Prince of Hazel and Oak s-2

by John Lenahan

‘The Fili have been exonerated. Haven’t you heard?’

  ‘The ones who own those bows will never be exonerated,’ he said.

  This guy definitely had the drop on me and I figured it was only a matter of time before he garrotted me so I made, what turned out to be, a futile attempt to buck him off my back. It only resulted in my head getting bounced off the floor one more time.

  ‘Relax, Druid. I do not wish to hurt you before the Lord of Duir has a chance to question you.’

  Up till then I figured, like I always do when somebody attacks me out of the blue, that this was probably some sort of assassin hired by Cialtie. Now I realised that this idiot worked here.

  ‘The Lord of Duir is incapacitated. Does that mean you will now take commands from his prince?’

  The pressure from the arrowhead slacked. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I, Conor of Duir, command you to – get your butt off of me!’

  It’s amazing what a royal title can do in the right situation. Greeny hopped directly off me. I groaned erect as fast as my not-quite broken limbs would allow.

  My attacker’s hood was back. I was a bit surprised to see wrinkles around the piercing green eyes. This guy had been around for longer than probably anyone I had yet met in The Land. He wore a waxed moustache and a meticulously trimmed goatee that pointed directly to the bow and arrow that he still had levelled at my chest.

  ‘Lower your weapon,’ I said, trying very hard to sound like my father.

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ he said as he released the tension on his bow.

  ‘Who are you and why have you attacked my royal personage?’

  As I have mentioned before, I’m not a big fan of all the regal bowing and curtseying people do around the castle but after a guy kicks you in the back of the legs, the sight of him grovelling is very satisfying.

  ‘I am Spideog, Master-at-Arms of Castle Duir. I am sorry, Your Highness.’

  Behind me I heard Brendan trying to extricate himself. Greeny pulled back his bowstring and fired another arrow that planted itself about an inch from the previous one. I think if this guy wanted to, he could shoot fleas off a dog at fifty paces.

  ‘Conor, tell him to stop doing that,’ Brendan shouted.

  ‘Hey, stop doing that,’ I said.

  Spideog had already notched another arrow from the quiver on his back. ‘Instruct the Druid to leave the yew bows alone.’

  ‘OK, first of all, he’s not a Druid and secondly we didn’t know they were yew. Brendan!’ I yelled over my shoulder. ‘Don’t touch the bows.’

  ‘If he stops shooting at me I’ll put my hands in my pockets and not touch another thing all day. Now will somebody unpin me? I feel like a wanted poster.’

  ‘You heard the man,’ I said to Spideog still using my dad voice. ‘Put your weapon away and help him down.’

  The arrows were embedded so far into the wood that ad to snap them to unpin the detective. Brendan rolled up his left sleeve and examined the cut that the second arrow had inflicted. It wasn’t much more than a bad scratch but that didn’t stop Brendan from being very mad.

  ‘Why you son of a-’ He took a swing at the archer’s nose.

  Without any seemingly quick movements, Spideog casually brought up his left hand, connecting the back of his palm with the side of Brendan’s advancing fist, and pushed the punch off target. His hand sailed harmlessly past Spideog’s ear and Brendan stumbled forward. Confused at what had just happened but still just as mad, Brendan took another swing to precisely the same effect.

  ‘Lord Conor, instruct your companion to stop attacking me.’

  ‘Stop attacking him, Brendan.’

  He didn’t listen. I once heard that the definition of insanity is when you do the same things over and over but expect different results. Well, Brendan did the same thing and he did get a different result. This time Spideog’s hand parry was accompanied by a kick that dropped Brendan about as quickly as I had been earlier. It ended with Spideog kneeling on Brendan’s back and holding his wrist in what looked like a very painful position. The archer gave me a pleading look.

  ‘Brendan, are you going to knock it off?’

  ‘Yes,’ he groaned into the floor.

  Spideog let go. I was expecting Brendan to get up furious, instead he came up wide-eyed and said, ‘How did you do that?’

  ‘Simple,’ greeny said, bouncing on his toes, ‘your attack was sloppy and I – well – I am very good.’

  Brendan rubbed his sore shoulder and amazingly smiled. ‘Can you teach me that?’

  ‘Why, I would be delighted. First stand with your feet in a stance just wider than your shoulders, then-’

  ‘Ah, excuse me. Remember me, Prince of Duir?’

  ‘Oh yes, Your Highness. I will teach you as well,’ Spideog said. ‘You obviously need some combat training. Take today for instance. You were standing in an armoury with all manner of weapons and shields and when you came under attack from an arrow, you chose a stick. Who in The Land taught you defence?’

  ‘My father and Master Dahy,’ I announced defensively.

  ‘Dahy, of course – sticks and elbows. I’m surprised any of you are still alive.’

  ‘Now hold on a minute,’ I said, straightening up. ‘I’ll not have you badmouthing Master Dahy. Why, I ought to-’

  ‘Easy, Conor,’ Brendan said, coming between us. ‘You don’t want to take a swing at him, I tried that, it doesn’t work. Anyway didn’t we come in here for a reason?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, giving Spideog one last dirty look. ‘Mom said the Sword of Duir is here.’

  ‘It is, my lord,’ the green man replied. ‘The Lawnmower is right over there.’

  ‘The Lawnmower. Your father had it renamed when he returned it to the armoury.’

  Sure enough there she was, in the middle of the weapon racks in a gold-flecked clear crystal case – the family blade. At the base was a silver plaque that read, ‘Lawnmower – the Sword of Duir’. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  ‘Lawnmower?’ Brendan asked, confused.

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘If I may ask, my lord, what is a lawnmower?’

  ‘What did my father tell you?’

  ‘Lord Oisin and I do not… eh… chat.’

  ‘I can’t imagine why not,’ I said sarcastically, ‘but to answer your question, it’s a machine used to keep grass short.’

  ‘What is wrong with sheep?’

  Spideog removed an acorn-shaped gold medallion from around his neck and slid it into a slot at the base of the display. The gold embedded in the glass glowed, a seam appeared in the front panel and then it opened on invisible hinges like tiny church doors. I reached in and grabbed the Sword of Duir. It always surprises me how light and contoured to my hand the Lawnmower is. It felt like an extension of my arm. I once let Araf hold it and was amazed when he complained how uncomfortable the handle was. I mentioned what he said to Dad and he said, ‘It’s a Duir thing – the blade knows a Child of Oak.’

  ‘OK, now that we are all pals,’ Brendan said, ‘how come you attacked me when I reached for the bow?’

  ‘I did not attack you,’ Spideog corrected, ‘if I had attacked you, you would be dead. I merely stopped you.’

  ‘OK, why did you stop me then?’

  ‘He stopped you, Brendan,’ I answered, ‘because that bow is not yours.’

  ‘I wasn’t gonna steal it.’

  ‘Yew wood is special around here,’ I said. ‘Only a master archer can use a yew bow and if you want one you have to get the wood yourself. Only a person who has been deemed worthy by the tree can use that bow.’

  ‘Deemed worthy by a tree?’

  ‘It’s complicated, I’ll explain later.’

  ‘Oh, now I see,’ Spideog exclaimed, ‘you must be the voyager from the Real World.’

  ‘I am,’ Brendan replied.

  ‘Ah. I pay little attention to the gossip of the castle but I now remember hearing of you.’ Spideog turned to me. ‘If I may, my lord, al
l that you say is true but that is not why I fired on the voyager. The reason I stopped him was because he looks uncannily like a Fili.’

  ‘Why would you attack a Fili?’ I asked.

  ‘These bows belonged to Maeve’s Druid archers from the Fili war.’

  ‘Oh my gods,’ I said, ‘these are from the soldiers who were killed when Maeve’s massive Shadowspell backfired.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘But why were they not buried with the dead?’

  ‘Who said they are dead?’

  ‘Ah – everybody.’

  ‘I was there, Prince, I saw no bodies.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Everyone presumes the Fili died when Maeve performed her foul witchcraft but I saw no dead. I saw an amber wave, I saw the Fili scream and writhe in pain but then they vanished. Behind them they left their clothes and weapons, in fact all of their earthly possessions – but no bodies.’

  ‘No body, no murder,’ Brendan mumbled.

  ‘Gosh,’ I said, ‘where have I heard that before?’

  ‘Most think I’m mad,’ said Spideog, ‘but I live here in the armoury and guard against their return.’

  ‘He is a bit mad,’ Mom said later that night when I told her about my adventure in the armoury. (I left out the part where Spideog aimed an arrow at my neck. You know how Mom gets when somebody tries to hurt me.) ‘But there is no better fighter in The Land. He has even bested Dahy. While Cialtie was on the Oak Throne he lived deep in the Yewlands and reportedly waged a pretty effective one-man resistance war against Cialtie’s Banshee patrols.’

  ‘Apparently Dad doesn’t like him.’

  ‘Oh, he drives your father crazy. To be honest, that’s one of the things I like best about Spideog,’ Mom said with a mischievous grin that quickly changed into the frown that she seemed to always be wearing these days.

  ‘And he keeps that armoury so tidy.’

  Chapter Nine

  Mother Oak

  I didn’t see much of Brendan for the next couple of days. He spent almost all of his time in the armoury with Spideog and I spent most of that time sitting with Dad. Mom said maybe he could hear us, so I read him stories from books I found in the library. Even if he couldn’t hear, it was good for me. Many of the tales were about Duir so it helped me bone up on family history and it also improved my ancient Gaelic reading skills. Mom said we were going to be doing a lot of research when we got to the Hazellands.

  I read a chronicle of the Fili war. Fand’s mother Maeve really did lose it. She not only decimated much of the Rowan forest but took out a lot of alder trees as well – another reason why the Brownies shu everybody in The Land. I read nursery rhymes about not killing animals because they might be Pookas, not sleeping under alders and a story about a bunch of guys who sailed away from The Land and got old. I even tried to decipher Elven poetry. I needed a dictionary for that.

  As I sat by his bed conjugating a verb I started to laugh. ‘Gosh, Pop,’ I said aloud, ‘I probably shouldn’t do this in front of you. The shock of me doing language homework, on my own, could kill you.’ I stared through the amber to see if I could detect the slightest of smiles. I thought I saw something move but maybe that was just the water welling up in my eyes.

  When I wasn’t with Dad I spent the rest of my time in my room throwing a knife I found in the armoury. If this knife had once had a gold tip it was now well worn off. Let me tell you, without Dahy’s magic points, these suckers are hard to throw.

  Aein came in while I was practising my knife-play. She gave me a dirty look and said, ‘Like father like son,’ then informed me that my mother and her entourage would leave at dawn. I went looking for Brendan to tell him. I found him in the armoury practising archery with Spideog. They already knew – Spideog was heading up the Queen’s guard.

  Every time I go on a trip in this place the person who plans it says, ‘We leave at dawn.’ What is it with that? Why doesn’t someone say, ‘Let’s leave ten-ish,’ or ‘Whenever you get up will be fine.’ No. Dawn it always is. And leaving at dawn means just that, so you have to get up at least an hour before dawn! I’m not very good before noon, so getting up before dawn means the majority of my day is useless.

  Brendan was awake and ready when I got to his room.

  ‘You’re late,’ he said.

  ‘So shoot me. Oh wait, you already tried that.’ I’m not only useless in the morning, I can also be a bit testy.

  ‘I was going to make my way to the stables by myself but I didn’t want your mother to ju-jitsu me into a wall when she saw me. What did she say when you told her I was coming?’

  ‘Eh – I haven’t quite told her yet.’

  ‘Oh great.’

  ‘You see, my motto is it’s always easier to apologise than it is to ask permission.’

  ‘That’s a fine philosophy if it’s not you flying butt over noggin in the air.’

  ‘Fair point,’ I said. ‘I’ll protect you – just don’t touch her.’

  ‘The thought of you protecting me fills me with so much confidence,’ Brendan said sarcastically. ‘Don’t worry. My hands won’t go near your momma.’

  As is usual for these crack-of-dawn riding parties, everyone was pretty much saddled up and ready to go by the time I arrived. Being a royal personage means that most people don’t give me any verbal grief for tardiness but that doesn’t stop the dirty looks.

  Mom of course is the exception to that rule. She was just about to chew my head off for being late when she saw Brendan.

  ‘What is he doing here?’

  ‘Chill, Mom, he’s with me.’

  ‘I most certainly will not chill, whatever that means – I will not have him coming with us.’

  I took a deep breath and said, ‘I am a prince of Duir and this man is under my protection. He travels with me.’

  Mom and I stared into each other’s eyes. I had never stood up to my mother and I was pretty sure pulling a royal card on her wasn’t going to work. We glared at each other for about five seconds – the longest five seconds of my life – before she said, ‘Very well. Hurry up, you have made us late.’

  When I started breathing again and my heart rate dropped down to a manageable rhythm, I was addressed by a Leprechaun I remembered from the ruined stables in the Hall of Knowledge.

  ‘Greetings, Lord Conor. It is good to see you again. When Lady Deirdre told me you needed your horse I was not sure which one she meant, so I saddled both.’

  A stable-hand led out two sights for sore eyes. ‘Acorn! Cloud!’ I yelled. I didn’t know which one to hug first and I certainly didn’t want to insult one over the other. A woman scorned is trouble but a jealous horse can pitch you into a ravine. I patted both snouts simultaneously. Since Cloud is the easier ride, I suspected that she was the less sensitive of the two – I gave her to Brendan.

  We rode through the courtyard past a small throng of bowers and wavers and up to the main oak gates of Duir. While reading to Dad during the previous few days, I had read that Maeve had promised to reduce them to kindling. That would have been a hell of a trick. The two gates were over two storeys high and almost as wide. When closed they displayed a huge carving of an oak tree. On each leaf of the tree, inlaid in gold, were all the runes of the lands comprising Tir na Nog. The largest rune was the major Oak Rune; next to it was a carving of what was then hanging from my waist – the Lawnmower – the Sword of Duir. As the team of horses pulled open the gates, the depth of these monsters became apparent. The gates were as thick as I was tall. I promised myself that after I woke Dad up I would ask him where they came from.

  A small battalion fronted by Spideog and Araf awaited us on the other side of the gates. As we approached they saluted and parted. Araf slipped in next to me.

  ‘Hey, Imp buddy, I didn’t know you were coming.’

  ‘A prince of the House of Duir must always travel with a bodyguard. It was one of your father’s first rules.’

  ‘Do you mean every time I leave home I’m s
tuck with you?’ I said with a smile. Araf didn’t answer me. He doesn’t usually answer straight questions. There’s no hope he’d answer a rhetorical one.

  I promised myself I wouldn’t go on and on like I usually do about how beautiful The Land is, but I just gotta say that fall in The Land is awesome. I’m not using the word ‘awesome’ the way a mall-rat would describe a slush drink; when I say awesome I mean it. The scenery in the Forest of Duir actually inspired awe and not just with Brendan and me. Most of our troop rode with wide eyes and mouths open and the majority of them were probably over a thousand years old. I suspect you could never get tired of this scenery no matter how many times you had seen it.

  If you were to hold your hands out in front of you palm up, like you were begging, one of these leaves would cover both of your hands completely. The major colour of the foliage was ‘inferno’ orange. The leaves were almost incandescent and gave off a glow in the sunlight that made all our complexions look like we had been caught in an explosion at a fake-tan factory. The reds and yellows and greens were there to provide dazzling counterpoint. Periodically you would see a bold tree that was solely in red or another just in yellow. The colours were everywhere, even underfoot, gently rustling under our horses’ hooves.

  The air, scented with the perfume of fallen leaves, was cool and crisp – you felt like it could almost cut you – and it was crystal clear, like the way the world looks after you clean a pair of dirty sunglasses. I can honestly say I have never experienced a more invigorating morning. Sorry about the gushing – I promise I won’t mention spring.

  We rode in silence letting our eyes and sighs do all the talking. About an hour before noon we entered Glen Duir and Mom dropped back to talk to me.

  ‘Oisin said Mother Oak was asking after you the last time he spoke to her. Would you like to stop for a quick chat?’

  ‘Yes please,’ I said as an involuntary smile took over my face. I kicked into a gallop with Araf close on my tail. I crested the hill and saw the old lady dressed in her fall best. Her leaves were mostly yellows and light browns like a comfortable patchwork quilt. I dismounted before Acorn came to a stop, ran up to her and wrapped my arms around her trunk.