “people of the Goddess Danu”. Long story short, the translations may have more to do with the arts than naming a particular goddess. In our time, the gods were more commonly known as the Túatha Dé, which means “tribes of gods”.’
‘Did you meet any of them?’ Dylan asked cautiously.
Kyan seemed uncertain. ‘Let’s just say, I’ve seen enough to believe enough.’
‘Ominous,’ Remi murmured.
Images painted through Nicole’s mind: gods in glades with great shimmering capes; epic powers from the space between stars, and ancient civilisations in Ireland that were now lost to time. Or perhaps purposefully hidden. With everything they’d discovered and her mother’s stories, locating a real divine artefact would make sense.
‘The Dagda,’ Callum continued, ‘was the god of many things: life and death, druidry, and fertility. According to the myths, a real show-off, though not as bad as Lug.’
Nicole remembered the name, recalling the spelling ‘Lug’ while realising Callum pronounced it as ‘Loo’.
‘Lug was, among other things, known for oaths and kingship.’
‘The God of Oaths?’ Nicole asked, recalling her mother’s clue.
