The Bull and the Spear - 05 (6 page)

And all rose then, echoing the toast.

"Hail to Prince Corum!"

And Prince Corum acknowledged the toast and replied to it with:

"Hail to the Tuha-na-Cremm Croich!"

But in his heart he was disturbed. Where had he heard a similar toast? Not during his own life. Therefore he must recall another life, another time when he was hero and savior to a people not unlike these in some ways. Why did he feel a sense of dread, then? Had he betrayed them? Try as he might, he could not rid himself of these feelings.

A woman left her place on the bench and swayed a little as she approached him. She put a soft, strong arm about him and kissed his right cheek. "Hail to thee, hero," she murmured. "Now you shall bring us back our bull. Now you shall lead us into battle with the spear Bryionak. Now you will restore to us our lost treasures and our Great Places. And will you sire us sons, Corum? Heroes?'' And she kissed him again.

Corum smiled a bitter smile. "I will do all else, if it is in my power, lady. But one thing, the last thing, I cannot do, for Vadhagh cannot sire Mabden children."

She did not seem distressed. "There is magic for that, too, I think," she said. For the third time she kissed him before returning to her place. And Corum felt desire for her and this sense of desire reminded him of Rhalina. And then he became sad again and his thoughts turned inward.

"Do we tire you?" King Mannach asked a little later.

Corum shrugged. "I have been sleeping for too long, King Mannach. I have stored up my energy. I should not be tired."

"Sleeping? Sleeping in the mound?"

"Perhaps," answered Corum dreamily. "I thought not, but perhaps it was in the mound. I lived in a castle overlooking the sea, wasting my days in regret and despair. And then you called. At first I would not listen. Then an old friend came and told me to answer your call. So I came. But possibly that was the dream ..." Corum began to think he had quaffed too much of the sweet mead. It was strong. His vision was cloudy and he was filled with a peculiar mixture of melancholy and euphoria, "Is it important to you, King Mannach, my place of origin?"

' 'No. What is important is that you are here at Caer Mahlod, that our people see you and take heart."

' 'Tell me more of the Fhoi Myore and how you were defeated.”

"Of the Fhoi Myore I can tell you little, save that it is said they were not always united against us—that they are not all of the same blood. They do not make war as we once made war. It was our way to choose champions from the ranks of the contesting armies. Those champions would fight for us, man to man, matching skills until one was beaten. Then his life would be spared if he had not sustained bad injuries from his fight. Often no weapons at all would be used— bard would match bard, composing satires against their enemies until the best satirist sent the others slinking away in shame. But the Fhoi Myore had no such notion of battle when they came against us. That is why we were defeated so easily. We are not killers. They want Death—crave for Death—follow Death—cry after Him to turn and face them. That folk, the Cold Folk, are like that. Those People of the Pines, they ride willy-nilly in pursuit of Death and herald the Reign of Death, of the Winter Lord, across all the land you ancients called Bro-an-Mabden, the Land in the West. This land. Now we have people in the North, the South and the West. Only in the East have we no people left, for they are cold now, fallen before the People of the Pines ..."

King Mannach's voice began to take on the aspects of a dirge, a lament for his people in their defeat.' 'O Corum, do not judge us by what you see now. I know that we were once a great folk with many powers, but we became poor after our first fights with the Fhoi Myore, when they took away the land of Lwym-an-Esh and all our books and lore with it . . ."

‘ 'This sounds like a legend to explain a natural disaster,'' Corum said gently.

"So thought I until now," King Mannach told him, and Corum was bound to accept this.

"Though we are poor," continued the king, "and though much of our control over the inanimate world is lost—for all this, we are still the same folk. Our minds are the same. We do not lack intelligence, Prince Corum."

Corum had not considered that they had. Indeed, he had been astonished at the king's clear thinking, having expected to meet a race much more primitive in its ideas. And though this people had come to accept magic and wizardry as a fact, they were not otherwise superstitious.

"Yours is a proud and noble people, King Mannach," he said sincerely. "And I will serve them as best I can. But it is for you to tell me how to serve, for I have less knowledge of the Fhoi Myore than have you."

' 'The Fhoi Myore have great fear of our old magical treasures," King Mannach said. "To us they had become little more than objects of interesting antiquity, but now we believe that they mean more—that they do have powers and represent a danger to the Fhoi Myore. And all here will agree on one thing—that the Bull of Crinanass has been seen in these parts."

"This bull has been mentioned before."

"Aye. A giant black bull which will kill any who seeks to capture it, save one."

"And is that one called Corum?" asked Corum with a smile. "His name is not mentioned in the old texts. All the texts say is that he will bear the spear called Bryionak, clutched in a fist which shines like the moon."

"And what is the spear Bryionak?"

"A magical spear, made by the Sidhi Smith, Goffanon, and now again in his possession. You see, Prince Corum, after the Fhoi Myore came to Caer Llud and captured the High King, a warrior called Onragh, whose duty had been to protect the ancient treasures, fled with them in a chariot. But as he fled the treasures fell, one by one, from the chariot. Some were captured by the pursuing Fhoi Myore, we heard. Others were found by Mabden. And the rest, if the rumors are to be trusted, were found by folk older than the Mabden or the Fhoi Myore—the Sidhi, whose gifts to us they originally were. We cast many runes and our wizards sought many oracles before we learned that the spear called Bryionak was once again in the possession of this mysterious Sidhi, the Smith Goffanon."

"And do you know where this smith dwells?"

"He is thought to dwell in a place now called Hy-Breasail, a mysterious island of enchantment lying south of our eastern shores. Our druids believe that Hy-Breasail is all that remains of Lwym-an-Esh."

"But the Fhoi Myore rule there, do they not?" "They avoid the island. I know not why." ? 'The danger must be great if they deserted a land that was once theirs."

"My thinking also," King Mannach agreed. "But was the danger only apparent to the Fhoi Myore? No Mabden has ever returned from Hy-Breasail. The Sidhi are said to be blood relations to the Vadhagh. Of the same stock, many say. Perhaps only a Vadhagh could go to Hy-Breasail and return?"

Corum laughed aloud. "Perhaps. Very well, King Mannach, I will go there and look for your magical spear."

"You could go to your death."

"Death is not what I fear, King."

Soberly, King Mannach nodded. "Aye. I believe I understand you, Prince Corum. There is much more to fear than death in these dark days of ours."

The flames of the brands were burning low, guttering. The merry-making was now subdued. A single harpist played a soulful tune and sang a song of doomed lovers which Corum, in his drunkenness, identified with his own story, that of himself and Rhalina. And it seemed to him, in the half-light, that the girl who had spoken to him earlier looked much like Rhalina. He stared at her as, unconscious of his gaze, she talked and laughed with one of the young warriors. And he began to hope. He hoped that somewhere in this world Rhalina had been reincarnated, that he would find her somewhere and, though she would not know him, she would fall in love with him as she had done before.

The girl turned her head and saw that he stared. She smiled at him, bowing slightly.

He raised his wine-cup, shouting somewhat wildly as he got to his feet. ‘ 'Sing on, bard, for I drink to my lost love Rhalina. And I pray that I shall find her in this grim world."

And then he lowered his head, feeling that he had become foolish. The girl, seen properly, looked very little like Rhalina. But her eyes remained fixed on his single one as he sank back into his seat and, again, he stared at her with curiosity.

' ‘I see you find my daughter worthy of your attention, Lord of the Mound," came King Mannach's voice from beside Corum. The king spoke a little sardonically.

"Your daughter?"

"She is called Medhbh. Is she fair?"

"She is fair. She is fine, King Mannach."

"She is my consort, since her mother was killed in our first fight with the Fhoi Myore. She is my right hand, my wisdom. A great battle-leader is Medhbh and our finest shot with battle-snare and the sling and tathlum."

"What is the tathlum?"

"A hard ball, made from the ground up brains and bones of our enemies. The Fhoi Myore fear it. That is why we use it. The brains and bones are mixed with lime and the lime sets hard. It seems an effective weapon against the invaders—and few weapons are effective, for their magic is strong."

Corum said softly, as he sipped still more mead,' 'Before I set off to find your spear for you, I should like very much to see the nature of our enemies."

King Mannach smiled. "It is a request we can easily grant, for two of the Fhoi Myore and their hunting packs have been seen not far from here. Our scouts believe that they head towards Caer Mahlod to attack our fort. They should be here by tomorrow's sunset."

"You expect to beat them? You seem unconcerned." ‘ 'We shall not beat them. Attacks such as this are, we think, more in the nature of a diversion for the Fhoi Myore. On some occasions they have succeeded in destroying one of our forts, but mainly they do this simply to unnerve us."

"Then you will let me guest here until tomorrow's sunset?"

"Aye. If you promise to flee and seek Hy-Breasail if the fort begins to fall."

"I promise," said Corum.

Again he found himself glancing at King Mannach's daughter. She was laughing, flinging back her thick, red hair as she drained her mead-cup. He looked at her smooth limbs with their golden bangles, her firm, well-proportioned figure. She was the very picture of a warrior-princess, yet there was something else about her manner that made him think she was more than that. There was a fine intelligence in her eyes, and a sense of humor. Or did he imagine it all, wanting so desperately to find Rhalina in any Mabden woman.

At length he forced himself to leave the hall, to be escorted by King Mannach to the room set aside for him. It was simple, plainly furnished, with a wooden bed sprung with hide ropes, a straw mattress and furs to cover him against the cold. And he slept well in that bed and did not dream at all.

BOOK TWO

New foes, new friends, new enigmas

THE FIRST CHAPTER

SHAPES IN THE MIST

And the first morning dawned, and Corum saw the land.

Through the window, filled with oiled parchment to admit light and allow a shadowy view of the world outside, Corum saw that the walls and roofs of rocky Caer Mahlod sparkled with bright frost. Frost clung to gray granite stones. Frost hardened on the ground and frost made the trees, in the nearby forest below, bright and sharp and dead.

A log fire had burned in the low-roofed room Corum had been given, but now it was little more than warm ash. Corum shivered as he washed and donned his clothes.

And this, Corum thought, was springtime. Once spring had been early and golden and winter barely noticed, an interval between the mellow days of autumn and the fresh mornings of the springtime.

Corum thought he recognized the landscape. He was not, in fact, far from the promontory on which Castle Erorn stood, in a former time, at least. The view through the oiled parchment window was further obscured by a suggestion of sea-mist rising from the other side of the fortress town, but far away could just be seen the outline of a crag which was almost certainly one of the crags close to Erorn. He conceived a wish to go to that point and see if Castle Erorn still stood and, if it did stand, if it was occupied by one who might know something of the castle's history. Before he left this part of the country he promised himself he would visit Castle Erorn, if only to witness a symbol of his own mortality.

Corum remembered the proud, laughing girl in the hall on the previous night. It was no betrayal of Rhalina, surely, if he admitted that he was attracted to the girl. And there had been little doubt that she had been attracted to him. Yet why did he feel so reluctant to admit the fact? Because he was afraid? How many women could he love and watch grow old and perish before his own long life were over? How many times could he feel the anguish of loss? Or would he begin to grow cynical, taking the women for a short while and leaving them before he could grow to love them too much? For their sake and for his, that might be the best solution to his profoundly tragic situation.