The Well of Shades (8 page)

The massive promontory fortress of Caer Pridne, on the northeast coast, had once been the seat of Fortriu’s kings. This
stronghold now formed the headquarters of Bridei’s fighting forces, led by Carnach of Thorn Bend. Caer Pridne was quiet tonight. It was winter. The massive army that had been assembled for the many-pronged attack on Dalriada was disbanded, its men departed for their home territories while the roads were still passable. A force remained, made up of the most expert warriors, those who had no other
trade. They were quartered here year around, ready for whatever might come. Families lived within the high walls; the stronghold housed a whole community. Caer Pridne provided the guards for White Hill, a force rotated every season to keep the men sharp.

Bridei’s most trusted warrior chieftains, Carnach and Talorgen, were newly arrived back from Dalriada. Both leaders had remained there at the
war’s end to oversee the departure of the Gaelic leaders over the sea to their homeland. The Dalriadan king, Gabhran, had fallen gravely ill not long after the last great battle, and had been allowed to remain in his fortress of Dunadd, along with his immediate household. A force of Priteni warriors was quartered there to guard the place and its occupants.

Bridei had already had his chieftains’
news, for they had visited White Hill on their way back, to great acclaim.
But not all news can be shared openly. Tonight, in the small, private chamber Bridei had chosen for his council, red-haired Carnach and the older Talorgen sat at the long oaken table with Bridei and Aniel, in company with a small, white-haired woman in a gray robe: the senior priestess of Fortriu, Fola, whose establishment
of Banmerren lay just along the bay. Save for Garth, the personal guards remained outside the bolted door. Niches set in the stone walls held oil lamps. All was orderly and quiet.

“Thank you for being here, my friends,” Bridei said. “I regret the need for such secrecy. I’ve news on which I require your counsel. Once you have given it, we will decide together how much further this news can go,
and when.”

“Bridei,” interrupted Fola, her sharp dark eyes on the king, “why is Broichan not present? Was he too unwell to travel? I had thought his health greatly improved when last I saw him.” She was an old friend and did not stand on ceremony.

“I could not be at Caer Pridne for Gateway this year,” Bridei said, choosing his words with care; this would be difficult to explain. “I did not conduct
my usual ritual at the Well. Tonight, when we are done here, I will keep vigil until dawn. Had Broichan accompanied me, he would have insisted on performing the rite with me. The ride from White Hill, he might just about manage. The vigil would tax his strength beyond endurance.”

There was a brief silence.

“There’s more to this, isn’t there?” asked Fola, raising her brows.

“Broichan is not
yet party to this news,” Bridei said, and saw a look of surprise pass over the wise woman’s serene countenance. “He will hear it as soon as I return to White Hill. I want your opinion first. Your good advice, all of you.”

“The business of this council is secret until the king
chooses to have it spread more widely,” said Aniel, steepling his fingers before him on the table.

“That’s understood
already,” said Talorgen of Raven’s Well, a handsome, open-faced man of middle years. “What is this news?”

“The king of Circinn is dead,” Bridei said quietly, and a gasp of shock went around the table. This was momentous; Circinn, the southern kingdom of the Priteni, had become Christian under Drust the Boar while Fortriu had remained staunchly true to the old gods. An election must now be held
to determine which man of the royal line would become king. “We did not have this from a messenger; one of our spies brought the news just before Aniel and I left White Hill. With winter setting in hard, it’s our belief Circinn will not call the election until season’s end; they’ll have remembered how difficult it was last time. On the other hand, they may try to do it by stealth; just put their
man in as king and present it to us as a final decision in springtime.”

“Exactly,” said Aniel. “They may conveniently overlook the fact that the chieftains of Fortriu are entitled to a vote. You know Bargoit and his fellow councillors. They’ll be all too ready to bypass correct procedures if it happens to suit them.”

Carnach whistled under his breath. “Drust the Boar dead, eh? I wonder which
of his weaselly advisers slipped a little something in his stew.”

“We should say prayers for his passing,” said Fola with a reproving glance at the red-haired chieftain. “We may not have had a high opinion of the man, but that should not prevent us from doing what is right.”

“It’s Christian prayers he’d be wanting,” put in Aniel with a twist of the lip. “Are you able to turn your hand to those,
Fola?”

“Drust may have been baptized in the Christian faith,” the wise woman retorted, “but I’ve no doubt the deity he called on at the last extreme was Bone Mother. There’s no wrong in wishing a man a safe journey. I don’t suppose
Drust was bad, just weak. Too weak to be a king.” As an epitaph, it had a sorry ring to it.

“A quandary,” said Aniel. “Who would the chieftains of Circinn see as
the strongest contender? What candidates do they have to offer?”

“None, surely, who could hold a candle to Bridei, fresh from his stunning defeat of the Gaels,” said Carnach bluntly. “We need to ensure they hold the election fairly, as we did ours on the death of Drust the Bull. If Bridei could be elected king of Fortriu on the vote of representatives from all the Priteni realms, then the same
process should apply now the kingship of Circinn is in question. It’s the opportunity we’ve been waiting for: Broichan’s dream. Within a season, we could see Fortriu and Circinn united under a single leader. You must stand, Bridei. You can do it.” Carnach’s features were flushed with zeal, his eyes bright. He was a generous man. He himself had been eligible for the kingship of Fortriu, nearly six
years ago, and had stepped down to lend his support to Bridei’s claim.

“Broichan will be of the same mind, I know,” Bridei said. “But this is not so simple. There’s the question of faith; the will of the folk of Circinn and the chieftains who represent them. It may lie just across our border, but whether it pleases us or no, Circinn is a Christian kingdom now.”

“Besides,” said Talorgen, frowning,
“there’s the west to consider. Dalriada may be won, but a newly conquered territory needs careful handling. I have no doubt at all the Gaels will be back, in three years, five, ten, however long it takes them to regroup. We will have continuing dissent in the region, for there will be those who want the old rule returned. We’ve done our best to weed out the likely troublemakers, but a strong
Gaelic presence remains. You don’t just ride in and occupy a place, then expect the conquered residents to get on with their lives as if nothing has happened. I hate to say it, but this may not be the best time for Bridei to take on
the leadership of Circinn alongside that of Fortriu. He’d be pulled two ways. We all would.”

“How often does an election come along?” asked Carnach. “What if a young
man gets up, one even younger than Bridei? This could be the only opportunity we get in a lifetime, Talorgen. It would be madness to let it pass by!”

“Fola,” said Bridei quietly, “what is your opinion?”

“You consult me, and you have not yet passed the news to Broichan, your lifelong mentor?”

Bridei had expected this from the wise woman. To shut Broichan out of such an important decision was
unprecedented; even now, he wondered if he had acted correctly. “You know him. You know why. It is his passion to see Fortriu and Circinn reunited in the old faith. Do not doubt, any of you, that I share that dream. If you had asked me, in the first days of my kingship, whether I would seek to add Circinn to my realm at the first opportunity, I imagine I would have said yes with not a shred of doubt
in my mind. Ask me today and I will tell you that what I want for Fortriu now is a time of peace. A time of rebuilding. A time for reflection.”

“There is much at risk here,” Fola said. “I’m aware that you’ve sent Faolan back to the heartland of the Uí Néill leaders. I know part of his mission is to ferret out information about these Christian clerics who seek a foothold in our western isles.
I must interpret that as an indication that you are not fixed on giving them an outright refusal. Not yet, anyway; not until your spy returns, and that cannot be before spring. I know your attention is still upon the west. A resounding victory on the field does not necessarily mean continuing peace. The Uí Néill will always be a threat, and you do right to remain aware of that threat. Circinn also
knows where your priority must lie. My feeling is that by springtime the southern kingdom will have chosen its own king without troubling to include Fortriu in the process. We all remember Bargoit. Officially that man is only a councillor,
but he’s been directing the affairs of Circinn for years. He’ll be looking for another weakling contender to manipulate. Drust had brothers, didn’t he?”

“Two,”
said Aniel with a little frown. “Garnet and Keltran. Both very much in Drust’s mold, though a few years his junior. Bargoit won’t have much difficulty twisting them to his will. I cannot tell you if either has received Christian baptism. I do know there are Christian clerics still in attendance at the court of Circinn, although Bridei tells me our old friend Brother Suibne is in the west now.”

“Sailed home before the season turned, in company with Gabhran’s chieftains,” said Talorgen. “I saw them off personally. For such an inoffensive-looking man, that priest has a lot to say.”

Bridei smiled, remembering with a certain fondness the Christian cleric who had taken such delight in debating matters of faith with him long ago. Suibne was a man who seemed to pop up everywhere. “It was his
words that sent Faolan to search out this man Colm, the priest in need of a new lodging beyond the shores of his homeland,” he said. “I may not share Suibne’s religious convictions, but I recognize he’s astute and clever. I took his speech as a kind of warning. How I act on that depends on what Faolan brings back. Fola, you haven’t answered my question.”

“I cannot answer it.” The wise woman looked
grim. “I can only counsel you to seek the wisdom of the gods. I plan to do so myself once we are done here. If I receive any insights you’ll be the first to hear them. I’ve seen the ruinous aftermath of war, Bridei. I do understand your reluctance to put on this extra mantle with those wounds still so fresh in our country. But there will be some who cannot see your reasoning,” she glanced at
Carnach, “for it does seem that on the heels of this great victory you stand your best chance of garnering a winning vote. All the same, Talorgen speaks wisely. Dalriada will need your attention. I don’t understand this mission of Faolan’s and I never
have. Even to consider letting Christian clerics get a new foothold in the isles is to risk Fortriu being squeezed, in time, between two powerful
bulwarks of the new faith. Broichan would be appalled.”

“The way Suibne told it,” Bridei said, “this man Colm is a fugitive from his homeland, having fallen foul of powerful leaders over his interference in a matter of armed conflict. What he wants is a sanctuary where he and his brethren can be left in peace. I remember how Drust the Boar drove the druids and wise women out of their houses of
prayer all across Circinn. If I show the same lack of respect for those who only seek to love their gods in peace—whatever gods those may be—then I am no better than he was.”

“Hmm,” said Fola, dark eyes regarding him skeptically.

“Besides, Suibne himself pointed out that there are Christian hermits in the Light Isles, not only tolerated but welcomed by my vassal king there, despite the adherence
of the local folk to the ancient gods. Suibne noted the inconsistency. If I refuse Colm his refuge I should by rights request the removal of the Christian presence in the northern isles as well.”

“I don’t undervalue the spiritual arguments.” Redheaded Carnach had his fists clenched on the table. It was unusual for him to show any kind of agitation, for he was a cool and seasoned leader of fighting
men. “But surely, surely you cannot let such an opportunity pass you by, my lord king. The crown of Circinn… By the Flamekeeper’s manhood, I’d almost stand as a candidate myself rather than see some weakling kinsman of Drust’s assume power in the south, with Bargoit whispering in his ear. I can’t understand how you can support this, Talorgen. I can’t understand how any of you can even consider
it. What sort of council is this? By all the gods, if we had Ged here, and all those fine men who fell in Fortriu’s service in the autumn, I know what they’d be saying. You are our king, Bridei, our leader and our inspiration.
This is your time. It is the time to make the two kingdoms one again. You have strong chieftains, wise advisers, people who would gladly lay down their lives for you. You
can hold Dalriada and rule Circinn as well as Fortriu. You can do it, Bridei. Have faith. Seize this chance! That it has come about now, so soon after our war was won, must surely mean the Flamekeeper intends you to take it.”

Bridei regarded his kinsman, whose fair-skinned features were flushed with a mixture of ardor and frustration. Carnach had been one of his truest and most loyal chieftains,
a source of immense strength in war and astute advice in peacetime. He was influential; a great deal hung on retaining his loyalty, not to speak of his friendship. Not for the first time, the king felt a pang of regret at Faolan’s absence; who else would give him truly honest advice on such a difficult issue? “Your faith in me and in the future warms me, Carnach,” he said. “Believe me, I do not
underestimate the ability of Fortriu’s leaders, nor her people, to meet a challenge. I have not yet made a decision on this matter. I will take Fola’s advice and seek the wisdom of the gods. I know what my warrior chieftains would say. For the main part they would agree with you. Press the advantage, they would tell me. I know what Broichan will want.”

“I cannot believe you chose not to give
him this news,” said Fola. It was not quite a reproof; even she, who had known him since he was a child, did not forget that he was king.