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Authors: Jennifer Fallon
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Bhrú. ’
Brydie nodded, expecting some sort of explanation before they arrived at the Druid stronghold. She hadn’t expected the size of the escort, however. It was only seventeen miles or so to Sí an Bhrú through friendly territory. If you stood on top of the Ráith’s tower, on a clear day like today, you could actually see the white quartz stones of its entrance glistening in the sunlight. It hardly seemed necessary for the queen to have an escort of enough men-at-arms to defend them against a small army.
Álmhath’s son, Torcán, wasn’t riding with his mother in the wagon. The tall, dour prince rode at the head of the column, his future bride, Anwen, at his side, leading their progress.
Anwen will be loving that , Brydie thought, unless she’s peeved that I’m in here with the queen. Brydie couldn’t imagine why she’d rather be in the wagon. Álmhath was a daunting figure at the best of times. Much better to be riding at the head of the column in a place of honour with your future husband, than sitting here suffering the unrelenting scrutiny of your future mother-in-law.
‘Do you know why we’re headed to Sí an Bhrú ?’
Brydie shook her head. She had a few suspicions, but really didn’t know anything. As she was dressing for this journey, in her best kirtle and the fine linen shift her stepmother had given her before she left home, Brydie had racked her brains for some hint of the reason for this summons, but could think of none. She had no special gifts, no unique talents; she had nothing she could imagine the goddess couldn’t find in a score of other girls at Álmhath’s court. ‘I assume it has something to do with the recent visit of Lord Tarth of the Daoine sídhe. ’
‘It has everything to do with it,’ Álmhath agreed, scowling. ‘The Tuatha have found something they weren’t meant to find. We are now in somewhat of a bind, because of it.’
‘What did they find?’ Brydie asked, as the wagon clattered over the wooden road that connected Temair to Sí an Bhrú , winding through the low hills as it followed the natural contours of the landscape. It was a glorious day, warm and clear, but sunset was approaching and the chilly wind was back. Had it not been for the breeze carrying the faintest hint of winter on its breath, it would be hard to credit it was only a few weeks until Lughnasadh.
‘That is something you don’t need to know, just now,’ the queen told her. ‘In fact, it’s rather important you don’t know. But it is directly related to the honour Danú has chosen for you.’
For a sacrilegious moment, Brydie wondered if it really was the goddess who’d marked her, or if this honour simply suited the queen. In Brydie’s experience, when the goddess spoke, she usually did so on a grand scale, sending things like floods, famines and plagues to make her will known — a will that required Druids with years of mystical training to interpret. Danú wasn’t in the habit, as far as Brydie was aware, of handing out specific instructions to individuals.
She knew better than to point this out to her queen, however.
‘What must I do, an Bhantiarna ?’ she asked. And then she added, almost as an apology to the goddess for her blasphemous thoughts, ‘Whatever honour the goddess has chosen for me, if it is in my power to do it, I will do it willingly.’
The queen nodded her approval and then glanced around, as if making certain they could not be overheard, either by their escort or — Brydie was certain — by any agent of the Tuatha lurking in the shadows in animal or bird form. Then she turned to Brydie and met her gaze evenly. ‘She wants you to bear a child of Darragh of the Undivided.’
For a long moment, Brydie didn’t answer, mostly because she couldn’t think of anything to say.
Her silence apparently frustrated the queen. ‘Is that all you’re going to do, girl? Sit there and gawp at me?’
‘I … I don’t know what to say, my lady,’ Brydie told
Brydie nodded, expecting some sort of explanation before they arrived at the Druid stronghold. She hadn’t expected the size of the escort, however. It was only seventeen miles or so to Sí an Bhrú through friendly territory. If you stood on top of the Ráith’s tower, on a clear day like today, you could actually see the white quartz stones of its entrance glistening in the sunlight. It hardly seemed necessary for the queen to have an escort of enough men-at-arms to defend them against a small army.
Álmhath’s son, Torcán, wasn’t riding with his mother in the wagon. The tall, dour prince rode at the head of the column, his future bride, Anwen, at his side, leading their progress.
Anwen will be loving that , Brydie thought, unless she’s peeved that I’m in here with the queen. Brydie couldn’t imagine why she’d rather be in the wagon. Álmhath was a daunting figure at the best of times. Much better to be riding at the head of the column in a place of honour with your future husband, than sitting here suffering the unrelenting scrutiny of your future mother-in-law.
‘Do you know why we’re headed to Sí an Bhrú ?’
Brydie shook her head. She had a few suspicions, but really didn’t know anything. As she was dressing for this journey, in her best kirtle and the fine linen shift her stepmother had given her before she left home, Brydie had racked her brains for some hint of the reason for this summons, but could think of none. She had no special gifts, no unique talents; she had nothing she could imagine the goddess couldn’t find in a score of other girls at Álmhath’s court. ‘I assume it has something to do with the recent visit of Lord Tarth of the Daoine sídhe. ’
‘It has everything to do with it,’ Álmhath agreed, scowling. ‘The Tuatha have found something they weren’t meant to find. We are now in somewhat of a bind, because of it.’
‘What did they find?’ Brydie asked, as the wagon clattered over the wooden road that connected Temair to Sí an Bhrú , winding through the low hills as it followed the natural contours of the landscape. It was a glorious day, warm and clear, but sunset was approaching and the chilly wind was back. Had it not been for the breeze carrying the faintest hint of winter on its breath, it would be hard to credit it was only a few weeks until Lughnasadh.
‘That is something you don’t need to know, just now,’ the queen told her. ‘In fact, it’s rather important you don’t know. But it is directly related to the honour Danú has chosen for you.’
For a sacrilegious moment, Brydie wondered if it really was the goddess who’d marked her, or if this honour simply suited the queen. In Brydie’s experience, when the goddess spoke, she usually did so on a grand scale, sending things like floods, famines and plagues to make her will known — a will that required Druids with years of mystical training to interpret. Danú wasn’t in the habit, as far as Brydie was aware, of handing out specific instructions to individuals.
She knew better than to point this out to her queen, however.
‘What must I do, an Bhantiarna ?’ she asked. And then she added, almost as an apology to the goddess for her blasphemous thoughts, ‘Whatever honour the goddess has chosen for me, if it is in my power to do it, I will do it willingly.’
The queen nodded her approval and then glanced around, as if making certain they could not be overheard, either by their escort or — Brydie was certain — by any agent of the Tuatha lurking in the shadows in animal or bird form. Then she turned to Brydie and met her gaze evenly. ‘She wants you to bear a child of Darragh of the Undivided.’
For a long moment, Brydie didn’t answer, mostly because she couldn’t think of anything to say.
Her silence apparently frustrated the queen. ‘Is that all you’re going to do, girl? Sit there and gawp at me?’
‘I … I don’t know what to say, my lady,’ Brydie told
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