By the time he’d had his fill, he was shivering. He started walking again, to get warm as much as anything. He went to the hall, hoping to find a fire burning there. It was the same story. The hearth was cold and the vast structure stood empty except for the tables and benches, which had been too cumbersome carry off. Despite his weariness, Bridei crossed the hall and started up the stairway to Dessia’s chamber.
Unlike the rest of the hillfort, this room appeared untouched. Dessia’s manuscripts on magic lay on the table. The bedcovers were carefully smoothed over the bed. And when Bridei checked the storage chest, he discovered the queen’s clothing neatly folded inside.
He took out the garment on top, which was the beautiful red gown she’d worn to the feast. Holding it close to his face, he inhaled deeply. The clothing had been stored away with dried meadowsweet and lavender, but beneath that flowery odor, he detected Dessia’s own lovely scent. His throat went tight. For one brief night he’d held her close and felt her heart beating near his. Now he might have lost her forever. Recovering himself, he replaced the gown in the chest and closed the lid. He wouldn’t mourn for Dessia yet. There was every reason to believe she still lived. All he had to do was free her.
He went to the table where the scrying bowl lay and gazed into the oily depths. “Rhiannon, Great Goddess, heed my plea. Tell me how to help Dessia. Tell me what I must do.”
He stared into the bowl until his eyes watered, but saw nothing. It seemed the goddess Rhiannon was much like his mother. She would only give him hints of his purpose. The rest he must figure out on his own. And he would be able to do that much better if he had some food in his belly.
He left the tower chamber and made his way through the empty hall. As he went outside, a marvelous scent drifted to his nostrils. Food. Cooking food. He followed the scent to the kitchen, half-cursing himself for not thinking of going there earlier. Inside, Doona was turning a chicken on a spit. He gaped at her, then grinned. “It’s good to see you, Doona. I thought Aife and I might be the only ones left here.”
Doona smiled back at him. “It’s good to see you as well, my lord. I’m glad Aife heard you singing in the souterrain and got you out of there.”
“So, you’ve spoken to Aife? Where is she now?”
“She went to find more for you to eat.” Doona motioned with her head. “There’s some pottage over there on the table. Not my best effort, but with what little I had to work with, it’s as good as I could do.”
“I vow I’m hungry enough to eat sand.” Bridei went to the rough board table used for preparing food, grabbed a spoon, sat down on a nearby bench and began to eat voraciously. Doona was too modest, he decided. The mixture of grains, vegetables and broth tasted like ambrosia to him.
“The roasted fowl will be done soon, and with luck Aife will have found some apples or nuts left behind as well,” said Doona. “’Tis a blessing you’re here, in many respects. Now Aife will have someone to look after, and perhaps she won’t waste away and die of a broken heart. Once you’ve eaten your fill, you must try to get Aife to take some sustenance as well.”
“I will, of course,” Bridei answered. He finished the last few drops in the bowl. “But tell me, why are you still here? Aife said she stayed because she doesn’t care if she dies. But I can’t see you giving up and waiting for death.”
A look of sadness crossed Doona’s broad, homely face. “The truth is, I have no where to go. My family were all killed when O’Bannon attacked Cahermara in the days of the queen’s father. I suppose I could live out in the woods, as some have done. But I didn’t fancy freezing to death. Besides, if O’Bannon does come to torch the fortress, I might have a bit of a surprise for him. I’m pretty handy with a butchering knife.” Her dark eyes glinted with a mixture of amusement and malice.
“That’s the thing I don’t understand,” said Bridei. “If everyone stayed put, secured the gates and kept a close watch on the unfinished side of the fortress, Cahermara would be near impossible to take, no matter how many warriors O’Bannon brought. That’s why Dessia built the hillfort in stone. She feared this day would come and she wanted to be prepared. But instead of staying and resisting, everyone left. To me, it feels like a betrayal of all Dessia cared about.”
Doona shrugged. “If you’d have been around, things might have turned out differently. But once it was discovered Dessia was gone, and Keenan and Scanlan had been killed, panic set in. All these years, everyone believed we were protected by an enchantment the queen had set upon the fortress. But if O’Bannon was able to breach it, then everyone thought something must have gone wrong. The spell must have weakened somehow.” Doona gave him an intense look. “There were those who said it was your fault. That you had made the queen fall in love with you and that somehow sapped her magic and weakened the spell.”
Bridei didn’t know what to say to this. Did he tell Doona that there was no spell, so there was no way anything he’d done could have weakened it? Somehow, that didn’t seem right. Better he should take the blame than have people believe Dessia had no magical powers.
He said, “Perhaps rather than the spell failing, O’Bannon simply found a way around it. After all, he didn’t attack Cahermara, which was what the spell was meant to prevent. Instead, he found a way in and abducted Dessia. And the reason he got in had nothing to do with the queen’s magic failing and everything to do with treachery and betrayal.”
Doona stared at him. “You believe someone from the inside let him in?”
“Could it be any clearer? Scanlan was killed so he couldn’t sound the alarm. Who could have done that except someone who was already in the hillfort?”
“The traders, perhaps?”
Bridei shook his head. “They’d already left. Besides, they had no reason to betray Dessia. I spoke to them at length and I feel confident they’ve never met O’Bannon, let alone conspired with him. Nay, it had to be someone who came to Cahermara for the feast, or someone who already lives here.”
“Who would do such a thing?” Doona asked, her eyes wide with dismay.
“I don’t know. But I do know that no leader can ever be completely certain of the loyalty of all their subjects, including those closest to them. Even the High King Arthur was betrayed by his son.” Bridei met Doona’s gaze meaningfully. “Can you think of anyone who might have been unhappy with the queen? Anyone who might have felt slighted by her? Or, even someone who might have felt slighted by her father? Oh, aye,” he added when Doona frowned. “When people have a grievance, their memories tend to be very long, very long indeed.”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think on it,” said Doona. “It’s a chilling notion.” She glanced around uneasily. “To imagine a traitor walking among us all this time.”
“I doubt it was anyone who lived here at Cahermara. I think it much more likely it was someone who came for the feast, saw an opportunity and somehow contacted O’Bannon to arrange Dessia’s abduction.”
“What do you think O’Bannon has planned?” Aife asked as she entered the kitchen carrying a basket of apples. “Will he return and lay waste to Cahermara?”
“If he meant to destroy the fortress, he would have done it that night,” Bridei answered.
“But why take the queen?” Doona asked. “What does that accomplish?”
Bridei cocked a brow. “A great deal, it seems to me. He’s sent everyone fleeing from the safety of the hillfort. Now all he has to do is move in and take control, and Dessia’s lands are his.”
“But why take the queen prisoner?” Aife asked. “Why not simply kill her and be done with it? That would have demoralized everyone even more effectively.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. If O’Bannon had murdered Dessia, her people might have been outraged enough to fight back. This way, O’Bannon has instilled uncertainty and doubt. Without the clear focus of vengeance, the Fionnlairaos are little threat to him.”
“But what’s to keep him from killing the queen now that she’s his prisoner?” asked Doona.
Doona shook her head and spat on the ground. “That will never happen. Dessia would never agree to marry that wicked pig-faced lout.”
“There are ways to persuade people to do things that are abhorrent to them.” Even as he said the words, Bridei experienced a shiver of dread. The thought of Dessia being tortured made him want to vomit up the food he’d just eaten. Somehow he had to help her. But how?
Even if he had an army, he had no experience in leading warriors into battle. If Keenan had lived, things might be different. Dessia’s man-of-arms had the knowledge and skill to train and mobilize a fighting force. But for a man like him—who knew only enough of warfare to write ballads about the battle afterwards—the idea of attacking O’Bannon was witless. He’d only get himself and his followers killed and accomplish nothing.
Doona pronounced the chicken done. Using cloths, she pulled it off the spit and placed it on the rough board table before him. Bridei motioned to Aife. “Come and join me. And you, too, Doona.”
Aife brought the apples over to the table. “Where did you find those?” Bridei asked.
“Doona told me about a hidden food cache under one of the other storerooms. There’s some cabbage and beans there as well.”
Bridei nodded and they all sat down on the bench and began to eat.
“I don’t suppose there’s any wine or ale left in that storage cache,” Bridei said after a time.
“I didn’t see any,” Aife responded.
Doona winked at him. “I know where there’s another secret store. The queen told no one but me about it.” She left the kitchen and returned a short while later lugging a heavy barrel. Removing the lid, she dipped a cup into the contents and handed the cup to Bridei.
“Wine?” he asked, surprised.
“Aye. The queen always kept some hidden in case of visitors.”
“At least we won’t starve or go thirsty,” Bridei said with resignation. “But that doesn’t help Dessia.”
“But what can we do?” asked Aife. Although she’d eaten a little, she appeared very drawn and pale. Bridei realized he must find a way to help Aife as well as Dessia. But how could he console someone who’s lost their reason for living?
As for himself, at least he had a goal to work toward, even if the goal seemed very out of reach. For the first time in his life, he wished he’d become a warrior as his father had wanted. If he were skilled in wielding weapons and planning battle strategy, he might have a chance of freeing Dessia. As it was, he felt utterly helpless, and he hated it.
“I don’t know what we can do,” he answered. “But we must figure something out.”
As he gazed morosely into his wine cup, he realized how foolish he was being. Instead of bemoaning his choices in the past, he must focus on his goal. Although he wasn’t a warrior, he had other resources. For years, he’d survived—and prospered—by using his wits. Instead of using brute force and aggression to reach his goals, he’d gotten what he wanted with charm and manipulation. He understood people and what motivated them and was able to use that knowledge to his benefit. There was no reason to abandon this strategy, even as he faced the greatest challenge of his life.
He looked at the two women. “What do you know about O’Bannon’s fortress?”
Aife shrugged. “It’s called Dun Cullan.”
“Is it as large as Cahermara?”
“I don’t know. I presume so,” answered Aife.
“When was it built? Do you know? Is it older than Cahermara?”
“Probably,” interjected Doona. “It was never destroyed as Cahermara was, so there’s no reason for it to have ever been rebuilt.”
“I wonder if there’s a secret entrance into it,” mused Bridei. “Many fortresses have a hidden passageway so people can escape if the place is besieged. I presume Cahermara has one?” He looked at Aife and Doona questioningly.
Aife shook her head. “I know of nothing like that here.” Then she added, “But there’s a cache of treasure buried by the back wall.”
“Cache of treasure?” Bridei looked at Aife, then at Doona. The cook appeared as surprised as he was.
“Aye. The queen told me her father buried a chest of valuables somewhere near the rear of the hillfort. I’m not certain exactly where it’s buried, but I have an idea.”
Bridei stood. “We must find it.”
Aife made no move to get up. “But why?” she asked. “What good will it do anyone now?”
“Wealth is always useful,” Bridei answered.
Bridei went off to search for a shovel, a plan forming in his mind. If he could get into O’Bannon’s fortress, he might be able to use the wealth to bribe Dessia’s guards to set her free. But there were problems. He doubted there were enough valuable objects cached away to bribe the whole fortress. And how was he going to get into Dun Cullan to begin with?
He found a shovel behind the smithy, and returned to the kitchen to fetch Aife and Doona. Doona seemed filled with purpose, but Aife walked along listlessly.
“Show me where to dig,” Bridei urged Aife when they reached the back portion of the fortress.
“I’ll try to remember,” she answered. “But it’s been a long while since Dessia showed the place to me and Keenan.” Her voice caught and she looked as she might start weeping.
Bridei grasped Aife firmly by the arm. “You must try to remember where the cache is buried. Please, Aife. Please try.”
Aife sighed. “But what’s the point? Why dig it up? Doing so won’t bring Keenan back, nor free the queen either.”
“That’s not true. With the treasure, we might be able to might help the queen,” Bridei told her.
“What are you going to do?” asked Doona. “Bribe O’Bannon to let the queen go?”
“I doubt there’s enough gold in all of Ireland to sway a man as determined as O’Bannon,” responded Bridei. “But I might be able to bribe other people in O’Bannon’s fortress and get Dessia out that way.”
“But how will you get into Dun Cullan in the first place?” asked Aife.
“I don’t know yet,” answered Bridei. “The first step is to find the treasure. Please, Aife,” he repeated. “Please try to remember where the chest is buried.”
Aife shrugged, then pointed an area next to the wall. Bridei and Doona took turns digging and made nearly a dozen holes—grueling work considered how cold and hard the ground was. Finally, they decided to go to bed and resume searching the next day.
After returning to the kitchen to eat some of the leftover chicken and pottage, Bridei went up to Dessia’s tower chamber. He took off his clothing and lay down on the bed. Instantly, he was flooded with memories: The feel of Dessia’s body beneath his. The vivid spill of her long hair spread out around her. Her fair skin flushed with passion. Her face, so proud and beautiful as she reached her peak. He reached out his arms as if he could crush the memories against his breast and make them real. Then he fell asleep.
* * *
They resumed digging early the next morning after eating some bannocks Doona had made with grain and oil from their small supply. Despite sleeping in a warm bed instead of the hard, cold ground of the souterrain, Bridei felt wearier than ever. A steady rain was falling, and although it helped soften the ground, it also turned the torn-up earth into a morass of mud. It was exhausting, miserable work, and he was near to giving up when his shovel struck something hard.
He flashed a look at Doona, who was huddled against the wall of the hillfort trying to stay warm while she awaited her turn with the shovel. She approached and watched intently as he uncovered a small wooden chest. He dug out the dirt around it and they each took an end and attempted to pull it out. It seemed to be stuck, so Bridei cleared more dirt and they tried again. This time they were able to lift the heavy chest from the earth. The
two of them carried it into the storage shed while Aife went to get a torch.
“By the gods, I wonder what’s inside,” said Bridei. His pulse raced with excitement, banishing his fatigue. The chest seemed incredible heavy. If it truly were full of precious metal objects, it was a huge horde, containing seemingly enough wealth to bribe half the people in Dun Cullan!
Bridei used his eating knife to try to pry open the lid, but the hinges were rusted. “I’ll need a more substantial tool to get this open,” he told Doona.
She nodded and left. Bridei tried again to open the chest with his eating knife, but got nowhere. Worried that he would break the blade of the knife, he finally sat down on the chest to wait.
Doona rushed back in a few moments later, carrying a large butchering knife. “Will this work?” she asked.
“Let’s give it a try,” responded Bridei.
It took several attempts, but he was finally able to break the rusted hinges and lift the lid.
Aife had returned with a smoldering torch. She held it as Bridei knelt beside the chest and began to examine the contents. There were numerous objects inside, all wrapped in linen cloth. Bridei picked up the first bundle. As he sought to undo the cloth, it fell to pieces in his hands. “I wonder how long this has been in the ground,” he mused.
The cloth had fallen away to reveal a huge gold torc. The design of the piece was very simple—a thick piece of twisted gold. But what astonished him was the size. The torc was several times larger than his neck. “It looks as if it was made for a giant,” he said, laughing.
Bridei laid the torc on the ground, and began to unwrap the other bundles. The pieces he uncovered were as amazing as the first one: Enormous crescent shaped neckpieces. Heavy twisted gold bracelets, earrings and clothing fasteners. Beneath the gold objects, he discovered several necklaces, each with amber beads the size of songbird eggs. Bridei held one of the necklaces out to Aife. “Put it on. I’ll hold the torch for you.”
Aife shook her head. “Nay, I couldn’t.”
“Please? I want to see what it looks like on.”
The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island) Page 21
