Innisgarbh (Prince Ciaran the Damned Book 1)

by Ruari McCallion

  8

  Coivin remembered Conor vaguely and was too uncomfortable to get to know him better: I used my time to renew this nine-year-old acquaintance and to catch up on happenings back at a home that was only a memory. I found this cousin of mine informative but distant, his attention elsewhere as his eyes flitted here and there, now lighting on the robes of a druid and narrowing with distrust, now eyeing a group of boys who would change direction to avoid his fierce gaze. He was eager to be away from this place and I felt that he would be more open and forthcoming when we were gone. Although he was distracted, Conor did pay some attention to me and he expressed some surprise at the questions I asked. Eventually he relaxed enough to laugh and remind us both that I had been only seven years old when we last met. But he was restless to be on the road back to Donegal: the more miles he could put between us and Innisgarbh, the happier he would be.

  Amergin approached us towards the end of the day. It was going to be a beautiful sunset, the light was already turning to a gold that brought warmth to the trees and made even the grey stone of the College buildings glow with a kind of beauty. Conor and I were sitting together, I was asking questions and chatting about my vague memories, the warrior providing short answers and all the while tugging fretfully at blade after blade of grass. The High Druid was cautious, despite his assumed immunity from violence and warfare. The warrior from Donegal had made it plain that he would not take any notice of the established order if his charges were in any way threatened, but there was something the Druid had to discuss. He came up to us and bowed slightly.

  “Prince Conor,” he said respectfully, “may I have a word with you in private?”

  “No.” Conor replied shortly. “I won’t let these boys out of my sight. I’ve seen what your teachers are capable of.” Amergin was embarrassed but he met the tall man’s eyes full on.

  “Just a little way. The boys will not be harmed; comrades can watch over them.” He indicated Conor’s two companions, who were accompanying Coivin as he made his stiff way around the yard. “It is important that we speak.” Conor met his eyes briefly. He was wary of Druids, he had witnessed odd behaviour from those who got too close to them. “It concerns the welfare of the boys.” Amergin concluded. Conor thought of a sarcastic riposte but held it back. Druids had power and it was as well not to cross them, despite his private contempt for this gang of child-beaters. He rose slowly to his feet.

  “Eoghan,” he called, “come over here and stay by Ciaran while I have a word with the High Druid.” One of the two, slightly shorter than Conor, older and with a mass of red hair that covered his head and the lower half of his face, came over at a steady march. “We will remain within sight of the Princes, and you must not touch me nor look directly at me.” Amergin nodded agreement. “Eoghan, if you see the Druid lay a hand on me, come over straightaway and stand between us.” Eoghan nodded in his turn and the two went off a short distance. The Druid did as he had promised and stood off a little way.

  “Prince Conor,” he began in a low voice, “I very much regret that I allowed the boys to be mistreated. I have been much distracted of late and have recently lost a senior and trusted colleague. I ask your forgiveness.”

  “Your apology should be to the boys. It wasn’t me who was being beaten to death.” Amergin looked surprised. Apologise to boys? He was on the verge of protest when he caught a glimpse of Conor’s face and felt the suppressed rage within the man. At the same time he could almost hear Diarmuid’s voice begging him not to vent his anger by placing Ciaran into Lucius’ hands. It was his own bitterness that had brought them to this. He did owe them an apology, but it would be delivered in private and quietly, because he had his position to consider.

  “I will do so,” he said after a moment, “But I have other matters to discuss with you. I know that you are ordered to bring both boys back to Donegal, but I ask you to leave one with me. I can promise you that there will be no repetition of the treatment you witnessed.”

  “If you’ve suddenly discovered a concern for their welfare, why do you want to keep one of them in your power?”

  “It’s not that. One of them...” he hesitated, wondering how to frame his statement without giving too much away. “One of them needs special attention and training. With it, he could become a great asset to your kingdom. Without it he will not achieve his full potential.” Conor regarded him thoughtfully.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “One of them...we think he may have a special talent.” Amergin managed to blurt out. He was not used to being a supplicant and it felt awkward.

  “A talent that only an experienced and powerful Druid such as yourself could bring to fruition?” Amergin risked a small look at Conor and smiled.

  “Yes, precisely.” Conor was turning away as he answered.

  “I will make sure that Rogh, our High Druid, is aware of the matter and takes a special interest. He also is experienced and powerful - and as devious a magician as I’ve ever come across.” Amergin felt crushed. There was no answer to this. Rogh was indeed very skilled and highly placed within their craft. The warrior stopped and turned to look the Druid full in the face: for a moment his hopes rose but fell again almost immediately. “Even if I wasn’t under strict orders to bring the boys home,” he said, “there would be no question of leaving them here after what I found here. I wouldn’t leave a dog in your care.” He continued looking at Amergin’s crestfallen face and then said, quite unexpectedly, “It’s Ciaran you want, isn’t it?” The Druid looked up, quite startled. He asked how he knew. “He was a little strange, even as a small boy. A touch fey. His mother had the Sight, you know.”

  “I didn’t know. I had no idea at all.” He looked again at Conor. “Had?” he asked.

  “Dead, two years ago. Caught a fever and died.”

  “The boy will be saddened by that.”

  “Why? He hardly knew her.”

  “I know, but he remembered her - only vaguely, but if she had the Sight, a connection would linger.” He stepped urgently forward to restrain Conor, who was in the act of walking away and just managed not to touch him. “Prince Conor, there is something you should know.” Conor paused and listened while Amergin explained that Ciaran had no knowledge of his Gift and thought he had the falling-sickness. He tried to impress on the man that it was vital that this information be kept strictly confidential. He had got so used to being obeyed that he wasn’t prepared for the response.

  “Why? Why the secrecy? He’s sixteen, quite old enough to deal with his Gift. What else have you been up to?” Amergin was flummoxed and stammered before coming up with the right form of words. Without going into detail, he explained that Ciaran had been very disturbed by a particularly graphic and violent Vision, which kept recurring. He recounted the suicide attempt that had led to the decision to erase the boy’s memory. Conor wanted to know more but the Druid was evasive.

  “Are you going to tell me what he’s Seen or not? Does it affect King Fergus?” Amergin relaxed and dissembled.

  “No. No. You can rest easy on that. I can’t tell you what it is for fear of making it happen. But you can rest easy. It is something that affects Ciaran personally. You need not worry for your Lord.” Conor seemed satisfied. Although he harboured a contempt for the Druids and their secrets, he was also superstitious and wouldn’t dig too deep. Amergin pressed him again to leave Ciaran behind.

  “Absolutely not. He comes with us. Today if he can, tomorrow if not.” Conor was adamant and Amergin was left with only one last course of action.

  “Then please allow me to send someone with you, someone who knows about Ciaran’s condition and can tell Rogh about it. And help him if he has an episode while you are on your journey.”

  “Who?” Conor asked suspiciously. “I’m not sure I’d trust any of your people.”

  “Ieuan. He isn’t enrolled in our Order yet. He knows all about Ciaran.”

  “The Healer?” Amergin nodded and Conor considered. �
�Very well. Ieuan can accompany us and look after Ciaran if need be. And we may be able to make use of him in Donegal. We’re short of a good Healer. He could be useful.” The Druid shook his head vigorously.

  “No, Ieuan must return after he has spoken to Rogh. He still has much to learn. I can’t stop you taking Ciaran, I can see that my authority won’t change your mind. But Ieuan must return, on pain of your good fortune.”

  “Don’t threaten me,” Conor snarled, but Amergin had recovered his composure and was determined both to make the best of the disaster and to re-establish some power over this recalcitrant warrior.

  “It will be for the best if we agree on this amicably. I will not allow Ieuan to leave without your word that he will be allowed to return. And it is in Ciaran’s best interest that Ieuan accompany him.” There was a long silence; the space between their eyes almost crackled with the tension of their stares. Conor finally nodded his agreement, without dropping his gaze. It was a moment before they silently agreed to turn away from each other.

  They came back over and took us to find the Healer, who said that Coivin would need another night of rest before he would be able to travel. Ieuan and Amergin spoke together after the five left to find some food and the Welshman was given his orders. He agreed readily.

  “I know how you feel about Ciaran, Ieuan,” Amergin said finally, “and I place an injunction on you to return. Your place is here. You are skilled and atlented, and you know a great deal - you will do well. You could be outstanding but you still have much to learn. Make sure you return.” Ieuan nodded his assent and bowed as the Druid left.

  9

  Amergin took his leave of us the following morning. We were astonished when he actually apologised to us for the way we had been treated. We couldn’t be truly gracious, it had all gone on too long for that, but we shook his hand and accepted his blessing before we left. He then went into his cell to make mental contact with the first in a chain of Druids, wisewomen and hermits with the Sight who would carry his message to Rogh in Donegal.

  With each day - and the great assistance of Ieuan’s healing skills - we got better and the group was able to make progressively faster progress. Coivin and I became more animated as we neared the place we still thought of as home, though we’d spent most of our lives away from it. On the third evening out we were camped less than a day’s ride from Fergus’ fort and were chatting about the people we remembered. Coivin asked after his younger brothers and the rest of his family.

  “They’re all well. You have two sisters as well.” Coivin shrugged, I smiled and looked forward to meeting my two new cousins. “And your father is in rude health,” we all laughed, “he has gained the odd battle-scar, but extended our lands. He’s looking forward to seeing you. Both.” he added quickly. I nodded politely. I was well aware that I was the junior partner and would continue to be so in the eyes of the warriors.

  “And my mother? How is she?” Conor’s cup stopped on the way to his lips. He glanced at the other two.

  “Ciaran, your mother is dead,” he replied shortly. “Two years ago. I thought you knew.” I shook my head, emptiness hitting my stomach suddenly. Dead? Dead? My mother. dead? And they hadn’t told me. No-one had told me. “But you haven’t seen her for years.”

  “I know, but...” I couldn’t bring myself to say any more. I stood and walked away from the fire, into the shadows by the trees. Ieuan looked over at Coivin, who shook his head and held his hands out to indicate that he had no idea of what to say or how to comfort me. It was the Welshman who got up and went over to put his arm round me and speak quietly and try to ease the double pain: of the death of my mother and of the fact not being thought worthy of letting me know. All I had to remember her by were some vague feelings, warmth and kindness, a smell of honeysuckle and the mental picture of a young woman smiling down at me. Conor, embarrassed, threw the dregs of his drink onto the fire and said, more roughly than he intended, that they should all get to sleep. It was well into the first watch before Ieuan and I complied.

  By the time our small party arrived back at Donegal Rogh had been made aware of the broad picture of my trouble with my Gift and it was he who came from the fort to greet us. He had appeared at the outer fortifications moments before Conor and the rest of us emerged from the forest. He paid no attention to the Sign against the Evil Eye the guards made. He was used to their fear.

  I was quiet and withdrawn, not what Rogh had expected at all. I hadn’t begun to get over the news of my mother’s death.

  The Druid took Ieuan aside for a private word while we were presented to the King.

  “Well done,” he said. Ieuan queried what he meant. “Healing the boys. Getting them here safely. Keeping your own counsel. I’m sure Conor pressed you on the two of them - Ciaran especially.” Ieuan smiled assent. “He can be...persuasive, so well done. Any episodes with Ciaran?” Ieuan shook his head.

  “Other than being upset at finding out about his mother.”

  “What? Oh, that. Well,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I’m sure he’ll get over it soon enough. I can’t bring her back.” Ieuan said something about his friend’s feeling of isolation from his family. Rogh nodded at that. “Yes. Good point. I’ll do what I can on that. When do you return?”

  “Soon.”

  “When?” Ieuan dropped his eyes. “I know how you feel about him. Amergin has told me. But you must leave. You have a future in Innisgarbh, within our craft. There is nothing for you here.” Ieuan stood up to go.

  “Tomorrow, then.”

  “Good. Ieuan,” he called. Ieuan turned to look at him. Rogh had a furrowed brow as he regarded the younger man. “What happened? Why is Amergin so disturbed?” He sat down again.

  “Things got out of hand, Father.” He said at length.

  “In what way?” Ieuan asked what he knew already. “Not very much. Amergin is disturbed and there is evidence of disturbance in Conor’s psyche as well. And in the boys. Tell me what’s been going on.” Ieuan took a breath and told Rogh everything he knew about Lucius and his long-standing victimisation of Ciaran and Coivin. “How did Amergin let it go so far?” he asked quietly. “What went wrong?”

  “It got worse when Father Diarmuid left.”

  “In what way?” Ieuan related the story of Amergin handing control of Ciaran over to Lucius on Diarmuid’s departure. Rogh shrugged again. He had clear feelings about what was and wasn’t important, and was firmly of the opinion that only that which he believed to be important was worth his attention. “Druids are leaving for the Christians all the time. Each is a matter for regret but it sounds like Amergin over-reacted. I know he feels strongly about it. But that can’t be the whole reason. You say he thought better of it quite quickly?”

  “A week at most,” Ieuan agreed.

  “So what else happened? That was months ago.”

  “Father Amergin just seemed to get bogged down. He always had something to do. We hardly saw him after Father Diarmuid left. He was always tied up and rushing around.”

  “Didn’t he get others of the staff there to take on some of the work?”

  “Yes, he did. Everyone mucked in. I did as well,” Ieuan nodded, “but there was always more work. I think Father Diarmuid took on a lot and he didn’t have anyone else he could trust.” Rogh stood up and walked to the window.

  “That can’t be it. He should still have known what was going on.”

  “I don’t know. He really was very busy. Things kept going wrong. I can’t think of anything.” Then his face brightened. “Actually, there is something. It may be nothing...”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “Even in the short time I’ve been away I feel better than I have done for months. My mind is clearer. It’s been like...like...” Rogh looked up sharply.

  “Like what?” he demanded. “What, Ieuan?”

  “Like...like there’s been a blanket over me. Like my head has been filled with treacle. I can think quicker, clearer now.” Rogh’s eyes narrowed and he
stood up.