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When we were considering which quote to use for the opening of SERCH BYTHOL, Volume One of THE TAMMABUKKU CHRONICLES, there was one quote about love that rose above the rest in its simplicity. Thank you Walt Whitman.
Water boys raggle taggle gypsy at Cambridge folk festival
"What care I for my goose feather bed
Wi' blankets strewn so comely-o?
Tonight I lie in a wide open field In the arms of a raggle taggle gypsy-o!”
The following is an excerpt from “The Stone of Destiny”, Chapter VIII of the third book of THE TAMMABUKKU CHRONICLES, TIMELESS KEEPERS.
David and Lia have taken a trip to Ireland to heal after Chirurgus, the leader of their enemies, tried to destroy their marriage, an effort that landed David in the emergency room after a motorcycle accident.
They chose Ireland as Hibernia was their ancient home and are following in the footsteps of the Tuatha de Danann. In the first paragraph below, David and Lia are sitting at the Hill of Tlachtga (Hill of Ward) and discussing the spirits of the ancient past and the mantle they carry.
The remainder of this excerpt is set at a pub in Meath where David sits in with a band named Fanai. He and Lia are great fans of the Waterboys and David sings “Raggle Taggle Gypsy” and other Waterboys and traditional Irish songs with Fanai. The chapter is from Lia’s perspective and contains one of my favorite lines that describe her devotion to David. “Raggle Taggle Gypsy” is about a young woman with a wild spirit who sneaks away from her husband, a Lord, at night to be with a poor gypsy man. Lia tells the lead singer of Fanai with a smile that in her case she has her Lord and her gypsy man in one. It is a simple enough statement, but when one knows Lia and David’s eternal love story, it is much more powerful. The untamed and anguished Vericus of ancient Britannia has at last merged into his higher self, David. And Lia, who was Talaith, the Druid priestess who was Vericus’ tormented beloved, now has that rarest of rarities, a complete man. But their road is not lined with roses. They have formidable enemies they must defeat.
The spirits with us tonight are telling me their stories, which is ours as well. I’m hearing their voices as we speak. They violated us, abused us, took our earthly lives, but we went to the other dimension and came back. And every time we came back, we were stronger than the time before.
When we veer off the main road, our attention is drawn to a traditional pub called The Emerald Goat. Hearing “The Coast of Malabar” coming from inside, we make our decision to go in. The pub is half full and we sit at a table by the small space in the corner where a ragtag band is playing “Wild Rover”. David orders a Guinness which, naturally, makes us think of Gerald. When the waiter comes, we both order the salmon with an appetizer of potato soup.
The band is comprised of four men—two young, two middle-aged—and a woman with thick honey-blonde hair whose age is somewhere in-between. The woman plays the fiddle and the men the guitar, mandolin, flute, uilleann pipes and accordion. We learn their name is Fánai and they are spirited Celtic minstrels. The woman’s voice is pure and strong. David is right in his element, having told me on a number of occasions that his is a minstrel spirit.
Our dinner arrives as Fánai plays “She Moved through the Fair”. The darker-haired of the middle-aged men, the mandolin player, takes over the singing, with a voice made for the haunting ballad. When the waiter returns to remove our plates, David chats a bit and proudly announces, “I’m going to be a dad in five months!”
With a warm smile, the waiter exclaims, “Congratulations! I’m the father of three children myself. I’m sure the band will know the right song for such an occasion.”
“As long as it’s not ‘You’re Having My Baby’” I joke.
The waiter laughs. “I’m sure Fánai doesn’t play that song.”
The musicians are on a break and a few of them smile our way. “Actually, I was going to ask if they knew ‘Raggle Taggle Gypsy’. It’s one of our favorites.”
The waiter speaks with the mandolin player who shortly comes over with the singer and one of the younger men. David motions the waiter to bring everyone a round of whatever they’re drinking. “I hear congratulations are in order,” the mandolin player says, introducing himself and the others. “We know the song, alright. I take it you’re Waterboys fans?”
“You bet!” David replies. “When I blow this joint, I want my tribe to play ‘Fisherman’s Blues’ at my memorial.” David turns to me: “Light in my head and you in my arms… that’s all I need, Shekinah.”
“You belong with us alright!” the singer, Niamh, declares.
“Please sing ‘Raggle Taggle Gypsy’ and ‘Fisherman’s Blues’ with us, David,” the younger man suggests, “it would be our honor, and there’s no better dedication than singing the song to the lady yourself.”
David holds up his cast. “It’s a good thing you only asked me to sing.”
“Go ahead, Sweetie,” I urge. “I know you miss singing.”
“That’s true,” he replies, “though I can’t say I miss being a star. I guess it would be apropos since Lia and I have lain in a few wide open fields these past days.”
“But in my case,” I wink, “my husband is both my lord and my gypsy man.”
Niamh lifts her drink. “I’ll toast to them being in one package.”
This is us, the mother-daughter writing team, Deborah Brenner and Kaya Gabsy. Writing our quantum fiction/magic realism quartet, THE TAMMABUKKU CHRONICLES, has been a long, unforgettable journey, and neither of us is the same person we were when that journey began.
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Amazon.com: Serch Bythol: A Young Man's Journey Through Quantum Worlds and Ghosts of Love Past (The Tammabukku Chronicles Book 1) eBook: Deborah Kaya: Kindle Store
We need reviews for SERCH BYTHOL, Volume One of THE TAMMABUKKU CHRONICLES. SERCH BYTHOL is about the inner journey of David Pierson, a tormented young musician who has long suffered from horrific nightmares and an unknown guilt that haunts him. Who is the mysterious red-headed girl whom he calls the angel from his nightmares? Why does the enraged yet anguished spirit haunting the farmhouse he and his family move into seem to have it out for him in particular? And what is it about the abandoned manor house next door that so affects David? As the pages keep turning, readers begin asking themselves: who is haunting whom?
