by Edith Pattou
As Quince ushered him through a set of carved doors leading into the queen's rooms, Collun had a sudden longing to be back in Inkberrow, kneeling in his garden with dirt under his fingernails and the sun on his neck. He did not know how to speak to a queen.
They entered a large, bright room with brilliant and unusual cloth hangings covering most of the walls. A tall woman holding a muddy boot rose from a chair to greet Collun. She had green eyes and long red-brown hair that sprung wildly from her head. There were smudges of dirt on the pale skin of her cheeks.
"You are Nessa's brother. Collun, is it? Welcome to Temair." With a warm smile she made a move to grasp his hand, but then realized her hand was as muddy as the boot she held. "Forgive me. I have been riding, and I must have been thrown into the mud a dozen times. Please sit." She gestured toward a chair. She sat across from him, setting down the boot and wiping her hands on a cloth.
"I am deeply concerned about your sister, Collun. I am fond of Nessa, and I think she was happy here. We did everything in our power to find her, but we turned up nothing."
"I thank you for all you did, Your Majesty," said Collun awkwardly.
The queen gave a smile. "Please, call me Aine. So, you have come all the way from Carrick, on the southern coast? It must have been a long journey."
Collun did not speak for a moment. To speak the truth would mean breaking his promise to Emer. Finally he simply nodded. After all, it had been a long journey.
"Nessa did not go back there, back to her family?"
Collun shook his head, feeling foolish and tongue-tied. Though her manner was warm, Collun could not forget he spoke to the queen of Eirren. It made him uncomfortable to be dishonest with her.
"It was such a blow to everyone here. And there have been so many troubles of late." The queen's green eyes wore a worried look. "And Fial? She is no better, I understand."
Collun shook his head again.
"I am glad you have come. She has no kin, you know. Her husband, Lud, died in the Eamh War."
Collun's hands shook slightly as he asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral, "Had Lud no family?"
"He did once, but they are all dead as well. He had a lovely sister. Emer, she was called. She and I were great friends. She died long ago. I still miss her." The queen's face was sad. Collun's heart beat faster, and he was about to speak when a young man came sweeping through the door.
The newcomer was strong-limbed and handsome, with a natural grace and air of authority that had the immediate effect of making Collun feel clumsy.
"Mother, Lord Bricriu has just arrived in Temair," he announced to the queen before his eyes fell on Collun.
Aine looked surprised but not displeased. "Gwynedd, I want you to meet Collun. He is brother to Nessa. Collun, my youngest son, Gwynedd."
The youth took Collun's hand in a muscular grip. "Welcome, Collun. Your sister is sorely missed. We must have uncovered every stone between here and Bricriu's dun in our search for her, but to no avail." The young man looked fierce, as though he took their failure personally.
"Bricriu," said Collun. "Fial wrote of him."
"Lord Bricriu took a special interest in Nessa when she arrived in Temair," said Queen Aine. "He offered to host her coming-of-age banquet. And we were all gathered at Bricriu's dun, which is less than a day's journey from Temair, when the tragedy occurred. Among all of us, I believe Bricriu took it the hardest. I am glad he has chosen this day to visit, for it will give you a chance to meet him. I am sure he will wish to lend you his assistance. As do we all."
"Yes," chimed in Gwynedd. "If there is any way I can be of service, do not hesitate to ask."
"Thank you, Prince," Collun responded stiffly.
"It grows late," said the queen, rising from her chair. "I hope you and your companions will join us tonight in the banquet hall."
"Thank you, Your Maj—Aine," Collun said, flushing and wishing he had Talisen's easy way with words.
"Oh, and Collun," Queen Aine said, a spark coming into her eyes, "I have heard an Ellyl travels with you."
"Yes."
"I have never met an Ellyl," mused the queen. "Will you tell him I am greatly looking forward to it?"
Collun nodded. He then followed Prince Gwynedd back to Fial's quarters, where they parted with another bone-cracking handshake and Gwynedd's enthusiastic pledges of assistance in the quest.
"The queen has invited us to the banquet hall tonight," Collun told his friends, who were gathered in the main room. "She looks forward to meeting an Ellyl," he added with a glance at Silien.
"Is your queen beautiful?" the Ellyl asked.
Collun thought of the tall woman with the unruly hair and the muddy hands, and he hesitated. "I think so. She is very kind."
"Dining with the queen," broke in Talisen, giving a strum to his harp strings with a flourish. "If they could only see us back in Inkberrow."
Brie spoke quietly. "I will not join you tonight, if you will excuse me."
"Why not?" asked Talisen.
"I would be more comfortable here sharing bread with Quince. Please give my apologies to the queen."
Collun looked at Brie with curiosity, but her face was shadowed and revealed nothing.
At the appointed hour, which was marked by a short fanfare of trumpets, Collun, Talisen, and the Ellyl made their way to the banquet hall. Fara had surprised Silien by choosing to stay behind with Brie.
The banquet hall was a long rectangular room alight with hundreds of candles and hung with enormous tapestries. Many long wooden tables were already lined with members of the court, who filled the room with the sound of their chatter and laughter. The queen had set aside places at her own table for the new arrivals, and she rose now to greet them.
She was much altered from when Collun had last seen her. Her wild hair was now smooth, and it flowed from her head in shimmering, flame-colored waves. It was bound at the top by a circlet of sparkling green gems that echoed the color of her eyes.
Silien bent toward Collun, saying softly, "Your queen is indeed beautiful. How could you have thought otherwise?"
Collun introduced the queen to his two companions. She was gracious to Talisen, but her eyes quickly sought out the Ellyl.
"Welcome, Silien," she said to him. "This is a moment I have wished for since becoming queen. It is wrong that our races should be separated by a conflict as old as it is foolish."
Silien took the queen's offered hand. "I cannot speak for all Ellylon," he said, "but it is an honor to meet you, Queen Aine."
Aine smiled. "Collun," she said, turning toward him, "there is someone who wants to meet you." She put her hand on the arm of a man who stood by her. "Lord Bricriu, may I present Collun, brother to Nessa."
Bricriu was an elegant man, dressed in a luxuriant cape of red and black. He wore a closely trimmed black beard, and his face held a keen intelligence. Collun had felt the nobleman's deep-set eyes on him even before the queen made her introduction.
Lord Bricriu made a slight bow, saying, "Well met, Collun." There was sadness in his voice. "I would tell you how grieved I am by your sister's disappearance, but I choose not to, for I do truly believe she will be found safe and well. You have come to Temair in search of her. I wish you to know that your quest is mine. I shall do everything in my power to assist you." He gestured to the seat beside him.
"That is very kind of you, sir," Collun replied, sliding into the offered seat.
"It is nothing. It was I who failed to keep her safe in my home." He paused. "I have an idea. Why don't you come with me to my dun? As soon as possible—tomorrow, even. Perhaps there we can begin the search anew."
The queen's son Gwynedd, who sat nearby, overheard Bricriu's words. He rose to his feet. "Hear, hear, Bricriu. Come, let us raise our glasses to Collun and to his quest." Servingmen quickly provided wine for the new arrivals, and everyone at the table drank.
Abruptly Prince Gwynedd set down his glass and leaned across the table toward Collun, his expression ali
ve with purpose. "Collun, what would you say to an additional companion on your journey?"
Collun did not reply immediately, confused by the prince's words.
"What are you saying, son?" asked Queen Aine.
"If I am not to be allowed to join my father and brothers at the border, then I would assist Nessa's brother in his worthy quest. It was an act of infamy to abduct an innocent maid who was under the protection of the royal court. It bodes ill for Eirren." The prince's handsome face was flushed.
"What you say is true, Prince," said Bricriu, "but did not your father charge you to watch over your mother while he and your brothers were gone?"
"Nonsense, Bricriu," interrupted the queen with a laugh. "I do not require a keeper. Indeed, Gwynn and I argued far into the night over who was to go to the border and who was to stay behind—next time I will go. You must do as you choose, son, but I believe your place for now is here. Should the news from the border be dire, we would need to mount an army quickly."
"Perhaps, but no doubt you would say I was too young to fight," replied the prince, a stubborn set to his jaw. "What say you, Collun?"
Collun, his mind in turmoil, did not know how to reply. He found himself nodding, a stiff smile on his face. What else could he do? The prince was indeed generous, offering himself as companion on a difficult journey. Collun knew he should be grateful.
"That's settled, then," said the queen, darting a last look at her son. "Shall we eat?"
The food was extraordinary. Collun sampled many dishes he had heard of but never tasted and many more that were completely unknown to him. There was honey-roasted lamb served with sloe preserves; there were succulent artichokes to be dipped into sunflower oil mixed with chervil; and there was a whortleberry fool tart with buttercups on top for decoration. Talisen had three servings of the tart. The violet-and-elderflower wine was delicious, and Collun drank more than he was accustomed to. It made him sleepy. He found himself leaning back in his chair and listening with only half an ear to the lively talk that swirled around him.
Rumors of war with Scath formed the main topic of conversation. The Eirrenians feared Medb was once again planning to invade their country.
"It is unfortunate that Cuillean has disappeared. We may need him in the months to come," said Lord Bricriu grimly.
"I fear Cuillean must be dead," stated a man with a thick russet beard. "Otherwise he would be here."
"I don't know," responded a second man. "In the months before he disappeared, Cuillean used to stand in the ramparts of his dun looking out at the sea. I saw him there myself, and I say he may have built himself a boat and set out to explore the western waters."
"Aye," said yet another man.
"And mark my words," continued the second one, "he will return to Eirren when we need him most."
Voices began to rise in heated debate over whether the hero Cuillean was alive or dead.
"There is yet another possibility," cut in Bricriu's smooth voice. "It is a rumor I have heard among my men, though I for one do not believe it for an instant."
"What is that?" queried the man with the russet beard.
"That Cuillean has betrayed Eirren and gone to Medb, the Queen of Ghosts."
This provoked a chorus of outraged dissent, and the queen's steady voice finally cleaved through the uproar.
"Such rumors do not deserve the dignity of a response, much less a public airing." She cast a quick, reproachful glance at the elegant nobleman.
Bricriu bowed his head deferentially. "I am in full agreement with you, my queen, but is it not true that a rumor ignored will run wild like heathfire? Is it not better to acknowledge it right away and put a stop to it?"
The queen replied evenly. "Perhaps. However, I cannot see that, in this case, your gossip has served any useful purpose. Cuillean was our friend." She paused, and a smile replaced the stern look on her face. "But enough solemn talk for one evening. Shall we have music?" She turned to the Ellyl. "Perhaps you would honor us with a song? We have heard much of Ellyl music."
Silien shook his head slightly with his usual half-smile. "I think not, Your Majesty, though I do not wish to appear ungrateful. I am weary and out of practice. Perhaps another time." The queen nodded graciously and gestured to the court bards.
The rest of the evening was filled with song and story. The bards were gifted with dazzling skill, each one with a repertoire that amazed Collun. He noticed Talisen was unusually silent; his face wore a fierce look of concentration.
Later, as they made their sleepy way back to Fial's quarters, Collun asked Talisen what he had thought of the night's entertainment.
"Oh, they were fair enough," Talisen responded breezily. He lapsed into silence for a few paces, then burst out, "That's nonsense, of course. They were extraordinary! But Collun, I have found out tonight from that posturing prig I was seated next to that to truly become a bard one must attend a special school called the Eisteddfod. It is only after four years of lessons, seven days a week from dawn until dark, that one can presume to call oneself a bard. Most of those bards who traveled through Inkberrow are called gleemen here in Temair, and they are much scorned. They cannot make songs and have never been to this accursed Eisteddfod." Talisen's face was more downcast than Collun had ever seen it.
"Not that I haven't the talent to be a true bard," Talisen added with a flash of a grin. "That goes without saying. But to spend four years shut inside some gloomy school building! I might just as well be back in Farmer Whicklow's pigsty."
***
The next morning Collun rose early. At Quince's request, he prepared several batches of the herb posset with which he had been treating Fial. He worked in a corner of the sick woman's room while she lay in her bed, still lost in a restless half-waking, half-sleeping state. A knock came at the door. Quince entered with a thick, folded piece of vellum in his hand.
"This has just arrived for the mistress. It is from Inkberrow. I thought you should be the one to open it."
Drying his hands on a cloth, Collun took the folded vellum from Quince. He recognized Goban's handwriting and got a queasy feeling in his stomach. His hands shook slightly as he broke the seal. He opened the letter.
"Fial," it began in Goban's awkward hand, "Emer is dead."
ELEVEN
Lord Bricriu
The room suddenly tilted, and Collun had to put a hand on a nearby table to steady himself. He stared blindly at the vellum. He thought of Emer's face as it had been the last time he saw her. He had known then that she was dying. He should not have left Aonarach. Now both Emer and Nessa were lost to him.
Collun focused his eyes to read the rest of the letter.
Fial,
Emer is dead. The boy Collun left here several
weeks ago, bound for Temair. If he should arrive
there, tell him what you will. It is no more a
concern of mine.
Goban
Collun's limbs felt frozen. He rubbed the numb spot on his forehead and wondered why he could not cry.
He suddenly became aware of Quince's voice. "What is wrong?"
"It is bad news," Collun replied, his voice sounding faint and high-pitched in his own ears. He cleared his throat. "My mother, Fial's sister by marriage, is dead." He walked woodenly to the small fire burning in Fial's fireplace. Collun thrust the thick goatskin vellum into the embers and watched, clenching his ice-cold fingers as it smoldered and finally burst into flames. A rancid smell permeated the room. On the bed nearby, Fial moved restlessly, but she remained unconscious.
Quince watched Collun, sympathy in his dark eyes. "May I bring you something?"
Collun shook his head. He turned and slowly walked into the outer room where his friends were gathered. Talisen and Silien were playing a game with dice, and Brie stood by the window gazing out.
Talisen looked up and, alarmed by the sight of Collun's chalk white face, laid down the dice he held. He quickly crossed the room to his friend's side. "What is it? What has happen
ed?"
"She is dead," Collun replied dully.
"Who? Nessa?"
"No, Emer. My mother is dead."
From her spot by the window, Brie swung around to face Collun. "Emer?" she said sharply. Her face was almost as white as Collun's, and she stared at him as if at a ghost.
"Yes," Collun replied without looking at Brie. His lips felt dry.
"Here. Sit." Talisen gently nudged Collun into a chair. "Bring him something. Quickly!" he hissed at Quince, who had followed Collun into the room. The servingman nodded and went out. Talisen sat on the arm of the chair and tried to rub some heat into Collun's hands.
Collun sat still. His mother was dead, and his father's words hung before his eyes: "It is no more a concern of mine." Goban was dismissing Collun from his life as if he were a worn horseshoe. Collun had long known his father had little love for him, but to be swept aside so finally, so unexpectedly, caught him like a blow to the stomach. He had no home now. Nowhere to return to. And still he could not cry.
Quince returned with a flagon of thick amber liquid that burned Collun's throat as it went down. The paroxysm of coughing that followed brought his thoughts into focus. They were due to leave soon for Lord Bricriu's dun, and he still had to finish making the herb possets Quince had requested for Fial. He rose to his feet, feeling strangely calm. "Please do not speak of this to anyone," he said, voice flat, and then left the room.
As he crushed the leaves of the wood avens plant and sifted them into a bowl of broth from the dun's kitchen, Collun could hear voices through the open door.
"Why did you react so to the news of Emer's death?" asked Talisen. "You turned pale as a cloud."
There was no answer for a moment, then Brie spoke. "It must have reminded me of my own mother's death." Her voice was without expression. "Why has Collun never spoken the name of his mother before this?"
