The Bastard from Fairyland

by Phil Parker

  ‘She’s proving useful isn’t she?’ He attempted another smile in my direction.

  I glowered. ‘Come on. We’re taking too long.’

  We reached South Cadbury as the afternoon sun turned to a dusky orange ball low in the sky. Flood waters lapped at the side of a narrow road, reflecting the flaming colours of the setting sun. I pointed at the small cottage up a narrow farm track. We led the horses along to an ancient barn, it had a small amount of hay for them and an old bath was filled with water. The horses appeared to have become accustomed to the wyvern so when it joined them and started snacking on the hay, they paid it little attention.

  ‘The horses look like they’ve got used to her.’

  Oisin patted the wyvern fondly and tried to smile at me. It died the moment he saw my expression. I looked up at the cottage that was in a dreadful state of repair. The boarded windows had unmistakeable marks from shotguns and even a few arrows. The local Neighbourhood Watch had paid them a visit.

  ‘Listen. You need to be careful what you say as well as what you think.’

  I knew he understood the Knights’ talents but knowing something and acting on it all the time is something else.

  ‘They’re teenagers. They’ve got a lot of resentment and anger and it tends to get voiced when I’m around. Especially by Brea. She’s explosive in more ways than one. They’re going to be suspicious of you. This isn’t going to be easy.’

  Oisin nodded his head sadly. I knew he understood all this but I wasn’t saying it for his benefit.

  I turned to walk up to the cottage but Oisin took my arm.

  ‘Can I ask you a question first?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘I don’t understand why you’re protecting the Knights. Don’t misunderstand me, you know I admire what you’re trying to do. But this family have always fought the Fae and, well, I don’t understand why you risk so much to help them.’

  It was a fair question and I had to admire him for asking it. I stared at the cottage and, beyond it, the enormous earthwork which human historians believed were the foundations of Arthur’s Camelot. It was that reason why I’d bought the place long ago, why it made an appropriate home.

  ‘When I fled Tir na nÓg, there were a few attempts on my life by Oberon’s forces. The Knights didn’t like any Fae on their territory. They tolerated me because I’d chosen humanity over my own race. Plus I was a soldier and that helped them understand me I suppose. Eventually the attacks fizzled out but there was always the danger they might resume so one generation passed on their responsibility for me to the next. Then, eight years ago, the Knights discovered that the Dark Court had plans to murder them. I made a promise that I would look after the twins if anything happened. Eighteen months later the kids you’re about to meet were made orphans and became my responsibility to defend against the Fae.’

  ‘Not all Fae, Robin.’

  ‘Perhaps not. But convincing these two of that distinction may not be so easy. Good luck.’

  Chapter 8

  Tir na nÓg: The palace of the High Lord of the Light Court

  ‘I’m nothing more than a mobile baby incubator to you!’ I screamed.

  I took a deep breath, I sounded hysterical. I wasn’t helping myself by displaying my emotions so readily, we didn’t do that as a family, as the blank expression on my grandmother’s face proved now. I could see the condemnation in her eyes, I was the youngest of her offspring and, in her view, spoiled beyond redemption.

  She didn’t speak but waited for me to apologise for my outburst. I wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction. I made a point of smoothing my dress, I hated wearing the kind of frilly meringues protocol dictated whenever I was summoned to her palace chambers, they were utterly impractical and made women look frivolous and shallow.

  I looked up and met the kind of scrutiny a butcher probably gives the animal it’s about to slaughter. Well, this one wasn’t going without a fight.

  ‘I’d like to know, grandmother, precisely when you authorised the medical violation of my body to establish the certainty of my fertility.’

  Her reply came without a moment’s hesitation and in that tone she used to defend all of her actions, it was for the good of the Light Court.

  ‘When you caught the chill last month, the royal physician gave you a sleeping draught and performed an examination. There was no inconvenience to you, I don’t understand why you’re being hysterical.’

  There it was, the word. I knew she’d use it. I felt my jaw clench.

  ‘And tell me, grandmother, why was it necessary for you to wait until I was too ill to object before carrying out this assault?’

  The slightest of shrugs.

  ‘You would have become emotional and overwrought and tried to refuse.’

  I felt my fists clench, restraining my outrage was all but impossible.

  ‘And had I refused? What then? Would your guards have strapped me to a table?’

  Another shrug. She hadn’t taken her eyes off me the whole time, those cold grey orbs were like ice. Like her heart no doubt.

  ‘If it proved necessary, yes.’

  I wanted to scream at her, to accuse her of treating her family as assets rather than people, of lacking any emotional depth of character, but I didn’t. That wasn’t what we did as a family. We reined it all in, repressed our fury so that it became part of our collective dysfunctionality.

  ‘I see.’ I took another deep breath and unclenched my fists, I even managed to smile. ‘And now you are assured of my fertility, what plans do you have for me? I only ask because it would be nice to know how my life will be spent and what further physical abuses I can anticipate.’

  The old woman turned, glided across the polished marble floor to a large window which looked out over her orchard, the one thing in the world which obsessed her, apart from clinging on to power. A cool breeze, heralding the approach of winter, wafted into the Silver Reception Room and it made me shiver, though my grandmother appeared not to notice. She was making me wait, one of her usual methods of pointing out who was in charge, it was humiliating that she did the same thing to my father, who was High Lord. I knew if I said anything she’d only make me wait even longer, so as I’d done so many times, I stared at the crystal walls and marvelled at the carvings that refracted the light so the room was filled with rainbows. I’d been fascinated by the room as a child, it had been the place which inspired me to find out what caused such a beautiful effect and so fuel my love of all learning.

  Her reply came after a deep sigh, which meant this wasn’t going to be good news. I prepared for the worst.

  ‘You must understand Filidea, your body holds our only hope for the continuity of our family, of this Court, even our entire race. If you had proved incapable of producing offspring, then you and your brother would be the last of our line.’

  I bet my brother hadn’t had to undertake such a humiliating exercise to establish his fertility credentials. He spent all of his time sewing his seed in almost every woman in the Court. I should have known my grandmother would know what I was thinking.

  ‘Sadly, if you brother had been fertile things would have been so much easier, he has always been so willing to impregnate. It is unfortunate his seed is barren.’

  I grimaced, had they knocked him out to conduct an exploration of his nether regions too?

  ‘Which leaves this heavy burden of responsibility to be carried by you, and you alone.’ The old woman turned and fixed me with those cold eyes again. ‘So yes, you are a mobile baby incubator, if you choose to label yourself in such a theatrical way. It is your responsibility, there can be none greater Filidea. You would do well to recognise just how enormous that obligation is to everyone in this realm.’

  Her eyes narrowed.

  ‘Or are you so utterly self-centred that you believe, as you put it, that your life and your body is more important?’ She spat out the possessive pronouns as though they were dirt.

  She’d done it again. The old woman
had an inestimable ability to make you feel guilty for something that wasn’t your fault, to turn the situation around so you were left defending yourself. When we’d been children, Midir and I used to call it ‘weather-cocking’, because no matter from what direction you approached any topic, grandmother always had the ability to turn the debate in her direction, like the wind turns a weathervane.

  In an attempt to win back my self-esteem, I tried one more time.

  ‘Of course I’m not reneging on my responsibility grandmother…’

  And, before I could finish, her voice overpowered mine, contradicting the apparent weakness she displayed most of the time.

  ‘Good. That’s agreed. Now, as to your husband. I’ve given the matter considerable thought.’

  ‘Husband?’ The word came out as a strangled cry, making me sound helpless. She’d somehow assumed my acceptance to her plans and was about to marry me off.

  With a frown she spoke as though she was talking to an idiot. ‘Obviously. A royal princess does not give birth to bastards.’

  ‘But…’

  The world had suddenly twisted on its axis and spun me around so I didn’t know if I was coming or going. One minute I was objecting to the discovery of a medical procedure and the next I’m being told who I’m going to marry. Events were running away without me. I needed to apply the brakes.

  ‘I’m not getting married yet grandmother and when I do, I shall choose the man. Not you.’

  I made sure my voice carried the same determined authority that she’d used. She wasn’t going to treat me like the rest of the family.

  I could see her calculating how best to deal with this latest act of rebellion. I didn’t care what kind of guilt she dumped on me, I wasn’t going to meekly obey her when it came to choosing a husband.

  Then she did something that genuinely scared me. I think I might have gasped.

  She smiled.

  ‘Of course you must have a say, Filidea, such a match must be agreed by all parties. This is not some business transaction. It is the means from which the next generation of this family will be created.’

  ‘Oh. Good.’ I felt like a ship suddenly robbed of a strong sea breeze, my rebellion had vanished and I was left becalmed.

  Grandmother stepped forward and took my hands in hers, they were ice cold unsurprisingly. She pulled them towards her, into the diaphanous layers of grey silk that hung off her bony body. I half wondered if she was about to inject my wrists with something, to put me in a trance so I would sign a marital agreement, but I felt her pat my hands and continue to smile at me.

  ‘We will arrange for suitable candidates to present themselves to you, my dear. We shall have such fun, selecting them, looking at which ones possess the relevant intelligence, good health, wealth and, of course, validated records of their fertility.’

  ‘Oh. Good.’

  I left the room in a daze. I had been entirely out manoeuvred by an expert. I knew how short the betrothal list would be. There were plenty of men with sufficient wealth, which automatically guaranteed good health. As for intelligence, well, that was in almost as short supply as guaranteed fertility. The search criteria hadn’t included age or appearance I realised. I tried to tell myself such things didn’t matter but then an image of Lord Aed sprang to mind, shrivelled, preoccupied with breeding pigs and with a face that looked like one. It made me shudder at the possibility.

  My feet took me automatically towards the library, I kept going over and over the conversation wondering how I might have ended it with a different outcome. It was the smile that had swung it, disorientating me and leaving me vulnerable.

  I was going to be married. I just didn’t know who would be sharing my bed.

  Clodagh greeted me but her expression quickly changed.

  ‘What’s happened? What did Lay Nimue want with you?’

  I sat in my usual place at the reference table and stared emptily at the pile of books we’d planned to work through that afternoon. It felt so irrelevant suddenly, spending hours poring over ancient books no one else cared about, looking for information no one would want to hear. I glanced up at the dirty window no one ever thought to clean and looked at the woman staring back at me with her heavy-rimmed glasses, straight hair tied back in a loose pony tail and the long, flat face that no one had ever called pretty.

  There I was, dismissing suitors who might be ugly and dull when I was no portrait either. There might be men who, at the sound of my name, would be changing the details in their fertility certificate to ‘barren’.

  I felt tears form and trickle down my cheeks. My pale cheeks, because I didn’t spend any time outside, only in the dark and dusty environment of the library. Even Midir struggled to find a complimentary description, my brother’s attempt had sounded less hurtful but had an indisputable accuracy: bookish.

  Clodagh pulled up a chair beside me and took my hands in hers, they were warm. I looked up into her anxious face.

  ‘What did that old witch say to you this time?’

  I chuckled. ‘If my grandmother heard you speak of her that way…’

  Clodagh shrugged hunched shoulders. ‘As if she, or any of her coven, would ever visit such a lonely place as the library. And it’s no worse than how you describe her, so tell me what the old crone has done to upset you so badly.’

  She listened as I described the whole sorry episode, she hadn’t let go of my hands the whole time and now she squeezed them affectionately.

  ‘You never know, you might find someone handsome and sexy. Like Bradon.’

  He was Clodagh’s latest obsession; ever since she’d seen him swimming in the river with his friends she’d marvelled at what a wonderful specimen of manhood he was. She seemed to possess no self-awareness where men were concerned. She lived a life of fantasy, where such men would be excited by someone who was so tiny she was mistaken for a little girl, flat-chested and with mousy-brown hair that hung to her bony shoulders, hunched by years of leaning over books. Neither of us were attractive, it was why we’d become such friends, both rejected by all the other girls in the Court.

  ‘Yeah. Perhaps.’

  She smiled at me but didn’t try to build on the fantasy. I wasn’t in the mood for it, life had turned serious.

  ‘Do you know the worst thing, of all the bad things running through my mind just now?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I won’t be able to keep coming here. Not once I’m married.’

  ‘Why not?’

  The girl really did live in a fantasy world.

  ‘Because I’ll have a home and servants to manage. There’ll be entertaining and dinner parties for other members of the Light Court. And pregnancy no doubt.’

  Now I’d said it out loud the prospect filled me with so much despair I felt sick. It was a life I’d never wanted, one for which I was entirely unsuited. I would never have time for books ever again.

  ‘I’ll be his slave Clodagh.’

  ‘No you won’t!’

  Clodagh’s eyes burned fiercely as though I’d threatened to take my life. She shook her head repeatedly.

  ‘Filidea, you are the most independent woman I know. There isn’t a man who can equal your determination and strength. You have that old witch’s blood in your veins, you’re like her more than you know.’

  ‘Thanks!’

  ‘And for that reason you’re not going to let any man tell you what to do.’

  ‘But it’s not just him. It’s the customs and obligations of being a princess. There will be the expectations of parties and stuff. And, whoever I marry, he’ll have a huge house that will need to be managed. I just have my rooms in the palace grounds now. Life is going to be so different.’

  I watched her shoulders slump and felt mine do the same. We sat in silence for some time until I reached for the pile of books.

  ‘Well. Until then we can keep researching. Perhaps after I’m married you can bring some books to me?’

  She nodded unenthusiastically.
>
  ‘Come on. We have to be positive. Now how far had we got in confirming what we know about genetic abnormalities? Did you find that work referenced by Finn Eces on the continuity of abnormities over generations?’

  Our studies quickly absorbed us and crowded out any negative thoughts about marriage. Suddenly Clodagh grabbed my hand, we’d been so engrossed it made me jump and I squealed, we both giggled.

  ‘With all the talk of your impending nuptials, I forgot to tell you what I found out this morning. The High Lord of the Dark Court has put Sibeal in prison.’

  I stared wide-eyed.

  ‘That mad bastard. Why?’

  I could guess but I wanted to be sure.

  ‘Do you know why Llyr has been breeding dragons? Because he’s using them in the war with the humans. Sibeal wasn’t aware, when she found it, she refused to have any further part in it. She even released the wyverns she’d bred so he couldn’t use them. ’

  ‘Good for her,’ I said.

  My guess had been right. I was already planning how I could persuade my grandmother to intercede. If she wanted me to cooperate then she had to do the same. Besides, the old woman was a big fan of Sibeal’s brother, Oisin. I was fairly certain it wasn’t just his physical attributes that attracted her, though the idea of the old woman having such urges made me feel ill. Anyway, he was attracted to men. Sadly.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Clodagh asked, watching me intently.

  ‘We have to help her. That woman has a brilliant mind, she could help us make real strides in our discoveries.’

  That got a puzzled frown. ‘She works with dragons.’

  I dismissed it with an impatient wave of a hand. ‘Breeding is about genetic lines Clodagh! Dragons, people, it’s the same principle.’

  ‘Right.’

  We were silent for a moment, no doubt pursuing the same line of thought. Clodagh was the one to actually say it out loud.