The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island) (42 page)

“Ah,” said Conla. “It’s often strange how the gods arrange things, isn’t it? It would seem that Mercury was protecting you and kept you from a watery grave.”

“Mercury?” Bridei responded. “It’s been years since I heard that name.”

“Your race would know him as Llud or Llew, but I grew up with the god Mercury, so that’s the name I invoke him by.”

“Clearly, you weren’t born in Ireland,” said Bridei.

“Nay. I’m from Constantinople, on the dark sea.”

“That’s a very long way away. How did you ever end up in Ireland?”

Conla grinned, strong, healthy teeth glinting in his beard. “My family was poor in all but children. As the youngest, I was sold into slavery to pay their debts.”

“Having been a slave, I would think you would loathe the practice,” said Bridei.

Conla shrugged. “My own experience wasn’t so harsh. I served a wealthy merchant who was fond of me and treated me well. Indeed, I was like a son to him in some ways. He taught me his business; it was from him that I learned how to bargain and trade.”

“How did you go from slave to merchant?” asked Dessia.

“My owner and his family all perished in a fire. I took what wealth of his that I could salvage and set out for Aquileia, which is a large trading center similar to Narbonne. It was there I learned about the slave trade. It has its risks and dangers, certainly, but to a young, adventurous man, it seemed an easy life. Most coastal settlements are easy picking. The men are usually off fishing and the women and children put up little defense. Unless there’s a strong chieftain in the area, such as your father, we seldom encountered much resistance. Although some say slaves are too much trouble, because they have to be fed as well as carefully guarded, for a time I thought I’d found the perfect way to earn my fortune.”

Dessia could control herself no longer. This man seemed to have no feeling for the humans who’d made him wealthy, viewing them as if they were cattle or other livestock. “Did you never feel pity for those poor unfortunates you captured and enslaved?” she asked. “Never think of the terror and degradation they had to endure because of you?”

Conla shrugged. “Some men mistreat their slaves, but most do not. They’re too valuable to abuse. And you must consider the grim life most of these poor wretches would have had if they’d stayed with their families. A good share of the children would have starved or died of disease before even reaching adulthood. At least as slaves they had enough to eat and proper clothing.”

“But they’re not free,” persisted Dessia. “You escaped servitude as soon as you were able. Surely you can understand how miserable it is to always be at the mercy of another.”

“Oh, I understand,” said Conla. “I understand very well. That’s why I’ve made the decisions I’ve made in my life.” His smile was fierce. “’Twas no accident that my owner and his family died in a fire.”

Dessia felt a sudden chill. For all his friendly demeanor, Conla was a very ruthless man. She and Bridei would do well to remember that.

Bridei sat back from the table and said, “If you wish me to perform for you, I’d better do so now. With my belly full of hearty food and excellent wine, I’m likely to fall asleep at any moment.”

Conla also pushed back from the table. With his big belly and languid manner, he reminded Dessia of a plump, well-satisfied cat. And like a cat, she guessed he could turn into a deadly predator in a heartbeat. “It’s time for you to earn your supper, master bard,” said Conla. “Will you sing us a song, or tell us a tale?”

“A song, I think,” said Bridei. “Although I’d like to have a harp for accompaniment.” He gestured. “Surely in a settlement of this size, someone has a harp I could borrow.”

Conla nodded. “I’ll send a servant to search the storehouse.”

As they waited for a harp, servants brought stewed apples with cinnamon and more wine. Once again, Dessia was impressed by the quality and quantity of food. Even when her father was at the height of his wealth and power, their household had only eaten this well on very special occasions. That Conla could afford to dine like this at an ordinary meal bespoke exceptional resources.

At last the servant returned with a cloth-covered bundle. Bridei removed the cloth to reveal an elegant harp. Unlike the simple, boxy instrument Dessia’s men had made, this harp was triangular. Delicately made and adorned with jewels and gold, it looked more like a work of art than a musical instrument. Bridei regarded the harp with a reverent expression, then ran his fingers along the strings. A sweet, crystalline sound echoed through the hall.

Bridei played a soft, sad melody and began to sing. It wasn’t a song Dessia was familiar with, and she couldn’t understand the words since they appeared to be in Bridei’s native tongue. She glanced at Conla, wondering at his reaction. To her surprise, the fierce chieftain had closed his eyes and was listening with a rapt expression on his face. The tension eased from her body. Part of Bridei’s magic was that he seemed to know exactly what sort of song would please his listeners. He was like a sorcerer choosing the perfect spell to cast.

She allowed herself to relax and let the music carry her away. Perhaps it was because she couldn’t understand the words, or because this harp had such heartbreakingly lovely tone. Whatever it was, the music seemed to reach inside of her and touch her deepest, most vulnerable self. The melody soared and built. Bridei’s fingers flew over the strings and his voice rose, deep and throbbing. Finally, the song ended, the last few notes trickling away like drops of water raining down upon moonlit pool.

Dessia took a deep breath. She wanted to tell Bridei how wonderfully he’d sang, but she was unable to speak. The knot of emotion in her chest paralyzed her.
This is what it it’s like to be spellbound
, she thought.

When she finally recovered herself and glanced at Conla, she was stunned to see tears glistening on his broad face. He swiped at his eyes and said in a choked voice, “You’re very good, Bridei ap Maelgwn. A master. So, good that I’m loathe to let you leave. What say you? Rather than risking a treacherous winter crossing of the Irish Sea, you could stay here and dwell in comfort.”

“Your offer is very tempting,” said Bridei, “but I’m afraid we must decline. Although O’Bannon could do little if he pursued us here, I’d rather not take the chance. As secure as this settlement is, I suspect my lady wouldn’t feel safe here. Better that we should leave Ireland for now.”

Conla looked at Dessia. “I would hate to think you doubt my ability to protect you. This O’Bannon is but a minor chieftain. He could scarce think to challenge me.”

Although his expression was neutral, Dessia sensed warning in his eyes. Her heart pounded as she wondered how to answer. Bridei broke in swiftly, “Of course she doesn’t doubt you. But you must understand . . .” He leaned near to Conla. “Milady is with child. Because of that circumstance, she would feel more comfortable in a household where she has family around. My mother is a skilled midwife and could attend the birth.”

Conla’s dark eyes probed Dessia, making her uneasy. He turned to Bridei. “The birth of the babe—if there is one—will not happen soon. You could stay here until spring, when travel is less perilous, and still reach your homeland before Lady Dessia’s time of travail. For that matter, we have several midwives here Ath Cliath.” He looked at Dessia again. “I’m certain Lady Dessia will find the accommodations here very comfortable and secure. There’s no good reason you shouldn’t remain in my household for a time.”

“You’re right, of course,” Bridei responded.

Dessia went rigid. The thought of being trapped in Conla’s household made her almost as panicked as when Tiernan O’Bannon took her captive. But, clearly, she couldn’t reveal her feelings to Conla. He might take offense, and then there was no telling what he would do.

Bridei and Conla discussed the song he’d sung. Then Bridei asked some questions about the harp—where it was from and who might have made it. Dessia listened impatiently. All she wanted to do was get out of this place. At last, Conla called for a servant to take them to a bedchamber. As Bridei carefully set the harp on the table, Conla said, “Why don’t you keep it, as my payment to you for your performance this night.”

“I hardly think one song merits such largess,” responded Bridei.

“I’m a wealthy man,” said Conla. “If you choose to remain here as my bard, you might be surprised what riches you could acquire.”

Bridei bowed to Conla, then covered the harp with the cloth bag and cradled it in his arms.

He and Dessia followed the servant to a corridor that ran along the back of the hall. Walking along it, they passed several elaborately carved oak doors. The servant stopped in front of one of them and bowed. “Your sleeping chambers, master bard.”

Bridei opened the door and gestured for Dessia to enter. Stepping into the chamber, she glanced around, staring in awe. The good-sized room was furnished with every luxury Dessia had ever encountered, as well as some she’d never see before. There was a large bed with a fur coverlet and a thick crimson rug on the floor. Fine woven fabrics covered the walls. On a table by the bed sat a massive beeswax candle in an elaborate silver holder, as well as a gold ewer and two glass beakers. And to make certain of their comfort, there was a dog-shaped brass brazier near the bed, the glowing coals in the beast’s mouth sending delicious warmth into the room.

“It’s . . . incredible,” Dessia said as Bridei closed the door. She went to the table and examined one of the shimmering glass beakers, then turned to face Bridei. “I’ve only encountered glass once before, when the traders brought a set of drinking cups packed in a box of straw. They didn’t even take them out to show me, knowing I would never purchase such impractical and extravagant goods.”

“Aye, Conla is wealthy,” said Bridei. “I’m sure if we stayed here, we would experience every comfort his wealth can buy.”

Dessia drew near and gazed at him pleadingly. “But I don’t want to stay here. Conla frightens me.”

Bridei nodded. “He frightens me as well. If I agree to be his bard, he’ll quickly come to see me as one of his possessions. He’ll think he owns me.”

“We have to find a way to leave,” said Dessia.

“I know. And we must do so tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Aye. I know you must be very weary, but that’s what Conla’s counting on. He won’t set a guard on us tonight. But after this . . . he might. ”

Dessia sighed. Every muscle in her body ached. She was so fatigued she felt as if she could fall asleep standing up. Regretfully, she glanced at the bed. Then she straightened her spine and faced Bridei resolutely. “I’m willing to do whatever is necessary to make certain we don’t get trapped here.”

“The trick will be to get out of the hillfort without arousing suspicion. We’ll have to leave separately and each of us give our own reason for departing.” He rubbed his stubbled jaw, looking thoughtful. Glancing at Dessia, he said, “I know what we can do.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I’ll tell the guard at the gate you aren’t feeling well and I’m going to one of the local healers to fetch a tinsane to settle your stomach. Then, a short while later, you’ll go to the gate and ask to be let out. You'll say you’re feeling better and don’t want me to go to the trouble of fetching the medicine tonight. Tell the guard you hope to catch up with me before I go all the way to the healer’s house.”

“I’ll do my best,” Dessia said. She raised her gaze to Bridei’s, “But I do worry the guard will think it too dangerous for me to be outside the hillfort alone at night, and insist I stay here until you return.”

Bridei nodded. “It might be a problem. But I can think of no better plan.” He motioned. “If you succeed in getting out, meet me at the bottom of the hill, in front of the metalsmith’s shop we passed. If you don’t come after a candle hour or so, I’ll assume you weren’t allowed to leave the hillfort.  I’ll come back and pretend I’ve fetched the tinsane. That way we won’t arouse Conla’s suspicions, and we might be able to get away another time.” He gave her a tender look, then leaned down and kissed her. “’Twill be all right, I promise,” he said. “The Goddess has gotten us this far. I don’t believe she’ll forsake us now.”

Dessia tried to smile hopefully, but her insides were clenched with worry.

After Bridei left, time seemed to pass with painful slowness. Dessia paced back and forth on the thick, soft rug, worried that if she so much as sat down, she would fall asleep. After awhile, she went to the table and picked up the harp. Removing the covering, she stared at the instrument. It was the most beautiful object she’d ever seen. As dazzlingly exquisite as a piece of fine jewelry, but so much larger and more complex. And then there was the sound it made. She strummed her fingers along the strings and was startled by the pure, lovely tone that issued forth. Even her clumsy, unskilled fingers could evoke beauty from this instrument. “Bridei deserves a harp this fine,” she said aloud. “Some day I intend to buy him one.”

She replaced the covering, then began to pace again. When she was convinced enough time had passed, she put on her cloak and crept out of the bedchamber. All seemed quiet, and as she moved stealthily along the corridor, she met no one. Bridei had told her there would be a door at the end of the corridor leading to the outside. She found the door and slipped out into the night.

She made her way to the gate by the light from the half-moon. There she paused, gathering her nerve. Finally, she called up to the gatehouse, “Hullo! I need the gate opened!”