“There’s not much to tell,” she said.
“Was acting something you set out to do?”
“No, but it was always an interest of mine. I did study drama at school, but I got better grades in the academic side and decided to follow my granddad into archaeology. Everything went fine for the first year. The trouble began when the money ran out. Dad had left the navy by that time; he runs a company specializing in electronics for boats in Saint Augustine. He had a major contract with a boatbuilding company, but they got into serious trouble, took a hit from a lawsuit and went bust. Dad was heavily committed to supplying gear to them and couldn’t recoup more than half his investment in stock. It left a major hole in the family finances, and I had to forgo my trust fund and drop out of college to help out.”
“Bummer!”
“No shit, but it had to be done. I couldn’t see my family go under, Matt.”
“No, of course not.”
“We scraped through. I got a good modeling contract through my old drama teacher, and that paid plenty of bills, especially when I did a big show in Paris.” She took a piece of gristle from her mouth and tossed it outside. “Excuse me. That led to a bit part in September Grove which became a three-year contract.”
“That was a lucky break.” Even though she couldn’t see it in the dark, she felt he was smiling. “What about guys? I got the impression Jimmy Lacey wanted to jump your bones.”
She turned to look at him. “Jimmy Lacey is a good actor; he’s also gay and in a happy relationship.” Reaching out, she found his stomach and prodded him. “Mr. Big Shot academic! Back when we met the Collector, you claimed you didn’t have time to watch TV. So how come you know about Jimmy’s part as my squeeze in September Grove?”
He gave a snort of laughter and she smiled. “Okay, fair cop! Yeah, I did watch a few episodes with Mom.”
“Hmm, I bet! Other than that I’m so glad I made an impression.”
“Yeah, you have.” His voice became quieter. “I’m sorry if I offended you back then. Mom watched a lot of TV after Dad died, and I stayed with her for a few weeks until I persuaded her to stop mourning him and start living again. September Grove was one of her favorites and some of it did rub off on me.”
“I’m glad it helped her. Is she okay now?”
“Yeah, she’s fine.” He coughed. “Actually I think she’s dating a guy from the St. Osyth’s Social Club.”
“Cool!”
“Yeah, I guess. She hasn’t said much about him.” He sounded embarrassed.
“Hey, Matt, even older folk have a love-life, y’ know.” For a moment she felt like teasing him about having a potential step-father waiting in the wings but decided it was way too personal for their level of relationship. She sought for something else to say, and hit on a friendly gesture. “As she was a big fan of the show, I’ll give you my autograph for her if you think she’d like it.”
“She’d love it.” There was a rustle as he changed position on the bedding. “You didn’t answer my question, though.”
“Which was?”
“Are you seeing anyone?” He sounded coy. “From what I see in the press actors are always falling in and out of love. Don’t answer if it’s personal.”
“You’re right, we do tend to bed-hop, but you’re asking nothing a reporter hasn’t asked me before. Why do you want to know?”
She could almost hear his shrug. “Just curious.”
I bet! “Would you be crushed beyond all hope if I said yes?”
“Ah ... no, not really.”
“Huh!” She chuckled. “I believe you, sure. Okay, no, I’m not dating. There, satisfied?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Uh huh!”
“What does that mean?”
“I think you’re going soft on me.”
“Shut up and go to sleep! We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Yes, dear!”
* * * * *
The next day’s travel passed in a spirit of companionship which was far more comfortable than Kate and Matt’s previous, uneasy truce. When they reached the end of the trail, they saw there was a settlement at the confluence of the estuary and the Corrib River which drained from the lough, but it bore scant resemblance to the modern city. A wooden palisade surrounded a cluster of a hundred or so thatched buildings about a half-mile down the track from the hill where Kate and Matt stood. Blue smoke rose into the evening air above the settlement, the higher reaches of the plumes glowing orange and white as they were touched by the last of the sunlight. Small boats and a scattering of larger craft lay at anchor or were dragged up on the shores of the river. Torches burned here and there, especially around the gate they could see in the palisade at the end of their trail, and around a large hall at the center of the town.
“It looks like Galway exists,” Matt said. “Now I think it goes by the name Gaillimh, which means “settlement on the stone-strewn river.’“
“I don’t care what it’s called,” Kate grumbled. She sat on a trackside rock and kicked off her shoes to rub her feet. “All I care about is, it’s at the end of the trail, and we can get food and lodgings there. I’m just not used to all this walking.”
He knelt beside her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. I should’ve slowed up.”
She laid her hand on his shoulder. “No problem; I’ll survive. Do you think this Queen Maeve is down there?”
“Possibly ‑‑ if this is her time we’re in ‑‑ but the royal capital is Roscommon.” He looked around. “It seems to be early spring here; the warriors will be gathering because the campaign season will be starting soon.”
“Campaign season? You mean we could be in a war?”
“Yeah, it’s possible. Most of the tribes of Eirin warred with each other. Connacht and Ulster were at each others’ throats for years.”
“Oh, how nice!”
“Isn’t it? The chieftains and rulers of the land should be getting ready for a new year of slaughter.” He waved at the settlement. “Maeve’ll only be down there if she’s making a royal tour.”
“Huh! Yeah, right. We should be so lucky!”
“Stop complaining, Kate. Are you rested enough to move on?”
She waggled her toes and nodded. “I’ll be okay.” She put her shoes on again, and they set off toward the village. “What if the queen and/or the cauldron aren’t here?” she asked. “What do we do then?”
“We’ll have to go to Roscommon.” He glanced at her. “I passed through there last time I was over. It’s fifty miles east of here.” She groaned, and he gave her a sympathetic grin. “Maybe we can buy horses or ponies in Galway. That’ll cut down the effort. Can you ride?”
“Yes, but I haven’t since I was fifteen. You?”
“The family of a friend at Harvard kept horses. We rode most times I stayed there.”
“Very nice. The last thing I had between my thighs was you!” His face turned scarlet, and she laughed. “Okay, I’ll stop teasing. Now, we’ve got to figure what we’re going to use to buy or hire horses and supplies. From what little I know of the Bronze Age, they weren’t big on currency.”
“Coinage was rare and only found in large places with a sophisticated society.” He lapsed into nerd-speak again, but Kate didn’t mind; his esoteric knowledge would be vital in this strange land. “There’ll be gold and silver in small quantities, and it’ll mostly be found in the form of artworks or ceremonial artifacts. Most trade was conducted by bartering.” He frowned. “Aside from what we took off those dead men, we haven’t got much to bargain with. I really don’t want to bargain with anything we brought back with us.” He looked at their clothing, a mixture of denims, modern sweatshirts and cloaks taken from the dead bandits. “Everything’s too obviously not from this world.”
“We’ve got coins.” She dug into her pocket and produced some of the small change they’d acquired. “They’re only euros and not good US currency, but it’s metal of a type they probably wouldn’t know here
so that’ll make it rare and valuable.”
“You’ve got a point.” He picked one out of her palm and examined it. “It’s all die-stamped and I guess it could pass as some kind of medallion or holy trinket. The fact it’s all identical will help give it value.” He grinned. “I think we’re in business!”
* * * * *
Peasants working the fields and pastures were moving through the gate in the palisade as they drew near the settlement. Gaillimh was closing down for the day and its people were retiring into the protection of the defenses. There were two guards on the gate, and Matt saw them watching their approach from a long way off. It gave strong emphasis to the fact this was not a peaceful, modern land. As they drew closer the guards straightened up. They were rangy men, shorter than he by a head and nearer Kate’s size. Both of them were clad in homespun kilts and cloaks and had wild mops of red hair. One wore his in braids, tied with beads and leather thongs, while the other had on a small bronze helmet, with a boar crest, that had seen better days. Each weather-beaten face was adorned with a straggly moustache. The men hefted their spears in a meaningful manner. Matt could well imagine what he and Kate looked like. Neither had the means to disguise themselves, and their modern clothing must stand out a mile.
“Do you think we can make ourselves understood?” Kate asked in a low voice. “My Gaelic isn’t what it could be.”
“I’ve got some, but barely enough to get by even in modern Ireland. Here, I don’t think for one moment the language is in anything but an early stage of Geodelic.” He shrugged. “I guess we could use sign-language and pointing at what we want if necessary.”
“Well, we’re about to find out,” she said, and he looked up at the guards.
They were close enough now to be struck if one of the men chose to throw his weapon. The men had the presence of warriors. It wasn’t something he could mistake. Matt had a number of acquaintances in the college ROTC and Massachusetts National Guard who’d served in the Gulf and Iraq, and those who’d seen combat all had that certain look, that air of capability that came with having seen the elephant.
“Look peaceful,” he said out the corner of his mouth, and handed her the spear. “These are what Wild Bill Hickok called killing gentlemen!”
Raising his hand he took a single step forward. “Dia duit!” he called out. “Conas atá tú?”
The men looked at him then each other. “Dia is muire duit,” the helmet wearer said in a cautious tone. He looked at Kate with open curiosity and jerked his chin at her. “Cad as duit? Cé hí sin?”
Kate watched the opening exchange and could guess the meaning of the words. They sounded Irish, which surprised her, given Matt’s thoughts on how the language would be primitive in this time and place. But it might as well have been Greek as far as she was concerned; she wished it was in English. Her ears gave a sudden tingle, and she rubbed them, annoyed at the distraction while she was trying to concentrate on the situation. Anything unknown could be dangerous. She didn’t like the way the man was staring at her. It put her in mind of the treatment she’d received in some of the more red neck areas back home.
“I’ve just about reached the limit of my Irish,” Matt said to her.
“What’s Irish?” the guard asked. “And I’ll say again, who’s she?”
“You can speak our language?” Matt said in surprise.
“It’s you who’s speaking ours, friend,” the guard said, frowning.
“Well I’ll be ‑‑!” He looked at Kate then back at the man. “Okay then. I’m Matt O’Brien; this is my friend Kate Susadi. We’re travelers from ... over the sea, and we’re hoping to find shelter for the night here.” He gave the man a guarded smile. “May we come in?”
“Sure, and they don’t look like Ulstermen,” the braided guard said, eyeing them. “The big O’Brien feller handles that spear like he’s afraid of it, which is odd for his kind, and the gods alone know where the lovely lady of color may come from. ‘Tis certain she’s not from these parts.” He raised his voice. “I was just sayin,’ ma’am, you’re not from round here.”
“No.” Kate gestured to the west, where the sun was setting over Galway Bay. “I’m from way over there.”
“You’re from the West?” the man said, looking nervous. “Nothing lies beyond but the realms of the dead!” He looked her up and down. “Are you a ghost?”
“Do I look like one?” she asked her hands on her hips. “Look, I’m tired, my feet ache, and I’d really like to find a place to rest and eat if it’s all the same to you. Would a ghost need food? Drink?”
“Ah, no, you’re right there. You’ve got a lovely voice, so you have,” the braided man said in open admiration. “A bard would be jealous. What do you say, Lochlann? Shall we let them in? ‘Twould only be hospitable.”
“Hmm!” Lochlann rubbed his chin. “If you each give your word to behave and to obey the Queen’s Laws, then you can enter.”
“Do you mean Queen Maeve?” Matt asked, pricking up his ears.
“Dear gods, we’ve got the idiot of the O’Briens here with us this night,” the braided man said, looking sad and shaking his head. “The clan must’ve turned him out when they found they’d sired a simpleton, and he’s been wandering ever since.” He leaned on his spear and addressed Matt in the loud clear voice reserved for the old, foreigners, or the simple. “Yes, I mean her dear Majesty Maeve, she of the shining red-gold hair. Now, are you coming in, or do you want to stand out here all night? ‘Tis all one to us.”
Matt felt his face burning, and he avoided looking at Kate’s grin. “We’ll come in.”
* * * * *
The village was rough and ready, with dirt tracks for streets between round wattle and daub houses with low walls and high conical roofs of reed thatch. Smoke streamed out of gaps at the apex and several other places where the thatch had grown thin. Every house had a small enclosure bordered with woven laths or field stone that served as small garden to supply the kitchen or pigsty.
As Kate walked alongside Matt, she was aware of an all-pervading odor of fish and dung. A man staggered out of one low doorway as they drew nearer the center of the village. He lifted his kilt and proceeded to emit a stream of urine, all the while swaying in a gentle rhythm as he gaped at them with bleary eyes.
“Charming!” Matt said, moving to walk between her and the man.
Kate laughed, and glanced at the man’s flaccid cock as they walked by. “Oh, I’ve seen worse after an all-night party. Some of those supermodels aren’t so super when you see them away from the catwalk.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I appreciate the gallant gesture, though.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Got any ideas where we can find shelter for the night?”
“The headman’s hall, at a guess.” They reached the open area that served as the village square and he pointed to the big rectangular building that dominated it. “I’m pretty sure that’ll be it.”
“It seems kinda flaky, turning up at the local city hall and asking for rooms!” she said, looking around.
“It’s either that, or we spend the night tucked up in a byre ‑‑ or a pigsty.”
“Okay, then it won’t hurt to ask,” she muttered.
“Hey, relax; I’m sure we’ll find a space by the hearth. The Celts were ‑‑ are ‑‑ a hospitable race. They’ll give hospitality to anyone in genuine need and gain kudos for doing so. The higher the rank, the more they gain. C’mon.”
There was no sign of a sentry standing guard at the entrance. Instead a small man with a shock of bright ginger hair emerged as they approached and bowed even as he studied them. “Good evening to you, gentles,” he said. “Would you be after seeing his lordship?”
“We do indeed,” said Matt. He gestured to Kate. “This is Katherine of the Susadi, and I’m Matt O’Brien.”
The little man jerked in surprise and stared at Kate without a word until she began to feel very self-conscious; an uncomfortable sensation for an actress. “A Susadi!” H
e sketched a quick bow. “Do you come in, good folk, and be welcome. Lay your chattels by the door, they’ll be looked after. I shall inform the lord you’re here.”
He disappeared into the hall and they looked at each other. “Katherine of the Susadi?” she said, fixing him with a stern look. “Puh-lease.”
“Kate, this is a hall belonging to a nobleman of the Bronze Age!” he hissed. “Names are much more formal here. Go along with it; if they think you’re someone of noble or gentle birth, it’ll be easier for us to gain information about this place and the people. We’ve been invited. Let’s go in.”
“But the guy recognized my surname!” she said, following him. “Do you think my grandfather came this way?”
“I’m certain of it, now.” He looked back at her. “Remember the time-travel effect; he may’ve passed through only this morning!”
“Now that’s a spooky thought!” she said, and broke off as they got their first glimpse of the interior.
The hall was a rectangular building some hundred feet long and over twenty wide, lit by two large fires and several flambeaux jutting out from the wall beams. It was crowded with people of both sexes and all ages who sat in groups either on low forms or on the beaten earth floor. Tall wooden pillars decorated in Celtic motifs supported the high pitched roof, the effect similar to the totem poles of Native Americans. Over one fire was a spit holding a pig, which was being turned by a bored looking girl. The air was hazy with smoke and a general fug created by packed humanity. Kate wrinkled her nose at the odor of stale sweat, roasting pig, wood-smoke and several less savory substances. “Hi honey! We’re ho-o-ome!” she said under her breath.
Faces turned with mild interest that blossomed to open curiosity when they saw the pair standing near the doorway. The general din subsided for a moment before resuming at a higher pitch. Kate and Matt looked around, searching for the doorkeeper, and Matt pointed toward the far end of the chamber where the little man could just be seen through the smoke talking to the seated figure of a much larger man. Even as they watched the figure nodded and looked up. His gaze seemed to pierce the gloom, and the noise subsided once more.
The Collector 3: Cauldron Page 8
