Deception's Princess (Princesses of Myth) (29 page)

Our guests were not above joining in the gossip. I heard them doing so at dinner. They spoke low, but not low enough.

“So far no real harm’s been done, though who knows how long that will last?” one of them said. “Today I woke up to find my shoes filled with squashed mushrooms and dead crickets.”

“Is that all it takes to put your life in danger?” another jeered.

“Laugh, fool.” The first man bristled. “The Fair Folk turn from mischief to malice in the blink of an eye. The same unearthly creature who put mushrooms in my shoes today could put toadstools in your stew tomorrow.”

“Lord Eochu’s druids ought to read the omens and see what he’s done to offend the gods,” a third man said.

I recognized him. He was Lord Morann of the Fir Domnann whose stronghold lay closest to our own. He was also the wolfish one who’d gloated most when Master Íobar gibed at Father for having no sons. “This has all the marks of a curse.”

“Why do you think
he’s
to blame, Morann?” the second man asked. “All of these pranks might be the petty work of some woman.”

The first man snorted. “I doubt the gods would care about women’s business.”

“The Morrígan has her share of ‘women’s business,’ ” Lord Morann said sharply, invoking the name of the goddess of blood and battle, whose spells had the power to make and unmake kings. “Did you never think that all this mischief is a sign of her diminishing favor?”

Before either of the other men could respond, Lord Áed made himself an unwelcome part of the conversation. “How could you not? You weren’t here before Samhain when the great Master Íobar said what many of us already think: If a
man can’t rule his own rebellious daughter, how can he rule Èriu?”

I couldn’t let such talk continue. Pretending I’d heard nothing, I presented myself before Lord Morann and his companions with a jug of Gaulish wine in my hands. As I filled their drinking horns, I also filled their ears with gracious words and subtle flattery disguised as praise coming from Father, not me. Back in my own place again, I smiled to hear how my timely action changed the course of their talk.

“If that’s rebellion, I’m a hedgehog,” the first man said. “I’ve never heard it said that druids were the best judges of women’s ways. It will be a lucky man who gets that girl for his wife.”

“By which you mean your son, of course,” the second joked.

Morann scowled. “Even if she has learned her place, it would be best for all of us if Eochu gave her to Conchobar.”

“Conchobar? Fachtna Fáthach’s boy?”

“That ‘boy’ is enough of a man to govern his late father’s lands well and he’s wise enough to heed the counsel of older, more experienced people,” Morann declared.

Whose?
I thought, simmering.
Yours?

The first man turned serious. “She’s a beautiful little thing, and she’ll go to her husband with rich wedding gifts and Connacht thrown into the bargain. Still—” He hesitated.

“What more do you want? To have her dipped in gold?” Áed snickered.

His dubious comrade wasn’t interested in hearing any jests. “Beautiful girls can bring their husbands more trouble than joy. The ones who
know
the power of their beauty are the worst. They can turn the strongest man into a spineless slave.”

“Well, that explains why you married an ugly wife,” Áed replied, then turned to the second man and added, “And why you have to ask
your
lovely bride for permission to sneeze.” They were all just drunk enough to laugh instead of drawing steel. The conversation flowed into other channels and I could breathe easily again.

Well, as easily as any of us
could
breathe with the ever-growing stink haunting Cruachan. The problem worsened daily until there was no way to keep such a thing secret from Mother. Lady Íde was at her wits’ end, trying to prevent her from getting out of bed to discover what was turning her pristine home into a reeking midden.

I joined the servants in the hunt, though I had to play my part secretly. It wouldn’t look right for the High King’s daughter to go sniffing through her father’s great house like an eager puppy. But puppies have their uses. I was surprised that no one else thought of having Bran bring one of his hounds inside to seek the source of that awful smell. As soon as the dog came in, she began running in circles around the central hearth.

“Do you think something died up there?” Father asked his keeper of the hounds.

Bran shrugged. “I’m too old to climb and see.”

“I can do it, Lord Eochu.” Áed’s little slave boy came forward. He shinnied up one of the wooden pillars and peered eagerly into the shadows, but when his feet were on the ground again he said he’d found nothing.

Father rewarded him with a bronze pin for his attempt. The child hadn’t held it in his grubby hands for more than two breaths before his master, Lord Áed, snatched it away and gave him a resounding slap on the head for his failure. “Find
the High King’s chief cook and see if he can give you a task you won’t botch,” he growled at the boy. “Make yourself
worth
feeding, for a change.”

The slave bobbed his head and darted away, but not before I’d noticed something strange: though there were tears on his cheeks from the hard blow he’d taken, he was smiling, and as he ran, he cast a smug backward glance up at the rafters.

I found him later behind the great house, wrestling with a cook pot twice his size, trying to scrub it clean. “Hello, Donal,” I said, crouching beside him. My hand held out a generous portion of cheese and a whole loaf of bread.

The poor boy looked from my face to the food and back again with as much terror as if I were a monster offering him a feast of spiders. “P-Princess? How do … how do you know my name?”

“I asked your sister, Èile. She’s got the same name as one of
my
sisters. Isn’t that funny?”

Donal didn’t think it was funny, not unless he came from a place where you turned white as a fish’s belly and started shaking wildly just before you laughed. “You … what … why … Did I do something wrong?” The question finally burst from his thin lips, but his eyes answered it instantly:
I did, and I’m caught, and I’m doomed
.

“You’re too skinny, and that’s wrong, even if it’s not your fault,” I said, trying to calm him. “Here, eat. It’s my thanks for what you did today.” I pushed the food at him. When he only stared at it, I added, “You should never refuse a gift from a princess.”

He didn’t need another invitation. He gobbled the bread and cheese so fast I thought he’d choke. As the last crumbs
vanished, I said, “I’m glad I found you out here. I wouldn’t want you to have to eat indoors, what with that horrid reek everywhere. And that’s just the latest nuisance that’s come to Cruachan. Torn clothing, ruined wool, a fistful of worms in a king’s bed. I think the rumors must be true—it’s the work of the Fair Folk, playing countless small pranks because someone’s angered and hurt them, someone too powerful for them to strike at face to face. They’re probably disguised as birds so they can flit in and out of this house without being caught. Just today I could have sworn a handful of feathers came drifting down from the rafters. You were very brave to climb up there, not knowing what you’d find.”

“I didn’t find anything.” He regarded me with deep unease.

“Maybe you didn’t search carefully enough,” I said, keeping my tone friendly. “I think you should make a second try. If you don’t, the High King might decide it would be worthwhile to send one of our boys into the rafters. If that lad solves the stink riddle, he’ll claim a reward that ought to be yours.”

“You mean a reward that’ll be Lord Áed’s,” the boy said bitterly.

“Perhaps. But if
our
boy discovers the source of the stench and reports it comes from something in plain sight, something you couldn’t possibly have overlooked, Donal, then …” I spread my hands and left the rest to his imagination.

“Please don’t let that happen, my lady!” he exclaimed. “I’ll go up again now, at once. I don’t care if Lord Áed and your chief cook
both
give me a beating!” He sprinted out of sight, leaving me with the half-scrubbed cook pot.

Everyone, including our chief cook, forgot about that cook pot when young Donal came down from the great house rafters
holding the putrid body of a dead owl. I swear, he brandished that ghastly trophy as if he were a warrior bringing home his first severed head!

That night we were all entertained by a song about how a little slave boy climbed into the rafters of Cruachan’s great house, ready to do battle with monsters. High over our heads, he was enveloped in a black cloud of demonic flies as big as bats. Their buzzing nearly deafened him as they tried to tear the flesh from his bones, but he fought them off, ripping their bodies in half with his bare hands. In the belly of the largest fly he found a knife, with which he boldly slew the malicious spirit of stench that had disguised itself as a man-sized owl, though by the time he climbed down from the rafters with the creature’s corpse, it had shrunk to the size of an ordinary bird.

“Thus do all jealous enchanters seek to rob our heroes of their glory!” The last triumphant line of the tale fell from the lips of a harper in service to one of our royal visitors. Our own bard wasn’t there. Devnet had set out on his wanderings right after the Samhain rites at Tara. I added my praise for the harper to that of everyone present, but I strongly believed Devnet would have done a better job.
His
demon flies would have been the size of
badgers
.

Áed was shamed into rewarding little Donal with gold. He did it grudgingly, taking a pair of rings from his fingers. Only a fool would believe he’d let the child keep them once they left Cruachan.

I was no fool. “My lord, your openhandedness shows that you’re one of my father’s noblest allies. But how far does it go?”

“I hope you’re not questioning the limits of my generosity, my lady?” Áed said, on guard.

I gave him a disarming smile. “How could I? You once offered me two fine wolfhounds to show how much you admired me. I was too young to appreciate the gift or your attention then.” I lowered my voice to draw him nearer. “It would be different now.”

“You’d like a pair of wolfhounds?”

“I’m afraid they’d still be too much for me to handle. I’d like this boy instead.” I indicated Donal.

Áed looked dubious, but only for a moment. I could almost read his thoughts:
What a good bargain, one skinny child in exchange for a princess’s favor! And who knows where that might take me?
“I can’t refuse you anything, my lady,” he said smoothly. “He’s yours, along with all the rewards I was about to bestow on him for his bravery.” Everyone cheered his grand gesture.

I clasped his hands. “And the other?” I asked sweetly.

His brows met. “What other?”

“You did offer me
two
wolfhounds, Lord Áed. It’s no less than anyone here would expect from such a gallant, generous man like you.” I made a sweeping gesture, indicating the considerable audience of highborn guests, who raised a fresh cheer for poor, cornered Áed.

He gave me Donal’s sister as well. I didn’t give him a choice. The girl was summoned from Áed’s room and was told about her new fate while she and her brother clung to one another, giddy with happiness.

Father softened Áed’s consternation with gifts of his own. As he gave the outfoxed man a glittering brooch, I stole close and slipped a word into Father’s ear.

“What’s that, my spark?” I beckoned him closer and
whispered the same thing as before. “You want
me
to have them?” He glanced at Donal and Èile. “But they’re Lord Áed’s gift to you!”

“A gift I cherish,” I replied, giving Áed a melting look. It might have been too much to be believed. His mouth shrank to the size of an acorn. He was no longer so willing to trust me nor so easy to be deceived.
So he’s smart enough to learn
, I thought.
What a pity
.

“If you cherish it, daughter, why give it away?” Father asked.

“Didn’t you hear the bard’s song? Donal’s bravery proves he’s destined to become a valiant warrior who’ll bring fame to you, his king”—I paused—“
with
the proper training. I wouldn’t know where to begin, which is why I’m giving him to you. Of course, you’ll have to accept Èile too. The bards would ridicule me forever if I only gave you half a gift.”

Father laughed. “You mean you give me two new mouths to fill. Well, if I must have them, I’ll have them free. Then maybe someday they can feed themselves.” He pronounced the formal words for giving a slave liberty and declared Èile and Donal members of our household. Brother and sister struggled to embrace us both as they wept for joy.

Lord Morann was almost the last of our guests to go. I couldn’t wait to see the back of him. I was going to scream if he didn’t stop harping on the twin strings of “Conchobar would be the perfect mate for you” and “Even if he’s not perfect, this alliance would strengthen Lord Eochu’s rule. People are talking.”

Talk you stir up whenever you can
, I thought. But I honored the guest-bond and only let him see my smile.

I smiled in earnest on the night he announced, “Lord Eochu, beloved king, I’m sorry to part from you but I must go home tomorrow.” Smile? I had to bite my lip to keep from cheering.

The next morning I went out to make sure that awful man was really leaving. Everywhere I looked, I saw the usual bustle that attends preparations for a journey. Lord Morann was nowhere to be seen, having left all of the arrangements in the charge of one of his men. The fellow could browbeat his own people as much as he wanted for all I cared, but I didn’t like the way he was harrying
our
servants. As I watched, I saw him try to force Fechin to take orders from him. Father’s charioteer just laughed and left him fuming.

“Hey, Fechin!” I waved for him to join me. “Who
is
that sack of wind?”

“A flea who thinks he’s a falcon. The gall of him, treating a brother driver like I was no more than a fetch-and-carry!” He snorted. “The fool’s so caught up with lording it over everyone that he’s neglecting his own work. He had stable boys prepare his master’s chariot for the road ahead.
Stable boys!
And he hasn’t yet bothered to check their work. It’d serve him right if the horses came loose and dragged him bloody.”