The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island) (22 page)

“What did you do to anger this Dolgar so much—seduce his wife or daughter?”

“Neither,” Bridei answered. “Which makes his actions truly baffling. While I knew the man bore me no affection, I’m surprised he went to so much trouble to be rid of me.”

“And so you ended up here, escaped the slavers and joined Queen Dessia’s household?” Penrick asked.

Bridei nodded. “The queen has no love of slavers, and as soon as we landed, we encountered some of her men. They didn’t give my captors time to bargain, but told them to prepare to do battle or quit these shores. The slavers chose the latter course.”

“You must count yourself very fortunate to be alive, and to have found yourself under the protection of such a gracious—and beautiful—ruler.” Rinc spoke for the first time.

“Aye, I’ve been very fortunate,” Bridei agreed. “But getting back to the matter of Dolgar, I can’t believe he came up with this plot on his own. I’m certain someone else must have put him up to it. Have you heard anything about what’s happening in the north that might explain why someone would consider me a threat? I do have some Brigante blood through my mother. I suppose Dolgar might think I sought to contest him as chieftain. But I always made it clear I have little interest in such matters.”

Penrick narrowed his eyes in thought. “As a traveling bard, you visit many households and are privy to many secrets. Perhaps you’ve gained some sort of knowledge that makes you dangerous, at least in the eyes of your enemy.”

“If that’s the case, then I wish I knew what the secret was.”

“That’s all I can suggest,” said Penrick. “You must admit your way of life gives you every opportunity to be a spy.” He gestured with long, tanned fingers. “You visit a royal household and earn the trust of the people there. Then you move on to the household of their enemies and betray their secrets. I’ve certain there’s a great deal of wealth to be made in such endeavors.”

“I’m certain there is,” Bridei agreed.

Dessia stood inside the door of the barracks, her body wracked with shock and dismay. She hadn’t heard all of what Penrick said, but the words “spy” and “betray their secrets” had come to her clearly. Taking a step back, she sought to compose herself. She must have misheard, or perhaps they were talking about something else altogether.

Nay, it can’t be true! Bridei wouldn’t do that to me!

And why not?

Because he loves me.

Her throat filled with bitter bile. Bridei was the consummate charmer, skilled at winning the admiration and trust of others, especially women. How many women had he called
cariad
—beloved? There were probably dozens. What a fool she’d been. How easily she’d fallen into his clever trap.

But despite her despair and self-castigation, the rational part of her remained unconvinced. She could think of no “secrets” Bridei had learned the night before. Everything he knew that her enemies could use against her, he’d discovered in the first few weeks he’d been at Cahermara. If he were a spy, he should have left to report his findings long ago. There was no reason for him to stay . . . unless he took perverse pleasure in making his victims care for him. And in her case, making them fall in love.

Such behavior seemed far too callous and cold to fit the man she knew. But
did
she know him? What if there was a part of Bridei hidden away, a dark, sinister aspect she’d never glimpsed? His experience as a youth had been brutal enough to make him capable of murder. Perhaps it had also made him capable of other forms of treachery.

Nay, she couldn’t believe that. No one was that good at masking their character. She must be mistaken about what she’d heard. Or, it must mean something else. They must have been talking about another situation altogether.

Moving back to the doorway, she crept forward, trying to hear more. She must have made some sound, for both men looked up. Bridei immediately stood and approached her, a dazzling smile on his face. “Milady, how fare you today? Come and warm yourself at the brazier.”

She let him take her arm and guide her to where Penrick and Rinc were seated on stools by a glowing brazier. Bridei motioned to the stool he’d been sitting on. “Sit, milady.”

She sat down, her heart pounding, her body rigid. Everything seemed so normal. So relaxed. If they’d really been plotting against her, surely they would appear uncomfortable. There would be some evidence of guilt. She forced herself to speak. “You’re all up early.”

“As are you, milady. Although as hostess, I suppose you felt the need to check on your guests.” Bridei nodded to the two traders. “They seem content to me.”

“Aye. I did want to see how you were faring.” She glanced at Penrick and Rinc.

“My bed was comfortable,” said Penrick. “And the food and entertainment last night were exceptional. We have no complaints.”

Dessia looked at Bridei and tried to make her voice light. “And why are you here? Was there some matter you wished to discuss with the traders?”

He shrugged. “Merely catching up on politics in Britain.”

Was he lying? She couldn’t tell. The gods help her, she couldn’t tell at all. His manner was so easy and nonchalant.

“I’m afraid our fine weather is over,” said Bridei. “It appears a storm is moving in.”

“Aye,” said Penrick. “I feel certain we won’t be able to sail today.”

Good, thought Dessia. That will give me time to figure out what to do. She stood. “Since the weather may prevent many others from traveling, I must go to the kitchen and see what sort of food stores we have left to feed everyone.”

“Would you like some assistance, milady?” asked Bridei. His expression so warm, so tender—Dessia felt her heart melt inside her. She forced herself to remember what she’d heard. “Nay. I’m perfectly capable of conducting matters in my own household.”

What had gotten into her? Bridei wondered as he sat down again after Dessia had left. She wasn’t acting like a woman who’d been well-pleasured the night before. But perhaps that was just her way. She remained as proud and independent as ever.

Penrick apparently also noticed her sharp tone, for said, “The queen seems a bit testy this morning.”

“Perhaps she has a headache from too much mead,” Bridei responded. “I’m certain she’s not the only one who’s suffering this morn.”

“Aye, that’s likely,” Penrick agreed.

“There’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about,” said Bridei. “I’d like to buy a present for Queen Dessia.  Unfortunately, I was forced to leave all my wealth behind in Britain. I thought perhaps I could visit some other households in the region and try to earn a little silver or other coin I might use to barter for a gift for her.”

“What sort of gift?” Penrick’s eyes had brightened, the merchant in him obviously intrigued.

“I’m not certain. Perhaps silk for a new gown. Or a piece of jewelry. Something beautiful and elegant. Something she would never purchase for herself.”

Penrick nodded. “Queen Dessia purchases only necessities, and bargains fiercely for those.” He motioned to Sarlic and said something to him in a Germanic tongue, a language Bridei didn’t know. Sarlic rose, picked up one of the packs and took it to the bed.

“Let me should show you some of the finer things I have to offer,” Penrick said, also rising. “I almost didn’t bring any jewelry from the boat. But then I remembered that the smith, Niall, is always interested in the finer stuff. He keeps trying to figure out how to reproduce that type of work on his own.”

“I recall him saying something to me about that,” Bridei agreed. He followed Penrick over to where Sarlic was arranging fabric bundles on the bed.

Penrick selected one of the bundles and unwrapped it. “I showed him some pieces and let him study them. But I doubt it will do him any good. The workshops where they make these things closely guard their secrets about the substances and methods they use to create the various colors. I don’t think he is likely to be able to figure out the process on his own.”

Penrick held out a round gold brooch with design of elaborately curving lines. Bridei took it and admired it. The whole piece was exquisite, but what made it unusual were the vivid colors of the enamelwork. “Aye, this is stunning.”

“You’d have to sing a lot of songs to pay for a piece like this,” Penrick said as he put the brooch away. He took out more jewelry and laid it on the bed. Bridei examined the pieces admiringly. “It’s all exquisite quality, but I’m not certain it’s what I’m looking for. I want it to be something that has special significance for her.” He frowned as he struggled to explain. “Something that represents Cahermara, or her heritage in some way.”

Penrick nodded. “If you want to have something custom made, you could travel with us to Ath Cliath. There are a number of merchants there who would be eager to have a skilled bard visit their households, and they have the wealth to pay you. Then you could have one of metalsmiths design a piece especially for Queen Dessia.”

“A horse,” Bridei said suddenly. “The brooch should have a horse on it—to represent the name of the queen’s tribe, the Fionnlairaos. That would be the perfect gift.”

“The name must be an old one.” Rinc said, coming to stand next to them. “I’ve seen no horses since I’ve been here.”

“Aye. Some years ago, the whole herd was stolen by a man named Tiernan O’Bannon. He also attacked the settlement and killed Dessia’s family. Only she escaped.”

Penrick’s brows rose and he looked at Rinc. “I’ve never heard this tale. But, then, we’ve only been trading in Ireland a few years.”

“The attack must have happened about ten years ago,” said Bridei.

“You say she was the only one of her family left alive?” queried Rinc. “How did she regain her lands?”

“She fought for them,” said Bridei. “Gathered together a bunch of men loyal to her father and led them into battle.”

“But ten years ago, she would have been a child,” Penrick said.

“Several years passed before she was old enough and skilled enough with weaponry to take on O’Bannon. But she did it, nevertheless. Then, having won back her family’s lands, she built this rath on the same spot the old fortress stood. Although she made certain this new one was in stone, making it more difficult to attack.”

Penrick nodded. “It’s a solid structure, or will be when it’s finished.” He shook his head. “What an amazing tale.”

“Indeed it is. That’s why I composed a song about it. The long ballad I sang last night told the whole story.”

“Aye. I recall it now. I guess I didn’t realize you were singing about something that had happened recently.” Penrick regarded Bridei assessingly. “It was a very polished song. I assumed someone else had composed it and you were merely altering parts of it to fit the circumstances here.”

“Nay,” said Bridei, smiling. “The piece was all my own.”

It was Rinc who spoke this time: “You’re very skilled. If you found the right sort of patron, you could end up a very wealthy man.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Bridei said, “Although I can’t promise I would be able to compose pieces the equal of the one last night on a regular basis. I doubt some hoary old chieftain would inspire me the way Queen Dessia has.”

Penrick and Rinc both chuckled. Penrick said, “I must say I’m very impressed with what Queen Dessia has accomplished. She clearly has a strong will and the fierce loyalty of her people, but even so ...” He shook his head.

“It must have taken years to build this hillfort,” said Rinc. “I’m surprised no one has attacked her in the meantime.”

“Apparently her enemies believe Cahermara is protected by a magical spell,” said Bridei. “Queen Dessia is rumored to be a sorceress and to use an enchantment to keep her enemies away.”

Penrick guffawed loudly, while Rinc gave a snort of derision. “And what do you think, Bridei ap Maelgwn?” asked Penrick. “
Is
Queen Dessia a sorceress?”

“I must admit I’ve encountered things here at Cahermara that aren’t easily explained.”

“What sort of things?” asked Penrick.

Bridei shrugged. “There’s an ancient forest nearby. I tried to follow the queen there once, but a mist rose up and blocked my way. I’ve talked to many people here and none of them have ever ventured more than a few paces into that forest. Yet Dessia comes and goes there freely. It’s the place she hid when the original fortress was attacked when she was a girl. She also told me there’s a lake there and sometimes when she looks into the water, she sees visions of the future.”

Even as he said this, Bridei felt a strange sensation, as if a finger of warning moved down his spine. Perhaps he wasn’t supposed to speak of these things. His goal was to reinforce Dessia’s reputation for magic and help protect her. But even with that worthy intent, talking about the lake and what he’d experienced there might not be right.

“I can see why you—a bard—might be intrigued by such a fanciful tale,” said Penrick. “You can probably compose a wonderful song about Queen Dessia and this magical lake. But to me, it sounds like a bunch of superstitious nonsense.”

“Think what you like,” responded Bridei. “I remain convinced that some force or power watches over Queen Dessia and her lands.” Or, at least it had, up until now. What if in speaking of these things, he’d angered the ancient forces and disrupted the magic?