Yseult: A Tale of Love in the Age of King Arthur Page 7

  "Do you also have the power of knowing?"

  "No more than you."

  Yseult quickly shielded her thoughts, as a memory of her vision during the race assaulted her. "You needn't stay until we leave," she said, bending and retrieving Duchann Bhan's reins.

  "You can always call me if you want me."

  "According to my mother and Nemain, I may call you even if I don't intend to," Yseult said, attempting to smile.

  It seemed she had blocked off her thoughts effectively, because Brangwyn chuckled, gave her a hug and a kiss, and turned away.

  Yseult watched as her cousin made her way through people and animals, stepping around chests and saddlebags, and disappeared through the earthen walls of the rath.

  Chapter 5

  The battle of Ath Dara was fought against the Leinstermen by Laeghaire, son of Niall. Laeghaire was taken in that battle; and Laeghaire took oaths by the Sun and the Wind, and all the elements, to the Leinstermen, that he would never come against them, after setting him at liberty.

  "The Annals of the Four Masters"

  Soon after Yseult the Wise and her party arrived at Druim Dara, word reached them that the Laigin kings had withdrawn their support for Lóegaire at the Oenach and now no longer acknowledged a high king over Eriu. Aengus of Mumu and Ailill Molt of Connachta, however, had not joined them. While they opposed peace with the Bretain, if war broke out between the Laigin and the Ui Neill, they would not take sides.

  The harvest was not yet over when worse news came: the tuatha of the north under Lóegaire were raiding the settlements of the Laigin — and attacking communities of the Tuatha Dé Danann as well.

  Murchad and Nemain brought the news to Queen Yseult from Bruig na Boyne, and a hurried meeting was held at Druim Dara including Bodb Derg, a king of the Tuatha Dé who held the sacred site of Oe Cualann. Nemain paced the hall, her hands clasped behind her back and her loose fiery hair whipping around with the force of her movements. "They came like thieves in the night, but they were not content with raiding cattle. Before they left, they set the rath on fire."

  "What of the inhabitants?" Brigid asked.

  "Most were able to save themselves, taking shelter in the nearby sidhe, but some of the old and infirm could not be helped out in time. Six people died, including a young mother recovering from a breech birth."

  Bodb Derg spoke up. "Many of our tribe have already sought refuge in the sacred hills. The Gael dare not attack them there because they are afraid of the gates to the Otherworld."

  "Are you suggesting we do the same?" Yseult the Wise asked, her voice quiet.

  Nemain stopped her pacing in front of her sister-in-law. "What else is left us, Yseult? Certainly, we have warriors like Murchad, but we have no war bands such as Lóegaire and his brothers command. We have always relied on the respect paid us by the Gael."

  "If we take shelter in the hills, we give up all power that remains to us in Eriu."

  Nemain made a dismissive gesture. The queen glanced over to where Murchad sat, his arms crossed in front of his chest, silent. In the shape of his silence, she saw that he would side with her over his own wife.

  "You have lived among the Gael too long," Nemain said.

  Yseult shook her head. "Are they so foreign? Few of us can claim pure blood of the Feadh Ree. Your daughter lives among the Gael even now." After the Oenach of Tara, Aidenn had joined the war band of Prince Crimthann, and Brangwyn had gone south with him.

  Finally Murchad spoke. "I intend to enlist the help of the Fianna. Before he left Tara, Enna Cennsalach asked me if I would consider becoming his champion. I could barter my services for a war band to protect Bruig na Boyne."

  Nemain faced her husband. "Is this truly what you want? To take sides in the battle between the Gael tribes?"

  Murchad sighed. "Our side has been chosen for us by the Ui Neill, who burn our raths and kill our people."

  "And I say we do not have to take part in the war that is coming." Nemain stared at her husband and her sister-in-law, defiant.

  "I agree with Nemain," Bodb Derg said. "We will be safe if we retreat to the sidhe. We do not have to get involved in this Gael war."

  Yseult gazed from one to the other and knew she would not be able to change their minds.

  After Bodb Derg left, she and Brigid walked together to the sacred fire.

  "I agree with you," Brigid said as they neared the hawthorn hedge. "If we retreat into the hills, we lose any chance we have of imparting our ways to those who will come after."

  Queen Yseult nodded. They passed a male acolyte dressed in short breeches rather than the long robes of a druid. Although it was nearly Samhain, it was unseasonably warm, almost like the dog days after Lugnasad. The small berries of the hawthorn were bright red and the slender leaves were turning the colors of the fire itself.

  "I see fire everywhere," she murmured. "But not the fire of Danu."

  "Then we must see to it that this sacred fire does not go out," Brigid said simply.

  "What do you think to do?"

  "I have asked Danu many times, but I do not yet understand the answers."

  The two women stopped in front of the eternal flame, tended by a priestess barely younger than Brigid. "I did not grow up among the Tuatha Dé Danann," Brigid said. "I am of mixed blood, as is your daughter. I have the blood of the Feadh Ree from my mother, Broiseach. In that she and I are similar. I grew up largely among Gael kings and their druids. In that too we are similar. Our fates are connected somehow, and it is not for us to leave the world of the Gael behind and retreat to the sidhe. We must carry what is left of the old ways into the new."

  "I have seen that for Yseult."

  Brigid turned to her and took her hands. "Why don't you and your daughter stay here at the ridge of the sacred oak until we better understand the signs?"

  "Yseult doesn't care for it here. She thinks our behavior cowardly."

  "And what would she do? Ride with the Fianna?"

  The queen grimaced. "She may yet. Perhaps she would be more content if she could train with the gatekeepers."

  Brigid laughed. "In times like these, we should be glad of another warrior, I think."

  * * * *

  And so they remained in Druim Dara through Samhain, guarding and tending the sacred fire of Anu, Danu and Brigid while hostilities broke out around them; visiting the sacred well while the warriors of the Laigin and the Ulaid raided cattle and killed each other to the north and the south; stood in the shade of the sacred oak while the peace of Niall of the Nine Hostages and his son Lóegaire crumbled. Nemain traveled north to Bruig na Boyne and Murchad traveled south to Dun Ailinne, to offer his services to Enna Cennsalach, the greatest of the Laigin kings. But Yseult the Wise and Yseult the Fair remained with the acolytes of Danu through Yseult's fifteenth birthday, through Imbolc and the feast of Brigid's aspect of the goddess and the early spring lambing; stayed peacefully enough until Dunlaing torched the rath on the Claoin Fhearta at Tara, slaying in one night thirty princesses of the north and their attendants.

  With that act of revenge for the attacks on Laigin territory, all pretense of peace between the clans of the north and the south was over, the unity of Eriu finally a thing of the past. Lóegaire once again demanded the boruma from the kings of the Laigin: thrice five thousand cows, thrice five thousand swine, thrice five thousand mantles, thrice five thousand silver chains, thrice five thousand copper cauldrons, a great cauldron of copper to hold twelve swine and twelve oxen for the house of Tara, thirty white cows with red ears, with calves of the same color, with ties and tethers of bronze, and bronze pails as well.

  Dunlaing and Enna Cennsalach refused, and Lóegaire prepared to collect his tribute by fire and sword.

  * * * *

  One fine spring day, a band of warriors nearly thirty strong arrived at Druim Dara, dismounted from their warhorses, and laid their weapons before the gate of the rath where the acolytes of Danu lived. A young man with eyes the color of the sky at midsummer and ha
ir the color of the bronze weapons at his hip stepped forward and requested speech with the queen of the Tuatha Dé Danann.

  When the gatekeeper found her, Queen Yseult was setting the bone of an acolyte who had suffered a hunting accident. "Tell them I'll be there as soon as I'm done. And fetch Brigid. They may have important news."

  With the help of her daughter and another young apprentice healer of Druim Dara, she snapped the forearm into place. Despite the rag soaked in henbane and nightshade covering his lower face to make him drowsy, the young man screamed and broke out in a sweat.

  "Bind it in linen and give him a tea of lemon balm and birch with tincture of cowslip," she told Yseult before removing her apron. "Most important now is that he sleep and not move that arm."

  Her daughter nodded, and the queen hurried to the ramparts of the rath. A strong spring wind was blowing, catching at her skirts and tugging strands of hair out of her thick braid. Brigid waited at the gate in the shelter of the earthworks, speaking with the young prince. The queen had not seen him for half a year, and then only a handful of times, but she remembered those blue eyes, remembered the way they had looked at her.

  "Prince Crimthann," the queen said, giving him the kiss of peace.

  "Queen Yseult."

  "To what do we owe the honor of your visit?"

  "I have come here with other princes of the Laigin and members of the Fianna and would like to offer you our services."

  "Why would I have need of a band of warriors?"

  The prince paused briefly, but his gaze was direct and unflinching. "We have reason to believe the High King means to try to take you and your daughter prisoner."

  * * * *

  The warriors who had arrived with Prince Crimthann crowded into the round-house the queen shared with her daughter. They sat on the beds on either side of the fire pit or cross-legged on the floor or leaned against the wall, broad arms crossed in front of broad chests, their presence making the small space even smaller.

  Brigid instructed a slave to serve them all ale and mead, and after their visitors had slaked the thirst of the road, the queen spoke. "Please, tell us what you know."

  Crimthann gestured for one of the warriors to step forward, and Queen Yseult recognized Gamal, the one who had been so interested in her daughter for a time. She glanced over at her namesake, but she showed no outward reaction to Gamal's presence.

  "Gamal remained in Tara when most of the warriors of the Fianna left Lóegaire's service," Crimthann said. "He did not leave until shortly before Dunlaing's attack and knows the present situation at Tara best."

  The queen nodded.

  "After Lugnasad, the Ard Ri was a shadow of himself," Gamal said. "His brothers Coirpre and Fiachu have taken over the ruling of the kingdom."

  "We had heard some rumors to that effect," Brigid said.

  "In council, he speaks only when spoken to, and then as little as possible. When the kings of Midhe and the Ulaid meet, Lóegaire is there in body, but not in mind. That went south with you, my queen."

  "There is talk you have cast a spell on him," one of the younger warriors threw in.

  That had to be one of the most foolish things Queen Yseult had heard in a long time. She gave the young warrior an ironic smile. "If I had, I surely would have lifted it when I divorced him."

  There was a spurt of chuckles.

  "The queen hardly needs spells to bind men to her," Crimthann said.

  "I — I didn't mean that," the young man stuttered. "The beauty of the family is famed throughout the five fifths of Eriu!"

  The queen shook her head, looking at Crimthann. But what she had meant to be admonishment turned into something else entirely. The prince lifted his gaze to hers, his blue eyes intense, and she drew in a quick breath.

  Gamal went on with his story. "Only recently has he started to show a bit more life again. The Christian wise man Patraic, who now shares honors in the house of druids at Tara with Erc and Lucet and Lochru, questions the legality of your divorce."

  Brigid spoke up from where she sat next to the queen near the fire pit. "On what grounds?"

  Gamal shifted his attention to the ban file. "He says that according to the teachings of Christ, marriage is sacred and cannot be dissolved simply by walking across a meadow. He says that according to Christian law, the only grounds for divorce are impotence."

  "If Lóegaire truly believed that, he would also have to believe me still married to Aengus," Queen Yseult said.

  The old druid Boinda chuckled. "He believes it as much as he believes in the Christian god."

  Gamal took a long draught of his mead and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his tunic before answering. "According to Lóegaire, if there is room enough in Eriu for the gods of the Tuatha Dé and the Gael, why shouldn't there be room for a single Christian deity?"

  Brigid shook her head. "This god doesn't share. Has Patraic told Lóegaire that yet?"

  "I doubt if the Ard Ri cares," Gamal said. "The talk at Tara is that the law he obeys is the law which suits him best. There are even rumors that Brehon law is to be reviewed to integrate Christian law, and Patraic will be in charge."

  "But what of the druids of Tara?" Dubtach asked, the Brehon of Druim Dara.

  "Erc is well on the way to becoming a Christian himself, and Lochru's health is failing. Lucat can do little alone."

  Once again, the queen saw her vision of the burning Ogham staffs. Now, in the shadows of the fire, the tall figures of the Feadh Ree turned away, seeking the Sidhe hills.

  "But how can Lóegaire think to change Brehon law?" Dubtach persisted. "Law is made by filid, not kings."

  Gamal shrugged. "He is High King and he is heartsore."

  "We fear Patraic has convinced Lóegaire that he need not acknowledge the dissolution of your marriage," Crimthann added, addressing the queen. "And he will lead a war band to Druim Dara to demand the return of his wife."

  "Here?" Brigid protested. "This is a sacred site."

  "Nonetheless, you have earthwork ramparts protecting the dwellings," Crimthann pointed out.

  Brigid sighed. "But not enough to withstand an attack by a war band of the Ard Ri."

  Crimthann shook his head and turned back to Queen Yseult. "No. If you would permit me to say so, Lady, it is too dangerous for you here. We offer our services to accompany you to Dun Ailinne, where you can join your brother. It is the greatest fortified settlement of the Laigin, and my father Enna Cennsalach would be happy to receive you."

  Yseult the Wise didn't doubt Enna Cennsalach would be happy to have her at Dun Ailinne. The Tuatha Dé Danann were retreating to the hills, but she was yet the kingmaker. "To make it obvious I support the kingship of the Laigin now?" she asked with a slight smile.

  The prince gave her that direct look of his, the intense blue of his eyes intimate. "There is that, of course. You will always be more than any other queen of Eriu."

  The queen looked away. She could see the ambition in him, the way that ambition was tied up with his trip here, to Druim Dara and her, but the glow in his blue eyes was more than just ambition.

  No, she had no intention of making Enna Cennsalach king. She thought of Mebd's legendary requirements for a husband and a consort, "without jealousy, without fear, and without niggardliness." This time she would choose with that advice in mind and not for Eriu.

  For herself.

  "We will accompany you to Dun Ailinne," Queen Yseult said.

  Her daughter rose. "If we continue to run away from Lóegaire, we are behaving no differently than Nemain or the others who are retreating into the Sidhe — no differently than those of the Feadh Ree you have criticized."

  The round-house was silent, all eyes fixed on the princess. Yseult the Wise stared at her daughter in surprise. "What do you suggest?" she asked carefully.

  "That some of us go to Tara and discover what of this is true — and try to do something about it."

  "You make it sound very simple," Brigid said.

  "Perhaps it is n
ot as hard as it might seem at first." Yseult began walking the perimeters of the round-house, her hands behind her back. "You have a strong power of changing, have you not, Brigid?"

  The wise woman nodded.

  "And I have a strong power of calling. If we were to go to Tara with a band of Crimthann's warriors, small enough not to attract attention, I could call one of Lóegaire's advisors to us, and you could use your powers of illusion to find out what we need to know."

  The queen clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "It would be very dangerous for you to go to Tara now."

  "I don't want to run anymore," Yseult said simply.

  "What if Lóegaire is on his way here?"

  The princess grinned. "We won't be here when he arrives. Besides, if Lóegaire is calling a council, he hasn't left with his war band yet. And Brigid can use her power of changing to mask us in case of danger."

  Brigid nodded slowly, obviously intrigued by the idea. "And then you can send dreams to Patraic and Lóegaire."

  "I have not practiced much, but I can try."

  "Yes, that might work," Dubtach said thoughtfully. "I too have some talent for changing, and I am Brehon. I could come along in case my help is needed."

  The queen didn't like the idea of Yseult returning to the territory of the Ui Neill at all, but at the same time, she had to admire her daughter's bravery and initiative. She looked at Crimthann, a look he understood immediately.

  "I will accompany the expedition to Tara," Crimthann said. "Gamal, I would like you to take the queen to Dun Ailinne. We need not run more risks than necessary."

  * * * *

  This time, the sounds of leaving, the clank of bridles and the barking of dogs, were a promise rather than a threat. Yseult the Fair had learned much from the acolytes of Danu; how better to control her gift for calling and guard her thoughts from those with a gift for knowing, had learned more herbal remedies and new songs for the harp — although even here among so much knowledge and talent, no one had been able to teach her to sing decently, with her raspy voice. But her time at Druim Dara had been a time of waiting, a part of the running, something in-between, like the threshold to the Otherworld. To go north now meant taking her life into her own hands, taking some responsibility for the lives of her people. When she returned south, she would go to yet another new "home," still in-between, but no longer running. She would ask her uncle Murchad if she could join one of the war bands harrying the borders of the Ui Neill. Healers who could also fight were always needed, and thanks to Murchad and her mother, she could do both.