“Perhaps. Go on.”
“I was on a ship,” Niamh continued. “A purple island rose out of the waters, its mountains covered in mist. We landed near a shining white cliff with a rath on top. It looked a fair place, but whoever was in it was my enemy. I wanted to run until I could run no more, but I could not...” Niamh’s voice trailed away. She opened her eyes.
“You were alone? No one here shared your journey?” Aed’s voice was insistent.
“Not alone, but no one I knew came with me.”
“Who was with you?”
“I did not recognise their faces.”
“So nothing is going to happen to us?”
“No.” Niamh looked up into her uncle’s eyes.
“What does all this mean?” Sabh asked, fearfully.
Aed rose. “A girl’s silly dream, no more, as you said. All of you go back to sleep. We have been disturbed enough this night.” He looked at Niamh. “I will speak to you again in the morning, Niece — alone.”
For the rest of the night, Niamh did not close her eyes. The swirling pictures of her vision mingled with fear of her journey and dread of her uncle. When the others roused in the morning, they kept well away from her, as if she harboured some terrible disease. Their behaviour only served to increase her fear.
When everyone had broken their fast, her uncle told those who were making the journey with her to prepare and be ready. Then he ordered everyone except Niamh to leave the roundhouse. Aed called her over to him. She could feel herself shaking as she walked forward and he did not rise. His fists lay tightly clenched on his lap. She stood before him like a naughty child expecting to be beaten.
“Have you ever had these visions before?” Aed’s eyes bored into hers.
“No. I’ve had dreams, but never like this.” Niamh shivered.
“You’re afraid.” There was contempt in Aed’s voice. “Is there anything you haven’t told me?”
“No, nothing.”
Aed stood up. “You are your father’s child, right enough, and my mother’s granddaughter, more’s the pity. Last night proved that, even if I didn’t suspect it before. Now, listen to me, Niamh, do not speak of this to anyone. I will give orders to the people who go with you to remain silent also. If he learns what happened, Barrfind may reject you. If he does, be sure of this — no one else wants you, nor can you return here. When you leave, you leave for good. So, for your own sake, keep a still tongue in your head.”
Niamh nodded but stayed silent, not knowing what else to say. A queer, sick feeling held her rigid.
“Niece or no niece, I’ve done my best for you. If you resist this marriage, the consequences will fall on you alone. Do you understand me clearly?” he insisted.
“I understand.”
“Go then and prepare for your journey. You leave at once.”
4
Niamh trotted out of the rath and did not look back at the small group of people who had gathered to see her go. Eber rode beside her and four of the tribe’s warriors followed. Niamh almost smiled when she found out who had been chosen. Good fighters, but without any more imagination than the beasts in the field. All of them could be counted on to obey her uncle’s instructions exactly. In one way, she supposed she was lucky. None of these men treated her any differently than they would have done any other young girl. In fact, they mostly ignored her presence and did not speak to her except from necessity.
A servant, Betha, had also been sent, much to her displeasure. She muttered curses all the way along the road until the rath faded from sight. She did not like Niamh, but she had no choice except to follow orders. She deliberately rode at the back of the group and, after a while, started chatting to one of the men.
For once, Niamh had been assigned a good horse. Like all children, she had learned to ride ones that were old and slow. Never before had she ridden a youngster with an even pace. It was exhilarating and Niamh enjoyed being at the head of the column, not breathing in anyone else’s dust. The day was fine; she was away from her aunt and uncle and well mounted. Niamh decided to forget her doubts and enjoy herself for now, but, after a few hours, the novelty wore off. She was sore from the unaccustomed exercise, because she had never before gone so far or so fast on horseback.
The long dusty miles would have been dull and painful indeed without Eber’s presence. Niamh had known him all her life, but she did not remember a time when she had ever talked with him beyond a sentence or two in passing. Certainly they never discussed anything that mattered in the past. Now he rode by her side and seemed to want to be with her. At first they talked about the places they were passing, the things she had never seen and the fineness of the day. When they resumed their journey after resting the horses, she felt comfortable enough to say, “Tell me about the man who will be my husband.”
“What do you want to know about him?”
“What does he look like?”
“He’s a stocky man, rather like me, about my age too.”
“So old?” Niamh murmured and then clapped a hand to her mouth as she realised what she said, but Eber only grinned.
“His eldest daughter is older than you.”
Niamh had often day-dreamed about the man she would marry. She hoped he would be tall and fair, a few years past her own age. She also wanted him to love her for herself. An impossible ideal, a prince with all the virtues — she had been unwise to think of such things, she saw now. Life had never given her anything she had hoped for.
“He has dark hair and a beard, both going grey,” Eber continued. “Barrfind is the ruler of his people and they are numerous, so he has to keep order among them. He is a stern man, from what I have been told, impatient with anyone who crosses him.”
“Sterner than my uncle?” Niamh tried to imagine anyone worse. No one ever questioned Aed’s word within the rath or, if they did, they soon learned the cost and never made the same mistake again.
“From what I have seen and heard, far more. You would do well to obey him and conform to all his wishes. His first wife did not have an easy life and I doubt he will change for you.”
“You’re frightening me.”
“I’m trying to help. Better frightened and aware, than to walk into trouble. Barrfind is not a man to take liberties with.”
“I have never taken liberties with anyone!” Niamh exclaimed.
“Keep that attitude and you’ll save yourself much grief. Don’t change now you have left your uncle’s house.”
“I had hoped for so much more,” Niamh whispered to herself but Eber’s quick ear caught her words.
“Don’t we all? Few of us find what we hope for in this life.”
Niamh became silent, thinking over the things Eber had told her. Her future life, it seemed, would be no better than the old and probably much worse. She no longer rode forward eagerly, looking around at the new sights that surrounded her. Instead she held the reins loosely in her hands and her horse fell back almost to the end of the column. Eber did not follow her.
The wind had risen and, although it was midsummer, it was cold. Niamh shivered, but not only from the wind. An icy chill seemed to possess her body and her mind. When at last they halted again to rest the horses, she pulled out her warm cloak from her saddlebag. She was thankful she possessed such a garment, rather than the thin and threadbare clothes she had always worn. She put it on and hugged it round her, trying to feel a little comforted.
Eber sent one of the men ahead of the column to find somewhere to sleep. Distant kin lived not far from their route and Niamh spent her first night away from the rath at this man’s home. Lorcan could only offer shelter to the women, for his house was small, so the men camped outside. After they had broken their fast, though, Eber joined them by the fire to drink his ale. Betha took the opportunity to slip away to the men’s camp and Niamh thought her flirting must be going well.
As usual, Niamh stayed silent as Lorcan and Eber discussed the harvest and recent cattle raiding in the next valley. It di
dn’t bother Lorcan, for he kept no beasts, but he warned Eber to be on his guard next day when they passed that way. Very soon afterwards, Eber rose, saying that they must make an early start. He told Niamh to go to sleep quickly for she would need her rest. No doubt she would be stiff and sore when she sat on her horse again, he reminded her with an evil grin.
Despite his advice, Niamh tossed and turned on the straw of her bed. She did not really sleep until the morning light began to penetrate the cracks in the walls. Then it seemed as if she had barely closed her eyes before Betha shook her awake.
“Come on, get up. They’re all waiting for you,” she said.
Niamh had only time to drink some ale and splash water on her face before hurrying outside. Lorcan’s wife put a bannock into her hand, to eat on the journey. Niamh found out immediately that Eber’s prediction had come true. She was so stiff she could barely clamber on her horse and she sat down on its back with a groan.
“Cheer up, it will get better, once your bum gets numb,” Eber told her. He turned, calling his thanks to Lorcan for his hospitality. Niamh did the same, and then they trotted out of the clearing. For some time, Niamh wriggled around, trying to find a more comfortable way of sitting but, gradually, she again found Eber’s words coming true. She became numb enough to look around her and see where they were going.
Eber had taken a steep rocky path that wound up the slope of a hill. He paused at the top and Niamh drew her horse up beside him.
“This is the place Lorcan told us about last night,” Eber said, pointing down into a narrow valley. “We are passing out of our tribal lands. This hill marks the boundary, which is why there has always been so much trouble here. We must keep together and look around us, until we have climbed to the top of that ridge on the far side.”
The group rode swiftly down into the valley, bunched together, with Niamh and Betha in the centre. Eber seemed nervous and on edge, but he need not have worried. Everything looked peaceful. They saw no one except a couple of herds keeping watch on the cattle that grazed in the meadows. Unusually, the fields were surrounded by strong walls woven out of thorns - the only sign of the unrest that plagued the area. Yet it served to remind everyone that the sooner they were gone from that place the better. Niamh did not realise how strung up she had been, until she drew rein at the top of the ridge. Even then, Eber would not let them stop to rest but hurried them down the other side, until they reached the trees at the bottom of the slope.
That night they could not find any house to shelter them, so they camped in the woodland. Eber set two of the men on guard. The other men went to sleep quickly, knowing they would be called soon enough to take their turn. Betha, obviously bored, did the same. Only Niamh and Eber stayed awake, sitting by the embers of the fire. They talked for some time about the exciting journeys Eber had made.
“When I was young, your father and I travelled to a place where the people dig gold and silver out of the mountainside. We returned with enough metal to make jewellery for your grandmother and some of the other women. The torc and your flower ties were made from that gold.”
“Were you and my father friends?”
“When we were young. After his visions came, he changed. He drew away from other people and spent more time journeying on his own. He had learned the art of healing from your grandfather, Lir, and he went to places where they needed his help.”
“Why did he leave the tribe? No one has ever told me.”
Eber sighed and passed a hand over his eyes. “I suppose it is right to tell you now and there will never be another opportunity. We will not meet again. Well then, on one of his journeys, Manannan met a chieftain’s daughter called Fand and fell in love with her. She came from a family equal to his. Manannan brought rich gifts to her father so she would marry him. He had, by that time, become leader of our tribe as your grandfather died the winter before. Manannan and Fand agreed they would wed at Lughnasa, the traditional time for such things. Fand seemed quite content, but she did not tell him that a former lover of hers, named Sétanta, also wanted to wed her. He had already asked her father for her hand. The old chieftain refused, because the man had less wealth than your father. Sétanta bided his time and recruited his friends to help him. As Manannan and Fand were in the middle of their marriage ceremony, Sétanta attacked. Manannan was badly wounded in the fight and many were slain including Fand, herself. She ran the wrong way in all the confusion and a slash from a broadsword killed her.
“Sétanta always blamed Manannan for Fand’s death, although no one was ever sure who struck the fatal blow. He thought that she should have been given to him unopposed, because he was the one she wanted. He pursued the blood feud for over a year and, in that time; we lost many men and cattle. That is one of the reasons your uncle hates his brother so much. In the end, Manannan knew that he must leave. He went away, hoping to draw Sétanta and his followers after him, so we might be left in peace.”
“Where did he go?”
“No one knows. He travelled north at first. I rode with him part of the way. After that we only heard rumours. They say he went to the Norsemen’s city, Ath Claith, and took a ship across the sea. Someone told me that he left this land and sailed to a far off island, where he cured people from a terrible plague. I don’t know how true any of these rumours are. All I can tell you is that I never saw him again after we parted. Where he is now I have no notion. He may even be dead.”
“My uncle thinks he’s alive. Why is he so afraid he might return?”
Eber grinned. “Manannan’s a good fighter. Aed never beat him in a swordfight, at wrestling or anything else when they were boys. Manannan had a quicker mind and a sharper tongue. Also Aed was afraid of the things Manannan saw in his visions, especially those things Aed did not want him to know.”
“Why does my uncle hate me? I’m not my father.”
“Because you favour Manannan rather than your mother. You remind him too forcefully of the brother he did not like and wants to forget.”
“Tell me about my mother. No one ever has.”
“Little to tell. She was a pretty girl and found favour in Manannan’s eyes. This was a few years before he met Fand. Perhaps the blood letting would never have happened if she’d lived, but she died of the winter ague when you were in your second year.”
“What was her name?”
“Emer.”
“Why has no one ever told me about her before?”
“Her family died in the plague. She was the only one who survived and not for long. She was often ill and she just wasted away that winter. It was pitiful to watch. After her death, Manannan would not speak about her. Her memory pained him. He was fond of you, though, and sometimes he seemed almost happy when you played together.”
Niamh stared at the fire, trying to remember. Someone once had cared for her, she had always known that. The only thing she recalled was sitting on a broad lap and playing with a dangling necklace. “Did he wear a disk of metal that shone?”
Eber laughed. “He did. Fancy you remembering that, of all things.”
Niamh lifted her eyes to him. “Thank you for telling me,” she said softly. “I am glad to know a little about my parents.”
“Their tale is for your ears alone. Don’t speak of them where we’re going. Manannan’s name used to be well known as both a healer and, some said, a magician. It is not wise to be close kin to such as he. For that reason Aed hopes to marry you far away where none of us can be harmed by his memory. Don’t forget.”
“I won’t.”
5
The next day, the last of their journey, was very hot. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in the hills.
“It has been raining in the mountains,” Eber said, looking at the sky with a frown.
“What does that mean?” Niamh asked, catching a tone of concern in his voice.
“We must hurry. The only ford is a deep one and, if the river floods, we’ll not be able to cross until the level goes down.”
&n
bsp; They broke camp hurriedly and made good speed for the better part of the morning.
Eber thought that they would probably arrive at Barrfind’s rath some time in the late afternoon, if they could cross the river. He reluctantly halted when the sun was in its zenith to ease the horses. He called Niamh to him and ordered her to put on her best clothes. He wanted her to make a good impression on her bridegroom.
Niamh washed herself as well as she could in a nearby stream. Then Betha helped her into the fine red dress and laced a golden girdle around her hips. Her grandmother’s torc shone against the rich colours and fitted snugly around her neck. Her hair was brushed out and braided, then piled on the top of her head. The golden flowers were fastened firmly into her plaits, so they should not drop off during the ride. A light veil was attached to her head-dress, floating behind her as she walked. When she was mounted again, her best cloak was smoothed to fall over the back of her horse. Eber looked at her critically and then nodded.
“You look well. I am sure that Barrfind will be pleased with your appearance.” He smiled at her and Niamh smiled back.
“Thank you.” Excitement welled up inside her, mixed with a kind of sick apprehension. In a few short hours, she would know her fate.
Then Eber formed up the troop, putting Niamh on his right hand and led them down the twisting path into the valley.
In her finery, Niamh felt even hotter than she had been earlier in the morning. Sweat broke out all over her body. It was not yet offensive and she hoped they would arrive before she turned rank. They rode through thick woodland as they came down the hill. The trees thinned out and they emerged into a meadow which had been undercut by the power of the water.
Eber swore when he saw it, for the river was already in spate and churning fiercely. “Hurry,” he shouted and kicked his horse forward. The rest of them thundered after. Niamh’s skirts flapped with the wind of their passage. She held tight to the mane of her horse, not wanting to be unseated and spoil her dress. Eber drew rein at the brink of the river, near some rocks. When Niamh looked around, the place seemed vaguely familiar to her.
Niamh of the Golden Hair (Manannan Trilogy Book 2) Page 2
