by Edith Pattou
"Where is the Cailceadon Lir now? The shard you brought from Thule, that is," asked the king, his eyes serious.
Collun drew the stone from his wallet of herbs. "Please, take it," Collun said. "It belongs in your hands, not mine." He felt a weight lift off his shoulders as King Gwynn took the stone. Then, more reluctantly, Collun reached for his dagger. "And you should have this, too. Then the three shards can be together, as they were meant to be." He placed the dagger that had been a trine on the table.
The king laid the two stones side by side and gazed at them solemnly. Then he looked up, at Collun.
"Son of Cuillean, this would be a sacrifice for you, to give up the stone you have carried since childhood. And it is a sacrifice that I do not believe is necessary. The shard has been in your family's possession perhaps longer than it was part of the one stone. Furthermore, Aine and I believe the three shards of the Cailceadon Lir should never be reunited. It would be far too dangerous. No one, not even those of us who consider ourselves incorruptible"—he gave a ghost of a smile—"should have access to such power. I think the wizard Crann would agree with me.
"However, I will accept your gift of Medb's shard of the Cailceadon Lir, and Aine and I will endeavor to find a hiding place as safe as we believe that of the first shard to be."
King Gwynn then handed Collun's dagger back to him. As Collun took it, Aine spoke, a frown creasing her forehead. "We realize that by asking you to continue to carry this stone, we place you in danger. Although Medb has been defeated and her power severely weakened, it would be naive to believe that we have nothing more to fear from her. There may come a time when she will seek you and your stone again. Have you given thought to the future, Collun?"
Collun gazed up at one of the murals on the wall, the dagger clenched in his hand. During the past few days, as he'd lain in the quiet rooms of the court healers, he had thought about little else. He knew he could not return to the farmhold Aonarach; except for his garden, there was nothing to draw him there. Several days earlier, Nessa had told him she wished to remain in Temair with Fial. She had already written Goban, telling him that she was safe but would not be returning to Inkberrow.
Life in Temair suited Nessa well, Collun knew. The fine food and clothing, the many books, the music, the feasts; she thrived on these things. But Collun was uncomfortable there. The clothing they had given him made him feel awkward. He was a gardener and a farmer, and he sorely missed the fresh air in his lungs and on his face. He missed watching the sunrise, pink and gold, over a field of newly mown hay. He missed the sound of a bird calling through a dusky twilight evening and the stars just beginning to come out, one by one.
"Cuillean's dun...," Collun began hesitantly. "I have heard it lies by the sea."
"Yes," replied Queen Aine, "and it is empty. In the absence of your father, it is yours by right."
"But you are welcome to make your home with us, here in the royal dun," said King Gwynn. "There are quarters next to your aunt Fial's that you and your sister could share."
"Thank you, King," Collun answered slowly, "but I will go to Cuillean's dun. My place is where there is a plot of land to till. And I have always wished for one by the sea." He thought again of the garden he and Brie had created during the blizzard.
"If that is your wish," said the king. "But first I will send some of my soldiers ahead. The dun has lain empty for some time. And I would ask that you permit a small guard to stay on with you, indefinitely. The son of Cuillean and the Cailceadon Lir he bears must be protected from the Queen of Ghosts and those who serve her."
Collun began to protest, but he stopped when he saw the look in the king's eyes. "It is settled, then," King Gwynn said.
Soon after, Collun rose to leave, thanking the king and queen for the delicious meal. He paused and then asked, "Prince Gwynedd, how does he?"
The queen did not answer for a moment. Finally she spoke with measured words. "The wounds to his body are healing well." The king reached over and took Aine's hand. Collun thought he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
Later Talisen told Collun he had not seen Gwynedd since delivering him safely to Temair. He had heard the prince shunned all visitors, and the few people who had encountered him on his rare, solitary walks through the dun courtyard reported that his face was badly scarred and that he walked with the aid of a cane.
Collun tried to see Gwynedd himself but was turned away by a servingman. A day later Collun spotted him in the early hours of dawn, walking through the courtyard. He quickened his pace to catch up with the prince, but when Gwynedd turned and saw Collun behind him, he walked away as fast as his crippled leg would take him.
Collun saw that the right side of the prince's face was disfigured by a jagged white scar. But it was the expression of bitterness on the once open, handsome features that filled Collun with sorrow. Brie told Collun that Gwynedd had refused to see her as well.
The evening after Collun's meeting with the king and queen there was a feast. It continued through the night and on into the next day and the day after that, showing no signs of abating. Collun was embarrassed by all the attention paid him, but Talisen delighted in telling anyone who would listen about his own heroic role as bard on the son of Cuillean's victorious quest. Nessa, too, enjoyed the attention. She quickly regained her strength, and with her face thinner and more thoughtful after her ordeal, Collun believed that she was even more beautiful than before. Silien was enchanted with her. He was teaching her the Ellyl way to make paper. Nessa told Collun she was already at work on a new book for him.
One evening, as the festivities wound to a close, Collun found himself at a table with Brie, Nessa, Talisen, and Silien. His head felt woolly from too much bayberry wine. As the talk swirled around him,' he thought back to the previous morning. He had been standing by his window, looking out at the still barren winter landscape, when he heard the song of a cuckoo. Back in Inkberrow, the cuckoo song was always the first harbinger of spring. It would soon be time for planting. He'd been told that the land at Cuillean's dun had lain untended for a year or more. There would be much to do to prepare it.
A loud laugh from Talisen brought Collun out of his reverie. Silien had just recited an impromptu poem, inviting Nessa to Tir a Ceol the moment she gave the word. Brie was leaning back in her chair, amusement in her dark eyes.
"I leave tomorrow," Collun broke in, surprising even himself with his words. They all turned toward him.
"Oh, Collun," said Nessa.
"What do you mean? You can't leave," protested Talisen. "I am to debut my song about you and Naid and all our adventures at the feast three days hence."
"Where do you go?" asked Brie.
"Cuillean's dun. The king and queen said it was mine by right until my fath—until Cuillean returns." He turned to Nessa. "I know that you wish to remain in Temair. The queen has told me it is not such a long journey between here and the sea. We will visit each other often."
"I knew you would be leaving," Nessa said softly. "It is almost time for spring planting, is it not?" Collun nodded, his throat catching.
"I would like to journey with you, Collun," said Brie, "if you wish the company."
Collun's eyes brightened. "Of course," he said.
"You will need help with the planting," Brie went on. "I have unfinished work of my own, but it will keep."
"I want to come, too," objected Talisen. "Why can't you wait just three days?"
Collun shook his head, and Talisen knew his mind was made up. "You are welcome anytime," Collun said. "What are your plans, Silien?" he asked the Ellyl.
Silien shrugged. "I will return to Tir a Ceol soon."
"Not until you have heard my song," said Talisen. Silien smiled.
"Why can't we hear your song now?" said Collun suddenly. "Since Brie and I will not be here for the official debut..."
"Yes. A dress rehearsal!" Nessa clapped her hands in pleasure.
Talisen hesitated, but the lure of an audience proved too tempting
. "If you insist," he said magnanimously. His fingers began thrumming the strings of his harp.
Collun sat back in his chair and let the melody wash over him. Now that he had made the decision to leave, he felt better than he had in days.
When Talisen had finished, they applauded loudly and said it was his best creation yet.
Early the next morning, after leaving a long note for the king and queen telling them of his departure and thanking them for their kindness and hospitality, Collun met Brie at the stables. Fiain greeted them with a happy whicker, and they were soon on their way, Brie once more astride her Ellyl horse. The streets were quiet except for an occasional merchant setting up his stalls for the day's market.
Once they had passed through the last of the villages surrounding Temair, the horses simultaneously broke into a gallop. The air was cool, but the morning sun was bright, and the deep blue sky was filled with puffs of white clouds. Collun smelled spring in the gentle breeze.
When the horses finally slowed to a gentle trot, Collun took out Crann's travel-worn leather map and showed Brie the course he had charted to Cuillean's dun.
They had not been traveling long when they heard the sound of horses coming from behind. They turned and spotted two riders who were apparently racing each other to see who could catch up with Collun and Brie first.
Silien won the race, but Talisen was only a length behind him.
"Thought you'd seen the last of us for a while, eh?" Talisen said breathlessly.
"But what about your debut?" asked Collun, smiling his welcome.
"Oh, I realized the audience that truly mattered gave their ovation last night. Besides, I've gotten a better offer."
"What's that?"
"The Eisteddfod," Talisen responded. "I know, you don't think I'll last a week at that school with its list of rules and regulations as long as Farmer Whicklow's nose. But the king and queen selected me."
"Congratulations, Talisen," Collun said.
"So, I cannot stay with you long at Cuillean's dun. I have to be at the Eisteddfod by the beginning of Fearn."
"And Silien, do you also journey with us?"
Silien shook his head. "I must return to Tir a Ceol. But I wanted to bid you farewell on the road, where we first met."
And so the four traveled on, falling easily into their old patterns. Brie found the trail and used her bow, which had been repaired in Temair, to bring down fowl or game for roasting. Collun made each meal a feast with his herbs. Silien, with his keen ears, always found freshwater, and Talisen amused them with his music and his gift for making laughter.
As he slept on the ground during the second night, Collun dreamed a woman with pale eyes and pale hair came to him carrying a red ribbon entwined in her fingers. She slowly reached up and tied it around her own neck, her pale eyes holding him against his will. And then he blinked, and her eyes were dark and they were Brie's ... no, they were Nessa's, and the red was not a ribbon but blood, and there was a scald-crow at her neck, pecking and pecking. And then the crow was gone and the ribbon turned black. It wound itself tighter and tighter around her neck and it dripped with a clear thick fluid....
He woke with a soundless scream. He was bathed in sweat. The scars from his burns were stretched and aching. He remembered seeing a small stream that ran through a nearby thicket of young trees, and he shakily got to his feet. The moon was bright as Collun crossed to the trees, weaving his way through the slender trunks and listening to the soothing rustle of the cool night wind stirring the leaves. He found the brook and, kneeling beside it, removed his shirt. He splashed cold water on his arm and chest.
Collun sat quietly for a moment, shivering. He wasn't sure what made him think of it, but reaching into his pocket, he drew out the seashell Crann had given Mealladh. Collun thought about the wizard with his white beard and long fingers and green cloak. Tears blurred his vision for a moment. He missed Crann sorely.
He heard the muffled sound of footsteps in the bracken and looked up to see Brie coming toward him. He tucked the seashell back in his pocket as she crouched down beside him. "I had a nightmare," he said.
Brie clenched her hands. "I'm often troubled by bad dreams."
They were silent for a moment.
"I have been thinking of Crann," Collun said.
Brie nodded. "I think of him, too." They were silent for a few moments.
"I wonder what it will be like to live in Cuillean's dun," Collun said, beginning to shiver again. He quickly dried himself with his jersey and slipped it over his head. "It is still difficult to think of him as my father," Collun went on, his face thoughtful. "He is one of Eirren's greatest heroes."
"You are a far greater hero than your father ever was," Brie burst out, her tone fierce.
Collun looked at her in surprise, then laughed. "That is indeed generous of you, Brie, but—"
"It is the truth." There was an intensity to her manner that puzzled Collun.
"Why do you speak so?" he asked.
Brie bowed her head. Then she lifted her eyes to his. "Perhaps it is time I told you the truth," she said.'
Collun watched her, uncomprehending.
"You remember when I told you about my father's death?" Collun nodded. "I did not tell you everything. I purposely withheld something—something I thought might hurt you. The news of your true father was still so fresh." She fell silent again.
"What is it, Brie? Tell me."
"He was there."
Brie's voice was so soft, he could barely hear the words.
"What?"
"Your father was there. I saw him. While my father was being tortured and murdered, Cuillean was there, sitting on his horse, watching, not moving. He just sat and watched, and then he rode away with the Scathians." Brie's face had turned pale as snow.
Collun stared at her. "Cuillean ... Are you sure?"
Brie nodded. "That is the true reason I hated you when I first realized you were the son of Cuillean. It is also the reason I continued to travel with you. I thought you might somehow lead me to Cuillean. And to my father's murderers."
Collun did not answer. He gazed at a small silver fish darting through the clear water of the brook. He knew he ought to feel horrified by what Brie had told him, but all he felt was a deep weariness. Brie spoke of a man he had never met. There were many stories of Cuillean, but for him they were only stories. The man who had defeated Medb's armies, had wed Emer, had fathered Collun and Nessa, and had betrayed his blood brother, this man was a stranger to him.
"It is hard to believe. But perhaps there was a reason," Collun said.
"Perhaps, though I have spent much of the past year trying to discover it."
Collun looked down again at the silver fish. It was trying to find a way through an obstruction of leaves and wood. He reached his hand into the cold water and pushed aside a submerged log. The fish sped through the opening.
"Cuillean was once brave and honorable," Collun said slowly. "During the Eamh War he helped to save Eirren from the Queen of Ghosts."
"That is so," Brie responded.
"Emer loved him," Collun went on, "and he is my father."
Brie was silent. "I know. And I understand your choice to live in his dim. But for myself, I will never forgive him. Never."
Collun nodded his understanding. The breeze stiffened, and he shivered in his damp jersey. "You're cold," Brie said. She stood, offering him a hand up, and they made their way back to the campsite.
Silien left them the next day. They exchanged sad farewells with pledges to meet again. The Ellyl told them they were welcome in Tir a Ceol at any time, promising them a warmer greeting than the last time. He also vowed to be in Temair when Talisen completed his schooling and was named a bard.
The remaining three arrived at Cuillean's dun before twilight on the same day. The king's men were there to greet them.
Collun gazed at the small fortress with its battlements facing the sea. As he and Fiain walked through the gates, he felt a heaviness i
n his heart. This had been his father's home. But who was his father? Hero, traitor, grieving widower—and father? He pictured Cuillean standing on the battlements, staring out at the water, mourning the wife he loved and believed to be dead. Now, perhaps, they were both dead.
The soldiers told Collun they had searched the dun from top to bottom and, aside from several thriving colonies of mice, it was completely deserted.
Collun made his way through the dusty, chilled rooms. His melancholy deepened. He began to believe Cuillean truly was dead. There was an air of complete emptiness about the dun—no feeling of anticipation that he who had lived here would ever return.
But when Collun came out onto the land that stretched between the dun and the sea, his spirit lightened. He sank to his knees and crumbled the soil between his fingers.
Talisen was inside the dun, dangling his legs out an open window. Collun could hear the notes of a harp song beginning to take form. He smiled and brought a fistful of the earth up to his nose. He breathed in deeply. Brie silently came up beside him.
"Is the soil good?"
"It is good."
"The herbs will go there?" she asked, pointing.
"Yes," Collun nodded, "and roses for Nessa there. She loves roses."
"And the flower garden?"
"On that slope there, I think. First the heliotrope and next to it—"
"Valerian." Brie broke in with a smile.
"Because they grow well side by side," Collun replied, smiling back at her. "Then a small patch of paggle—we shall have paggle pudding every night—and harebell. And then blue clownrie and peppergrass..." Collun reached into his wallet of herbs and drew out a handful of seeds.
Brie knelt down beside him, her eyes alight. "But what of the drainage, and where will the compost pile go, and what do you think of myrtle there...?"
The last rays of the early spring sun warmed their faces as they bent over the ground, shoulders touching. A sea wind blew gently over the bluff, and. it carried the sound of their voices up into the ramparts of the empty dun.
