Chapter 5
THE ARD-Rí’S GREAT banqueting hall was impressive.
It could seat at least fifty guests, maybe more, and yet the tables could also be arranged in such a way that a smaller number could be grouped pleasantly to face one another.
Declan had come to power by proving his worth as his father’s son, but the castle had come to be the home of the high king, whomever that might be.
It was perhaps, Kylin thought, not so surprising that someone might well be willing to join with an ancestral enemy to seize such power, maybe even unaware that the power would then be taken by the enemy.
He and Deidre were the first to arrive that evening but Declan’s household servants were quick to welcome them. Apparently they had been advised that their guests hadn’t eaten in a long, long time and therefore needed to be fed upon arrival.
They carried out individual plates filled with meat, both beef and pork, scones and the rich vegetable produce that Declan’s people grew in the area: watercress, onions and especially sweet carrots.
They looked at one another.
And dug in.
Soon, others began to arrive, warriors who had ridden to the council with their individual rís, some with whom Kylin had fought beside before and some he had never met.
But the conversation was easy; Deidre had met some of the men, too, at councils that her father had called.
And, to fill in the high table—where they had been seated themselves—the men who had been with the ard-rí when they had arrived came to the hall along with Declan himself.
The ard-rí spoke. He talked about the benefits of being a great island ruled by those who respected one another—and banded together when enemies came against them. He thanked them all for being there and then took his own seat.
A minstrel played. Dancers performed, and food was served.
It was a well-done occasion, the right amount of prestige and ease, and Kylin couldn’t help but think that Declan had learned all his lessons well when it came to being the high ruler of a people who had their minor rulers across their island home—rulers who were capable of becoming quite . . . unruly.
The meal ended and there were general conversations as men moved about with their drinks in hand.
Declan obviously felt that Deidre was the daughter of a man who was one of his greatest assets—he tended to be in conversation with her often.
Kylin found himself in conversation with a group of men, discussing the charming talents of the minstrel. The man sang songs about the great Tuatha Dé Danann, stories told along with his lute that were poignant and funny.
Sheer entertainment.
Then, various people turned to speak with one another, and Kylin found himself in conversation with Angus of Ui Neill.
“You’re traveling with Rí Eamon O’Connor’s daughter,” the rí noted.
He shrugged. “It’s no surprise that she has had her way to make the journey, for there is the one thing I do not respect about Eamon—he allows that girl whatever she wishes.
She has no sense of responsibility, or heritage, or the importance of alliances.
Oh! My apologies, of course, if he has given her hand to you, son of Sigurd! ”
The man spoke pleasantly. Kylin didn’t believe that he was being pleasant at all. Angus was bitter that Eamon hadn’t given his daughter to him.
“No. And I don’t disrespect Eamon for his determination regarding his daughter.
I was but a child when his wife was murdered.
She was gentle and sweet, a perfect loving mother and wife to a rí.
But when raiders swept in from the sea and the men fought, she was caught by surprise, brutally used and more heinously killed.
She couldn’t defend herself. My father and Eamon arrived in time to slay the man who had so cruelly killed her, but he swore at that time that his daughter would be as fierce as any warrior,” Kylin said.
“But you’re traveling together. Across dangerous country—as we can never know what hides and lurks in the forests.
My friend, for your own health and welfare, I’d have questioned such a wisdom,” Angus said gravely.
He shook his head. “I will, of course, as the ard-rí has commanded, be strong and wary and send the warriors he has requested. And still, no offense to you or your father, I can’t help but believe this man has lied. ”
“Who came to you? The jarl himself?” Kylin asked casually.
“The jarl himself!” Angus preened.
“Interesting that a ship carrying such an important man braved the coasts and the rivers to reach you!” Kylin said, forcing admiration into his voice.
Angus shrugged. “Well, in general, at most times—not always historically, as we both know—but in most recent days, we don’t go slaughtering people as they just ride across the country.
They didn’t come for war, they just traveled through.
I believe they saw others as well. We are all anxious for greater trade relations with others—that leads to our own greater prosperity. ”
“Of course. Well, I pray that you are right, that the havoc that descended upon us was a strike by someone now bereft of all power. But . . . well, like you, we will be wary,” Kylin said.
I don’t like the man. I don’t trust the man.
But is the fact that I don’t like him, that I don’t trust him anywhere near Deidre, causing me to think of Angus as the most probable traitor in the group?
He didn’t know.
He worried about Declan; the ard-rí did not seem at all wary of the men around him when he gave counsel.
And Kylin knew one of them—perhaps, admittedly, a rí not even here now—was a traitor. He knew in his heart just as he knew that his dream had truly been an instruction on what he and Deidre must do.
He knew that the gifts he and Deidre had received were real.
And they had told Declan. He didn’t intend to tell anyone else, though someone out there wanted to take Deidre’s sword—whether the words he had heard meant that they were to disarm her and take her down, or that they knew the power of the sword, he could not know.
Yes or no, he would spread the information of their magic no further. He knew that Deidre had already been a target; now it appeared they were both targets.
He smiled, nodded and moved on, noting that Berach of Linns was moving away from a conversation to ask a servant for more ale.
He knew the man. Linns bordered Eamon’s village and he and Eamon often met—with Sigurd as well. He seemed to be a good man, young, but in his early thirties, and he had taken on the title of rí at the death of his father five years ago.
His father and Eamon had been very good friends.
Kylin didn’t want to think that Berach could be guilty of anything; he liked a man who always seemed eager to do the right thing. But if someone had been close to the recent events they’d experienced, that someone was Berach.
“So,” Kylin said flatly to him, extending his goblet with a please and thank-you nod to the young servant seeing to their needs. “You think that we’re all a wee bit mad, eh?”
Berach frowned. He shook his head. “My father always warned me that one day a powerful jarl would find the resources to stage a major attack.” He shrugged.
“From what I understand, in the northern realms there are different countries and, in those countries, so many counties, such as one might find here. But the men of each county might be leaders of their own. No one tells a man with longboats that he may or may not stage a raid. Oh, I’m sorry.
You might well know more than I on that.
I mean, your father . . .” His voice trailed uncomfortably.
“My father comes from the Northlands, oh, aye! And he sought peace here—or at least a life in which he wasn’t expected to slaughter innocents and rob monasteries,” he said.
“And I know my father. He would not have wanted any of this. He is also an amazing man when it comes to knowing if he hears the truth. He’d have not sent us on this mission if he didn’t believe in his heart, soul and mind that it was all very real, and, mainly, of course, that we were fully prepared. ”
Berach nodded and spoke softly. “I follow Eamon. If he has sent his daughter on this quest, one knows it to be true. I came here with a party of ten men. If you wish to return with us for safety, you are more than welcome in our company.”
“That is kind, Berach. I will speak with Deidre.”
“Of course.”
Their refilled goblets were returned to them. Berach excused himself when one of his warriors came up to him. Kylin nodded and noted that Deidre was across the great hall—in conversation with James of Munster, an older man, long a friend of her father.
The man had the appearance of a great sage, or magician, perhaps, with snow-white hair and a long beard to match.
He’d seen many attacks. Braved many a battle.
Like Eamon, he lived in something of a walled fortress; his family had built upon the earthworks and stone foundations of an earlier society and created a sound place, safe when an attack seemed imminent, a place where the women and children could shelter until the fighting was over.
“Ah, and here he is, the young warrior Kylin!” James said, greeting him as he came forward to join them.
“Sire,” Kylin said respectfully.
“I have listened to the news with deep concern,” James said.
“I believe that the attack will come from the east, naturally, and therefore, our western brethren will not be so concerned—not unless they truly understand just how earnest a mission this might be. Men have come to attack us through history, while other men have come, as Sigurd, seeking a home. And, true, we expect that an enemy will be an outsider, but enemies can and will grow from within. But Angus has said that the jarl came to him in friendship seeking trade. Perhaps that was a scouting mission to learn the movement of the river. And our western rís must understand that if the eastern counties fall, they will be next. I have prayed that Declan holds the title of ard-rí throughout my life, and pray that the next will be as fair, intelligent and learned as our good Declan. Rest assured, I believe your words. I will be wary and vigilant, and I have sworn troops to Declan.”
“Thank you,” Kylin said. “I know that my presence may cause difficulty.” He didn’t allow himself to glance toward Deidre. “There are those who doubt any word that my father utters. But his loyalty is true.”
“And ’tis a pity that his loyalty is not true among all,” James murmured.
“Sigurd has told me about petty wars between counties through the years,” Deidre told Kylin.
“And yet, recently, mostly peace,” Kylin said quietly.
“What better time to attack than when men have let their guard down, eh?” James asked them.
“True,” Kylin agreed.
“But our guard will not be down, young warrior,” James said. “Thanks to your words. And the ard-rí . . .” His words trailed.
“Sire?” Deidre said softly.
James shook his head. “Declan never wants to think ill of those who rule within his own country. I pray that he takes care. And I have heard that you have been riding both night and day. You must find your rest. The night winds down. Already, many have left, warriors off to sleep. The ard-rí’s guard as well. You two need to go as well!”
“Indeed,” Kylin murmured. “As you say.”
He looked at Deidre. He had spoken with Angus, Berach and now James. He had not spoken with Eion of Connaught, but from across the room Deidre gave him a subtle nod.
And he knew that she had already done so.
“We should retire,” he said quietly. “Deidre?”
She smiled, bid James good-night and headed out of the great hall.
“Anything?” she asked him.
He shook his head. “Even Angus . . . well, he wants trade. That makes sense. But he didn’t . . . I don’t know. Nothing about him suggested that he’d turn on the ard-rí.”
“Well, I trust him the least. Eion seemed frightened of what was to come, if anything. But, Kylin, if one of these men is a traitor—”
“He’s not about to admit it,” Kylin finished. “We do need to sleep. Please tell me that there is a bar to bolt your door?”
“Aye, Kylin, slides into place over metal. I will be fine.”
They had come to her room.
“I will see that you get in and slide that bar,” he told her.
She smiled. “Aye! And the ard-rí will see to it that we have a fine repast in the morning, and we’ll be on our way!”
He remembered the offer for them to ride with others, and he decided that he had to tell her. He didn’t know why; he remained convinced that this entire journey was something they were supposed to do together.
To his relief, when he spoke, she interrupted him.
“The gifts came to us. I believe that we are guarded enough in their company,” she said. “We will find a reason to ride alone.”
“Aye, Deidre. We have our dreams again,” he told her.
He waited until she had closed her door. He stood listening until she had barred the door from within.
Then he hurried to his own room.
He bolted his door and lay down to sleep, ever hopeful that more dreams would come and that his dreams might give him an answer as to who the traitor was.