by Sarah Rayne
Domnall said caustically, “Did you ever know the Wolfking to be without a woman?” and a murmur of rather uneasy laughter went round, but Flynn knew such a rush of thankfulness that he barely noticed.
“I didn’t actually see her,” said Domnall before Flynn could say anything. “I don’t think any of us did, because the King kept her in his own quarters.”
Flynn said carefully, “Was she the one who broke the Enchantment?”
Domnall, appearing to understand, said, “‘Open locks, to the Human’s hand,’ do you mean?” And, as Flynn nodded, “Well,” said Domnall, considering this, “I believe that the feeling was that she was the one, although of course I could no more swear to that than I could fly to the moon.”
He eyed Flynn thoughtfully, “Would it be a matter of some concern to you?” And when Flynn said, “Yes it would,” Domnall nodded, “I see.” Everyone wondered what it was that he saw.
“Whoever she was,” said Domnall, looking at Flynn rather fixedly, “Cormac was treating her extremely well.” And he regarded Flynn with his head on one side like an alert sparrow, and nodded and smiled, and Flynn nodded and smiled back, and thought that if only Cormac had kept Joanna safe and if only he had looked after her in this cruel beautiful world, then he, Flynn, would happily fight to the death for the Wolfking.
Domnall sat cross-legged in the circle of people, and began to explain what had been happening. “We all of us went to Scáthach in the beginning,” he said. “Of course we did. Aren’t we the chosen race of the High Kings?”
Sean said in an aside to Flynn, “See what I mean?” and was ordered by Conaire to be quiet or leave.
“Leave for where?” demanded Sean, for once belligerent.
“Muileann or the Walled City of the Erl-King!” said Conaire crossly, and Sean scowled and muttered into his notes that they’d never had this discourtesy under the Wolfking, and it all came of Eochaid Bres’s slipshod, slapdash Court.
“I knew how it would be the very minute that the Fox started plotting,” he said. “But nobody listened to me. Well, don’t blame me if Ireland falls into the hands of something very nasty indeed.”
Oscar said, rather loudly, “Domnall, do tell us what happened at Scáthach. Is the King with you?” and Flynn felt a ripple of delighted anticipation go through the others.
“He is not,” said Domnall, “not but what we haven’t followed him all the way from Scáthach here, and that’s been no picnic I can tell you, not in a bull’s foot it hasn’t. Although it has to be said that Scáthach was no picnic either,” he added, “not but what we didn’t all go willingly.” He glared at Conaire. “There wasn’t a one of us who’d have stood for being under Eochaid Bres’s rule,” said Domnall, “and there wasn’t a one of us who’d have stood for being under the Fox’s rule either. Anyone who knows anything knows that Eochaid Bres is ruled by Bricriu.”
“And Bricriu is ruled by the Queen Mother,” murmured Oscar.
“Is he now? Is he indeed?” said Domnall interested. “Of course, I wouldn’t be knowing about that. I left with the True King. Which,” he added, “if your honours will pardon me for saying, is more than any of you did.”
Conaire, rather red in the face, said, “But we’ve come to find the True King and restore him.”
“You’ve taken your time about it,” said Domnall.
Sean remarked to no one in particular: “He’s right you know. We have. Not that it’s any business of those Cruithin, but you’ll never tell them that.”
“I don’t think —”
“Arrogant,” said Sean, shaking his head. “Comes of having served the High Kings for so long. It’s bound to rub off a bit. I daresay it can’t be helped.”
“Sean,” said Conaire ominously, “I freely admit that you are a gifted ollam and an excellent fellow, and I wish you nothing but good, but if you do not keep quiet till we hear what Domnall has to say, I shall drop you over the cliff face.”
“Sorry I’m sure,” said Sean, hunching one shoulder. Flynn said, in a voice he had never heard himself use before, “This is quite enough of such childish nonsense. Both of you will please behave like sensible people and remember the purpose of this journey,” and Conaire and Sean and Domnall all fell over themselves to apologise.
“Well,” said Domnall with a pleased look to where Flynn sat, “there isn’t much more to tell. We all came with His Majesty from Scáthach, and we stayed here, camped out in the forest while the King and his lady went on to Gallan with Gormgall and Dubhgall.”
“Yes, of course, he’d never leave those two behind,” said Conaire, and everyone nodded.
“They were going to go through Muileann,” said Domnall. “Well, it’s the most direct route to Gallan of course, we all know that. And they were going to ask Cait Fian for his aid, and then come back here with the people of Gallan and the panthers. A grand army that would have given us,” said Domnall, “and we’d have ridden against Tara and Eochaid Bres right away.
“But,” said Domnall, jabbing a finger into midair the better to make his point, “they haven’t returned. And there’s been time and to spare for them to have reached Gallan and got back. Well, your honours, not to mince words, we’re all getting very worried. We’re all saying to ourselves — supposing something’s happened to them? And to tell you the tale with no bark on it, there’s one or two of us who’re saying — supposing the Giant Miller’s caught them? Now that,” said Domnall severely, “would be a very bad thing, indeed it would.”
There was a rather worried silence. At length, CuChulainn said, “They might have reached Gallan.”
“Then where’s Cait Fian and the Panthers?” demanded Domnall.
“They might have been delayed in Gallan,” said CuChulainn rather doubtfully, and at his side, Oscar snorted in disgust.
“Cait Fian was never delayed if there was a fight in the offing,” he said.
“And he’d ride out for Cormac at an hour’s notice,” added Etain.
“Well,” said Domnall, “we — that is all the Cruithin — think that the King must have fallen into the hands of the Miller. Or even —” he hesitated and glanced over his shoulder, and everyone else did the same. “Or even,” said Domnall drawing a little closer, “the Morrigna or the Erl-King.”
A sudden silence fell on the little group, and Flynn had the impression that the forest had grown momentarily darker.
“Well it’s what we think,” said Domnall rather defiantly, “for they say that Morrigan and her sisters have been seen in these parts, and we all know that the Erl-King’s Citadel is within two days’ march of Muileann. We’ve been holding a Council of War,” said Domnall, “that is those of us who understand about war, for it’s no use leaving it to the youngsters. They’re all for riding full pelt down into Muileann and brandishing swords and crying death to the Miller and confusion to the Morrigna. And that won’t do,” said Domnall. “Only you can’t tell them. They’re all for fighting first and thinking afterwards, and we all know that isn’t the way to win a war. You’ve got to fight sorcery with more sorcery, always supposing you can get it, and always supposing you can afford it as well, because good sorcery’s very expensive nowadays. Well, wasn’t it always. But then you’d all know more about that sort of thing than I would,” he added, “having been at Tara for so many years.”
“It isn’t —”
“With Eochaid Bres and the Fox” said Domnall pointedly.
Conaire threatened, “If I have to suffer any more jibes, son of servants —”
Flynn said, “Oh Conaire, do please stop it. If we are to make any kind of rescue attempt we’ve got to band together. And Domnall, a little more tolerance from you, if you please.” And he wondered whether this could possibly be himself, Flynn O’Connor, speaking with such authority. Lethe arrogance, thought Flynn, and then grinned to himself, because weren’t the Letheans many centuries in the future?
But the Lethe arrogance worked at once. Conaire and Domnall apologised all over again
, and Conaire asked, very politely, if Domnall would continue.
“There isn’t much more to tell,” said Domnall. “We — that is the older ones — had been trying to work out a plan to get into Muileann without being seen so that we could spy out the land, when one of the sentries came running to say they’d got wind of your presence — well, of the presence of something lurking in the forest. Something that was being a bit furtive. And so —”
“We’re not furtive!” Midir put in.
“And we certainly don’t lurk,” said Etain.
“Well, we were being stealthy,” said Conaire. “Let’s say that.”
Domnall said, “Yes, let’s say that.” Everyone wondered how long this new peaceable mood was going to last. Sean shook his head and remarked to anyone who might be listening that the Cruithin and the families of the Bloodline never had got on.
“A chancy blend,” he said. “Very chancy. You won’t change the feuding of centuries in half an hour. Well, it’s nothing to do with me.” And he wondered could you stage a mock feud as part of an evening’s entertainment, with the Cruithin on one side, and the Bloodline on the other.
“Well, I came to investigate,” said Domnall. “To find out who you were. That’s meaning no disrespect, of course.”
“Of course not.”
“And here I am.”
“So you are. Tell me,” said Conaire, “how large is the camp?”
“If you don’t count the Wolves, there’s about thirty of us,” said Domnall.
“Oh I think we should count the Wolves,” said Conaire, and looked at the others. “Don’t you?”
“Useful things in a fight, Wolves,” agreed CuChulainn, and the twins and Oscar nodded. Flynn hoped he did not look as worried as he felt, and wished that he had not heard Sean muttering that wolves were all very well so long as somebody could control them.
“Of course, we’re having a bit of trouble controlling them,” said Domnall, and Sean groaned. “They get a bit unruly when the King isn’t there, and nobody else can really do anything with them.”
“Nobody ever could,” said Oscar.
“All the more reason to set out soon to find him,” put in Midir.
Domnall, who had been studying them all one by one, said suddenly, “I suppose you are going to join us, sirs?” and at once they all looked to Flynn.
“Flynn? What’s your opinion?” asked Conaire and Flynn thought: oh dear, here we go again.
Aloud he said, carefully, “I think we must join them, don’t you? That’s if Domnall is sure his people will accept us.”
“The more the merrier,” said Domnall mournfully.
“It’ll mean a greater chance of being seen when we cross the plain to Gallan,” said Oscar.
“I know that,” said Flynn. “But it’ll mean a better army when we join with Cait Fian’s people.”
From his hillock, Sean said to himself, “Wolves and Panthers together. Oh dear.”
“The greater the army, the better our chances of restoring the Wolfking,” remarked Midir.
“Not that there’s any doubts about us doing that,” said Etain.
“No, but we might as well make it as sure as we can.”
“The Wolves form a whole battalion in themselves as well,” said Conaire.
Sean said, “Yes, so long as somebody can control them.”
“Oh, we’ll have Cormac with us by then,” said Etain. “Won’t we?” And then, as nobody replied, “Won’t we?” she said again.
“I hope so,” said Oscar. “In any case, we can’t go without the Wolves.”
“No,” said CuChulainn firmly, “for when we ride triumphantly into Tara with the King, we must certainly have the Wolves of Tara with us.”
Flynn was rather glad that CuChulainn had painted that bright and optimistic picture, for without it he thought he might very well have fallen victim to despair. He had begun to be more than cautiously hopeful that the lady with Cormac was Joanna, and he had begun to think, as well, that if this was so, his only chance of finding her was to fight for Cormac’s restoration and rout the usurpers. Once or twice he found himself wondering whether he was in truth on the right side. I suppose Cormac is the rightful King, he thought. I suppose I am on the right side. But he did not let these thoughts surface, for he knew that the Cruithin, Conaire and the others would deal very sharply with a traitor. And then he remembered the delight that showed on their faces when anyone mentioned Cormac, and he remembered (and found it a thought to hold on to) that Domnall had said that whoever Cormac’s lady was, she was being treated very well. He thought, afterwards, that it was this that helped him to remain in control, and it was certainly this that enabled him to plan Cormac’s return and the defeat of Eochaid Bres and Bricriu. “Without that hope,” he said later, “I should not have cared who sat in the Sun Chamber. I certainly should not have cared whether Cormac lived or died. But if he had Joanna then I did care.” And then — “But that was before I knew Cormac,” he said, and smiled.
He found the Cruithin to be likeable, interesting and thoroughly loyal. He talked to them rather a lot in the days that followed, but in all cases the story was the same. The King had certainly had a lady with him — to be sure when had he not? — but they none of them had seen very much of her. Yes, she was thought to be young and beautiful, although wasn’t this the way of it with His Majesty? Yes, said one of them, they had all believed that she had dissolved the Enchantment of Captivity, although of course you could never be sure about these things, because enchantments were tricky things to be sure they were. And what about another little drop of mead?
Flynn liked the way the Cruithin referred to Cormac with indulgence and respect blended; he thought that every one of them would fight to the death for Cormac, and never think of showing him less than the respect that was his right.
Equally, he thought they all knew the King’s weaknesses and failings. It made this exiled High King much more real to Flynn, and the fact that Cormac had weaknesses made him very much more likeable as well. Do we love others because of their faults or in spite of them? wondered Flynn, and smiled, and thought that Cormac’s people at any rate loved Cormac for his weaknesses. He began to be curious about Cormac, and he began to hope that they would find him and restore him for his own sake.
He began to look forward to that triumphant march into Tara with the Wolves, and he began, as well, to wonder about Gallan and Cait Fian.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The walled city of the Erl-King was silent tonight.
The Citadel was ablaze with light, but down in the streets, the people double-locked their doors and shuttered their windows and huddled round their firesides. It was no night to be abroad, for already the whisper had gone round.
The Gentleman has the hunger on him tonight …
There were four new prisoners in the dungeons, but even the great Wolfking and his lady would not slake the Gentleman’s hunger and his thirst tonight. Tara, the Shining Palace, the great and wonderful heart of all Ireland was at last within the Gentleman’s reach, and his hunger would be great. He would be thirsting for the blood of humans, and the warm young flesh of boys and girls. A terrible night lay ahead of the people of the Walled City, and when the night was behind them, the cold dawn would show the town ditches running with the blood of the poor wretched creatures who had slaked the Gentleman’s hunger and quenched his thirst.
Someone will be quaffed tonight …
The hunchback had come down into the town a short while ago, the wheels of his cart clattering over the cobbled streets. They had all heard the sounds, but they had pretended not to. They had pretended, too, not to hear the frantic footsteps running across the cobblestones, followed closely by the hunchback’s dragging gait.
“My Master has the hunger on him tonight …”
Screams had pierced the quiet streets, and then had been replaced by a quiet hopeless sobbing. The sound of despair. The townspeople recognised it of course, and wished, as always
, that they did not. Somebody’s son, somebody’s daughter or sister. Presently the cart had jolted its way back up the hill, the poor abandoned victims bound and gagged on the floor, destined for the Gentleman’s stone Banqueting Chamber, destined for the silver platters and the golden goblets. The townspeople knew because they had lived through it all before.
*
The moment the Erl-King entered the Citadel, Joanna and Cormac and the two Cruithin felt as if a dark cloud had descended. Cormac sprang up, his hands curling about the bars of the cell, staring upwards.
“He is here. He has come.”
“The Erl-King?”
“Yes. I can feel him,” said Cormac. “Can’t you? Be very still.”
Joanna stood very still and closed her eyes, and said in a whisper, “Yes. He is here. An immense power. A gaping chasm. A nothingness.” She shivered.
Gormgall noticing, said, “Would you take Grady’s coat, my lady?”
“After all, he’s no further use for it,” added Muldooney who liked to include himself in any act of chivalry that was going, even though, as Dubhgall had pointed out earlier, the exact meaning of the word had had to be explained to him. “Grady won’t be needing his coat any longer,” said Muldooney, and Gormgall and Dubhgall glared at him.
“Remember, son of the pigs, that Grady was my lady’s father,” said Gormgall.
“And respect her grief,” said Dubhgall.
Well, if it was grief they were to be talking of, Muldooney knew all about that. Hadn’t he tried to comfort the pretty little dear when she’d sobbed fit to break apart after Cormac had snuffed out John Grady’s life? Hadn’t she cast herself upon his body, crying pitiously as he lay lifeless and cooling in the corner of the cell? A terrible thing it was, and Muldooney had felt a lump come to his own throat. But Cormac had waved Muldooney aside in the most high-handed manner you could imagine, just when he had been going to go over and calm the poor dear creature. Muldooney did not know what things were coming to when a man could not comfort his officially conjoined partner. Nor did he care overmuch for the tone of Gormgall’s voice, for wasn’t it Muldooney who was going to be the saviour of the entire party in a while? He knew just what he was going to do, because he and Gormgall and Dubhgall had tried out a few gestures and movements suitable to a witless person, and he thought he would manage it really rather well. Dubhgall, always tart, had commented that to be sure, didn’t he take to it with a great naturalness, but Gormgall had said, “Oh hush,” and Muldooney had pretended not to hear. Still, they’d worked out a grand set of actions and little by-plays for when they got up to the Banqueting Hall. Gormgall had said to Dubhgall that it was going to be fine, and Dubhgall said sourly that he hoped it was, because their lives all depended on it being fine. There’d been a plan made and an agreement reached, and they’d all shaken hands on it, even Cormac. Joanna had kissed Muldooney on the cheek, her eyes bright, and said, “Oh I knew you would not let us down!”