by John Lenahan
‘Oh no,’ I said, shaking the visions out of my head, ‘I haven’t had a bath yet.’
‘There is no time for that,’ she said, turning to go. ‘Your party is preparing to leave now.’
I got up with only my blanket wrapped around me and ran to the bath house just in time to see Brendan leaving damp and happy. He was still steaming.
‘Good morning, Conor,’ he said, rubbing his hair with a towel. ‘Man, I can’t tell you how good a hot bath feels.’
I pushed past him. The Leprechaun that runs the bath house spotted me and said, ‘Oh, I didn’t know there was going to be anyone else this morning. I’ll have some more hot water in an hour.’
I ran back to my tent and got dressed. I was going to have my breakfast and then a bath and there was no power in The Land that was going to stop me.
Brendan was the only person in the canteen that I recognised. I got some food and sat down next to him.
‘How come you had a bath so early this morning?’
‘Araf, your mother and molten gold lady—’
‘Auntie Nieve.’
‘Yeah her. They had a meeting last night. After the meeting Araf told me that you were going to the Pinelands this morning. So I got up early to be ready.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘You were asleep. What was I supposed to do, wake you up and tell you to have a bath?’
‘YES.’
‘OK,’ the cop said, taking out an imaginary notepad and pen, ‘let me just note that down for next time.’
‘Do you know what is going on?’
‘No, your mother still doesn’t seem to ike me that much. I tried to go to the meeting with Araf but she wouldn’t let me in.’
Mom appeared just as I was finishing breakfast.
‘Come, Conor.’
‘Sorry, Mom, I’m off to a bath.’
‘This is more important.’
‘I beg to differ,’ I said but followed her anyway.
Brendan fell into step next to me. When Mom gave him a dirty look I said, ‘How many times do I have to tell you that he is with me?’
She backed down and I wondered if I had picked the wrong battle to win with my mother. I’d ditch Brendan in a second if it meant I could soak under some warm suds.
Araf and Nieve were mounted up when I got to the corral. ‘Have you ever been on time?’ Nieve asked.
‘On time? On time for what?’
Brendan brought out Acorn and Cloud and handed me Acorn’s reins. He was saddled and packed with full supplies.
Mom slid the strap of a full satchel on my shoulder.
‘You looked so tired last night I had my men pack some warm clothes for you while I let you sleep.’
‘Mom, it’s not sleep I needed – it’s a bath.’
‘You should have thought of that earlier,’ said a voice using a familiar tone. There behind me was Essa, dressed, mounted and ready to go. ‘If you think we are going to wait while you lounge under hot water – you have another thought coming.’
I turned back to Mom. ‘Essa?’
‘Essa is your guide.’
‘I thought you were coming.’
‘I’m needed here. I’m still not convinced any good will come of this expedition. I’m staying and continuing the research. Also, I do not wish to stray too far from Castle Duir, in case … well, just in case.’
‘OK, but Essa?’
‘Essa has journeyed to the Pinelands before. She is one of the few people who ever has. You are lucky to have her.’
I looked at my party mounted up and waiting for me and nodded.
‘Be careful, it is wild in the Pinelands at the best of times,’ Mom said. ‘No one has returned from that part of The Land in a long time – I have no idea what conditions are like.’
Mom handed me a muslin-wrapped parcel. ‘Rhiannon is Queen of the Pookas – or at least she was the last time anyone was there. Give her this.’
‘What is it?’
‘It is the first of the hazelnuts from your new Tree of Knowledge. My father sent a regular supply of hazelnuts to the Pinelands. My Pooka tutor once told me that that was the reason Queen Rhiannon agreed to send her to teach me. Remember, son, never look at an amorphous Pooka in the eye – it can antagonise their animal self. And always look a Pooka dirly in the eyes when they change back.’
‘Why?’
‘Because they will be naked.’
‘Oh yeah.’
I hugged her.
‘Go,’ she said, pushing me away. ‘You are losing sunlight.’
As I walked towards Acorn I felt a slap on my back. I turned to see Turlow dressed in shiny black leather. He put his arm around me.
‘Ah, Faerie prince, I’m looking forward to getting acquainted with you on this adventure.’
‘You’re coming with us?’
‘I travel with my betrothed,’ he said.
‘Great,’ I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster – which wasn’t much.
Just before I mounted up, Turlow looked over his shoulder and placed his face close to mine. In a conspiratorial whisper he said, ‘I don’t want to embarrass you in front of the others, Conor. But from one royal to another, I’d like to give you a piece of advice.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Well, my friend,’ he said, ‘you could really use a bath.’
People always complain about winter but not me. I like winter or, I should say, I used to. What I used to like about winter was the indoor stuff: the crackling warm fires, hearty soups and stews, and cosy quilts. This travelling around outside on horseback in the winter is for the birds. I take that back – even the birds have enough sense to fly someplace warm in the winter. Saying that, if I had to be outside this time of year it might as well have been on a day like this one. It was glorious – sharp, cold, with bright sunshine pouring from an indigo-blue sky. Mom had packed me a fox fur hat and mittens that kept my ears and fingers toasty warm. If only I had a pair of cool Rayban sunglasses I would have been perfectly contented to be out in the elements.
This was not a Sunday afternoon jaunt to visit Mother Oak – we had serious distance to cover. Essa set a near brutal pace that meant leisurely chats on horseback were out. Not that a private chat with Essa would have been possible anyway. The Turd-low stuck to her side like a duckling to its mother. Even during the infrequent short rests, he was attached to her like a burr. It made me think that she really must like him, ’cause if I crowded Essa that much I’d probably be bleeding before not very long.
On the first night I went to bed immediately after dinner. I said I was tired but the truth of it was that I just couldn’t stand to watch the two of them snuggled up together in the firelight.
I awoke the next morning and thought I had gone blind overnight. Fog had crept in that was so thick I literally couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. When The Land does weather, it doesn’t do it in halves. It made me hope that we would avoid snow on this trip. At breakfast I spoke to Brendan and asked him to strike up a conversation with Turlow sometime during the day so I could have a chat with Essa. He said he would and added that he would also pass a note to her in the playground, if I wantim to.
The morning ride was so slow that we might as well have been walking. It wasn’t until an hour before noon that the fog lifted enough so that we could at least canter without braining ourselves on trees. Turlow dropped back and said that Essa wanted to talk to me. It looked like Brendan wouldn’t have to make forced small talk after all.
When I pulled up next to Essa she said, ‘So what do you want to talk to me about?’
‘I thought you wanted to talk to me?’
‘Turlow told me that you asked Brendan to distract him so you could talk to me in private.’
‘Oh, he heard that, did he?’
‘That is what he told me. So what is so important?’
‘Nothing’s important, I just wanted to … you know, talk.’
‘About what?’
/>
‘I don’t know; maybe about how come you got engaged in like three months?’
‘That’s what you wanted to talk about?’
It wasn’t – well, it was, but it was stupid to use it as an opening conversational gambit but since I started, I just ploughed on. ‘It’s as good a topic as any.’
‘And I have to justify my actions to you – why?’ she said in a tone that made me realise that we were probably going down a conversational cul-de-sac.
‘You don’t have to justify anything. I just think it’s strange that you went all bridal so soon after my departure.’
‘Let me get this straight – you think that my getting engaged is because I couldn’t have you?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t put it like that but …’
‘Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,’ she hissed. ‘You are the most arrogant, pop-headed imbecile I have ever met.’
‘Pop-headed?’
‘Do you have anything else to discuss?’
‘Yeah, what does pop-headed mean?’
She made that exasperated Essa noise that she frequently makes just before she pummels you. ‘You are dismissed,’ she said.
Now I wasn’t really into continuing this stupid argument, or getting pummelled for that matter, but I was not about to be sent away like a lackey. Thinking about it, I wouldn’t even be that rude to a lackey – and I don’t even know what a lackey is.
‘Dismissed! You are dismissing me? Oh thank you, Your Royal Highness, for the privilege of your company. If there is anything else your Sire-ship requires don’t hesitate to order your Turd-low to sneak in and overhear it.’
I pulled the reins on Acorn and let Her Ladyship pull ahead. Turlow passed me on the left and said, ‘That did not sound very good.’
I spotted a glimpse of a smirk on his face as he caught up with his fiancée.
Araf came abreast. ‘That didn’t sound very good,’ he said.
Araf it seemed had learned how to make unnecessary comments. I have only myself to blame ’cause I think he learned that from me. I let him go by and dropped into step with Brendan.
‘That didn’t sound very good,’ Brendan said.
‘That seems to be the consensus. Could you really hear us all the way back here?’
‘Let’s just say if you two ever get married, I don’t want to live next door.’
‘Don’t worry, there is not much chance of that.’
‘Conor, can I give you a piece of constructive advice?’
‘Go ahead,’ I sighed.
‘Stop being such a jerk.’
‘That’s constructive advice?’ I asked.
‘Well maybe not – but it is advice.’
‘So I’m the jerk? What about her? She was the one that tore my head off.’
‘And you did nothing to provoke her?’
‘No. Well, OK yes, but she overreacted and what about Turd-low creeping around in the dark listening in on our conversations.’
‘It wasn’t dark, it was in that pea-soup fog, remember? And he told me that he was just sitting next to us doing some Banshee meditation and we disturbed him.’
‘And you believe him?’
‘Conor, I can see why you don’t like him but I hate to tell you this – he seems like a nice guy.’
‘Well, you thought I was a murderer, so forgive me if I don’t trust your judgement.’
Brendan just shrugged. He wasn’t looking for a fight and it made me realise I didn’t need another one either, so I changed the subject.
‘Speaking of difficult women, where is my aunt?’
‘She’s a gone out a-huntin.’
‘Hunting? My Aunt Nieve?’
‘She thought it was strange that we weren’t seeing any animals the closer we got to these Pinelands. So she nipped off to look for some. Ever since she mentioned it, I’ve noticed that I haven’t seen a lot of living things around here for a while. Have you?’
‘I haven’t been looking,’ I replied. ‘I’ve been too busy wooing Essa.’
‘Right, how’s that going?’
‘You know, Brendan, I liked you better when you were a mean cop. This sarcastic Brendan is annoying.’
‘Nieve doesn’t think I’m annoying. In fact this morning she said I was quite funny.’
‘You had a conversation with Nieve? I thought you were sared of her?’
‘Oh, I’m still plenty scared of her but you can’t deny that she is quite beautiful.’
‘Yes, I noticed that when I first saw her, but it went away.’
‘When you found out she was your aunt?’
‘No, when she tried to kill me. I find I lose that loving feeling with women that try to kill me.’
‘Didn’t Essa try to kill you?’
I didn’t have a good answer for that, so I ignored it.
Chapter Eighteen
The Pinelands
The next couple of days were clear but icy cold. In the morning, frost covered our tents, which meant getting out of my cosy sleeping roll was almost impossible. Essa continued to set a pace bordering on the maniacal. In short, the entire trip was extremely not fun – but it seemed I was the only one who thought so. The princess and the Banshee lovebirds were as sickly as ever. Brendan and Nieve were getting along so well I could have sworn I heard my aunt actually giggle. That left me and Araf, and when he did talk, it was about the native flora or what a nice guy he thought Turlow was. I decided that my only course of action was to pout.
Either this group was a bunch of insensitive louts (which I am not discounting) or I wasn’t doing it right. A proper pout should influence the mood of the entire group making them all almost as miserable as the poutee but my travelling companions seemed to be un-bring-down-able. If I complained about the cold they would say, ‘Yes, but look at the blue skies.’ If I sighed heavily and went to bed immediately after dinner they would just say, ‘Good night.’ I figured they would notice if I went off my food but as soon as chow was placed in front of me – I ate it. You have to be really committed to call a hunger-strike pout.
Actually one person noticed my sulk – Turlow. He slipped in next to me and said, ‘You don’t seem to be enjoying our little jaunt, Master Faerie.’
‘I’m having a grand time,’ I answered without looking at him.
‘I don’t believe you. How can you not be in high spirits when you are in the company of Essa of Muhn? Oh, but you’re not really in her company that much, are you? Shame, I’m having a lovely time.’
‘You done?’ I asked.
‘Funny,’ he said as he kicked his horse and sped back to the front, ‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’
A couple of days later the mood of the group turned, but I suspect that it had a lot less to do with my pouting than it had to do with us reaching the edge of the Pinelands.
Like many of the lands in Tir na Nog, you know you’re in the Pinelands when you get there. It starts with rolling hills filled with – can you guess? – pine trees. Actually the trees are silver fir – ailm in the ancient language of Ogham. If you think that a hill filled with pine trees would give the place a nice Christmassy feel, you’d be wrong. These pines were scraggy and downright menacing. Like weird old men with long bedraggled beards who, if you talked to them, would probably say, ‘We don’t cotton onto strangers around here,’ and when you got back to your car your girlfriend would be missing. These trees grew high and hunched over like they wanted to block out as much light as possible. The ground between the trees was a spongy carpet of brown pine needles in which nothing grew.
The trail grew steeper and the pace slower. It was tiring. You would think that since I was on horseback it wouldn’t make any difference whether I was going uphill or down, but Acorn and I had a bond that made me feel some of his effort. All the good riders experienced the same thing, so I guess I was getting pretty good at this riding stuff. We also travelled slower ’cause none of us wanted to make too much noise in this place. If we could have gotten
our horses to tiptoe, we would have.
After a couple of wordless hours inclining the Pinelands, Brendan rode up close to me and in a low voice said, ‘This is going to sound very clichéd but I—’
‘You feel like someone is watching you?’ I interrupted.
He nodded.
‘Yeah, me too. I thought something was shadowing us over to the left but maybe it’s just these damn trees.’ I said ‘damn’ wordlessly so the trees couldn’t hear me.
We decided that we were better safe than sorry (or dead) so we kept watch. I looked right while Brendan tried to observe left. (Until our necks got sore and we traded sides.) The shapes that this forest made were so different than any nature we had seen before it really spooked us. We were like scared cub scouts by nightfall.
Essa built a tiny fire with the kindling from her pack. It was enough to make some tea and provided just enough light to pitch our tents by. No one complained because the person that did knew that they would have to be the one to ask one of the scary trees for wood. Brendan and I thought we should keep a watch and since we were the only ones that suggested it – we got to do it.
‘I’m going to go out on a limb and say, I don’t really like the Pinelands,’ I said.
‘I’m with you on that one, Mr O’Neil. Miserable, ain’t it?’ Brendan said, trying to warm his hands on the pathetic fire. ‘For the first time in a long while I’m glad my daughter isn’t with me.’
‘You don’t talk about her much.’
‘I think about her all of the time, that’s enough.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Ruby.’
‘Ruby, that’s a nice name.’
‘You think? I like it now, Ican’t imagine her having any other name but when my wife suggested it I thought it sounded like the name of the local good-time girl.’
‘It’s also the name of a precious gem.’
Brendan smiled a sad smile of a homesick man. ‘That’s my pet name for her – Gem.’