Yseult: A Tale of Love in the Age of King Arthur (27 page)

They came together, shuddering and crying, scaring away a young lamb that had strayed to their clearing from its pasture. Its frightened bleating accompanied the music of their mingled pants as she lowered herself back down to the blankets, Tandrys following.

She turned in his arms as they pulled the blankets up around their shoulders.

"Stay with me," she whispered.

"Mmmmm," he said.

And then she heard the regular breathing of his sleep, and she smiled to herself.

It seemed she would have to save the discussion for another time.

* * * *

Yseult could hardly wait to reach Ard Ladrann again. As they passed the small wooden ringfort of the farmer Cathair and entered the last stand of trees north of home, she found it harder and harder to concentrate on the banter around her. If dignity had not forbidden it, she would have galloped ahead, greedy for her first sight of the Armorican bard in three days. Only three days. How could it only have been three days since she left the rath, since she had seen his laughing face or heard his voice like summer rain, or felt his long fingers on her hot skin?

She had hoped going away for a spell would give her back a little of herself again, but all it had done was to make her feel like a bitch in heat, her mind clouded by unfulfilled desire, her thoughts full of the sound of his laughter and his beautiful, beautiful voice, her nostrils full of the scent of him, his soap and his sweat, and between her legs, the memory of him, a pulsing ache at her core.

Crimthann cantered up next to her, smiling. At first he hadn't wanted her to come along for fear of kidnappers, but she had pointed out that if his warriors were split up, it might be better for her and her mother to split up too. And she craved activity after the long winter.

Now she craved to be back at the rath.

"Watching for your bard, are you?"

Yseult grimaced. "If he is anyone's bard, he is yours."

"I wish he were. His gifts are great and he is handy with a sword. But he has not yet responded to my offer."

"Your offer?"

"The honor price of a fili of the fifth rank."

Yseult stared between Duchann Bhan's ears. The hair of her mare's mane was dark gray at the roots, fading into white only gradually.

"Perhaps you can help persuade him," Crimthann added before spurring his own mare forward, as dark as Duchann Bhan was light.

Crimthann had offered to make Tandrys a fili of the fifth rank? She had felt his wish to stay with her and be her bard, but most of the time his mind slipped away from her when she tried to touch it. He sought her out, stole away with her to the nearby groves and into private corners in the round-houses, slipped into her with an urgency and need she matched every time, and every time, the hunger was not yet stilled, feeding on itself, making them only more eager. And yet he had not told her that Crimthann wanted him to remain at Ard Ladrann. He closed his mind to her and didn't speak of the future.

What if he were to return to Armorica and leave her behind, alone?

She stared ahead, wondering if the fascination she felt for the bard had something to do with that insecurity, an insecurity she hadn't felt with Gamal, and certainly not Illann. But neither had Gamal made the sun stand still in the sky or the music of the birds sweeter, had never inhabited her mind so that every thought brought her back to him.

No, she did not feel like she did during the time she was with Gamal. What she felt now was more like she had when she was a child, still living at Cashel, and a trader had brought a foreign delicacy to Aengus, sweeter than the sweetest honey. Her mother had warned her not to eat too much or she would become sick, but she had not been able to stop herself, even when she began to feel her stomach churn.

She had become as sick as her mother predicted.

Tandrys was like that foreign sweet. She didn't know if he would be good for her, but she couldn't stay away.

They came out of the trees, and the rath was visible on the rise ahead, a number of warriors at weapons practice on the grounds in front. Yseult's sharp eyes immediately found the figure of Tandrys, exchanging blows with Lithben. As if he felt her regard, he lifted a hand to call halt, put up his sword, and scanned the horizon. When he spotted them, he came striding across the grounds to meet them.

Yseult pulled up next to him and allowed herself to be lifted off of Duchann Bhan's back and kissed thoroughly.

"What news?" Tandrys asked.

"None. Crimthann doesn't like it."

"What, that there have been no raids recently?"

"He finds it suspicious — and so do I. The weather has turned perfect for raids, but there is no sign of the Ui Neill."

"Then perhaps I can devote myself more to my harp again," Tandrys said with a grin.

Yseult walked slowly beside him, leading Duchann Bhan by her reins. She had to talk with him about Crimthann's offer, but she found herself strangely reluctant. It wasn't like her to avoid a problem; she was much more likely to act impulsively, perhaps too impulsively. But walking next to him, she could feel her skin singing, calling out to him, and it was unimaginable that this could end, that he could leave her for Armorica. But if he had not responded to Crimthann's offer, had not even told her about it ... she didn't know what to think.

"It is good sailing weather too. Soon the trading ships will set off again for foreign lands," she said quietly.

Tandrys was silent, but the smile died on his face. He nodded.

"What are you going to do?"

He stopped, looking to the east in the direction of the sea. Yseult stopped beside him. Duchann Bhan lowered her head and began to pull up clumps of early spring grass and chew them slowly: tear, chomp, tear, chomp.

"I want to stay."

"Then stay."

"If I do, my friends and family will think me dead. I can't do that to them."

"You could send them word."

"I would like to see them again."

She reached out for his mind, but there was nothing there, a wall with no door. Boinda had taught him well.

He turned, taking her free hand in both his own. "I would come back, Yseult. Staying away would be impossible for me now."

If she couldn't reach out to his mind, how could she be sure?

There was a commotion at the gate, and she hurried ahead, grateful for the distraction. "A rider from the northeast, coming hard!" she heard as they neared the earthwork ramparts.

Crimthann stood at the gate below the watchtower, looking in the direction indicated. "Ours?" he called up.

"Yes."

A number of people had already gathered at the gates to welcome back the scouting party, and the small crowd fell silent, watching the distant figure nearing at a gallop, wondering what the urgent news could be.

The sweating warrior pulled up in front of the gates of the rath and dismounted, going to one knee in front of Crimthann. Before he spoke, he took three quick, deep breaths and blinked the sweat out of his eyes.

"Lord, it's your father. The Ui Bairrche betrayed him and have gone over to the Ulaid. Enna Cennsalach is dead."

* * * *

A new king had to be chosen quickly, and the kings and the highest brehon and druids of the Laigin were called to Dun Ailinne for the naming. All the members of the kinship group eligible for the kingship and who were still whole had to be present as well; whoever was named king would immediately take over the duties of warlord of the Laigin. Crimthann's cousins Illann and Ailill were leading the defense of Dun Ailinne, but it was Crimthann who was most expected to be elected king —Illann and Ailill were young yet and neither had Crimthann's experience in battle. Nor did they have wives. And the queen Crimthann would bring was the Kingmaker herself.

Drystan didn't know what to think of the unexpected developments. On the one hand, the members of the Fianna who had visited Ard Ladrann at Imbolc had not shown the least sign of recognizing him. But at Dun Ailinne, there would be many more warriors who had gone with Murchad to Dyn Tagell and seen the prince of Dumnonia — and that much more chance someone would think away the blue cloak, think beyond the appearance of the bard and see a resemblance in a gesture or a feature, catch a fleeting memory and connect it to a foreign musician.

He should leave now. He should leave now, but he couldn't. Somehow, leaving Yseult voluntarily was beyond his power.

And when Crimthann asked him to bring both harp and sword on the journey to Dun Ailinne, he accepted.

* * * *

Yseult came out to the practice grounds where she had heard Tandrys was to be found, a sword in the belt at her hips. The weather was unseasonably warm, and she had to shade her eyes to search for the bard among the warriors. She had already packed what she needed for the journey and had put together a supply of healing herbs and ointments with her mother and Brangwyn, enough for the trip. They would be leaving for Dun Ailinne in the morning. Crimthann was putting Ard Ladrann in Lithben's capable hands until the succession was decided, taking half the warriors with him for both his own protection and the protection of the two Yseults.

Tandrys was exchanging blows with Gamal, who pursued the attack with more determination than necessary for a practice session, the expression on his face grim. Yseult was glad Gamal would be staying behind while Tandrys traveled with them.

"Let me try my hand with the bard!" she called out as she approached them. Gamal put up his sword, simultaneously sheepish and stubborn, greeted her shortly, and moved away. If they stayed in Dun Ailinne, she would ask Crimthann to see that Gamal remained in Ard Ladrann.

Tandrys stuck his sword in the ground in front of him and leaned on it to catch his breath. Wisps of hair escaped from his braid and his smooth chest gleamed with sweat.

"That fiery warrior seemed quite willing to take my head off," he said, still breathing heavily.

Yseult nodded. "Does Gamal often give you problems?"

Tandrys laughed. "If he does, I can take care of it myself, fair princess."

"Bards are not usually known to be as handy with a sword as with a harp, and I do not want to have your death on my conscience."

Dimples appeared in his smooth cheeks and his green eyes shone. "Is that why you intervened? But I was looking forward to having you try your hand with me."

Yseult laughed and drew her sword. "Impossible man! Here, you have my hand."

Tandrys jumped back, pulling his own sword out of the dirt, and parried her first lunge. Yseult had never fought him before, and although she had fought beside him the night of the Ui Neill attack, it was easier to judge the skill of an opponent than an ally. The bard was good, very good, even winded from his fight with Gamal, nearly as good as a member of the fianna. She remembered what she had once said to him, that he was like the Dagda, the good god, good at everything he did.

He laughed again, spirits high, and his sword swooped around towards hers, gleaming bright in the spring sunshine. She parried, all her attention on the blades, clashing and glinting in the sun. Before their blades slid away from each other, iron against iron, her gaze was caught by a distinctive break in the gleaming smoothness of Tandrys's sword.

An irregularity. As if a piece were missing.

She looked for the spot again. There. She had not been mistaken. Somehow Tandrys had lost a splinter of metal from his blade, in some fight, in which perhaps someone had been killed.

A feeling of sick fear descended on her belly and her fighting arm froze. Perhaps it had been a trick of light. She hoped it had been a trick of light.

Tandrys dropped his own weapon and came over to her, laying one bare, sweaty arm over her shoulders. "Yseult! Are you well?"

She stared at him, wishing she could stare at his blade. "I — don't know. Perhaps the sun."

He caressed her cheek, and she let him, although her first impulse was to jerk away. "It is not
that
warm," he said with a smile, taking her chin his hands, fine artist's hands, perhaps the hands of a murderer.

"No. I don't know what came over me. I think I should see my mother."

He nodded, his beautiful green eyes full of concern. "Do you want me to accompany you?"