Golf Among The Druids(Smashwords) (1)

Golf Among the Druids
by
Bryan J. Smith

Copyright © 2014 Bryan J. Smith
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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 drowned and somehow manged to be admitted to the Paradiso. None of it seemed
possible. It did not seem real at all.
I had heard the talk of an island kingdom where great riches were to be found, if only
the island could be located. It was said that the island was hidden by a magical fog which
prevented discovery. A drunk Scot claimed to have lived on an island called Hy-Brasil
and spoke of colossal buildings which were finished in gold. He claimed that streets were
paved with golden bricks. Foods of the highest quality in abundant supply and of endless
variation were readily available. No want for anything. He claimed that the population

dressed in the finest clothing. No crime. It was an island that housed a people living in
perpetual ease and happiness. The drunken sot would explain between greedy swallows
of rum that the glorious island continent was a kingdom administered by a king with
great love, wisdom and charity for his subjects. The king made the drunk remain for five
years before allowing him to leave and return hoe. He spoke also of a golf tournament
where great players were invited to Hy-Brasil to participate. No ship that wasn't invited
had ever found the island claimed the Scot.
I was ten when we went to sea for Iceland Cod. I have told you how I came to Hy-
Brasil. I had been to many ports in many countries but never had seen a land so
resplendent as Hy-Brasil. The harbors of the foreign ports smelled of their particular
economic activity. By way of contrast, Hy-Brasil was fragrant. And mark this, until the
sulfur from the volcanic eruption I was constantly aware of that beautiful bouquet. I am
reminded of that magnificent scent when I walk a golf course first thing in the morning,
like this morning.
After a most delicious breakfast Mother provided that first morning I began to learn
shepherding. Choofee the puppy lent a paw in teaching me. Sheep are a most useful
animal. The animal is especially adept at trimming a golf course. A skilled shepherd
knows when to move his flock so the grass is nibbled to the desired heights of “cut”. I
came to enjoy working with the dog and sheep, but in the back of my mind I still wished
to return to the lands of my birth family.
Black faced sheep came ashore with their shepherd who was a survivor of a failed
colonization expedition to settle the “New World”. The black faced sheep are hearty
beasts. They provided an invaluable service to the golf course.
Lugnasad gathering.
It wasn't long before the Golf Gods began to keep an appreciative eye upon the Scot
playing the game they oversaw. The Golf Gods introduced themselves to Arch Druid
around that time.
The Scot to accommodate his Druid hosts gave lessons to those who were eager to
learn to play golf. There was a call for clubs. The Scot filled that demand. He had been
apprenticed as a blacksmith back in Scotland. Overtime he developed Hickory tree stands
from which he fashioned shafts for the club heads that he produced. For grips the Scot
looked to the leather and fur clothing makers where he acquired their scraps. Those
scraps became the grips that went onto the clubs he fashioned.
Arch Druid Forthwind relieved him of his shepherding duties and became the Scot's
best customer for lessons. Forthwind fell in love with the game.
Forthwind and the Scot rode his chariot around Hy-Brasil hitting shots. They soon
had work underway creating the eighteen holes of what was to the Hy-Brasil Golf Club.
The layout was acceptable to the Golf Gods.
Forthwind and the Scot had created a new economy. That led to the creation of the
need for money. It was just too awkward and time consuming for the Scot to be bartering
for his golf lessons and club making. That created another industry which was designing,
minting and protection of the currency.
It was unanimously agreed among those present at a gathering that golf was having a
positive influence upon Hy-Brasil. Golf based economies sprang up among all the tribes.
The game flourished thereafter.
Once the game had really caught on among the Celtic tribes the Druids incorporated

golf into their annual Lugnasad gathering. A tournament among the various tribes began.
It was dedicated to Truth and friendly competition among the Celts. In exchange they
would be issued coinage with Forthwind's likeness stamped upon the coins and the date
of the minting. It was further agreed that each tribe would contribute their share toward
the sculpting of a gold statue as the prize for the champion.
It was that very trophy that I wanted to win very badly!

2
For the first few years on Hy-Brasil I was in a kind of mental shock. I was caught
between fear and dread caused by my life aboard ship and encouragement and love I
found in my foster parents' home. I slowly began to rid myself of the need for orders and
think for myself. The dread that I had felt upon awakening aboard ship was gently
replaced with an eagerness to take on a new day. As that happened I began to realize just
how wealthy Hy-Brasil actually was. A sack full of the gems that were lying about would
make a man wealthy in the outside world. But, not only that. They were wealthy in the
abundance of the island. No want for anything. It was a rich, luxurious quality of life that
they enjoyed. Yet, I did not feel wholly a part of it all.
I gathered precious gems. They were easy enough to pick up since they were strewn
about in vast quantities like common rocks and stones. It was my original intention to
carry the jewels away with me upon my departure from the island and return to work a
place of my own. My plan was to stowaway on one the Celtic trade ship that came and
went to return to Europe as a rich man was my intention in collecting and storing the
gems.
There was a hollow apple tree in Mother's orchard which was inhabited by a hive of
wild bees. In the hollow of the tree I stored my cache of gems. The bees objected
viciously to my use of their tree as a strong box. It seemed to me a perfect hiding place
since the strings of several of the little insects would dissuade any would be thieves from
helping themselves to my stash. Mother taught me to communicate with the queen of the
hive. The queen of the bees eventually granted permission to store the gems in her tree.
That was an unneeded precaution. No one disturbed my keep safe since no one cared.
The adult Druids had been assessing their childrens' developing aptitudes. It was the
Druid way to encourage their tribe's members to pursue their own path in life. It was also
a Druid parent's responsibility to help children find their vocation. I was adopted, a
herder and unable to move the giant slabs of rock with my mental powers like many of
the other children in the Druid school were capable of doing.
People happily busied themselves caring for their families. All of it was guided by
creativity, after the Druid's way of life. It was a way of life that was repugnant to the
Romans. The Celts and their Druids lived across the land, with and within the Earth. The
Romans were urban oriented. They were city dwellers. Cities have to be supplied from
the lands that surround them, forever expanding outward as the population increased and
its resultant need. The Romans influenced the people that had been in my life prior to the
mermaid bringing me to Hy-Brasil. The Druid way was so very different from that of the
Roman influenced way of life.
It was a struggle that me so full of confusion that at times I had to sit down on the
grass of the golf course with my palms pressed against the temples of my skull. I recall
rocking side to side in hopes of ridding myself of the bewilderment. The transition in my
thinking was overwhelming. Mental conflict. Decision. Indecision. Torn in two directions
constantly.
For the most part , the Druids of Hy-Brasil seemed to accept me. They were polite,
friendly and harvest always very gracious. They asked if I wanted to join in rather than
snarling orders at me. I was not ordered once to do anything the whole time I was there. I
was always asked or given a suggestion.

Runs. Every arrival of the Salmon, Gaspereaux, Smelt and so on in their turn was
cause for celebration with songs, verses of thanks to the fish, dancing and Sadon's
comedic magic act.
The fish have come back from the sea.
To breed and replenish their numbers.
We thank them and stock our larders.
Our fish have come back from the sea.
Then the work began capturing, cleaning and storing the catch. The harvest was
determined by the quantity of the spawning fish. A good run meant a larger harvest. If
there was a not so good run the catch from the river was scaled back. When the fishing
concluded a communal feast followed. The wine flowed freely. The years that the catch
produced a surplus it was salted and divided among the families as needed.
The next day things went back to normal. Young Celts learned to fight. Others
walked arm in arm reciting in whisper maintenance chores like repairing or improving
roads, walk ways, bridges, gardens and golf course. They also refitted and supplied Celtic
ships from around the world.
Forthwind had ordered upon ascending to the position of Arch Druid that Celts have
the decks of the finest ships beneath their feet. Hy-Brasil was a “hub-bub” of
technological activity. Every year discussions at the Lugnasad festival and golf
tournament among the various Celtic tribes included worries about attacks by the
Romans. Forthwind maintained that Caesar must be resisted at all costs. Not one Celt
disagreed. The Druids agreed to create the means to preserve their way of life and keep
the invaders at bay. The magical fog protecting the island was created.
Druid philosophy included reincarnation. They believed that the soul was immortal,
resided in the head and a dead person would return to life in another body. They therefore
had no fear of death. Celts believed that those entering the afterlife went into the earth
rather than into the sky. It was as if the surface of the earth was the dividing line between
the living and the hereafter. They held eight celebrations a year with eight representing
their belief in their belief in the connection of the two realms. In addition, the seasonal
celebrations insured that the Druids remained attune to the natural cycle of the Earth and
the Cosmos. The celebrations provided structure to life and enhanced the sense of
community with all living things. All forms of life were considered sacred as parts of the
great weave of creation. They were very open to the idea of other realities. Druids sought
to develop an individual's full human potential.

3
As I was learning to herd the sheep I began to wish I was one of the golfers who
played the golf course. One afternoon, someone had left behind a mashie and some
Robertson feathery balls in the rough along the thirteenth hole. I found the club when a
baby ewe wandered away from the flock and could have gotten into harm's way. After I
got the lamb back to mother, I picked up the club and made a swing at one of the balls
and off it went. The ball landed in front of the green, rolled on, found the break and went
into the hole. Can't tell you how I did it. I tried another shot. It did not turn out quite as
well as the first. snap hooked into the forest. I've been fighting a hook ever since.
I had begun to pursue the perfect swing without even realizing it. If I could sink
shots from the fairway what couldn't I win? I began to dream of being a great player and
winning the Hy-Brasil Invitational Golf Tournament. That dream morphed into an
obsession.
Unfortunately, the club I found created serious trouble for me. The owner came
looking for it saw me with it and accused me of stealing it.
The game of golf was completely foreign to me. Having fun was even more removed
from my life experience. The Druids seemed to enjoy the game and the fellowship they
shared with each other as they played. I found myself warming to the game. That you
could win a golden statue greatly added to my interest.
It didn't look like a difficult game from my vantage point. An idea slowly began to
form in my developing psyche. The novelty of having an idea pleased, but it was
accompanied by a peculiar, unfamiliar feeling.
“Could I learn to play Golf?” I asked at dinner one evening when I was twelve.
“Well, certainly Billy,” Father said.
“Yes. Yes,” Mother agreed enthusiastically.
“It looks fairly easy,” I remarked.
“Its not, trust me,” Father replied.
“We'll get you started, if you still wish to play come morning,” stated Mother. “We
have a few clubs you can play with around here somewhere,” she said with a quick
glance at Father.
Father said, “There's an old set out the sheep's shed. Don't know about the bag? It
might be moth eaten or worse.
We finished the dinner of ham, Brussels sprouts, watercress and sweet potatoes.
Father stood and announced cheerfully, “I have to speak with Forthwind about Billy
wanting to play Golf.” He left for the castle.
I felt betrayed. Father said I could play. Mother was all for it. Could I really trust
them after all? Said I could learn to Golf and off he went to see if its okay with the Arch
Druid. What if Forthwind said, “No”?
Mother read my thoughts, seemed worried and said, “Billy you must be careful.
Thoughts are powerful. You might harm someone unintentionally with such vicious
notions.” She then added, “Forthwind has been hoping you would take an interest in
Golf. He will be happy to hear the news. That is why Fendrel has gone to see the Arch
Druid.”
I had turned in for the night when Father returned from the castle. I was not asleep,
however.

“How did it go?” Mother asked anxiously.
“Very well. Very well. Forthwind is delighted that Billy has expressed an interest in
Golf,” Fendrel responded.
There was pride in his voice, which I found to be reassuring. I felt my body slowly
fill with excitement. It looked like such fun to golf. Visions of winning a golden statue
filled my mind's eye.
“Forthwind agrees with you that Billy should be among children his own age more
often,” Father said to Arabella.
I could make them out across the glowing hearth. Fendrel took Arabella in an
embrace then continued, “Billy and all the young herders are to be given instruction.
Forthwind will give the lessons.
Choofee put her head on my left arm. She was asleep immediately. I followed suit.
The temperature had dropped dramatically during the night. I got out of my “rack”
and brought in wood. It was very cold outside but that didn't stop Choofee. She grabbed a
piece of wood in her mouth and carried it to the hearth.
The sheep had not been sheered. They were sheltered. No worries there, even though
the temperature had dropped and it was freezing cold. Choofee and I got the fire in the
hearth going again and it wasn't long before we all felt warm and secure.
My foster parents recited when the fire flared up.
We thank you for being our son, Billy.
You have brought us many things,
You who were carried to us on watery wings,
Have shared your love when the air is chilly.
They snickered together. Shortly thereafter their snoring began.
I made my way back to my bunk.
We were warm, loving and happy.

4
The next afternoon, someone had left behind a golf club and some Robertson
feathery balls in the rough along the rough along thirteenth hole. I found the club when a
baby ewe wandered away from the flock and could have gotten into harm's way. I got the
lamb back to her mother.
I picked up the club and made a swing at one of the balls and off it went. The ball
landed in front of the green, rolled on, found the break and went into the hole. Can't tell
you how I did it. I tried another shot. It did not turn out quite as well as the first. It snap
hooked into the forest. I've been fighting a hook ever since.
I had begun the pursuit of the perfect swing without ever realizing it. If I could sink
shots from the fairway what couldn't I win? I began to dream of being a great player and
winning the Hy-Brasil Invitational Golf Tournament. This day dream morphed into an
obsession.
As I was about to hit a third shot when the owner of the club and balls came looking
for it, saw me with it and accused me of stealing it. He didn't like that I was not Hy-Brasil
born.
When Father and I got home after work later that day Terrowin, his wife Thea and
son Carac were there confronting Mother who had been harvesting herbs. Terrowin was
as angry as a disturbed nest of hornets.
“Your Billy is a thief. I caught gun with my golf club. He was trying to steal it!”
Terrowin yelled.
“You are acting in a very rude manner,” Mother replied calmly.
“That “out-lander” must be sacrificed to the Gods!” Terrowin insisted. “He must be
reported to the Arch Druid and dealt with. I knew nothing good would come of it when
he was allowed to live among us. The wicker man will be the only appropriate
punishment!”
“Here's Billy now. We'll have his side of the story,” Mother stated firmly.
Mother addressed me, “Did you steal Terrowin's golf club?” She looked deep into
my eyes searching for the truth.
“No. I found it in the rough while rescuing a lost lamb.”
“He intended to keep it!” screamed Carac.
“I found it abandoned. I hit two shots with it. The they showed up and started
accusing me of stealing it,” I responded.
“It wasn't abandoned. I left it there while Carac and I went to the river to pay homage
to the Water Goddess. When we got back to resume our practicing, he had my club in his
hands,” Terrowin insisted.
“What is this nonsense?” Father demanded.
“That “out-lander” boy was trying to steal my golf club!” Terrowin snarled.
“Terrowin, Billy doesn't even play the game yet. Why would he want to steal your
club?” Father asked calmly.
“How far did he go with it? Did Billy sneak off with it?” Mother asked.
“He surely would have!” Terrowin declared. “He would have hidden it in the bee
tree with his bag of gems.”
“Did he damage the club?” Father asked.
“No. He holed a shot. Then snapped another one into the woods,” Carac whined.

“You holed one?” Father asked me with an astonished look.
“Yes, Father,” I replied. Embarrassed I continued, “My second attempt went into the
woods. Terrowin would not let me help him look for it.
“Did you find the second ball?” Mother asked Terrowin.
“No. He stole that too!”
“Terrowin you have your club. There is no theft,” Father offered. “The way you
throw clubs and leave them abandoned anyone could have picked up one of your clubs.”
“Sometimes new clubs are not up to my standards. I throw them away when I'm not
happy with them,” Terrowin cried defensively.
Terrowin's wife Thea looked horrified and apologetically glanced at Mother.
“No! That boy is a menace to our way of life! He must be dealt with! Terrowin
screamed as he stormed off, followed by his family.
As Mother, Father and I walked from the herbal gardens into our cottage Father
asked, “You really holed it?”
“Yes sir,” I answered submissively.
“Beginner's luck,” Father smiled.
“Got some beef,” Mother said as she threw her arm over my shoulder.
“Steaks?” I asked.
“Hope so,” said Father rubbing his stomach.

5
It was difficult learning to play the game of golf. What with tending my flock,
helping in the family gardens, the orchards and any other assignments thrown my way I
had little enough time for golf. When time allowed I worked on improving my play. My
objective was getting the ball to go where I wanted it to go. That wasn't easy. My mental
make-up was such that I should be working not playing. I had been driven hard aboard
ship. Get to work! It was as though I was unable to allow any room in my brain for golf. I
would hear my thoughts berating that I was wastrel, lazy, should be thrown to the sharks
and so on wen I attempted to practice or play golf. Destructive thoughts had to be
overcome if I was to acquire the skill to win the Hy-Brasil Golf tournament.
I'd been dragged through pubs as a small child where I'd witnessed the game of darts
and the accuracy it required. It seemed to me that the game of darts and golf had
something in common. The hole on the green was like a bull's eye, the target. The ball at
rest at the bottom of the hole was the goal of the game, for me. Problem was I did not
know how to obtain that goal. That was extremely frustrating!
I discovered that by mentally playing the hole from the tee to the green would make
for wiser shot making. Let me explain. Imagine a hole. The tee was raised above the
fairway which fell to the river some two hundred and twenty yards off. The fairway also
sloped fro right to the left. Truth River was thirty yards wide during most of the summer.
It flowed also sloped from the right to left in a concave, semi-circular curve. That left one
hundred and eighty three yards to the hole. On the tee side of the river on the right was a
berm which obscured the view of the fairway. A shot down this side was also threatened
by thick mixed deciduous and coniferous trees. Down the left side was a sand bar the
river created as it flowed in its course.
The reward this hole offered to the brave who risked a shot over the water was a
much shorter second shot at the hole. However, a shot not so well struck might err to the
left in the troubling sand bar or right and end up behind a stymie tree or land in the river.
The loss of strokes to penalties could easily lose the match of the championship.
It was a risk or reward shot from the tee. Do you try to knock it across or lay it up?
This requires analysis. It needs an assessment of the challenge of every option. I
understood this, but lacked the skill needed. Practice, practice, practice and more practice
was what was needed. My responsibilities kept me from playing the golf course more
often than I wished.
When in the Druid school I was taught self-discipline and self-confidence. I fell short
in lifting blocks of stones through levitation, but I threw my whole being into the study of
golf statue of the Hy-Brasil Tournament. I studied hitting a golf ball as hard as or harder
than the Druid students did while lifting their stones.
I also had a tough time during my classes at the school for Druid youth, which was
conducted in the oak groves. I managed to learn from most of my courses but my heart
was never in my studies. My thoughts always wandered off to the golf course. That did
not change when the teachers began to teach us to levitate objects, Their purpose was to
erect their monuments in order to serve mother earth, in addition to harness the energy of
the earth. I saw another purpose for the skill they trying to teach us. That was to have the
mental control to swing the club perfectly at the ball.
The levitation course was beyond my ability. My attempts at causing megalithic

stones to rise into the air failed miserably. Lifting stones did not interest me nearly as
much as my pursuit of the perfect swing.
In addition to levitation we were educated in the ways of the Celtic Gods and
Goddesses, the cosmos, the moon and earth's relationship with human beings. Students of
the Druid ways were taught strange things like our moon was towed into its present orbit
before the destruction of Mars thousands of years ago. The moon was filled with water
from the planet Tiamat. Water from Tiamat was delivered to the Earth as part of a terra
forming effort. Now the moon floats like a balloon in orbit around our planet and still
affects all water on Earth.
It was quite a struggle for me. A ship at sea can be a very stressful environment,
especially when the seas are rough. You can't ignore distractions for they may be signals
of a threat to the safety of the boat.
A cabin boy just does what he's told. There was no time for the development of the
imagination. All I'd been taught was to serve without question and be ready to help
defend the ship.
He stopped for another sip of wine then continued, “Learning in the Druid school
was not easy for me. Since the time I was a child I had been ordered about in a rigid
authoritative manner. Do this. Do that. Things aboard ship have to be done in certain
specific ways for proper management of the crew and the safety of the vessel. Every one
on board the ship were grown men. I was a child. There was the Captain, his mates, the
bosun and so on that made up the hierarchy of rank with me at the bottom. There was
very little if nothing at all to encourage creativity. The education I received from the
Druids was entirely different to what I had learned at sea. Druid lessons leaned heavily
toward enhancing a child's imagination.
The other students had been exposed to the Druid way of thinking and doing from
birth, Their minds were accustomed to a kind of freedom of thought that I had never
experienced. The Druid way would not have been tolerated on the ship I'd been aboard.
The Druid mind tended toward calmness and an awareness of one's feeling and moods.
They developed amazing abilities of concentration. The Druid kids were being schooled
to help them mature into fully developed human beings.
At nights before sleep I'd picture in my min the perfect swing that would produce the
perfect shot over and over. Mother counseled that visualization repetition was beneficial.
What the Druids had tried to teach us students seemed to apply to my goal of winning the
Hy-Brasil Golf Tournament. We were told to see ourselves as though in a vision
accomplishing the task. They said to picture the giant rock floating through the air and
being placed perfectly within the structure, according to the design. It seemed to me that
the perfect shot would benefit from the same kinds of thought. I could not move blocks of
stone weighing several tons, but slowly I began to be able gain skill at striking the golf
ball. Slowly, gradually I was able to hit the ball where and how I intended. Champion of
the Hy-Brasil Golf Tournament.
The lessons I was learning at the Druid school began to open my mind to many new
kinds of thinking. I began to consider all sorts of possibilities that I had never even
known existed. They taught me to think freely. It wasn't long before I began to appreciate
the nature based spiritual path that the Druids followed. I was never forced to do so but I
began to attend the rituals and ceremonies of the group or grove that Father and Mother
participated in. They were organized into what they called groves out of a deep reverence

for trees. Every type of tree had its lore and spirit.
As the Druid philosophy became more a part of my experience and thinking I
realized an epiphany one morning in February during the time our sheep were lambing.
The Druids impressed upon me that the individual soul is a vehicle of the succession of
life. I suddenly saw in the game of Golf a series of metaphors for the Druid philosophy,
As we play a golf course each hole can be thought to represent a past or future
incarnation of the soul. They venerated the number one, which is the number of the
individual.
The Druids celebrated eight festivals at times evenly spaced throughout the year. We
now have a one and eight or eighteen, which is the number of holes on a golf course.
The sun appears to travel through the sky in an unusual path called an analemma
every year. The sun seems to follow a figure eight path. If an observer records the
position of sun at the same time, on the same day of every month, from the same position
on the earth the figure eight path of the sun becomes apparent. At the winter solstice the
sun will be at the bottom of the analemma or the eight.
Our moon and the planets in our solar system can be followed a long their figure
eight paths. The new moon phases will be seen to be higher in the sky than the full moon
phases. The Druid were well aware of the phenomena.
And more the number eight is present in the cosmos. We have one observer and the
sun and moon's figure eight paths. One and eight are found again. Eighteen is the number
of holes on a golf course.
It also occurred to me at that the shape of most greens on golf courses are based upon
thee geometric form of a circle. Certainly greens are encountered that are not circular, but
most are basically circular in design. The Celts were an agricultural people. They
constructed stone circle as calendars. The circles also represented the sun and moon on
the ground. Druids assembled themselves in circles as they performed their ceremonies.
Once again, we encounter a possible coincidence, but that has always seemed unlikely to
me, The circular shape of greens is intentional. Druids taught the circle of life. We are
born, we live, we have children and we die. These are the four stages of life. Golf is
played in groups of four. Not only all that but we find the first tee not far from the club
house. We also find the eighteenth green is in close proximity to the club house. Once
again, we are reminded of the circle of life.
When we play golf we are guided around the course by a set of rules and constraints
of etiquette. Yet, there are no requirements that force us to hit a certain club, in a
predetermined way. Beyond the rules and the requirements of etiquette there are no
prohibitions concerning the manner in which we must swing, what club we must hit and
how. It is entirely up to you, which once again is similar to the Druid philosophy.
The Druids did not cling to any certain dogma. They preferred conjectural debates.
Here we find another similarity to the game of golf. At the nineteenth hole there are
always discussions concerning how to grip the club which set of clubs is best, how to
play certain holes and so on. And like the Celts things can get heated during the
discussions to the point that physical violence can break out over something as ridiculous
as where the left thumb should be placed upon the club's shaft.
One other thing that is an eerie similarity between the Druids and golf is that the
game offers players the opportunity of learning from nature and a players place within it.
Celts and their Druids were nature worshipers and considered themselves a part of nature.

I managed to pass most of my school classes, but my heart was never in my studies.
My thoughts always wandered to the golf course.

6
Carac and his buddies learned the hard way. While aboard ship I was taught to fight.
Those that sail on trade ships need to be able to defend their cargoes from pirates and
other sea raiders. The first mate Mac Boyle had been assigned to teach me to help defend
the ship. Attacks I was instructed daily. By the time I carried Hy-Brasil I could help ward
off attacks on the ship. When Carac and his pals who were sons of warriors tried to bully
me they discovered that was a bad idea. But, their attack added to the charges brought
against me by Terrowin.
The warrior class always thought themselves better than we sheep herders. They
were always trying to lord it over us to the point of bullying we herders. Two or three of
them would appear from the woods and start taunting us. Since we herders worked our
flocks independently of one another we were usually alone on the golf course. Being by
ourselves and outnumbered we herders seemed vulnerable.
They were all older than I. The bullies were also taller and heavier. One of them by
the name of Brom got behind me and went down on all fours. The other two, Merek and
Carac kept me distracted long enough to push me backwards over Brom onto the earth.
When my back hit the ground I sprang back up onto my feet and kicked Brom in the face
breaking his nose. I charged Merek and the punch I hit him with knocked out some of his
teeth. Carac began to run for the woods. I picked up my shepherd's crook and threw it
spear-like at the fleeing coward. The crook caught Carac in the legs and tripped him so
that he fell heavily. He went away with a broken wrist.
“Bother anymore herders and you'll get worse,” I hollered at them as they ran away
into the woods.
I retrieved my crock and returned to my duties. I didn't think any more about the
incident until later that day when I got home. Terrowin dressed in his finest colorful and
sparkling gold adorned robes was seated Buddha fashion in front of our cottage's
entrance. Father confronted me about the attack that evening at dinner.
“Terrowin is seated outside in a fast. He will remain there until justice is served.
Merek, Carac and Brom claim you attacked them,” Father inquired staring at me hard.
Terrowin has brought another complaint against you before the Arch Druid. There will be
a hearing. If you are found guilty you will be banished just defended myself!”
or even executed.
“They attacked me!” I protested. “I just defended myself!”
“We will have to prove that before the Arch Druid,” Mother stated anxiously.
“Anyone see those boys attack you?” Father asked hopefully.
“I didn't see anyone else around,” was my reply.
Mother let out a worried sounding sigh. It was saddening to see Mother so
concerned.
“Let's hope the Golf Gods were watching. Then again, who knows they'll do?”
Mother mournfully whispered.
“Arabella, two of my crew, Ulric and Rowan were badly bruised and would not say
how when I asked,” Father reassured.
Terrowin was a member of the Warrior class. He was a warrior of great standing
among the clans. Many heads of enemies were hung around his house. His son, Carac's
rousing oratory of his fictitious account of the alleged attack won him the interest and

sentiment of another class, the Bards.
The Bards were a noble class. They exemplified the spirit that drove the Celts. Bards
shared the poetry of praise that uplifted the mood of the people. They shared the news
from outside Hy-Brasil. The Bards also were the keepers of the tribe's memory. They
composed poetry which praised the glory of great warriors. They kept the sick and
wounded entertained during their convalescence. Sadon was a Bard. His hijinks kept the
people of Hy-Brasil in good spirits, for example. The poetry of the Bards kept the history
of the tribe alive.
I believe lawyers who handle civil case litigation would therefore call Terrowin suit
against me formidable. I was in a very precarious position.
It looked like I was on my way to the “Wicker Man” to be burned to death. It was
frightening! Father had advised to tell the truth. Tell the assembly what had happened. I
did just that. I had never spoken before a group before. That was almost as terrifying as
the thought the assembled might rule against me.
“As I told my story, the Druids began to look askance at Terrowin and Carac. There
was disappointment appearing on their faces. That was even more frightening! When my
version of the story was done I stood shaking head to toe as I had upon originally arriving
cold and wet upon Hy-Brasil.
Terrowin demanded that I be made to fire walk in order to prove my guilt. I was
about to walk across the glowing, hot coals when the Golf Gods appeared and declared
that they had observed the entire incident. They pointed out that Terrowin was known to
be of a very volatile hot temperament. The Golf Gods reminded everyone present that
Terrowin had broken several clubs and had thrown more clubs away. They also pointed
out Carac had a habit of throwing clubs in anger like his father. The Gods rebuked them
both for they did not approve of their behavior on the golf course. Then the Golf Gods
paused.
There was a deathly silence as I stared fearfully the fiery coals that I would have to
walk barefooted across.
Finally, the Golf Gods stated that my version of the story was the true one. Terrowin
and Carac looked stunned.
Billy told me this, drained his mug, looked toward the oak grove he'd emerged from
and then said, “I have to leave soon,” Billy said. “I've got to get back,” he added. I
ordered another round from the bartender. Billy resumed his story.
“We young shepherds began our golf lessons under Forthwind's instruction. We met
daily. Forthwind was like a mother hen teaching and encouraging her brood as we
herders gradually acquired skill in the game of golf.
“Get to know your clubs,” Forthwind remarked while looking directly at me.
A giggle emerged from Theodulf. Theodulf was the son of Althalos, who was the head
blacksmith. Theodulf loved the game but his goal was to become a warrior of renown. He
loved to battle! He and I got into many fights with each other. Theodulf did not giggle
when we were beating on one another. There was always the fire of a killer in his eyes
during our battles. He gave me a few scars. In return, he got a few from me. When we
had exhausted ourselves, we lay back on the cool grass of the golf course and watched
the clouds pass by overhead. Theodulf was my best friend.
Merek and Tybalt would find the nearest oak grove during our fights and recite their
Druid lessons to each other such as;

Sweet mistletoe grows upon our oaks,
Wanders among the majestic bows above.
Share your cures among us adoring folk.
In return we promise to share our undying love.
Forththwind would call our fight to a halt and we'd get back to learning to play Golf.
We stood in a line, side by side, facing the first green. We were told to rock back and
forth, side to side. We were encouraged to do this rhythmically in a dance-like
movement. I looked down the line of the assembled herders. We were all swaying back
and forth. Forthwind walked along behind us adjusting our movements as he went.
I was stiff and felt foolish. It made no sense to me. I wanted to play golf not dance
around. Why did Forthwind have us shifting our weight from one foot to the other?
“Relax Billy. Let yourself flow back and forth gently. Let your body do the work,”
Forthwind as he passed behind me.
In the confused and anxious state that I was in my movements rigid and restricted. I
was holding back. My thoughts were also concerned with how silly I looked.
“Okay stop, all of you,” Forthwind commanded. “I have asked you to sway back and
forth rhythmically by shifting your weight from one foot to the other foot, so that the first
thing you learn about the golf swing is that there must be a weight transfer from one foot
to the other and back again. Watch my feet and legs,” Forthwind told us as he swung at
balls that flew to the green and impacted only a few feet from the flag, each and every
time.
Seeing shots like Forthwind was making made all four of us herders really pay
attention.
“Any questions?” Forthwind asked.
“Why haven't you played in Hy-Brasil tournament?” Theodulf asked.
“I cannot. I am the Arch Druid. I must never compete against my advisers. That may
create resentment. We must all work together,” replied Forthwind.
Merek asked, “Why do we replace divots?”
“We replace divots to give back to the earth.”
There were no other questions that day.
“Now I want you stretch your arms out at shoulder height. Now turn your body so
that the back of your left hand faces the hole. Next turn your torso so that your right hand
points to flag,” Forthwind told us as he demonstrated what he wanted us to do. He added,
“Do this rhythmically. Gently. Gently. That's it. That's it,” he smiled.
“Yes sire, we answered in concert with one another.
“Good. Good. Good!” Forthwind chirped sounding like a Song Sparrow as he
praised us. Wonderful is the game of golf. It teaches those who are willing to learn
something of the balance in life that is so necessary to become everything you are
capable of being.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“We Druids constantly seek balance. When in balance we are free to hear the earth's
voice. When mentally, emotionally and physically in balance we are totally, completely
involved in whatever we are trying to accomplish. This requires that we are constantly
aware of what we think and feel. This philosophy applies directly to playing golf, as well.
In golf, when we are in total balance the shots we hit will be struck strongly at the target,”
Forthwind responded. “What I'm trying to share with you boys is the nature of the

relationship between the golf swing and being alive!”
“Right then, thought for today. It is not so much what you do in this life. Rather, it is
what you set out to do. You are setting out to learn to play golf,” Forthwind said.
“All right. Pick up the golf club on the ground in front of you. You are all right
handed, yes? Good. We'll start with your left thumb. Show each other your left thumbs,”
Forthwind requested.
We all surely felt foolish, but we complied.
”Your left thumb is very important in gripping the club correctly, as well as, being
very useful when gouging an eye out when in a fight with an enemy…”
We interrupted the Arch Druid with our laughter.
You see golf is fun!” Forthwind chuckled, while mimicking the extraction of an
enemy's eye with his thumb.
“Your left hand is the top hand. Place your thumb in the middle of the shaft while
paying attention to where you're aiming the club face. Wrap your hand around the club
face. Wrap your hand around the club shaft so that you are holding on mainly with these
last three fingers.
Terrowin came racing through at that moment on his chariot and screamed, “The
Romans have breached the mists. They are approaching the wharves!” Off he went to
confront the intruders.
“To the wharves men! We have a fight on our hands. Fight to honor the Gods! Show
them your bravery!” Forthwind cried.
The warriors of Hy-Brasil made it to the wharves rapidly. Celts fought in the nude
because it elevated their karma to its full potential as warriors and should the killed it
would assist in their travel to the Underworld.
We all ran to the wharves where all the Celtic warriors stood ready to fight. The
Romans from their ship hurled their obscenities at us.
W roared back! Our naked warriors banged their iron swords against their shields. I
had not yet acquired my own weapons. I shook my crook as enthusiastically, viciously as
any of the Celts. Since I had no sword I picked up a rock and threw it. The stone caught
one of the loudest Romans in the face. That brought great cheers from the Celts and it
seemed to deflate the Romans. The man I'd hit with the rock fell overboard into the surf.
The Romans disappeared back into the fog after hurling their insults. We all hollered
back inviting them to come ashore and feel the bite of our iron weapons. The retreating
Romans shot some of their arrows and tossed some bronze tipped spears all of which
were dodged or deflected by our shields and fell away harming no one.
When the confrontation was over, Terrowin snarled at no one in particular,
“Something has to be done about them! We need to construct an abatis.”
“What's an abatis?” I asked.
“It's defensive structure. We'll cut down some trees to make poles that we'll anchor
in the ground. They'll have a sharpened end pointing at the enemy,” Theodulf replied.
“I'm very concerned about them getting through the fogs. How can their magic be
stronger than ours?” Father remarked.
“We'll leave some men here in the event they return. The rest of us will meet within
the castle. We need to strengthen our defenses. If a small Roman ship can penetrate the
fog it won't be long before the Roman Legions find way through,” Forthwind said with
authority. Terrowin pick some men and guard the wharves.”

Terrowin selected some men with me among them. Father handed me his sword and
shield. I surrendered my shepherd's crook to Fendrel.
The Druids and Bards with their novices, Terrowin's son Carac among them
followed Forthwind as they hurried up the promenade to the castle.
Terrowin briskly walked toward me. He stood glaring at me. I could feel his hate. He
stared long and hard at me. He swung his sword. I parried it. Terrowin stepped back. He
switched his sword to his shield hand. His right hand was now weaponless. I did the
same. He gripped my forearm in a Warrior's greeting. Terrowin whispered, “Next time
throw more rocks. Do you know where the Norumbegans set up?”
“Yes.”
“Go down there. Don't let anyone see you as you go. Theodulf go with him. If that
scum you hit with the rock washes ashore one of you capture him. If he's alive tie him
and gag him securely and we'll offer him as a sacrifice to the Gods after we interrogate
him.” “If they should come back or if you hear my signal start throwing rocks at them
and don't stop! We will show them our iron should they dare come ashore. Theodulf you
swim out and carry your dagger. Take as many as you can. Stay concealed until then. Do
you understand?”
“Yes, Terrowin,” I said. Theodulf and I looked at each other.
“Don't forget sound travels quickly across water, so stay quiet. Theodulf leave your
helmet here. Collect rubies as you go. Throw them at the Romans. It will make them
think of their own blood. Go.” Terrowin ordered.
Theodulf and I took off and concealed ourselves in the rocks about a hundred feet
from the beach.
“Nice shot Billy,” Theodulf whispered once we were in position. “Hit the scum right
in the face!”
“Beginner's luck,” I whispered my reply, while keeping my eyes on the beach, the
sea and the mists.
That caught Theodulf by surprise and he had to cover his mouth with his hand to
stifle his laughter. He was keeping in mind Terrowin's instructions. He punched me in the
shoulder with his other hand.
I sat down and leaned back against the rock I was near. Theodulf leaned back with
his eyes closed as though napping. Choofee wandered in lay down beside me, with her
chin on my right thigh.
“What did you think of today's golf lesson?” Theodulf asked. He kept his voice
hushed.
I shrugged then quietly responded, “I felt foolish.”
The afternoon gave way to the night. The Northern Lights showed purple and green
far off to the north, northeast. Falling stars lit up the sky with their tails. The slowly rising
moon was full and bright. The skies were clear and dazzling stars shone in the dark of
night. The sea gently lapped against the shore.
I wondered how my flock of sheep was fairing. A sense of frustration began to grow
within me. A sense of frustration began to grow within me. When would I learn to play
golf and get on the route to winning the Hy-Brasil Golf Tournament. I didn't want in the
heart of my hearts to be guarding Hy-Brasil. I wanted to play golf! Interruptions!
Distractions! I wanted to be on the golf course and really learn to play golf. I wanted to
hit the ball as well or better than Forthwind. I wanted to win the Hy-Brasil Golf

Tournament.
Theodulf didn't see the Roman I'd nailed with the rock crawl out of the sea onto the
beach. I grabbed the hemp rope and quickly had the enemy hog tied. By this time
Theodulf was at my side. We dragged him into the rocks to conceal him from sight.
Theodulf rubbed out the drag marks that were visible on the beach. He was giggling the
whole time, which worried me. Would he give away our position.
The mermaid who'd brought me to Hy-Brasil appeared on the water's surface as I
tied the foul smelling prisoner. She splashed Theodulf and I with her tail and disappeared
below the waves.
Theodulf whispered, “The Romans didn't even look for this man!”
“Scum,” was all I whispered back as I jammed my foot hard down upon the neck of
the captive man.
“You should cut off his head,” Theodulf whispered. “Your kill take his head.”
Fendrel, Forthwind, Sadon, Terrowin and Althalos showed up minutes later and
claimed our prisoner. Althalos, the blacksmith carried off our prisoner with one hand.
Theodulf's father handled the Roman roughly as he took him away to be dealt with at
some later date.
When it was determined that the Roman intruders were gone for the time being the
herders golf lessons resumed. Forthwind has us shifting our weight and rotating our
torsos with arms extended again, as a review of what he was showing us before the
interruption caused by the Roman intrusion. He went over how the left hand grips the
club. The Arch Druid them showed us how the fingers of the right hand grip the club.
“When were we going to start hitting the ball?” I impatiently thought.
Finally, Forthwind explained the golf swing. I felt foolishly impatient as I began to
understand the importance of the proper weight shifts and the turning of the torso
embarrassed to produce a powerful swing. I became embarrassed as I realized why the
hands are placed on the club in order to create a balanced form during the entire swing,
from the address of the ball to the follow through.
Forthwind explained, “The golf swing for a right handed player begins by a shift of
the body's weight centered between the feet to the right foot. That will cause the arms,
hands and club face to move. This early movement is then followed by extending the
arms and turning the shoulders. The right elbow folds in close the rib cage.”
“You have turned the shoulders sufficiently when your left shoulder is under your
chin as you look down at the ball.”
“The left heel may come off the ground but it is best if you can keep the heel close to
or upon the ground. Keep the right knee in its original position. Your left knee should
move toward the center of your stance.”
“When you have reached the top of your swing you shift the weight from the right
foot back to the left foot and allow the arms, hands and club face to flow back to the ball
and on through impact with the ball through to being balanced on the left with both arms
extended all the way to the finish of the swing,” Forthwind instructed.
“Any questions?” asked Forthwind.
Tybalt had a question, “What do you think about before you hit a shot?”
“I ask myself a series of questions. Do I need to hit the ball to draw? Where is the
best place to hit the ball to set it up for the next shot. Which club to use? If I mishit the
shot where will it end up?”

“Once I have decided how I want to hit the shot I try to go to a quiet place where I
am balanced physically, emotionally and rationally. All of that resolved, my weight shifts
to the flat of my right foot. My arms, hands, shoulders then follow suit while swinging to
the top of the back swing, left shoulder under my chin. Then my weight is shifted to the
flat of the right foot and along come the shoulders, arms, hands, club and club head
flowing through to a balanced finish.”
“I will now walk among you and help you to physically feel the fundamental
movements of your body during the golf swing. For the present, you will not hit a ball. I
wish that you would absorb the fundamentals of the swing before we show you how to
target a shot.
“When the can I hit the ball?” I cried out in frustration!
I heard Mother's ESP communication,
“Billy my son,
Impatience and anger is not the way,
Let them show you and you'll have a heyday,
When they hand out the trophy you'll be the one.
Mother always counseled patience, but in some ways I was like Terrowin. I was very
quick to anger. Golf helped me realize that to win there must be a kind of ruthlessness
while being totally calm over the ball. A golfer must be in complete control. A player
must have have total command of that moment when the club face strikes the ball. That
sends it where ever that particular swing causes the ball to fly.
Mother's voice whispered into my mind's ear, “Let Forhwind show you how to swing
your clubs. Listen to him if you want to win the championship.”
Forthwind was helping Tybalt learn the fundamental sequence of movements to
arrive at a sound golf swing. Tybalt was a very physically coordinated fellow. I came to
admire and envy the fluidity of his swing.
“Billy are you going to swing the club or stand there like a statue,” Forthwind asked
sarcastically.
“Swing the club,” I replied as I checked my grip, set my feet, shifted the weight back
perfectly to the flat of the left foot, kept my eye on the ball the whole time and totally
whiffed it.
Forthwind studied me a moment then said, “Nice swing. Practice it. Rely upon it.
Oh, the ancestors don't mind if your clubs strike the ground after you hit the ball.
That drew laughter from everyone present. I'm pretty sure I blushed I couldn't help it.
I had to join the laughter.
“You see gentlemen golf is fun,” Fendrel sang out.
The other herders and I were hitting shots. Fendrel and Forthwind walked behind us
and offered encouragements. We gradually developed as golfers. But, lessons learned
elsewhere also helped my improvement as a player. It also took the hard work of
perfecting my state of mind, emotions and body as I hit the ball.
It was Forthwind who also taught us to chip and putt the ball. I had the notion that
kind of flipping at the ball with my hands would make it go into the hole. Forthwind was
a master around the greens. He had amazing accuracy. I argued with him at first but his
gentle Druid's guidance persuaded me eventually.
What convinced me was the realization that Forthwind's his short game was much
better than mine. I resisted no more and began to acquire skill that equaled Forhwind's

skill.
When our lessons with Forthwind concluded we'd play a few holes, lift large stones
to strengthen our muscles and finally share a relaxing soak in one of the hot springs.
While in the hot springs we'd visit with the water gods and goddesses, as well as, the
ancestors who rose to the surface of the water. We drank wine. Lively discussions
ensued. We talked of women, news from other tribes, matters of commerce, wars and so
on. It was “Man talk:. It was good times!
As I attended the Druid school, in the peaceful oak groves, the philosophy I was
absorbing made me come to realize that foolishness and embarrassment I was feeling was
caused by my lack of patience. It was my emotional response to the game that I set out to
manage. That was not a cinch. I was hot tempered like Terrowin. As such, I had the
potential to become a warrior. The thing was however, I did not want to be a warrior. I
wanted to a champion of the Hy-Brasil Golf Tournament.
As I listened to the Druid teachers, Forthwind and my foster parents my emotional
control began to improve, little by little. Like I said, it wasn't easy.

7
I was enjoying Billy's story. I didn't believe a word of it, but asked him to go on with
his tale and he did.
“I heard the horse moving quickly through the trees as I was moving the flock from
the eleventh to the twelfth hole along the path through the white birches. It was a
beautiful warm spring morning. What I emerge from among the trees stunned me dead in
my tracks. Choofee wagged her tail happily.
What my eyes took in was a very beautiful dark haired girl on the back of a shining
white unicorn mare. She rode the magical horse bare back. The girl halted her steed and
peered at me through the branches of the forest. Then she walked the horse toward me
with a broad smile upon pretty pixie-like face. Her dark hair was long, braided and hung
down over her shoulder outside of her right breast. There was a laurel reef of miniature
white roses about her head. Her sparkling blue eyes suggested a love of humor. I was so
riveted in place at the sight of her. I must not have been breathing.
“You'll die if you don't breath,” she counseled in voice with a slight rasp. She moved
her unicorn in closer to where I stood.
As I became aware of my breathing she spoke again, “Your sheep are getting away
from you.”
I felt embarrassment. I snapped at Choofee and she went into action rounding up the
flock into a tight group. My dog knew our destination, the twelfth fairway.
I turned my attention back to the girl. She was magnificent! She steered her horse
straight for the green.
“Hey! Stop!” I yelled.
She halted and swung around her horse and trotted it back to confront me.
“Out-lander I do whatever I want. Whenever I want,” she smiled maliciously, turned
her animal and urged it into a gallop right across the green, which was extremely soft.
Her unicorn turned its magnificent head and looked back at me and then carried her
toward the twelfth. She did not and then back at me and then carried her toward the
twelfth. She did not look back, but rode off laughing condescendingly. I stared horrified
at the green now destroyed by horse hooves.
“Bitch,” I muttered.
She rode back toward me. “I'm Leleanda,” she said softly, then levitated off of his
horse. She floated through the air and back onto her unicorn.
“Leleanda,” was all I could whisper. I became leery of Leleanda for she was the
daughter of Arch Druid Forthwind and his wife Cedeny who was a Druid midwife.
Cedeny and her daughter Leleanda left Hy-Brasil. They settled in South America among
the Celtic Amazon women. The Amazons were a tribe of Celts who lived without men in
their grove. They adopted as their propose the gathering and cultivation of medicinal
plants, These they traded among the other Celtic tribes. There was always a happy
reunion when Cedeny and Leleanda arrived for the annual gathering and joined husband
and father, Forthwind in the castle.
Leleand had been raised among the Amazon but chose to return to on Hy-Brasil in
order to look after the unicorns. She had both breasts, but could shoot an arrow with any
of the Amazons. Leleanda loved those unicorns. The unicorns were albino and they were
mouthy. The unicorns had received Leleanda's permission to mouth off at me as we went

on our weekly rides about Hy-Brasil or when I played golf. The unicorns had some kind
of intelligence service because they would know about every disappointing shot I hit.
They'd ridicule me relentlessly and report my failures to Leleanda.
My hormones raged every time I saw Leleanda or even when I thought of her. That
made concentrating over golf shots while in a boiling stew of mental, physical and
emotional distress extremely difficult. I wanted her, but I also wanted to win the Hy-
Brasil Golf Tournament.
Cedeny, a Druid mid wife and her daughter Leleanda had left Hy-Brasil when
Leleanda was a baby. They settled in South America among the Celtic Amazon women.
The Amazons were a tribe of Celts who lived without men in their grove. They adopted
as their purpose the gathering and cultivation of medicinal plants. These they traded
among the other Celtic tribes. There was always a happy reunion when Cedeny and
Leleanda arrived for the annual gathering and joined husband and father, Forthwind in
the castle.
Leleanda had been raised among the Amazons but chose to return to Hy-Brasil in
order to look after the unicorns. She had both breasts, but could shoot an arrow with any
of the Amazons. Leleanda loved those horned horses. The unicorns were albino. They
were mouthy. The unicorns had received Leleanda's permission to mouth off at me as we
went on our rides about Hy-Brasil or when I played golf. The unicorns had some kind of
intelligence service because they would know about every disappointing shot I hit.
They'd ridicule me relentlessly and report my failures to Leleanda.
There was no getting around it when we were chosen for the spring fertility
ceremony. It was Leleanda who made the choice the year that I turned seventeen. Why
me? Sometimes the Golf Gods cause the ball to bounce strangely. She was the Arch
Druids daughter. Even if the option was open to me how could I refuse? When the
fertility rites had been bestowed upon Leleanda and I, the ceremony was consummated.
Leleanda would ride through the woods at the head of her herd of Unicorns. They
were the last of their kind. They were magical and had been in their day capable war
horses. Those steeds were willing to charge recklessly into the enemy. The men I grew up
with had big laughs at my expense when Leleanda played her flute and I had to go to her.
Billy I love you more than you know,
In the next life we will walk,
You'll be a golfer that isn't just talk,
“Cause a great player you'll be. Ho Ho!
This was another distraction from my goal of becoming a great player and win the
championship. The last thing I needed was a wife and the added responsibility of being a
husband. We were given many wonderful gifts which included quarters in the Arch
Druid's castle.
My heart and mind became confused. I loved the game of golf. I loved my foster
parents. I loved my dog Choofee. I loved Leleanda. It was extremely difficult to
concentrate on any one thing.
The girl's needs were incessant. I was drawn in several directions all at the same
time. I did not want to be alone in the world like I had been in the horrifying moments in
the cold sea before the mermaid came to my rescue. Winning the championship seemed
further away.
I was not given complete access to the entire castle. I had seen the caves and tunnels

in the bowels of the castle. I was aggressively warned away from them. Leleanda dragged
me through the places , Acquiring skill at golf, while dealing with Leleanda and all the
other distractions was a difficult task. Persistence, determination and patience paid off
and my game gradually came around. I began to play at a championship level. My
improvement made the Hy-Brasil championship within reach. I just had to keep working
at my game. The win would be mine.
Then there also was the fatigue of pretty much working at two occupations,
shepherding and playing golf took up the entire day light hours, day after day, under the
burning sun.

8
I asked Billy why he putted with a shepherd's crook. He went on to explain.
“Reading and making putts was something that went had in hand with moving the
sheep from hole to hole.
When the flock had chewed to the desired height of cut it was time to move them. A
shepherd carries a crook to defend the flock or to help rescue an animal that might have
fallen into a hole or was stuck in the brush. Once we moved the sheep I'd hit putts with
what I had in hand., which was my shepherd's crook.
I requested that Billy talk about the Arch Druid.
Billy responded, “One cool evening I was summoned to an audience before Arch
Druid Forthwind. When I entered the Arch Druid's study I was dumb-founded. The large
room was lined on all walls with books. There were also rows of shelves of volumes,
scrolls and maps. To count them all would have taken several months, maybe even years.
To read every thing would have taken several life times.
“All the knowledge of the world is preserved here,” Arch Druid Forthwind's voice
reached me, but he was not visible.
The Arch Druid appeared from behind one of the rows of volumes, while holding an
an ancient looking tome in his large hands.
Forthwind chuckled as he signaled that I should follow him deeper into his library.
Arch druid Forthwind apparently was a bit of a rascal in his youth. It was said he'd
fought against the Romans. His crooked nose had been broken during some fight in the
past. Even though h dressed in a Druids long white robe it was not difficult to recognize
that he was a powerfully built man of six feet six inches tall and two hundred and eighty
pounds.
The Arch Druid was elected by all Druids. Arch Druid Forthwind had been
unanimously supported. He was respected for his worldly wisdom and spirituality.
That he surrounded himself with the knowledge of the world spoke to a love of
learning. There was jolliness that emanated from him. He appeared to be a man of fifty or
sixty years. He moved with great energy and agility. His curly hair was red with no signs
of graying.
“Would you like to be Arch Druid someday?” Forthwind asked.
“Me?” I answered in shock. His question had startled me. It was something I had
never even considered. “Be the Arch Druid? Me?” I stammered.
“That was an unfair question,” he said while smiling broadly. There was a
mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Come join me in front of the Golf Gods,” he continued.
The Arch Druid led me deeper into his library where an enormous fireplace took up a
wall of the vast room. As we walked deep into the study Arch Druid Forthwind
continued, “Human societies were changing in ways that were proving to be disastrous
for the old Gods. After the increased popularity of monotheism, the ancient Gods found
themselves becoming irrelevant. With every passing decade mortals were leaving fewer
tributes in the ancient sacred places.
Once the exclusive refuge of the Gods, Heaven was now allowing the believers of
monotheism to reside and enjoy everlasting life. The home of the immortals was
becoming overcrowded and in the mind of the ancient Gods, overrun by undesirables.
The once exclusive place had gone to Hades!

It was time to move. The ancient Gods sought a new place that would be their own
without the influx of what the ancient Gods considered the monotheistic believers “riff
raff”. They would find a new home and a new relevance. They sought a place where they
might still be needed and worshiped.
They settled on the west coast of what would become Norway. It was not warm and
temperate like the Mediterranean had been, but it was very exclusive and the Norse
peoples appreciated their presence. The Golf Gods never forgot their former home and
that left them with a feeling of resentment and anger toward the humans who had rejected
them. But, in their new home they found humans still willing to accept many Gods. The
ancient Gods began to feel some of the old appreciation. Then even the Norseman began
to embrace monotheism and the ancient Gods became irrelevant once again. They felt
betrayed once more. As before, they were without purpose and unwanted.
It soon became time to relocate again. They begrudgingly moved across the North
Sea to the east coast of Scotland. They vowed to have their revenge for the disrespect that
the mortals had shown them.
The move to St. Andrews eventually proved to be something of a reprieve from
somber boredom. The immortals began gambling upon the game's outcomes. Gaming
relieved some of the drudgery of the ancient God's dull existence. Even though they were
less effective at influencing individual human life and the development of human
civilization as they once had, they could exert their treacherous, vengeful revenge upon
those mortals who were playing the game that the Scots were developing called golf.
They now reside at St. Andrews to this day among the ruins of St. Andres castle.
From there they exact their vendetta, wager and exert their influence on the outcome of
every round of golf played on Earth.
The Golf Gods materialized within the study. Arch Druid Forthwind greeted them as
old friends and introduced me to each of the Golf Gods.
“Our relationship with the old Gods must always be remembered. Make yourself at
home,” the Arch Druid said to me as he indicated a plush polar bear skin covered arm
chair for me to sit in.
“Yes sire,” I replied finally finding my voice.
“How is my daughter?”
“She is fine, sire.”
“Quite a handful, I assume.”
“She is that,” I chuckled, then feared I had offended the Arch Druid.
He cheerfully laughed, then added, “Very much like her mother at that age. Wear a
man out!”
The Golf Gods joined with the Arch Druid's laughter.
Why had he summoned me? Was I trouble again?
“Are you happy that you were brought to Hy-Brasil? Are you happy with your life
here?
Forthwind finally came to the point of my visit.
“Sire…,” I stammered into silence.
He interrupted me, “Call me Forthwind. Billy there is no need to fear me. Please
speak freely.”
His words slowly sank in. I looked into his sparkling eyes and saw it was so. There
was nothing to fear from the man.

“Is becoming Arch Druid within your mind?” Arch Druid Forthwind asked again.
Nervously, “Sire… Forthwind first of all, having my life saved from the icy cold
Atlantic… I can't be thankful enough. To have been raised by Arabella and Fendrel who
could wish for more? Theodulf is a loyal friend. My dog has been a faithful companion. I
have grown to be strong and healthy. I have a beautiful wife. I've found golf.”
I stopped to catch my breath. Continuing after a moment, “Sire, what I had before
was a life on the sea where I did not want to be. I would prefer to labor on the earth rather
than the sea. I have acquired a deep affection for all of the sheep in the flock I care for.
But, I am not content. I wish to win the Hy-Brasil Golf tournament. Then, play all the
golf courses in the world.”
“I wish you would consider becoming a Druid and a citizen of Hy-Brasil,”
Forthwind stated.
“Will that interfere with my golf?” I asked apprehensively.
“It will enhance it,” Forthwind said smiling. “Will you become a Druid and a
citizen?”
“With all due respect… I did poorly in the Druid school. I believe I am more suited
to becoming a warrior and playing golf. Even though I have lived among you I find your
practices difficult to grasp and accept. Further, I am not capable of the feats that my
fellow students managed. The day will not come that I can assist in the construction of
megalith.”
“It is true that I have no other religious training beyond what I have observed here on
Hy-Brasil. I have joined your circles while your ceremonies have been conducted. They
were fascinating but felt foreign.
“I do not know why I have these thoughts for as I have said I am very grateful. But,
not only do I want to win the Hy-Brasil tournament I also wish to play every golf course
on the Earth.
When I finished the Golf Gods seemed to like that idea. Forthwind appeared not to
be offended. I felt no reason to fear.
That was when I realized that I had become a man and was no longer a boy.
“I see. Billy, I did not do well in Druid school either. You have spoken well,” the
Arch Druid confided.
“I want to win the Hy-Brasil!” I insisted.
“Excellent. I shall help you. We Celts are explorers, pioneers of science, religion and
speculative thinking. We are free, bold and adventurous. To us, everything in the natural
world has religious meaning. Golf is a sacred game to us.”
I said my goodbyes to the Golf Gods. Forthwind lead me out of the study. I was
provided with a new complete set of handmade golf clubs with iron heads as a wedding
gift from Forthwind.
Forthwind and I began to play together on the golf course. That man had game! It
was as though he'd been playing all his life. As we played we talked of many things both
good and evil.
One day while playing golf with Forthwind asked, “Will you take Leleanda with you
when you decide to leave Hy-Brasil? Her unicorns cannot leave Hy-Brasil.
“If she is willing to come with me. Yes.” Then it dawned on that me Forthwind had
said the unicorns could not leave Hy-Brasil. I asked, “Why can't the unicorns leave?”
“They are magical creatures. We are a people that preserve the knowledge that

humans of the outside world have turned their backs upon. In fact, have tried to
eradicate,” Forthwind explained while studying his next shot. “They prefer only their
version of knowledge.” He continued once his shot was in the air, “Magical creatures
must remain here where we protect them. The unicorns would be abused or killed by
those outside the mists that we create to protect us.
Forthwind added, “Our enemy has changed. The Roman Legions have come under
the control of the Church. They are professional soldiers. The Church offered to pay
them. They did not have to uproot out of Rome. So they signed on and killed all those
who disagreed with them such as the Cathars. We Druids are now their target. They wish
to kill us, the Seekers of Truth. Their version of the truth is flawed. They know it but do
not care. They deny the goddess, Danu. They call her a slut. They ignore the female
principle of the Earth.

9
The day was warm while overcast with a light drizzle. The ball was sliding slightly
to the right since the grass was very damp. There was no discernible wind. We were
standing on the seventh green.
“Billy,” Forthwind said as though to confide in me. “We wish to continue the
friendships we have created by keeping our tournament going on into the future. The
Celtic tribes must remain unified.”
The Golf Gods floated along as we talked. They were always up to watch a well
competed match. They gambled their ethereal butts off on our matches.
“When I have won the tournament I will make ready to leave Hy-Brasil,” I stated to
Forthwind.
“You have seen things that none of our children have seen. You are more worldly
aware than any of our young people. You will understand the significance of what I'm
going to tell you more fully than our youth. We are going to share the secret of iron with
the world. That will drastically change the way all humans live on the Earth. It will also
affect Hy-Brasil. How we Druids react to the outsiders' changes will depend upon the
wisdom of the Arch Druid and the decisions he makes for his people,” Forthwind
confided.
“You are aware of the value of iron. Your play has improved with your irons,”
“Yes. Iron club heads hit the ball much stronger,” I admitted happily.
“The peoples of the world do not live as we do here. I don't have to tell you that
since you know it from first hand experience. What you don't know is that beyond the
mists there have been constant wars that you have not been aware of while you have been
here. There are those who seek to eradicate our way of life. We are preparing to share
iron with the peoples beyond the fog barriers. There will be more wars more savage than
ever known before. This gift of iron will turn human life on its head,” Forthwind stated
after knocking a short iron stiff to the flag.
“Why release the secret then?” I asked as I drew a club from my golf, preparing to
hit my approach shot to the green.
“We are sharing iron because our Gods and Goddesses wish to be done,” the Arch
Druid replied.
Forthwind waited until my ball was in the air and then said, “An Arch Druid must do
what is best with the long run in mind. Our seers have looked at the oracles and have seen
that in the future human beings will be better off as a result of the introduction of iron
into their societies.”
My shoot landed on the green, but not nearly as close to the hole as Forthwind's ball
had. Forthwind and I walked toward the green with the Golf Gods, in tow.
Forthwind continued, “Iron will change the world. Plows made from iron will
increase harvests dramatically! Agriculture will be revolutionized. Humans will be
healthier. Human populations will increase considerably! Civilizations as we have known
them will change. Peoples who are weak may become strong. The strong may become the
weak. New allegiances among people will form. Iron increases personal independence
and that is necessary for personal freedom.”
“We feast and celebrate since it is our reward to ourselves. Not only that, but feasts
perform a vital social function. We also discuss subjects of vital importance to our way of

life. Food is plentiful and trade abroad is brisk. Life is good!”
Forthwind chuckled and went on, “We are prone to be braggarts, which inevitably
leads to conflict between friends and those that we trade with. Farmers and hunter gathers
do not always mix.”
My thoughts began to wander from the putt I was facing. Why was Forthwind
confiding this? I had to shake those thoughts and questions. There was a putt to be made.
Father had had the flock on the hole two days prior to that morning. Mother and her
friends were gathering mushrooms in the trees behind the green as Forthwind and I
walked onto the green. I left Forthwind studying his putt and went over the back of the
green to give Mother a hug.
Leleanda's flute could be heard up the hill that was part of the rising hills toward the
volcano. What could I do? She was the Arch Druid's daughter. As I was walking up the
slope to find whatever bush she was hiding behind, I heard Forthwind's laughter.
“Need grandchildren, Billy,” Forthwind called.
“Yes sire,” I answered obediently.
Leleanda loved the game of hide and seek. I never cared for Leleanda's hiding
places. I would get shot by fairy arrows. Crossing bridges was always hazardous. You'd
never know when a troll would come at you with his hardwood root club. A troll's
preferred target was the knee cap. If the magical creatures weren't bad enough the woods
were full of boars, sasquatches, bears, wolves and so on. These creatures never bothered
Leleanda, but they often came after me.
As I sought out Leleanda, I could hear Mother reciting a verse,
While the sun moves in the sky,
We know we will never die.
It is there in the eye.
Only tomorrow when our souls fly.
Leleanda and I would often go for rides on her unicorns. It amazed me that there
were many magical life forms inhabiting Hy-Brasil with the Celts.
I nearly got into serious trouble with the Fey. Fairies can be very hostile to humans.
What did I know? Leleanda became frantic as I rode to the top of a round mound.
“Get down from there! Come down!” she cried anxiously. “Come off of that mound!
The fairy will be furious!”
“Fairy? No such thing,” I scoffed.
“No such thing!?” a strange diminutive female authoritative voice snapped.
“Leleanda is he with you? I see he rides one of your unicorns,” a fairy who'd
appeared from nowhere asked.
Yes Ayleth. He is my man,” Leleanda replied sounding embarrassed.
“You seem to have chosen poorly,” the angry fairy snarled.
“Get off of my house!” Ayleth ordered drawing her bow.
Her aggressive approach so startled me I grabbed for my iron knife.
The fairy cringed. She snarled wolf-like. Apparently, fairies do not like metals. They
are especially to iron.
“Billy put your knife away!” shrieked Leleanda.
“Ayleth, Ayleth my apologies. It is my fault. I should have warned him,” Leleanda
apologized with sincerity in her voice.
That's when I finally grasped the situation. I rode the unicorn down off of the mound

while saying, “My apologies. I meant no harm.”
“I would have punished him had you not been here, Leleanda.”
“Good of you not to,” Leleanda replied.
The women paid me no more mind. They began chattering away with each other,
like old friends.
Ayleth asked, “What is the news?”
As Leleanda filled in her fairy friend I walked my steed off, out of ear shot.
I swung the unicorn around and looked at the scene before me. There was a mound
about ten feet high surrounded by Hawthorne trees and rose bushes.
I turned my ride around again to look away from the girls. I began to visualize each
shot it would take to win the Hy-Brasil Golf Tournament. In my imagination's eye, I'd
just hit it long on seven up the right side. The ball was set up for an easy shot into the
green. I was picturing a shot.
Leleanda rode up beside me. Leleanda admonished, “Greddick, do you know how
close you came?”
My unicorn turned his head and answered her, “Billy wanted to do it! He kicked me
with his heels? What was I to do?”
“Billy. Billy!” her eyes, the amazing beautiful eyes blazed red hot! “Never mess with
fairies. They prefer solitude in their mounds. How ignorant are you out-lander?”

10
I encouraged Billy to continue with his story. Billy went on to describe more of the
lessons he received from Forthwind.
“The golf ball sits stationary on the ground. You would think it would be easy to hit
with accuracy but a shot struck at the target can become errant very easily. Even the best
of players will hit a shot that goes off target,” Forthwind stated. “Use your mind to hit
shots.”
“What does it take to hit a satisfying shot? It begins with the gripping of the club.
Alignment of the arms, feet and body follows. That needs to be followed by the proper
sequence of movements of the entire body. Contact of the ball with the club face then
becomes crucial. Finally, following through with body, arms and club send the ball
toward the desired location.
“We don't always come to the golf course in perfect alignment of body, mind and
soul. Not only that the ball rarely, if ever, lands in the same place twice. In addition, the
hole is moved daily during a tournament. If that isn't bad enough, no two days of course
conditions are alike.
“The ball is moved from tee through green of eighteen holes. There are no two holes
that are identical. Each hole offers unique challenges because of length, topography and
the demands of “Old Man Par”. Some holes are straight away. Others dog leg either left
or right. There are hazards, bunkers and rough areas which are not maintained with the
same finesse as tees, fairways and greens. Weather conditions are never the same and
affect every shot.
“Where the ball is teed can assist in managing the shots to acquire a par or better.
The next shot must always be considered and planned for or at least allowed for should it
go off target. Risk and reward results must always be assessed before any shot is
attempted. By teeing the ball on one side or other you are in effect hitting the ball away
from any obstruction down the fairway.
“Picture a dog leg left where the hole turns to the left on a forty-five degree angle at
about two hundred yards from the tee. It is a par four. The second shot is usually a short
iron to a two tiered green. The hole is on the upper level and deep right. The flag marking
the hole is visible if the ball is hit well to the right of an old pine that punishes at the left
hand side of the dog leg. There is a bunker behind the green and straight away that would
trap a tee shot hit too long. Various varieties of trees along each side of the fairway
threaten to stymie an off target. Then ask yourself where and how to hit it. See a
successful result in your mind's eye and execute it,” advised Forthwind.

11
When I asked Billy for information about the Hy-Brasil Golf Tournament he shared,
“One cool morning Father asked during a breakfast of boiled Ostrich eggs and potato
pancakes, “We could use a hand setting up for the annual gathering and golf tournament.
Will you help?
“Yes, Father. Certainly I'll help. What do we have to do?
“The Druids from all the different Celts tribes gather every year at Lugnasad for
discussions, to trade and to play golf,” Mother explained.
“We will be setting the statues of past winners in their places of honor all along the
promenade, which leads from the wharves to the castle. When the statues are in place we
will be setting up the trading circle,” Father said.
“There will be feasting, entertainments and competitions. It will be a great fun time!
You'll enjoy yourself tremendously!” Mother shared with obvious excitement and eager
anticipation of meeting with old friends.
Father was a practicing Druid and saw golf course work as the best occupation a man
could ask for. He loved to oversee his flock. Father was the very best of all the herders.
He knew exactly when to move the flock. Since he was so skillful he had helpers who
came along behind him. They changed the holes, took care of the bunkers, trimmed the
trees and bushes and the other golf course maintenance tasks. As a leader, he was an
educator. His crew knew that and responded happily.
I had begun to grow in stature and strength since my arrival on Hy-Brasil. That
surely was the result of the fine foods that Mother husbanded and prepared for us. On the
ship I had been half starved and when I did eat the food it was frequently foul. But, I
would never be as tall as Father.
After eating, Father and I left the cottage and walked side by side as we made our
way to the wharves. Father placed his large arm over my shoulder. I turned my head and
looked up at him. There was affection and pride in his sparkling blue eyes. We took the
short cut through the orchards. As we went along Fendrel reached up and picked a peach
for each of us.
When we arrived at the wharves there was a very large crowd milling about. They
were gathered in different groups of various sizes chatting. Some of the young men were
fighting. There was tremendous excitement in the air!
Forthwind emerged from the castle and climbed aboard his chariot. He was as eager
as anyone to get underway. The Arch Druid assigned tasks and we set about the work in
earnest. The Arch Druid looked my way inquisitively. I wondered apprehensively what
he might be thinking. He smiled and nodded. I believe blushed. Father ruffled my hair,
then we went to work. Forthwind directed all the assembled charioteers to the loading
docks of the castle where the golden statues were stored. Terrowin objected to my
presence there immediately.
“He is an out-lander! He us not one of us!” Terrowin thundered.
“Billy is my son,” Fendrel stated with the authority his Druid status carried.
I felt loved and wanted. It was an odd, strange feeling.
“Keep an eye on him,” Terrowin muttered.
Terrowin stared deeply into my eyes then stormed away. I had seen similar looks on
mens' faces while on-board the ship and while within those foul grog houses. It is the

Golf Among The Druids(Smashwords) (1)

Golf Among The Druids(Smashwords) (1)

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