Cursed by the prophet Ronan to live like a bird, King Sweeney embarks on a restless and painful journey to find healing.

Sweeney found a tall mountain ash that grew high into the sky. He greedily plucked its red fruit. He thought:

“The mountain ash is the tree of poets and singers. Surely my voice is sweeter than theirs, and I am worthy of this tree.”

And so the spotted bird cawed and cawed with its shrill cry.

But a hail storm pelted both bird and tree with such large hailstones that the mountain ash was stripped of its leaves and its fruit. Sweeney lost any of his feathers. He barely managed to fly away, seeking refuge.

The wind grew gentle and carried him to the south of Ireland. There he settled atop a small hawthorn bush. He now sang of longing for his family and his home. And, as he hopped from branch to branch, the thorns tore into his flesh.

Sweeney thought: “How fitting it is for me to perch in this hawthorn bush. I have nested myself among the thorns of suffering all my life. I have caused pain to everyone who knew me. Yes, Sweeney deserves no more than the lowly hawthorn bush for his home.”

Sweeny’s suffering is about to end. Come back to find out how!