Innisgarbh (Prince Ciaran the Damned Book 1)

by Ruari McCallion

  “I don’t know how you put up with it. Why don’t you hit him or run away or something?” he asked on one bright early morning when we were heading out to the forest to search for wild mushrooms.

  “It won’t go on for ever,” I shrugged, “and besides, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of breaking or running.” Coivin shook his head and we went our separate ways. In reality, I was near the end of my tether and it was sheer willpower that kept me from either of the courses that my Dark Twin had suggested. My hands throbbed and my bottom stung constantly from the thrashings I was receiving. I was beaten on the hands with Coivin for his faults - and they were many - and on the backside for my own. The hands were the standard target for the older boys, the backside being reserved for the younger ones. It was a deliberate humiliation, one that was meant personally. But I would not break, I wouldn’t. I walked on up the path, round the shoulder of the hill and so out of sight of the College itself, watching the ground ahead as I thought about all that was happening to me. It was thus that my eye was caught by a foreign object, lying in the grass just off the beaten track. I stopped and bent down to pick it up. It was a small piece of carved stone, about six inches in length and bulging at one end, suggestive of either a head and body or a phallus. It had been polished smooth except for crude markings on the surface: a vertical slit to represent the separation of the legs, another two - shorter - to describe arms, two horizontal marks for eyes and another for a crude mouth.

  It was a talisman of Cromm Cruaich, Eater of Children, Dark Demon, the patron god of the Wicker Man. The cult had been eradicated by the Romans and banned for centuries. I almost dropped it in horror and surprise but decided to take it to Amergin straightaway. The High Druid must know of it and find out who had revived the dark worship.

  “What have you got there?” a familiar hissing voice came from the brush and Lucius emerged from the shadows. I started to show the druid and then decided against it.

  “Something I must take to the High Druid immediately. He must know of it.” I turned to leave.

  “Come now, my Prince of Donegal,” Lucius pronounced deliberately. My limbs turned to water, my jaw went slack and my mind emptied. “Give me the amulet, Ciaran.” He held his hand out and I placed the stone in it. “When you wake you will remember nothing of this. You will go on your way and search for mushrooms as diligently as you carry out all your tasks. You will not remember finding the talisman or meeting me. Do you understand, Ciaran?”

  “Yes,” I replied dully. Lucius considered for a moment. He could wake the boy now (or rather, a moment after he’d left the scene), or -

  It was too good an opportunity to miss. Here I was, and I was completely in his power, all because of Diarmuid. The irony of it! He chuckled quietly and could barely suppress his excitement long enough to get himself and me off the path and into the woods. I followed where he was led as meek as a lamb.

  “Kneel down, Ciaran,” he ordered. I did as he told me. Lucius pulled my robe over my head. He fiddled and dropped his loincloth. “Open your mouth, Ciaran,” he ordered again and took one step towards me when something struck him a huge blow on the side of his head and sent him flying off to the side. I continued to kneel with my mouth open, waiting for instructions. Lucius was lost in a confusion of his lust and the searing pain in his head. He looked up to try and make sense of what had happened and saw Ieuan with a stout branch in his hands which he brought crashing down on the druid’s exposed ribs. The branch almost cracked with the impact, and at least two of Lucius’ ribs certainly did. The Welshman leaned over until he was close enough for even Lucius’ addled brain to hear and understand.

  “Leave him alone. Now and for good. If you touch him again, I’ll kill you. I mean it. Do you understand?” Lucius drew breath to say yes but it came out as a gasp because his chest hurt so much. Ieuan stamped on the ribs, in the same place as he’d just hit him. The druid gasped again and pulled himself to his knees, trying to stand up. Ieuan kicked him once more, hard, between his legs. Lucius moaned in agony and fell back to the rocky, twig and bramble-strewn earth. He lay on his back, helpless to defend himself from any further assault. He saw his attacker approach again and curled up into a whimpering ball, his half-shaven head trying to bury itself in his chest. Ieuan bent down close again.

  “Did you hear me?” he growled, “I said to leave Ciaran alone. I will kill you if you do it again, and I mean it. I’ll creep up on you one night, in the dark, or catch you in the forest when you’re alone and I will slit your throat and catch your blood in a cup. I’ll cut your balls off and shove them down your neck. I’ll cut your heart out and force you to eat it before you die if you so much as think about messing around with him again, and I don’t care what happens to me after. And neither will you, because you’ll be dead, but you’ll die in a great deal of pain. Do you understand?” Lucius managed to nod. “Good.” He turned and came over to me, where I was still kneeling obediently with his mouth open. I knew what was happening - and I remembered, many years later and was almost sick at the memory - but for now I was in the power of anyone who spoke to me. “Stand up Ciaran, it’s me, Ieuan,” he said gently, and helped me to my feet. “Come with me,” and he led me back to the path. “I think that’s enough mushroom-picking for today. You’ve had another episode of the falling-sickness. You can’t remember anything that happened to you. Forget you saw Lucius. Come and sit down on this rock -” he led me to a flat-topped stone “- and take a moment to recover. You’re all right, just a small attack of the falling-sickness. Forget Lucius, forget everything that happened here. When I count to three, you will wake up. One, two, three.”

  My mind cleared and I looked around in confusion. My eyes settled on Ieuan and I relaxed for a moment, then my face slumped into depression.

  “It’s happened again, hasn’t it?” Ieuan nodded. I put my head in my hands and Ieuan came over to sit by me.

  “It’s all right. You’re all right now. Take a moment and then I’ll take you back to the College.” I rubbed my head. It wasn’t in the least bit sore but this didn’t strike me as at all unusual. I accepted everything I had been told, without question.

  “Thanks, Ieuan. Lucky you came along.” Ieuan agreed and I smiled in relief. “What would I do without you?” I took a moment longer before I stood up. “Right. I’m fine now. I’ve got to go and find some mushrooms for this evening.” Ieuan shook my head and said I’d done enough for one day. I found I was agreeing and allowed myself to be helped back down the hill. If I heard any low moans from the undergrowth I don’t recall.

  Ieuan went to Amergin and told him something of it. He didn’t need to go into detail. The High Druid had already thought better of his anger and meanness in putting Ciaran into Lucius’ hands and, knowing the ollamh as he did, quickly realised that advantage was being taken. He sent him off to an isolated cave for three months’ fasting and isolation, with a harsh warning of punishment and exile should he try such a thing again. Strangely, the question of how Lucius had discovered the Phrase of Power never arose.

  Lucius returned from his contemplation outwardly cowed and repentant but inwardly seething with humiliation and resentment. In the months that followed he avoided taking advantage of his secret knowledge - both Ieuan and Amergin kept a close watch on me - but he quickly regained his reputation for harsh discipline. Equally quickly, Coivin regained his reputation for truculence and gradually I developed a defiant streak of my own. It was aimed at and nurtured by Lucius but others noted it as well. The High Druid was disturbed at the development but he had many matters to attend and he wasn’t able to pay the attention that was needed. It was all he could do to spare me the time to recount my Visions as and when they occurred. He wished there was someone he could entrust some of his duties to. He had to concede, privately and reluctantly, that he had depended on Diarmuid. And also that his former colleague had been honest - he had never spoken to me of his attraction to Christianity. There was not the slightest taint of the alien
faith in either my memory or my psyche. But nor was there the time to devote to me. He relied on Ieuan but, promising and willing as the Welshman was, he was not as experienced as Diarmuid had been. Nor did he have the authority to go against Lucius and his group.

  The High Druid found that more and more tasks - some pressing, some minor but necessary nonetheless - took up his time. Lucius increasingly, but subtly, exercised his sadistic inclinations on the two of us. He was pleased to provoke defiance in me and he encouraged it with petty nastiness. He found the two of us returning from some menial task Cormac had set early one spring day. We were late for our lessons and we were going to be later, which would get us into trouble with Gabris. Amergin was busy and Lucius licked his lips as he relished yet another opportunity to needle the two of us - me in particular.

  “So, our two fine princes have returned at last. And what have your majesties been up to this morning?” Both of us felt rage boil up within, but I put a hand on my Dark Twin’s arm.

  “We’ve been collecting herbs for the kitchen, Brother,” I replied calmly.

  “A noble task for such fine-born gentlemen. You are late. I have noticed you are late a great deal these days. You shall fill the cesspits and dig some new ones to teach you punctuality. Have it done by mid-day.” This was impossible timing. Coivin balled his fist, and Lucius noted it with pleasure. I restrained him again. Lucius turned to leave, a smile on his weasel face.

  “No.” He stopped. His smile became wider, then he concealed it and turned again to face us.

  “What did you say?” he demanded, coldly.

  “I said no,” I replied. My voice was calm but I was like a coiled spring. Lucius could see I was shaking with suppressed anger. This would be very satisfying for him. “We’ve done nothing wrong. We carried out brother Cormac’s order. We protested that we would be late for our lessons. He told us to do it anyway. Any slave or servant could have done the job, but we were told to. We have done as we were ordered. We have done nothing wrong. We will not be treated like drudges to satisfy whatever pleasure you may get. So the answer is no, we will not deal with the cesspits.” I made to go on to the classroom, Coivin at my side.

  “Stand where you are!” Lucius roared. “I have given you direct instructions. Do you dare to defy me?” Coivin returned his gaze with one of pure hatred. I was on the verge of explosion as well. Lucius was beginning to tremble himself, in anticipation.

  “We will not do it. We deserve no punishment. We will not accept one.” I replied. A small crowd was gathering, including Cormac and Berec. Ieuan was absent and none of the other boys would help us. Amergin was nowhere to be seen and Diarmuid was half a year gone. It was just we two boys against three dangerous men.

  “Are you defying me?” Lucius asked, his voice was quiet but the sibilant tone was present as always.

  “We will not be treated like drudges.” I replied, my hands on my hips. Lucius nodded to Berec and Cormac and the three of them advanced on us. If they had expected us to give ground, they were mistaken. We stood upright, defiant and unyielding. Lucius stopped and thrust his face two inches from mine.

  “Do as you are told, and do it now,” he hissed.

  “No!” we said together. Berec grabbed me, Cormac took Coivin. We struggled as Lucius looked around for a weapon. He found a long, stout branch lying on the edge of the woodpile.

  “Most appropriate,” he said and I recognised something although I couldn’t remember what. His face twisted into a thin-lipped and cruel smile. Our struggles were ebbing away: we weren’t yet big enough to overcome a well-fed adult druid. Lucius marched over and swung his club, catching Coivin hard in the ribs as Cormac held his arms behind him. He moaned and started to sink. Cormac held him up. Lucius swung again, in the same place and there was the distinct crack of breaking bone. He turned to me.

  “Do as you are told.” Coivin shook his head.

  “No.” I said. A small boy on the edge of the crowd ran off. Lucius changed his hands and attacked Coivin’s ribs again, on the other side this time. Again there was the sound of breaking bone.

  “Will you obey me?”

  “No.” Coivin was semi-conscious. Lucius helped him into unconsciousness with another blow to the head. Cormac allowed him to drop to the floor. Lucius then turned to me and swung. The anticipation was almost worse than the actuality - but not quite. My breath shot out of my body in a burst of pain as the branch, with all the druid’s weight behind it, struck me in the ribs. Lucius may have turned his weapon slightly so that a spike of twig punctured my skin. I could hardly breathe. Lucius could hardly breathe, either, with excitement. Berec allowed me to drop to my hands and knees where I fought for breath. The branch was raised again and whistled down across my back. I felt and heard the crack of bone and a clear part of my mind wondered how many ribs had been broken. I was spreadeagled on the dirt floor and white-hot agony poured through my body as I was hauled to my knees again. I waited for the next blow but it didn’t come. I heard the jingling of a horse’s bridle. How odd, I thought. Who would be riding around here now? I collapsed to the ground again, my chest a sea of fire, every breath agony. I looked along the ground and was surprised to see Lucius lying flat out as well, his face contorted in agony. I felt hands on my body, and they were cool and calming. Ieuan’s face appeared, then disappeared. I heard him speak.

  “They’re both badly hurt. Broken ribs. Coivin’s worse, he has injuries on both sides of his chest. Ciaran, one side only - but front and back.”

  “How bad is it?” The voice was that of a stranger but familiar, somehow.

  “Bad enough. But they’ll feel better in a couple of hours and they will be able to ride with you in two days at the most, maybe tomorrow if you don’t press too hard.”

  “Tomorrow! How is this possible?” the stranger’s voice again.

  “I’m a Healer. It’s my Gift.” And a great Gift it is too. Better than my own. What Gift is that? I wondered. Then Ieuan’s hands were at my head and I drifted off to a calm, floating state between sleep and wakefulness. I was aware of pain but it didn’t disturb me.

  Amergin finally arrived on the scene. He saw us flat on the floor, one of us bleeding quite badly. Three leather-armoured warriors stood by as Ieuan attended to us. One had his sword drawn. Berec and Cormac stood off to one side, looking nervous. Lucius was spread on the ground, a vicious looking club just beyond his right hand. Amergin went over to him and picked him up by his robe. He moaned in pain but there were no visible wounds.

  “You fool,” Amergin said, “you damned fool.”

  “Shall I attend to him?” Ieuan asked.

  “Will he die if left?” Amergin replied. Ieuan shook his head. “Then leave him. Deal with the boys.” He turned to the warrior, who was breathing heavily through clenched teeth.

  “Is this how you educate? Train Princes?” he demanded.

  “Things have got out of hand.”

  “Out of hand? Out of hand? It’s gone far beyond that. Far beyond. They were being beaten to death when we got here.” He took a deep breath and sheathed his sword angrily. “The boys are to return to Donegal. As soon as they are fit. This man -” he indicated Ieuan “- claims he is a Healer and the boys could ride tomorrow. Is this true? They are badly hurt.”

  “Ieuan is a Healer. A great and talented Healer. If he says they can ride tomorrow, then that will be the case.”

  “Good. The sooner they are away from your loving care, the better. We’ll be back this afternoon to check on their progress. And if I see that baggage again,” he indicated Lucius, “I’ll kill him.” The three of them mounted their horses and left the yard in a cloud of dust.

  I opened my eyes. It was early afternoon and I felt a great deal better. I was in the Infirmary and I was sure I could feel my bones actively knitting together under Ieuan’s hands. My friend was sweating with the effort but it was bearing fruit, and miraculously quickly. I looked across to the next bed and saw Coivin, still unconscious and breathing uncomfort
ably.

  “How is he?”

  “Worse than you,” Ieuan replied, “but he’ll feel better this evening - or rather, less bad. It’ll be tomorrow before you can get up. Go to sleep for the moment. The Healing will work quicker if you’re asleep.” I slipped back into slumber before I could ask who the stranger was and Ieuan returned to the exercise of his Gift of healing, without which the herbs and salves he applied would have taken weeks to repair the damage we had suffered.

  And amazingly, I was up and about by the following lunchtime and Coivin by mid-afternoon, although he was very stiff and uncomfortable. Ieuan ruled out riding for another day.

  The warriors who had saved us accompanied us everywhere, their eyes watchful and suspicious of all but the Healer. Their leader was Conor, cousin to our fathers and a member of the dearbh fine, the group from which the next king would come. So were we, so he could have had an interest in our demise. If we were out of the way, Conor’s chances of the leadership would be enhanced. And there were those in Donegal who would have supported him. But he was an honourable man and would discharge the duty his cousin the King had placed on him to the best of his ability: that was why he had been chosen. He had guarded us when we were young, he it was who had collected me as a baby from my mother and brought me to my new home in Fergus’ household. Fergus was a warrior first and foremost but he felt a need for change, for something beyond the cattle-raiding and petty arguments that led to the skirmishes and wars that plagued the whole island of Erin. For this reason he had sent us for education by the Druids, Coivin to be war-leader and me to be adviser and governor in peacetime. Conor had understood his cousin’s thinking and had gradually become closer to the king. He was as proud of his achievements as any other fighter but he had seen enough of pointless death over nothing of substance. He hoped that we would lead Donegal out of the crippling endless battles and into an expansive future - perhaps in alliance with the twin kingdom of Dalriada, on the north-east coast of Erin and the west coast of Alba. We would be safe in his care.