Chalice of the Mystic Rose

By Carol Calvert

Centuries ago in what is now called Ireland, lived a Druid mystic named Beitha. This sequel to Beithas Sound, Chalice of the Mystic Rose, chronicles the lives of Beitha, a sound healer and Druid, and her friend Jenny who is a Christian. Beithas mother has been killed by the Zealots who are determined to destroy the power of women and the Goddess. These same Zealots are now after Beitha, who they believe carries powerful knowledge. As this story begins, Beitha is healing from a serious wound inflicted by the Zealots. Jenny has taken her to the most powerful healer in the land.

When she and Jenny are forced to part ways, Jenny heads to Father Padraigs monastery, where she pursues her unique gifts. During her travels, Beitha encounters a new friend, Deirdru. Both are guided to the sacred land of Glastonbury. There Beitha learns the ancient secrets of the chalice of the mystic rose.

Along the way these young women are beset with profound challenges. Their playful comraderie, courage and skills, along with help from various human, animal and fairy guides, leads them to their ultimate destinies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Feb 13, 2017
• ISBN: 9781480839823

Carol Calvert

Carol Calvert is the Bishop of The Sacred Healing Order of Brigid’s Well, and a member of the Order of Ovates, Bards and Druids. She expresses her passion for Celtic spirituality through her music as a harpist and singer, as well as her writing. Carol lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico with her husband Chris and their dog, Sheba.

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Copyright © 2016, 2017 Carol Calvert.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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Photo taken by Chris Calvert.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-3981-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-3982-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016919052

Archway Publishing rev. date: 2/9/2017

Contents

Acknowledgments

Adrift in the Otherworld

Ragda’s Cottage

Healing Time

Beitha’s Soul Journey

Quiet Time

Soul Learning

Jenny’s Teacher

A Question of Love

The Herbs

Layers of Healing

Erin’s Sorrow

Ragda’s Sacrifice

Deep Darkness

The Hermitage

Hasty Departure

Bloom of Love

Armorica

Jenny’s Training

Castle Life

Jenny’s Journal

Rhea’s Sight

Jenny’s Journal

The Awakening Heart

Jenny’s Journal

Scrying

Jenny’s Journal

Treasured Days

Preparation for the Journey

Jenny’s Dilemma

Molly’s Story

Jenny’s Drama

Britain Bound

Thyme to Forget

The Calling

Jenny’s Lament

Glastonbury

Joseph’s Story

Bradan and Deirdru

The Language of Isu

Initiation

Joseph’s Warning

Wedding Time

Joseph’s Plan

The Celebration

The Time of Brigid

My Journal—Lessons from Nature

Jenny’s Journal

I

dedicate this book to my parents Margaret and George Young.

You filled my life with music, art and

inspiration. I miss you everyday.

Acknowledgments

T O MY BELOVED HUSBAND Chris for your continued love and support, Karen DiTrapani, Adele Woodward, Valentine McKay-Riddell and Rahmaneh Meyers for your encouraging spirits, the Wednesday Girls—Beverly Young, Sally Munde, Loretta Armer, and Steffi Schaffer—for your great wisdom and support, my brother Jeff for your artistic inspiration, and my parents Margaret and George Young, who taught me to see the beauty and magic in all life.

May this book be a blessing to all who read it!

Carol Calvert, OBW

Adrift in the Otherworld

B EITHA WAS DEAD—AT LEAST that is what she thought. Images swirled about her, and she did not know how she was related to them, or if she was.

The memories began to show themselves one by one. She saw herself—the little half-Druid, half-Christian girl—with her mother Ruis, her father Teine, and her brother Luis. Her mother was a Druid wisewoman. Her father and brother were skilled metalsmiths, but they were both Christians.

When that scene faded, another appeared. Her Aunt Ragda was screaming at the sight of her sister Ruis’ body. Then came rolling apples, a funeral pyre, and a blaze of light. The images sped up. She saw herself in an abbey with her friend Jenny and another girl, Kathryn. There was pain, abuse, and death, but with the help of animal guides, she and Jenny escaped. She saw herself with Jenny in a cottage with a kindly woman, Molly. She witnessed Aunt Ragda shape-shift into a raven in order to follow the girls on their journey from Gaul to Ireland.

Many scenes danced in her head: a jolly bard called Martine, fairy folk, a long period of Druid training, a lost love, animal guides, desert sands, dark-skinned men with turbans, people of all colors and climes, a handsome prince with golden hair, a warrior named Danaan, a group of women-haters called the Zealots, Master Isu, and Mother Goddess. They were all coming forward to guide her.

The last scene that came was that of the Zealot strongman trying to kill her. She deftly eluded him. But when the Zealot leader lunged toward the Christian priest, Beitha lept in front of him, taking the knife’s blow. She had saved Father Padraig from certain death, but she now faced death herself. Through the help of her fellow Druids, she was taken to the most powerful healer in the land: her beloved aunt Ragda.

Ragda’s Cottage

T HE TINY HUT WAS aglow with firelight as Ragda stroke Beitha’s brow.

Aunt Ragda? Beitha said.

Oh, my dear Beitha, you’re back! You have been in this slumbering state for many days. I knew you would wake. I just did not know when.

I can’t believe it is you, Aunt, said the weary girl.

Well believe it my dear. I never left you. I simply changed my form to that of a raven. That way, I could keep watch over you without attracting the attention of the Zealots. She looked intently into Beitha’s eyes. I’m afraid we’ve not seen the last of them dear one. They will gather more soldiers and come back. Serin may be dead, but his son, Balor, is still out for blood … and yours is high on his list. But this is no time to fret. You’re safe now, and more importantly, you must stay here and heal."

Yes, Aunt Ragda. I know. I know, she said. Where’s Jenny? she asked as she looked around the room.

She went to gather more wood, said Ragda. There’s a cold wind blowing down from the north. It looks as though we may even see a bit of snow.

Beitha watched the gray sky through the tiny window and the rain as it turned to sleet. She pulled the goose down cover up under her chin as the wind began to howl. The sleet quickly turned to snow and began to blow sideways. The sound of footsteps drew her attention from the wintry scene.

Brrrrrr. Jenny opened the creaky door and held it open with her hip until she got all the wood inside. It’s getting colder by and by. She plunked the logs on the hearth and turned to look at her friend. Beitha, you’re awake! How do you feel?

A little weak, but I’m grateful to be alive. Once again. I’m in your debt for saving me!

Jenny kissed her friend on the brow and squeezed her hand. Well, dear friend, I can’t even count the number of times you’ve come to my aid!

Beitha started to laugh as she looked at the leaves and twigs stuck in Jenny’s cloak. Ouch. I guess I better not laugh for a while. It hurts. She pressed her hands over her chest. I guess being stabbed is nothing to laugh about.

Well, I am glad you have your sense of humor, Beitha, Jenny said. It will take more than women-hating Zealots to stop you!

Yes, dear, Ragda said. "But still, Beitha, you will need plenty of rest—and you will rest! She handed Beitha some tea. Drink it all, dear. It will help you sleep."

Where is Danaan? Beitha asked as she drank Ragda’s herbal brew.

He will be back before too long, Jenny said. He took Father Padraig and the monks back to the hermitage.

Beitha furrowed her brow, and let out a deep sigh.

"Beitha, don’t pout. He made sure you were safe before he left. He knew you needed to rest and heal.

You have some fine friends, Beitha, Ragda said.

No one could ask for better, Beitha said. No one could ask for bet … Her voice trailed off as she sank into a deep sleep.

Healing Time

J ENNY, COME TALK WITH me, Ragda said. Beitha will need a lot of rest to heal her body. This could take some time.

Lady Ragda, may I call you Aunt too?

Of course, dear, Ragda said. Please do. You are surely part of this family, and I want you to feel free to talk to me about anything … anything at all.

Thank you, Jenny said with a smile. I do feel so welcome here.

Good, Ragda said as she looked deeply into Jenny’s eyes, almost as though she were seeing into her soul. I’m glad that you feel at home, Jenny. I know your path has not been an easy one, and I know that you are torn between the Christian life and the life you will experience if you stay with Beitha.

Why yes, Jenny said with a look of embarrassment.

Is it so obvious? Jenny asked.

Well, to me it is, but it is certainly nothing to be ashamed of. You and Beitha have a deep, abiding friendship—and you always will—but you each have your own individual soul journeys. You may not always travel together. Though your destinies are intertwined, they are nevertheless quite different. You will find out soon enough what is right for you to do. For now, my dear child, let us prepare our supper. Samhain’s fierce chill has made its home here, and I think we could all do with some hot porridge.

Ragda poured some water from the pitcher into the heavy cauldron. She handed Jenny some onions and carrots to chop. Ragda cut up parsnips and tossed them into the pot along with some barley, wild cabbage, seaweed, and wild celery. She deftly pulled some rosemary down from among the hanging herbs.

Do you know much about herbs, Jenny? she asked as she tossed some sprigs into the water and added some wild garlic for good measure.

Yes. Beitha and I learned a little bit at the monastery, Jenny said as she added the carrots and onions to the soup stock. But I think I have forgotten most of it by now.

Well, dear, nothing is every truly forgotten. It just gets covered up sometimes. I hope you will stay long enough to learn—or shall I say remember—what you have learned. I assure you, it will be of value to you, no matter what you do or where you go in this life and the next. Rosemary, for example, is a good flavoring with its aromatic oil. It’s also good for the memory and good for the scalp, especially if you happen to be losing your hair. It also can cure headaches. There are so many uses … as with all herbs. said Ragda.

What were those stones you put on Beitha’s wound? Jenny asked.

Oh, let’s just say a gift from her mother, Ragda said.

Jenny shot her a quizzical look. A gift? But how is that possible? Wasn’t her mother killed by the Zealots?

Ragda stirred the cauldron over the crackling fire. Ruis, Beitha’s mother, received the serpent eggs from her teacher, the Cailleach, before she passed into the White Life. She was able to use the cloak of invisibility to keep them hidden from the Zealots. I found them on her funeral pyre after Beitha left for the monastery. I didn’t know at the time that I would be using them to save her life.

Their conversation was interrupted by a funny snoring sound.

Goodness. Is that Beitha? Jenny asked.

Ragda