To the Waters and the Wild

by S C McGrath

  As he neared the clearing, Déaglán stopped short. Some distance ahead of him were two men standing at the clearing’s edge and talking in hushed voices. He could not make out what they were saying but he knew who they were. Although dressed as natives of Eire, Déaglán was not fooled. One man looked vaguely familiar. His attire and presence bespoke a man of substance and, although not tall, he possessed a solid frame. The other man wore the plain dress of an attendant, but his muscled shoulders and disciplined bearing betrayed his military background. Though unusual, it was not unheard of for spies to travel in pairs. Déaglán believed the best and most successful spies traveled alone. He crept closer and listened.

  Déaglán was just about to move to his left for a better view of the clearing when an almost imperceptible sound made him freeze. Instinctively he reached for the dagger secured by a thick leather belt around his waist. His fingers grasped the dagger’s hilt and he slowly turned his head toward the sound’s origin. Not thirty paces away, and watching the spies as he had been, were at least three, and perhaps as many as four, rough-looking men. Well concealed and standing some distance apart from each other, the men looked to be heavily armed. If he had moved even slightly to the left or closer to the clearing, he would have alerted them and exposed his position. Now all he could do was wait and see what drama would unfold.

  It was not long before Déaglán heard an approaching horseman. The faint sound of breaking twigs and the rustle of leaves and bracken increased, and the telltale silence of the woodland birds told Déaglán that the chieftain was near. Déaglán kept a watchful eye on both the spies and the villains. Soon enough, the chieftain rode into the clearing, unhurried. He did not dismount and instead sat his horse and waited.

  “I commend you for arriving so promptly. It is easy to get lost in this forest,” said the well-dressed spy, as both he and his companion stepped into the clearing. They stopped several paces in front of the chieftain.

  Diarmuid studied both men and then dismounted, his eyes never leaving them. He let go of his horse’s reins and the animal’s head dipped slightly, but he did not move from his master’s side.

  “I have hunted in the northern forests since I was a boy. Finding my way here was nothing,” he said dismissively. “And who might your companion be?” Diarmuid spoke in a friendly tone but the question held a challenge nonetheless. He was taller than the men who stood before him and more muscled than even the purported attendant. The puffy bags under the chieftain’s eyes and a certain thickening around his middle betrayed his love of ale and debauchery, but he was still a formidable warrior.

  “Gauis is my attendant,” said the spy, smoothly and with no hesitation. “A good man, though somewhat dim-witted. He does not speak your language and would understand little of the important matters we are to discuss even if he were fluent. Have no fear. You may speak freely.” Gauis stood silently at his side.

  “Is that so?” Diarmuid’s eyes were hard and his expression inscrutable. Then he laughed abruptly, showing yellowed teeth and lines of cruelty framing his mouth. “We had best, then, begin our frank talk, should we not?”

  “Yes, of course. I would offer you a seat if there were proper chairs. Alas, as there are only tree stumps, I fear we must stand.”

  When Diarmuid did not reply the spy continued. “I am not going to pretend I am unaware of the chieftains’ vote to unite. I know it is so. The governor of Britannia will be informed of this consequence very soon. However, the vote means nothing unless actions follow intent. If the chieftains’ resolve to unify Hibernia’s clans does not hold firm, the governor wishes to know forthwith. Furthermore, it will be necessary to learn of the chieftains’ battle plans and their strategies, regardless of whether or not they remain a united force.”

  “What is it you called my land?”

  “Hibernia is Roma’s name for your fair island. Truly a gem and soon to be a province of the empire. You have the foresight to see this eventuality. Your astute mind can envision a stronger and more prosperous—”

  “I care little for empty flattery,” interrupted Diarmuid. “What will I gain?”

  “Your allegiance will be handsomely rewarded. After Agricola’s victory, the enemies of Roma will be dead and their children enslaved. The wealth of their land will be divided among those loyal to the empire.”

  “And what might the empire demand in return?”

  The spy hesitated for only an instant. “A reasonable tax on the land’s bounty and nothing more of any consequence. It is a small tribute, really, when one considers what is to be gained in wealth, prosperity, and peace.”

  “I do not hold peace in high regard.” Something in Diarmuid’s voice warned Déaglán of impending mayhem. The spy sensed it also and stepped back, drawing his sword, as did the attendant. But it was already too late. The chieftain’s arm swung up from his side and he hurled his axe at the bigger man. The blade hit the attendant full in the face and imbedded itself in his skull. His arms jerked spasmodically as he pitched backwards and fell to the ground, blood spurting from the wound. In an instant Diarmuid side-stepped toward his horse and grabbed the sword that hung from the animal’s saddle.

  The villains sprang into action, charging toward the clearing from their hiding places, their weapons at the ready. Déaglán ran after them and caught the man nearest him from behind. He thrust his dagger into the unsuspecting villain's back just below the ribcage and then upward into vital organs. The man let out a cry and then dropped to the ground. Déaglán picked up the dying man’s sword and ran to aid Diarmuid.

  The fight was over quickly, although it played out in slow motion to Déaglán. Images were magnified, and each parry and blow and every grunt and cry assaulted his senses. Afterwards he stood spent, trying to catch his breath. He glanced over at the chieftain who seemed not at all winded.

  “You are Déaglán, are you not? Seafarer and spy?” Diarmuid’s question was more a statement than a query.

  “I am.”

  “One of those scoundrels escaped. No matter. Both spies are dead and two of the three thieves. A satisfactory result.”

  “Actually three of the four thieves. One never made it to the clearing.”

  Diarmuid barked a laugh. “You are skilled at killing with dagger and sword.” He then looked more closely at Déaglán. “But I see you do not relish it.”

  “No, I do not.”

  “Well, I do,” said Diarmuid grabbing up the cloak of the fallen attendant spy and wiping off the blood from his sword. He then pulled the axe from the man’s face and wiped that clean as well.

  “I thank you for aiding me but how is it you were in these woods?”

  “I followed the spies here from Tara,” lied Déaglán. Wishing to end Diarmuid’s queries, he bent over the remains of the well-dressed spy and began to check for hidden pockets or pouches.

  “You would check for a few pieces of gold? It is not worthy of you.”

  Déaglán paused in his search. “I am looking for any official letters or dispatches he might carry. It is unlikely but possible.”

  “Of course. I should have thought of that myself. I will check for the same on this faceless devil,” said Diarmuid, as he turned and bent over the attendant spy.

  Both searches proved fruitless. Diarmuid straightened up and surveyed the clearing. “Well, the wolves will have a fine feast this evening.”

  Déaglán nodded but said nothing.

  “He was a presumptuous fool,” said Diarmuid, nodding toward the spy Déaglán had searched. “He had the affront to threaten me with death should I not be loyal to his emperor! And then he offered very little. A promise of wealth and prosperity, as he called it, when all of Eire would be in bondage!”

  “Men have turned traitor for far less,” said Déaglán. He wondered if Diarmuid, for all his righteousness now, would have betrayed Eire if the prize had been greater. Perhaps not. Still, he did not like or trust the chieftain.

  “We need no longer be concerned with spies
or traitors. We have rid Eire of that threat.” Diarmuid turned and walked toward his horse, who was now grazing at the edge of the clearing.

  “No, we have not,” said Déaglán. “I heard the spies speak of another while they were waiting for you. He will learn of what happened here today and be more careful.”

  “The scoundrel will be killed as these two have been.” Diarmuid dismissed Déaglán’s concern without so much as a backward glance. The chieftain reached his horse and patted the animal’s shoulder. He then returned his sword to its scabbard and swung up onto the saddle.

  “Will we head back to Tara together?”

  “No, you go without me,” Déaglán answered. “The spies’ horses are tethered nearby. I want to search their saddlebags.”

  “As you wish.” The chieftain reined his horse around and left the clearing.

  Déaglán listened as the horse made its way carefully through the thick underbrush of the forest. When sounds faded away and the clearing was silent, Déaglán began his search for the horses. He had no idea if the spies came here on horseback, but he needed time to think and had no wish for Diarmuid’s company. There was another spy; Déaglán had not lied about that. The danger had not passed. Déaglán’s mind began to work, imagining what he would do if he were spying for Agricola. He soon located the horses and in one of the saddlebags found a dispatch confirming the existence of another spy.

  

  CHAPTER nine

  

  eelin stepped into Nuala’s cottage and was immediately greeted by the rich aroma of fresh bread and spices. Keelin’s grumbling stomach reminded her that she had not yet eaten. The night before, Deirdre had insisted, “Now don’t forget. Be here at dawn, my favorite time of day. You have much to learn.” She had then kissed Keelin on the cheek and hugged her as though they had been friends all their lives.

  Well, thought Keelin, as she trudged along the trail to Nuala’s, the darkness enveloping her, dawn is not my favorite time of day. Bleary-eyed and sleepy, she had left home with the sky still black, not even the hint of a pink glow from the east. If the way to Nuala’s had not been so familiar, Keelin would undoubtedly have become hopelessly lost. As it was, she stumbled on a tree root and nearly sprawled to the ground, snagging and ripping the sleeve of her dress on a clawing branch.

  When Keelin finally reached Nuala’s cottage, it had never appeared so welcoming, with the warm glow of lamplight seen through its open shutters and smoke curling from its chimney. Keelin stepped inside and was greeted with a smile from Deirdre who stood next to the fireplace stirring soup in a large iron pot. A fresh loaf of bread was cooling on a rack atop the hearth. Keelin slumped down into a chair and watched Deirdre work, her hands moving with effortless grace. She wore a pale blue gown with lace sleeves that belled out around her slim wrists. The color of her gown matched Deirdre’s eyes and a long spill of wavy, blonde hair fell to her waist. A large sapphire pendant held by a chain of delicate silver rested on her chest. Keelin wondered how the young priestess managed to remain so perfectly groomed and poised while cooking next to Nuala’s sooty fireplace. She looked down at her rumpled, torn dress and decided to mull over less defeating thoughts.

  Soon Deirdre poured the soup into large bowls and placed them, along with thick slices of warm bread and two full cups of milk, on the wooden table. “I find that the powers of the mind are always enhanced by a hearty meal,” she said, smiling at Keelin as they sat down opposite each other. It was then that Deirdre noticed Keelin’s rather disheveled appearance.

  “Oh, you poor thing! What happened?”

  “I stumbled in the dark while I was walking here this morning,” Keelin admitted, feeling clumsy and unkempt.

  “You walked here in the dark and damp?”

  Keelin was momentarily nonplussed. “Well, I suppose I could have ridden Nellie or Bran, but that would have necessitated awakening even earlier so I could feed them before I left. As I am never at my best in the morning, that idea was unimaginably dreadful.”

  “How foolish of me,” responded Deirdre. “Of course you had to walk and how inconsiderate of me not to have realized it.”

  “Furthermore, Nuala does not approve of me riding or driving the cart here. One must have a healthy body as well as a sound mind, and that can only be achieved by rigorous exercise and conscious self-denial,” Keelin said haughtily, quoting one of Nuala’s favorite maxims.

  Deirdre laughed. “I love Nuala, but her ways are not mine. I have no wish to torture you with physical exhaustion or lack of sleep. I also have no desire to traipse around the countryside on foot, accompanying you on your patient visits as I teach you all I know. From now on, meet me here in the late morning and by all means bring a horse-drawn cart.”

  “Where is Nuala?” asked Keelin, looking around, only now wondering where the priestess had gone.

  “At Tara. She mentioned something about treating a young man who had received a blow to the head.”

  “It takes days to travel to Tara from here—” Keelin stopped, realization hitting her. Now she understood Nuala’s many mysterious absences. “Did Nuala journey to Tara through the Otherworld?” she asked eagerly.

  “Yes, she did,” replied Deirdre. “The Otherworld allows us to journey throughout Eire and beyond quite easily and with great speed. It will also allow us to spy on the Romhanach and plague their minds with our thoughts.”

  “Why would I be chosen to spy on The Romhanach? I am not of The Dagda and have never entered the Otherworld. Divining the will of the gods and lurking in the shadows hold no great charm for me.” Keelin did not realize that Brian’s words had stayed with her until she spoke them now.

  “Nuala has told me of your reluctance.” Deirdre frowned, then mused unexpectedly, “I wonder if it is The Dagda you loathe or Nuala’s insistence that you must enter its realm.”

  Keelin was taken aback. It was true, Nuala was forever coercing her, but it was the secretive, duty-bound life of a priestess Keelin loathed. She would never reconcile her dreams of adventure with such a life, no matter the allure of the Otherworld. She would never become like Nuala.

  When Keelin did not reply, Deirdre continued. “Nuala has also told me your powers of the mind are formidable and, that of late, she can rarely read your thoughts when you consciously block them from her. Because of this, Nuala believes you will have a natural affinity with the Otherworld, much like hers and mine.” Deirdre looked at Keelin earnestly for a moment. “If truth be told, there are few of The Dagda who can enter the Otherworld with ease, let alone travel great distances within it. Among those, there are even fewer Fearghus trusts with the mission before us. While spying on the enemy is not expressly forbidden by The Dagda, it is seen by many to be linked indelibly to war and therefore against the precepts of our law. Nuala has assured Fearghus that you can be trusted without reservation.”

  Nuala rarely complimented Keelin and usually appeared disappointed in her lack of scholarly talent. Now she learned that the priestess had chosen her above all others to join in a mission against the Romhanach. Keelin blushed with pleasure but was immediately wary, both of Nuala and the Otherworld. It beckoned to her and seemed to promise unimaginable freedom, but at what cost? She tried to suppress a vague disquiet, not understanding why the Otherworld elicited in her such wildly conflicting emotions. Almost involuntarily Keelin asked, “What if I do not possess an affinity with the Otherworld as Nuala believes?”

  “Then you will no longer be bound by your fate. You will be free of The Dagda.”

  “When will I know?”

  “When Nuala returns from Tara. We will travel to Danu’s cave where the Trial of the Otherworld is best performed. You will know then.”

  

  Keelin and Deirdre finished their meal and cleaned up, then went outside and sat down on the wooden bench in front of the cabin. A thick bank of fog hid the valley below and only scattered hilltops were visible, like lonely islands in a sea of gray mist. The two sat in silence for a ti
me, enjoying the fresh morning air and the peaceful isolation of Nuala’s remote aerie.

  “Now we can begin,” said Deirdre at last. “I am sorry I forced you to wake so early this morning. Mastering the art of the starling can be exhausting and requires intense concentration, for our art has nothing to do with magic but is instead an enhanced acuity of the mind.”

  “Starling?”

  Deirdre sighed. “I see Nuala has told you very little. She did say, of course, that her sole purpose was to help you master the art of the healer. Still, she should have shared more with you.”

  “Nuala enjoys the power of her knowledge.”

  “Yes, she does. However, I think her reluctance to share knowledge comes from a deep reticence rather than from a quest for power over others. Would you not agree?”

  Keelin nodded but thought Deirdre was being overly generous in her assessment.

  “What Nuala failed to tell you is that, like me, you are a starling. We comprehend all manner of languages and can speak to both man and beast. We are messengers of the mind and often the harbingers of fate.”

  “I see little use for this gift against the Romhanach,” said Keelin matter-of-factly. “Better a freshly sharpened sword through the heart.”

  “Perhaps, but we will aid Eire in a less bloodthirsty manner. There may be a better way to defeat the Romhanach than on the field of battle. You and I, along with Nuala, will attempt to forestall the invasion and hopefully prevent the blood-letting. For you see, Keelin, our power is immense. We have the ability to speak with our minds. We can convey our thoughts without speaking a word—”

  “I cannot convey my thoughts without speaking,” interrupted Keelin.

  “You only think that speaking is necessary. It is not. Watch me carefully, Keelin, for I can say everything I wish to you without speaking a word. You can train your mind to do the same. Furthermore, I just spoke to you in my voice. You recognized it as mine, did you not?”