The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance Part 33

"But no one knew where you were," Ailill breathed. "And that is why the Danaan are not on the heels of their precious child." He raised his voice, holding Bress' head up with a finger under his chin. "You have been a very naughty boy. Your parents are likely half-mad with worry over you. Do you know the way home?"

Bress burst into tears again. "Must we go now? The cows are tired and I am, too."

"No, no." Ailill gave him a rough hug. "We will wait until morning at least. Perhaps your people will come before we leave and I will not need to try to follow your trail back to the sidhe. Now let me see what food those thieves carried so I can feed you, then get their blankets and make up your bed."

"No bed for you?" The boy sounded anxious, as if he feared Ailill would abandon him.

"I have my own. I was camping above, up on the hill . . ." Ailill's voice faded. He had heard the boy crying but then he had seen the fire. Those thieves were idiots, lighting a fire that the Danaan would see. He shook his head, and said to Bress, "And I must fetch my horse too."

By the time he had fed the child and settled him to sleep, retrieved his horse and his supplies, Ailill was finding it hard to breathe past the pain in his side. He sank down beside the fire, which was dying again, and wondered whether he could force himself to gather more firewood. Surely the Danaan must now be close, even if they had not known just when the boy was lost or from where he had been taken. Would they need the light of the fire to find this camp?

Ailill really did not want to follow the track of the cattle back to the sidhe. He did not want to move at all. If Bress' people came, he could give them the boy and the cows and lie up for a few days while his rib set. He closed his eyes.

He was to get no peace, however. His long silence had seemingly convinced the thieves that he had gone to sleep. Now he heard one of the men cursing softly and moving about, doubtless trying to free his thumbs. Ailill jerked upright and yelped as it seemed as if a knife stabbed his side. Gritting his teeth, he levered himself to his feet more carefully. No matter the pain, he had better bind his prisoners more securely.

And suddenly the small clearing was full of men, half with drawn swords and the other half with drawn bows. And every nocked arrow was aimed at him. Ailill raised his empty hands.

"I am not the man who took your child," he said. "Those who did lie bound. The child is here, asleep."

"I am not asleep," Bress called, sitting up. "And what this man says is true."

There was a high, musical cry, and a woman came running from behind the men to catch the child into her arms and kiss him. The men lowered their swords and relaxed the tension of the bowstrings somewhat. Holding his side, Ailill let himself sink to the ground. One of the men lifted the hand not holding his sword and gestured. Lights formed bright, misty b.a.l.l.s in the air and the clearing was as bright as day.

Ailill swallowed a shriek of terror. A thin sound worked its way up his throat, but both the cattle thieves screamed their fear aloud and covered his small exclamation. A babble of sound came from those around the boy, the woman asking questions of the child to discover if he had been hurt, was hungry, was cold, was thirsty. The men were not so sympathetic and mixed scolding with many questions.

Eventually the tall man who had gestured the witch-lights into being came and crouched down beside Ailill, who swallowed the heart that seemed to be trying to climb up his throat and into his mouth. He did his best to straighten himself.

"How did you come to notice the child and the cattle?" the man asked.

"I heard the child crying. At first I did nothing, believing that a cattle drover had punished his son or his apprentice, but then I heard the little one begging Mother Dana for help . . ."

"So you saved him, knowing he was Danaan."

"Yes."

"How?"

Ailill started to laugh and then gasped, his hand against his painful ribs. "It was easy because the pair that took him were such fools." He described how he had overcome the thieves, ending, "Perhaps they had never heard of the Tuatha De Dunaan. But even so, imagine stealing cattle and then lighting a campfire as if no one would pursue."

"You know it was not the cattle we pursued," the tall man said. "What do you want for protecting our child?"

Ailill glanced sidelong at the lights floating above the men's heads, lighting the whole area. He took a breath, wincing and holding his side, but he described his desire for Medb.

The tall man shook his head. "I cannot interfere with a Milesian marriage or-"

"G.o.ds, no!" Ailill exclaimed. "If Medb should learn you had anything to do with freeing her from Conchobar, she would kill me. No, that is her business and she will manage it. But I must come to her with goods exactly the equal of what she has and to do that I must gather my goods and hold them in this area until she is ready to be bound to me. Only I have no one I can trust to hold my wealth for me until Medb is ready."

"And you would trust me, who you have never met before, whose name you do not even know, to hold your goods?"

Ailill laughed and glanced up at the magical lights. "What I will gather will be riches for me but little above dross for you. I have seen your cattle. I see the clothing you wear to chase thieves through the woods. The torc around your neck would buy a kingdom. And no, I do not want any of it. Medb could not match any gift you gave me and all such wealth would do is wake envy and desire in my equals."

For the first time the man crouched beside Ailill smiled. "A wise man, and scarcely a man yet. Very well, I will hold your wealth for you although to do that I must give you the key to my sidhe. That I cannot give without recompense; my grat.i.tude for your rescue of our child is not enough."

"What recompense can such as I give a being who can light up the night?"

"We are strong, but few. If you Milesians gathered together enough force, you could drown us in numbers. My recompense is that you never seek a quarrel with the Tuatha De Dunaan for any reason at all. If you are attacked, you may defend yourself but you may not follow to gain a victory, even from your attacker."

Ailill was silent, considering. If the Danaan should attack and he drove them away, he could still lose men and property and if he could not continue the fight, he would not be able to seize compensation. And then he thought that he had never heard of the Danaan attacking anyone who had not first injured them. Most of them did not live in places where they came in contact with ordinary people. A few did live in the world but . . . And then he bit his lip to keep from smiling. He would not need to worry about losses. Medb would retrieve whatever he lost for him.

He had forgotten his ribs, started to draw a deep breath of relief, began to cough, and groaned. Nonetheless he managed to say, "I will swear to that recompense." And as the words left his mouth, an odd tingle took hold in his chest. "You have laid a gets on me." he gasped.

"So I have," the tall man said calmly. "It will do you no harm, unless you violate your oath. And even then, it will warn you first by what you now feel. Otherwise you will never know you carry the gets." He smiled again and his eyes looked kind and the odd tingle disappeared from Ailill's chest. "My name is Bodb," he added, offering with his name his trust, "and if you will take no other gift, at least let us see to your injury."

To that Ailill agreed with some relief, for the pain in his side was sapping his strength, but he did not expect to fall suddenly asleep and to wake sitting on his horse in bright daylight in a place he had never seen before. Their party seemed to be emerging from a dense wood that, to his right, opened into a wide valley of gra.s.s. In the distance, Ailill could see more cattle, like those with the boy, and a small herd of horses.

To his left was a hill broken by a shallow cave. Ailill could see the bare, unworked rock at the back of the cave because it was illuminated by sunlight.

"Dismount now," Bodb said, coming to Ailill's side and offering an arm to help. "How do you wish to be called while you are healing with us?"

Ailill laughed aloud and was instantly aware his rib was still painful, if not as excruciatingly painful as it had been. And when he tried to draw breath, he was also aware that his chest had been bound. He took Bodb's arm and slid to the ground. One of the men who had been in the clearing when the Danaan found him came and took his horse, murmuring that the animal would be cared for. Ailill nodded thanks.

"My name is Ailill mac Mata," he said, "my true name since you already have a hand on my heart. And I have also been called Ailill Dubd, Black Ailill, for obvious reasons."

"Come with me," Bobd said, offering his arm as an aid when Ailill swayed.

They were headed directly into the cave. Ailill hesitated, expecting Bodb to slow down lest in a step or two they walk right into the back wall of the cavern. But when they came under the cave roof, a sharp pang and a sense like a blow on the back of his neck made Ailill cry out and close his eyes in protest.

He had a moment of bitter shame and rage for allowing himself to be charmed and betrayed, but when his eyes opened an instant later he saw not bare rock nor more Tuatha De Danaan to make him a prisoner, but a broad corridor, lit with the same witch-lights that had lit the campsite of the cattle thieves.

Bodb tightened his grip on Ailill's arm as he swayed again. The corridor was alive with beauty, with such pictures that the walls seemed to open into successive scenes of Eriu: in a moonlit glade couples of Danaan danced; in a sunlit valley the golden cattle of the Danaan grazed; sharp, bare cliffs rose from a landlocked harbour where fis.h.i.+ng boats furled or raised painted sails; fields were tended by women with skirts kilted above their knees, who looked, laughing, over their shoulders.

Farther down the corridor a metalsmith worked, the flames of his forge seeming to leap out of the painted image. Danaans sat before looms on which the half-formed weavings were of superlative beauty, a minstrel, lap-harp on his knee, sang to a spellbound audience. Only one part of life did not appear; there were no images of war. No Danaan attired in precious armour swung a s.h.i.+ning sword; no Danaan rushed upon another with upraised axe.

Ailill was surprised. It was true that most of the few Danaan he had come across had been minstrels or bards, but the others had served as men-at-arms in the households he knew and they were superb fighters. It seemed that despite their proficiency in arms they did not honour the art of war. Before he could ask about that oddity, the corridor opened out into a huge room. A fire burned in the centre on a polished marble hearth without smoke, although heat waves distorted the air above the leaping flames.

Such flames . . . red and orange and yellow, yes, but among them and around them were glints of green and lavender, blue and silver. And they seemed to sway and leap and dance to the sound of such music as Ailill had never heard.

Beyond the fire was a dais on which was a high chair cast, it seemed, of silver. Lower than the chair were stools, three grouped together. From one a silver-haired Danaan stood, abruptly cutting off the music of his harp with a hand flat on the strings.

"Lord," he called, "what of the child?"

A crowd of Danaan rose from the benches that circled the fire and turned to look at them.

"In by a lesser gate with his mother," Bobd said, laughing. "He was unrepentant enough, proud of how the cattle obeyed him, so that I would not further flatter his vanity by having you all petting him and telling him how glad you are to have him again." Then the laughter was gone. "That little devil went right out of the lios into the unprotected land where no one thought to look for him at first. We were near two days behind and might have lost him, except for our guest here."

The bard or minstrel frowned. "A hard-used guest," he said uncertainly.

"Not by us," Bodb said, smiling. "This is Ailill mac Mata, who was injured in wresting our ill-behaved babe from the two villains who had seized him."

A murmur pa.s.sed through the watching crowd, and two men and a woman began to work their way around the benches to come to where Bobd and Ailill stood. Bobd continued to speak.

"If not for Ailill Dubd's injury, which I think we must heal before we return him to the world, I would say we had wasted our effort in following the boy's trail. Ailill was intending to bring the child back to us." The smile on his lips disappeared. "The thieves he delivered to us bound, and bound they will remain, to labour in the depths of the sidhe without sight of sun or moon until they die."

The woman had reached them, and she stretched a hand to touch Ailill's side very gently. She shook her head. "And if you would hold your tongue for a moment or two," she said severely to Bodb, "we could make a start on the curing. First do something useful. Call for a litter."

Those words were the last thing Ailill remembered clearly. Because of his sense of wonder at what he had been seeing and hearing, Ailill had been fighting the intense pain in his side and a growing weakness. He remembered fingers gently prying his hand from Bobd's arm, to which he had been clinging with increasing need. Then he was lying down and seeing with amazement above him a clear blue sky with white clouds and a bright sun.

Ailill closed his eyes. He knew they were underground. He remembered entering the shallow cave, feeling a pain in his head and neck, and then seeing the long corridor form. When he opened his eyes again the sunlit sky was gone and he was lying in an ordinary chamber with a whitewashed ceiling. Beside the bed was an open window that looked out on a corner of the forest and a patch of meadow. Ailill raised a hand and touched cold stone.

The woman from the large hall bent over him, smiling. "It is only an image. You are still in the sidhe."

Ailill blinked and nodded, understanding. He s.h.i.+fted slightly. The sheet above him was incredibly smooth and the blanket was light and warm, but . . . He s.h.i.+fted again.

The woman shook her head. "I am sorry the bed is so hard but your ribs will hurt less if you move in your sleep. Now-" she put an arm behind him and raised him up; Ailill was amazed at her strength because she was so slender and looked frail "- drink this and you will soon begin to feel much better."

It was true enough. The pain in his side disappeared almost completely, but Ailill continued to be weak and very sleepy. By what seemed to him the next day, however, he was able to sit up with only the faintest ache in his side. And the day after that, Bodb came and helped him walk around the sidhe. Ailill was surprised at how feeble he felt although by now the pain was completely gone. He could bend and twist without a twinge. Bodb said he was longer healing than a Danaan would be and suggested that he exercise a bit before he left the safety of the sidhe.

Ailill was in no hurry. Medb had five more months to carry the child and he doubted she would leave Conchobar before her babe had survived the illnesses of childhood. He thanked Bodb for the invitation and sought out those who would be willing to spar with him and teach him.

A week pa.s.sed. Ailill was thrilled by what the Danaan were willing to show him. His sword work, which had been good, was now superlative. They gave him a bow he needed time to master its pull without strain. A month pa.s.sed, and then another. He rode out with a hunting troop and took a boar without help, other than from the dogs, and when he looked at his arms and legs he realized they had lost any hint of boy. He was all man now. Another month pa.s.sed and another. Ailill bethought him of what he still needed to do to match Medb's wealth and he told Bodb he would need to leave soon.

A week later, his horse was readied and saddlebags generously filled with travel supplies, his bedroll tied atop. Ailill once again thanked Bodb for his kindness and hospitality and asked, "When I have gathered what I need, how will I find the sidhe?"

Bodb smiled. "Only desire to find it, and you will be drawn."

Now and again during her pregnancy Medb thought of the dark-haired boy and wondered what had happened to him. With her belly full and the child within acknowledged, Medb tasted this man and that circ.u.mspectly, as she did not wish to annoy Conchobar further. But there were none among Conchobar's liegemen or among the visitors who came that were much to her taste and she thought again of Ailill mac Mata and the red hunger in his eyes.

However, as her time drew near, Medb began to think of what she would do about the child. Less than ever did she intend to stay in Ulster and she did not want to be tied to suckling a babe. She would need a wet nurse.

She looked at the women who were also with child and due a little ahead of her. Among them, Ethne of the High Hills seemed suited. She was neither unkind nor too tender-hearted; it did a child no good, especially not the child of a king, to be too much indulged. One fault Ethne had was that she was too fond of her husband; she might get with child again too soon. Medb considered whether there was a way to have the man sent away on a long mission but, most conveniently, he went on a raid . . . and died.

The shock of grief brought on the woman's labour and she delivered a boy child a few weeks early. Medb thought Ethne might have died of grief herself, except for the child who held her to the world. He lived, but was frail. Medb went to Ethne and asked if she would suckle her child also. Ethne's b.r.e.a.s.t.s ran with milk and her own boy took little.

"Why not?" Ethne said.

Medb made her bargain but she also saw Ethne's eyes were dark with fear as she looked at her own child. If he died she would have nothing. She would cleave to Medb's young one.

"You will have the keeping of him," Medb a.s.sured her. "I will be busy with other things."

She was within days of her time. She had been doing women's easy tasks for a few weeks, carding and spinning wool, for she was heavy and awkward, but now she took up her sword practice again and went to run down game in the forest. It was no surprise to anyone when her labour pains started. Nor was it much of a surprise when her bearing was quick and easy and a big, strong man-child howled on her belly.

The women sent to Conchobar as soon as Medb was clean, and he came and looked at his son. "What will you name him?" Medb asked.

Conchobar scowled, but his expression softened when his eyes rested on the child. "Name him Glaisne," he said, and turned and left the house. Medb watched him go. That he had named the boy was important and during the months of their silent, wary truce she had discovered some worth in Conchobar. He ruled his people well. She had learned much sitting beside him as Banrion of Ulster.

Ethne had attended the delivery and when Conchobar was gone she took up the child and cleaned him and wrapped him. Glaisne took the breast she offered and suckled hard.

"I will watch over him," Ethne said, and Medb turned on her side and slept.

In a week, Medb was well recovered. After that she was seldom in the house. She was giving all her attention to her weapons practice and her herd, which had diminished under the care of Conchobar's herdsmen. Seeking widely in the pasturage, she found three calves with the red and white markings of her cows separated from their mothers. For a moment she fingered the knife on her belt, but then dropped her hand and instead sent her youngest lover to Tara to bring back servants bound only to her.

Medb would not abide treachery. Three things she required of a husband: that he be without fear, meanness or jealousy. Conchobar was brave enough and he took no revenge on the men she now and again took to her bed. But it is mean to steal from a wife's herd to keep her subservient. He had taken her cattle; she would take his son as soon as he was weaned. But when she returned to her house at the time when usually she was at weapons practice, she found Conchobar bent over the child's cradle.

Knife in hand, Medb stepped silently towards her husband. To harm his own son just because she was Glaisne's mother . . .

But now, close enough, she heard Conchobar's soft murmur of praise, of love. What held him bent over the cradle with a hand outstretched was no desire to do harm but the tight grip of baby fingers on his thumb.

So Medb waited warily, and the men she had bound to her by l.u.s.t and by admiration and by the judicious giving of rings and armlets watched her back and helped her avoid strange accidents. She waited a whole year longer, until Glaisne had teeth in his mouth and toddled among the men, already reaching for their bright attractions, their swords, their knives.

She waited until she saw Conchobar teaching the boy with more patience than she suspected he had. Then in the autumn of the year when Conchobar rode out hunting she called the men who answered to her, gathered up her possessions the silver plates and cups, the gold armbands and neck torcs, the embroidered linens and fur-trimmed wool mantles and bade her herdsmen drive her cattle south, to Tara.

Eochaid Feidleach was not overjoyed to see her, but he was in contention with Tinni mac Conri, Ri of Connacht, and when Medb offered to lead the men who had come with her in Eochaid's support he agreed. She did so well that when Tinni was driven out, Eochaid gave Connacht and the dun at Cruachan into Medb's hands.

For almost a month Medb watched from the walls for a dark-haired, dark-eyed warrior with just her equal of goods. When he did not come, she laughed at herself for being a fool and wondered instead what it would be like to utterly rule her husband. So she welcomed Tinni back into Cruachan and into her bed, making sure he got no child upon her.

That was no success. Although Tinni raised no challenge to her, she learned that her father had not put the man out for nothing. He was useless in the defence of the lands and people of Connacht against any active threat, and he was not honest; he stole, an armband here a neck torc there, to buy warriors. Medb only learned that after he was gone, but it taught her that a husband without possessions was no better than a husband richer than she.

She was rid of Tinni without much effort though. It so happened that Eochaid Dala had conceived a hot desire for her during the war against Tinni and he came and challenged Tinni for his place. Medb made no protest, although she did not yet know Tinni had robbed her; she had no distaste for Eochaid and was pleased to take him to her bed and share with him the rule of Connacht.

Yet she still took care not to conceive although she knew she would need an heir for Connacht. She did not know for what she was waiting until, in the spring of the fifth year since she had come to be Conchobar's wife, she came to the central of the seven doors of Cruachan to welcome a visitor and her gaze met the hot eyes of Ailill mac Mata.

"You are a little late in coming to find me," Medb said, Eochaid standing behind her and staring at the black hair and black eyes of her guest.

Ailill bowed his head. "I will tell you why, Medb of Cruachan, but not now when it would seem I was excusing myself for not holding to my word. When you have cause to trust me better I will tell you. Now I will offer my services in what capacity you wish to use me."

She looked him over as she would a horse offered for sale, except that she did not examine his teeth. There was no need for that; they shone white and strong in his dark face when he smiled. But scrawny was not a word that fitted him now as even Conchobar would have admitted the phrase no longer suited Medb either. Ailill's limbs were thick with corded muscle, his chest deep and strong, and his shoulders were three axe-handles wide.

"Conchobar has not forgiven me for leaving him and taking with me my possessions," Medb said. "Though they do not wear his plaids, raiders come from Ulster to steal my cattle and hara.s.s my farmers. I have need of fighting men to protect my land."

Ailill bowed his head again. "As you order, Ri."

Behind her, Medb heard Eochain Dala mutter discontent. Although she did not turn, his grumblings did not please her. Eochaid seemed to think that because they were bedmates he had a lock on her body, which was pure foolishness. Her body was hers to seek pleasure with but more important, it was goods with which she won loyalty and paid for debts and favours, just as were the rings on her fingers or the armlets she wore. Any man who wished to be her husband needed to be free of jealousy as well as brave and generous.

But she did not pay Ailill with that coin, and although he ate her with his eyes whenever they came together, he gave no sign of asking for that favour.

Within a month she noticed the men of the dun tended to look towards Ailill rather than Eochaid whenever an action was planned. And over that time she had noticed that the men who served with Ailill came back from their protective forays in better spirits and with fewer injuries. Before the second month of Ailill's return was ended, a deputation came to her to ask that she make Ailill chief of her warband.

This Medb did gladly, lifting a thick torc of gold from her neck and leaning forward to place it around Ailill's. He did not look at the gold symbol of power as she offered it; he looked at her bare throat and at the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and he wiped sweat from his upper lip when he bent his head to receive the symbol of his new authority.

Eochaid was not pleased and he whispered to Medb that Ailill and the men he had brought with him out of Erna exaggerated their successes against the raiders from Ulster. He told of secret arrangements between Ailill and Conchobar's troops that they cease raiding now and when he was seated on the throne beside Medb he would give them her cattle as if they had been won as prizes of war.

Only the men bound to Medb herself did not confirm Eochaid's warnings and so Medb met the glance of the dark eyes, saw the pink tongue touch the lips in the swarthy face and shook her head at Eochaid Dala.

"No," she said, laughing. "Cattle are not the pay Ailill mac Mata desires of me. I will not outlaw him on your word. My own men say he is a leader with whom they are content."

Others came to her also, a few she suspected were in Eochaid's pay, but she would listen to none of them and her gaze locked more and more often on that of Ailill when he sat just below her on the drinking benches. They laughed at the same jests, and Eochaid's expression grew blacker and blacker.