“We are here,” she said. Some dust landed on my clothes as we went through an arched gate. I brushed it off as we entered the courtyard behind the outer walls, where a small group of women awaited us. The girl who had guided me went up to them, bowed to the one in the middle, said something to her and then made to leave. The Lady - it was clearly she, although her hood was up and her face was in shadow - restrained her with a light touch on her arm. The young woman remained - reluctantly - and turned to face me. There was something maddeningly familiar, something I could not put my finger on. The Lady pulled back her hood to reveal her face, and it all became clear.
“Morwenna,” I said, and broke into a smile. I then remembered where I was. I formally begged her pardon and made a deep bow.
“Please stand, Prince Ciaran. Welcome back to Ynys Witrin.” She smiled in her turn. It was a little tired, as if cares and concerns had worn her down. As she and the young woman stood side by side, I mentally kicked myself for having failed to see it earlier. This was her daughter, who I had last seen nine years before. She had grown and was no longer the child who I had entertained with games and songs when last I had been on the Isle of Glass. She was pretty much the image of her mother at the same age - how could I possibly have missed it?
“You have met Gwenhwfar. She has changed since the last time, I think?” Her lips hinted at a playful smile. Gwenhwfar’s did not; she looked, if anything, sullen and resentful. Whether from the tiresome task of waiting in the wet fens for an hour or from the effort that every pretty young woman has to expend in holding off the advances of young men, or if it was something else, I knew not. I would find out soon, and in a strange way. “I hope she was an effective guide?”
“I barely got my boots wet.”
“And who else have we here? A fine wolfhound, a warrior’s steed and a sturdy baggage-bearer.” Wolf’s ears pricked up and he bounded over when invited. Morwenna - the Lady - patted him on his head and rubbed his ears affectionately. He had, clearly, fallen in love. He gazed up at her, adoringly.
“Will I ever get him back, I wonder?” I asked, with a smile. The Lady smiled back and assured me that I would. “I suspect that he will carry a little piece of Ynys Witrin in his heart, wherever we go from now.”
“Which will not be a bad thing, I think?” I agreed that it would not. She called over a couple of sisters from the community and instructed them to stable the horses. Gwenhwfar asked leave to go with them. It was granted. I unloaded my bedroll, Big Blade and baggage and handed over the reins. The Lady’s daughter did not even glance at me, far less meet my eye. I looked at Morwenna. Do not say anything just yet, she mindspoke me. Out loud, she asked some other sisters to help me with my baggage and show me to my room.
“Take some time to rest and refresh yourself after your journey, Prince Ciaran. I will receive you in my study in - shall we say, an hour?” I agreed and thanked her for her hospitality. My room was more than acceptable, and the hot bath was simply delicious. I had not had time or opportunity for a deep bathe since the shipwreck and I luxuriated in the feel of hot water on my travel-worn skin. It took a while before I was satisfied that I was clean. After I had dried myself I found that the clothes I had arrived in had been taken away, along with my baggage and bedroll. Lying on the bed was a complete suit of clothes that were exactly my size, and as clean as the most fastidious Greek courtier could desire. They looked as if they were new.
The bath had been arranged underneath a tented canopy of linen sheets. I hadn’t really paid much attention to this, at first, but I could now see that it was more than mere decoration. The sheets had protected me from debris, falling from the ceiling. Even here, indoors, the buildings were crumbling. A ring of dust, sand and a few small stones marked the edge of the area that was protected by the canopy. I got dried and dressed underneath another such shelter, which was mounted over the bed and a little beyond its bounds.
Something was very wrong with Ynys Witrin.
All my baggage had disappeared. My clothes could do with a good wash and dry and I presumed that was where they were. Bedroll, the same. But the tent? My money? And the Frankish treasure? I had no fear that they had been stolen by the sisters of the community but I would feel more comfortable if I knew their whereabouts.
Feeling much better for being clean, I went in search of Morwenna, the current Lady of the Lake, and found her giving instructions to a small group of sisters. She acknowledged my presence and mindspoke me to wait. I nodded and took the time to look around the walls of the hall. There were signs all around of - to be honest, it looked like lack of maintenance. There was the hissing, tumbling sound of pieces of masonry falling off the walls every few minutes. Several panes of horn sheeting in the windows were missing - some were lying where they had fallen, as if it had just happened. Looking out of the empty frames, everything seemed to be in autumn tones.
Morwenna dismissed the group of sisters and called me over. As I came I asked if I could enquire about my baggage. She looked surprised. I explained what I meant. She called three of the sisters back.
“Check the laundry for the clothes and bedroll, check the stables for the tent and enquire among your sisters about the money,” she said. “Prince Ciaran is far from being a miser but a Frankish treasure will have some purpose. Go and find it.” The women bowed briefly and went on their way. Morwenna beckoned me to follow her into her study. Two, rather more substantial, women took up station outside the door as she closed it. We went into the room and the sound of the door being secured seemed to signal a lifting of her burden of cares. Years fell away from her face as she smiled. Her dark hair was still flecked with silver but even it seemed more vibrant. She was a couple of years younger than I but I could not help but notice that, until she closed the door, she had looked older.
“Welcome, Ciaran - at last! It is wonderful to see you again. It has been far too long. You must tell me all about everything. What adventures you have had, the kingdoms you have overthrown, the dark forces you have vanquished - everything!”
“That could take a while and it isn’t as exciting as you may think,” I laughed. “But I would like to ask you something. Gwenhwfar -”
“You know not to ask,” she interrupted. You know better than to even think about it, she mindspoke. A moment’s awkward silence followed. Gwenhwfar was about eighteen. I had first met Morwenna in the year she was selected to be the Maiden for the festival of Beltane - maybe nineteen years ago. I had been the young stag who had caught her. I decided, after all this time, to make a clean breast of things.
“Morwenna,” I started, a little awkwardly. “I have a confession to make. I’m afraid - all those years ago… I cheated. I used my Gift.” Her response surprised me. She burst into peals of laughter.
“Oh, Ciaran! I know you did!” she half turned and gave me a mischievous, sidelong glance. “So did I! I cheated as well!” A scent gradually grew in the room, of honeysuckle, rosemary and - something else. I wasn’t sure what. “Mulberries.” She said. “A special blend that I make only for myself.” We carried on with idle chatter about my journey from Chesilton to the Isle of Glass. Any eavesdropper would have heard nothing of consequence.
Yes, of course she is your daughter. She has several of your mannerisms. I am reminded of you almost every day.
Should I have been here? I feel I should have done more. I honestly never knew.
Ciaran, you know our ways. The child of Beltane is the child of the god. You had no place in her upbringing. If you had tried, you would have been driven away. You know that. You are a child of Beltane yourself.
Does she know? That I am her father?
She suspects. She suspects very strongly. She is an intelligent child - too intelligent for her own good, sometimes.
She seems very suspicious of me. Even more; there is antipathy there.
Yes. I have noticed. It is the first time I have seen it.
Do you know why? If she hardly knows me…
I don’
t, no. It could be just adolescent anger - railing against anything and everything that might be to blame for the slightest thing.
I could be a disappointment to her image of me. It has been nine years…
Yes, you have been gone a long time. And last time, you were injured after the Ballaugh. You needed time to rest and recover. We kept everyone away from you. The wounded warrior, home from a great victory… that could have given an impression that young girl could have turned into a fantasy.
And certainly an image that a dirty, care-worn traveller would have difficulty living up to!
She laughed at that and came over to embrace me. But she had hardly touched me when her face revealed profound shock.
“Oh - ” she stepped back as if struck. “Oh, Ciaran! Oh, Ciaran - I’m so sorry -” She rushed to the door, pulled it open and ran across the hall, as fast as her robes would let her. She went off down a corridor, with me in pursuit - a pursuit the sisters at the door tried to interrupt.
“What have you done to her?” One of them demanded, grabbing my sleeve.
“Nothing. Nothing, I swear. She touched my arm and then ran off, as you saw.” I tugged my arm out of her grip and warned her to leave me be. I resumed my chase down the corridor, from the end of which I heard the sound of a door shutting, firm and fast. I arrived to find two, even more substantial, sisters. They were built like Greek athletes.
“The Lady is not be disturbed. She will send for you when she is ready.” They said.
“But we were just talking -” I began.
“We know. She will send for you when she is ready to receive you again. For now, please wander anywhere you wish - except these private chambers.”
I could probably have overcome them, and the other two who were just arriving as well, but what would that achieve? Morwenna would be angry at me for bringing violence to her community - although I suspected that the two guards in front of me were no strangers to a bit of wrestling and competition - and would be less likely to tell me what had disturbed her. So I did as I was told and went off to look further around the settlement.
It seemed different from what I remembered. I was sure there had been a tall tower at the east end of the settlement, towards the Tor, from which lookouts could keep an eye on what was happening along the high ground that approached closest to Ynys Witrin. There was nothing more than a pile of sand, gravel and small stones. Several areas were marked to be avoided, by yellow-coloured strips of cloth stretched out between poles. It wasn’t lack of maintenance - something else was going on her. It looked like decay. Even the trees seemed to be affected; they had put on autumnal shades, weeks before the Solstice. It was as if the Isle of Glass had become what the lands around claimed: an area more in tune with the Otherworld other than with this. I made my way to the western end and looked out over the marches and fen that reached out to Hafren - or maybe Hafren was reaching in to reclaim its own. The Summer Country, they called it, and it was easy to see why. It gleamed in the late afternoon sunshine, seemingly as vibrant and alive as Ynys Witrin was lethargic and - I had to admit it - apparently dying.
And then, out of nowhere, came the sound of life. Three young girls burst out of the woods, shrieking and laughing, engrossed in their game. They pulled up short when they saw me. The smallest shuffled closer to the oldest. Sisters, I could see.
“Good afternoon,” I said, and made a bow. The oldest pulled herself up a little taller and spoke as strongly as her young frame would allow. I judged her to be about twelve.
“Who are you? What are you doing in our community? Men aren’t allowed here. You must go.”
“Well,” I replied. “One question at a time. My name is Ciaran. I am from Erin. I have come to see the Lady of the Lake, who I have known for many years. I may be staying here for a short while, if she will let me.”
“Men aren’t allowed,” the middle child said, firmly.
“Not even if the Lady says they are?” The two smaller ones looked up to the oldest.
“Are you Prince Ciaran?”
“Yes, I am Prince Ciaran.”
“Why didn’t you say so? Mother said you were coming.” So these were more of Morwenna’s children.
“I am Rhiannon,” the oldest one said. “This is Siân -” indicating the middle girl “She’s eight.”
“I’m nearly nine,” she said, indignantly.
“I’m Morganna and I’m seven,” the youngest piped up.
Formalities completed, we were then able to get down to some important business - playing games. Hide and seek, horses (I was the horse, of course!) and Blind Man’s Buff. I had stumbled over roots and stones a few times, to the children’s amusement, and my clothes were looking less pristine than an hour or so previously. The laughter was interrupted - gently, but firmly - by the arrival of a young woman, a sister, tasked with getting the girls ready for bed. She was accompanied by another who told me that the Lady would receive me again.
I hadn’t thought of her as a Mother - with a capital M – but whyever not? She had been Maiden, now she was Mother and would, in the fullness of time, be a Wise woman. When I was shown again into her study she was seated behind her desk. She indicated that I should sit down on the other side of it. I was a bit surprised but did as instructed. I mentioned that I had met the three girls and, with a smile, that I had not thought of her as a Mother.
“Not A Mother,” she replied, seriously, “the mother. I am the only mother here.”
“What?” I was incredulous. “How can that be? Surely your sisters have not all taken a vow of celibacy?” she shook her head.
“No. Far from it. Children are essential for our community - for our very survival. But you have met the last children to have been born in Ynys Witrin. In fact, Siân was the last. Morganna was conceived and born away from here, when I was visiting another community. Do you notice anything familiar about Siân?” I thought for a moment, she was eight, approaching nine years old. She looked very like her mother, as was to be expected, but - she also had a tinge of copper in her hair. I was last here a little less than ten years ago. I asked if she, too, was my daughter. “Yes, Ciaran, she is. And before you ask why I didn’t tell you, this is a cloistered community, dedicated to the service of the Holy Mother. We have no regular male visitors, and none who are resident.” She was interrupted by a knock at the door. She called them to come in and two women from the community entered, carrying trays. One was set on my side of the desk and the other was presented to Morwenna. Mine had soup, a small loaf, some cheese and an apple, with a mug of the local apple cider to drink. Morwenna’s had cheese and an apple, with a cup of what looked to be nothing more than water.
“Go ahead and eat, Ciaran. I would recommend that you eat the bread quickly. It doesn’t keep.” Before I could bring myself to start, I had to ask what was happening here.
“You can see what is happening,” she said. “Ynys Witrin is crumbling. Nothing grows here any more - or not with any vigour. The grass looks like grass but it has little goodness in it. We have stabled your horses and are feeding them on hay, brought in from outside. If they were let lose on the old pastures they would have overeaten the grass here, in their need for nourishment. They would not have got enough and would have developed inflammations.”
“What about the apples?”
“Look at it. It has a leathery skin. We have to bring it in from outside. Our orchards have not borne any fruit for three years.”
“None? None at all” She shook her head in reply. “You said that Siân was the last child to be born here?”
“Yes. We thought that would herald the revival of the Land, here. We were wrong. The decay now affects even the fabric of the building - you can see it crumbling before your eyes. You remember the watchtower that used to be on the east side?” I nodded. “It fell down last week. Nothing remains but a pile of sand.”
“Last week?” I was astonished. “I was sure I remembered that tower but I thought my memory might have been playing
tricks on me. It looks as if it was never there!” She nodded, sadly, and with an air of desperation. I was struck by something. “Is this why you were prepared to let me come through the marsh and stay here?” She nodded again.
“I had hoped - we all hoped - that you might somehow be our route to be saved. You are the father of the last child to be conceived and born on Ynys Witrin. That had to mean something. That had to mean something.” She stood up and walked over to the window. As she approached it, a pane of horn fell out and tinkled into fragments at her feet. I looked at my bread and could see what she meant about eating it quickly - but it was too late. Blue mould was forming on it as I watched. I removed it from the tray, holding it as delicately as I could.
“What did it mean, then? It cannot have meant nothing?”
“It meant that we loved each other for a night, when you were returning from a battle that may have saved these whole islands. You were the means to save us all back then. You might be again, but… As for Siân, she is a sign of hope, I believe. But what sort of hope…” She hardly even considered the broken shards of the window pane, although she stood on them as she looked out of the window.
Lockeran (Prince Ciaran the Damned Book 2) Page 15
