The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island) (23 page)

“Perhaps the reason the spell of protection works is because Queen Dessia’s enemies believe the tale,” said Rinc. “In my experience, the Irish believe all sorts of ridiculous notions. It seems to be their nature, along with being quarrelsome and hot-headed.” He scowled in apparent disgust.

Bridei was amused. “You don’t appear to have a very high opinion of the Irish.”

“They’re not the most intelligent of races,” said Rinc. “They blame some ancient race they called fairies for many of their misfortunes. And they’re always fighting among themselves over next to nothing.”

Although he couldn’t quite say why, Bridei felt compelled to defend the Irish. He admired their passion and fire. That was why he found Dessia so appealing. “It seems to me that like most people, the Irish fight over land and resources. That’s why Tiernan O’Bannon attacked Cahermara all those years ago. He sought to take over Queen Dessia’s father’s lands.”

“Is Tiernan O’Bannon still alive?” asked Penrick.

“Aye. He has lands to the west of here. None of his holdings are on the coast, which limits his access to trade. I’m certain that’s at least part of his interest in this territory.”

“Under those circumstances, we’re unlikely to meet this Tiernan O’Bannon,” said Penrick. “We seldom travel inland, and usually only visit larger settlements. We put in here at Cahermara mainly because it’s a good stopping place on our way to Ath Cliath. Speaking of which, having you decided to come with us?”

“When are you leaving?” asked Bridei.

“It depends on the weather,” said Penrick. “With luck, tomorrow.”

“I’ve like to take you up on your offer,” said Bridei thoughtfully. “But I don’t want Queen Dessia to know what I’m up to. Perhaps I’ll pretend to set off in a different direction and at a different time. Make it look like I’m traveling inland, then double back and meet up with you before you sail.”

Penrick nodded. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

Bridei rose. “On that note, I’ll bid you farewell. I have some things to do before tomorrow.”

Seeing Bridei get to his feet, Dessia left her spot outside door of the barracks and rushed around to the side of the building. She hid in the corner there until Bridei was well across the yard. Then she left her hiding place and raced toward the gate. She called up to the gatetower and Flann came down. “Where’s Keenan?” she demanded.

“Out on patrol,” Flann answered.

“As soon as he gets back, have him come and see me,” said Dessia.

Flann nodded climbed back up the ladder to the gatetower. Dessia watched him go, her whole body taut with anxiety. “Keenan,” she muttered to herself. “I need you. I need you now. You were right about Bridei after all. Curse the lying bard!”

She exhaled sharply, nursing her anger. She had to make herself hate him. But it was so hard.

Her next breath was a sob. She reminded herself of what she’d heard. A lot of words hadn’t been clear to her, but she’d made out enough to guess Bridei’s plan. His mention of Tiernan O’Bannon was the most damning thing. Then she’d heard him say something about not wanting her to know what he’d up to. At the very end, he appeared to be arranging to meet up with the traders in order to set sail with them. So, he
was
a spy. The only way it could be more obvious was if he’d announced his plan to the whole hall!

At that bitter thought, her anger took over again. Pacing, she outlined her plan, muttering to herself as she did so: “I’ll have Keenan follow him when he leaves. Then kill him once he gets a reasonable distance away. Bury his body in the Forest of Mist. No one will ever know. If anyone asks, we’ll mention him setting off and the direction he went, then insist we know nothing else.”

It was a sound plan, and perfectly justified. She had to do whatever was necessary to protect her lands and her people. She’d killed men in battle. This was no different.

Except it was,
a voice in her head reminded her.
You weren’t in love with those men!
“By the gods! How can I do this?” she moaned.

She’d never felt so despairing, so conflicted. It reminded her of the night long ago when Cahermara was attacked. Then she’d also felt torn in two. She’d longed to stay and try and help her family, but knew if she did so she would die. She’d feared to enter the Forest of Mist, but also known it was the only place she might be safe.

Once again, she had a wrenching choice to make. Yet it was clear—as it had been that night long ago—she could only make one decision. She had to think of the future, to consider what was best for her people.

But, by the gods, how could she bear to kill Bridei—and in such a cowardly fashion? It was one thing to kill a man in battle. Quite another to kill a man when he was unarmed and helpless. And how would Keenan go about it? Would he run Bridei through with his sword? Cut his throat?

The very idea sickened her. It seemed like such a loathsome, dishonorable thing to do. And even if Keenan was the one who performed the act, she would be the one to blame. And if she were wrong, if Bridei wasn’t a spy, if what she’d heard didn’t mean what she thought it did, then she would have done something truly evil.

She gave a moan of misery. “What should I do? How do I deal with this?” This was too momentous a thing to decide on her own. But who could she ask for help? Who could guide her? All at once, she knew.

Again, she called up to Flann. When he came down, she said, “I need to borrow your cloak.” When he gaped at her, she continued, “I’m leaving the rath, and I don’t have time to go up to my chambers and fetch my own.”

Flann nodded, still looking puzzled. He took off his cloak and handed it to her. Realizing that he would now be freezing up in the drafty watchtower, she said, “As soon as I'm gone, you have my leave to fetch another cloak.” She gestured distractedly. “You can have one of mine if you wish. Tell Aife to give you my old green one.”

“Aye, milady.” Flann’s eyes were round and staring. Dessia was aware her behavior must seem witless, but she didn’t care. She must leave before she encountered Bridei. There was no way she could face him.

“Now,” she said to Flann. “Open the gate.”

“Where’s the queen?” Bridei asked Ona as the serving woman entered the hall carrying a basket of bannocks.

Ona motioned with her head. “Perhaps she’s up in the tower.”

“I checked there, of course,” Bridei said. “I’ve also been to the kitchen, all the storage sheds, the workmen’s barracks, the hall.” He ticked off the places on his fingers.

“Have you asked Aife if she’s seen her?”

Bridei fought to control his temper. “Aye. She was the first person I asked.”

Ona shrugged. “Well, she must be somewhere. Unless she left the dun. Are the traders still here? Could she have gone with them when they returned to their boat?”

“The traders aren’t leaving until tomorrow. But you’re right. She could have left the rath.” Bridei turned and started for the gate. Reaching it, he called up to Flann in the watchtower, “Have you seen the queen?”

Flann came down to answer him. “The queen left the rath a while ago,” the guard said. “Most likely heading toward the Forest of Mist. What’s wrong with her, do you think?”

“What do you mean?”

“She was behaving very strangely. Had me give her my cloak because she said she didn’t have time to fetch her own. Her whole manner was distracted and odd, as if she were upset about something.”

Bridei thanked Flann, then turned and walked back toward the hall. Poor Dessia. She must be having second thoughts about what they’d done. She wouldn’t be the first woman to regret losing her maidenhood. Still, her attitude rankled a bit. She’d been more than willing last night, and he’d thought he’d pleased her well. But this was Dessia. Proud, stubborn Dessia. She would find it difficult to admit she’d done something for her own pleasure. Even now she must be agonizing over how what they’d done would affect her plans for her kingdom and her people.

Should he go after her? He imagined finding her by the lake and making love to her in that magical place. It would be amazing, he had no doubt. On the other hand, Dessia had obviously gone there to be alone. She needed to work out her feelings and accept that she had a right to enjoy her own life. As much as he wanted to follow Dessia, consideration demanded he let her return in her own time.

* * *

Dessia walked along the forest pathway, her heart heavy and aching. It was obvious she wasn’t going to find answers here. This time there had been no signs of magic at all. No mist had risen as she walked along the pathway. And when she reached the lake, the area around it had been as been as barren and winter-drab as the rest of landscape. She’d gone to the lake and bent down and peered into the water. But the only thing she’d seen was her own face, pale and pinched with tension and distress. In the matter of Bridei, the forces surrounding the lake were silent.

Perhaps that was her answer. The fact that she’d experienced no magic this day might mean her plan to get rid of Bridei was a sound one. Perhaps the forest and the lake were in mourning for what she must do. But that seemed unlikely. If the forces here knew Bridei was a traitor, why had she seen the vision in the lake of him at her side, as if he were meant to be her consort?

Recalling what she’d seen and the sense of destiny she’d felt at that moment, her determination wavered. How could she kill the man who she’d seen in a vision of what surely must be the future? For that matter, how could she kill the man she
loved
? It was unthinkable. There must be some other answer. She had to find it, or she would go mad.

A moment later, she halted on the pathway, relief flooding her. Of course there was another way to protect her kingdom. All she had to do to prevent Bridei from betraying her secrets to O’Bannon was lock him in the souterrain. She started walking again, her mind racing. She was going to have to plan this carefully, and carry out her scheme without anyone except Keenan knowing what was going on. It was especially important the traders didn’t guess what she’d done. She’d tell them she had no idea where Bridei had gone, that he must have decided to leave before them. As for her people, she’d suggest that now he had a harp, he’d probably left to find a wealthier household in which to entertain. It sounded plausible. She’d remind everyone that Bridei was traveling bard and had never stayed in one place long before, so why should he linger at Cahermara?

She worried they wouldn’t believe her. A few hours ago, she would have also sworn Bridei was content and happy at Cahermara. She’d also have sworn he loved her. But actions speak louder than words, as she’d remind anyone who brought up the matter. Since he’d left, it must mean he’d grown tired of staying in one place. His performance the night before had been a triumph. There was no way he could ever match it. Instead, he’d moved on to somewhere else to dazzle and charm a new audience.

Even as she told herself these things, a part of her screamed in protest that the man she was describing wasn’t the Bridei she knew. The man who’d made love to her with such finesse and passion, the man who’d composed a beautiful song for her, that man wasn’t capable of any of these things.
He
would never betray her. Never leave her so casually.

Doubts began to eat at her resolve. Perhaps she’d misunderstood the conversation with the traders. Maybe there was some harmless explanation. But how could she take the chance? It wasn’t merely her heart that was at stake, it was her kingdom, her people, everything she’d worked so hard for. There was no other choice. She would have to imprison Bridei, at least until she could be certain of his loyalty.

Her mind made up, she walked resolutely toward the hillfort.

* * *

“The queen’s back.” Aife told Bridei in a low voice. “She’s talking to Keenan near the gatehouse.”

Bridei was sitting in the hall with the traders. At Aife’s words, he rose and motioned to the bowl of pottage a servant had placed before him a moment before. “You can have mine,” he told Penrick. “I find I’m not hungry this morning.”

Penrick fixed him with an ironic look. “At least not for food.”

Bridei didn’t respond, but hurried after Aife. His impatience built as he maneuvered through the many people crowded into the hall. He was desperate to see Dessia; he needed to reassure her, and also reassure himself. Never before had he felt this way after bedding a woman. He was elated . . . but also anxious. What if he hadn’t pleased her? What if he’d satisfied her curiosity about lovemaking and now she had no interest in doing it again? What if it didn’t mean as much to her as it did to him?

He longed to look at her, to kiss her and hold her in his arms. His yearning for her was like a deep ache inside him, as powerful any urge he’d ever felt. He didn’t know how he could bear to leave her for the few weeks it would take for him to accomplish his mission in Ath Cliath. But he needed to accumulate some wealth so he could do something special for her. He’d changed his mind about the gift. Rather than jewelry, he meant to give her something more substantial. Instead of a brooch with the design of a horse, he was going to buy her a real horse, or maybe several.

The idea filled him with such satisfaction he could almost face the prospect of leaving her. And before he said goodbye, he would make love to her once again. He would satisfy her so completely, give her such pleasure that she would never even look at another man. He would win her heart as she’d already won his.