Yseult: A Tale of Love in the Age of King Arthur (4 page)

"More so than that one," Lucet said, pointing in turn to the dripping parchment.

"We can all see that the truth that endures is in the book of the druids," Lóegaire declared, and his Gael audience cheered, the few Christians among them hardly noticeable. With one stroke, he had made them forget Boinda's song and reestablished his own authority. Yseult was glad that his triumph had been at Patraic's expense, but at the same time she knew that while Patraic acted from the courage of conviction, Lóegaire's actions were prompted by little more than ambition.

Patraic came forward and retrieved his book from the High King. He drew himself to his full height, towering half a head above Lóegaire.

"I do not accept your judgment," he said, raising his ruined book above his head. "The words of this book will survive long after every ogham staff is gone. Soon your writing will die out, your books will be forgotten, and even your words will all but vanish."

A hush fell over the crowd, more profound than the one Boinda's poem had created earlier.

Lóegaire's voice trembled with anger. "I have put up with your sacrilege too long. You are no longer welcome in the house of druids, and the gates of Tara will be closed to you."

"I spoke no satire against you, Ard Ri," Patraic said more mildly. "I do but speak a prophecy."

"A prophecy spoken in revenge."

"That makes it no less true."

"Go, now!"

Patraic nodded and turned away, but Yseult the Wise didn't see him leave. Instead, she saw a vision of the fire that had been haunting her for years, saw for the first time what the fire was made of.

It was a bonfire of ogham staffs — the knowledge of her people going up in flames.

Chapter 2

I arise today

Through the strength of heaven:

Light of sun,

Radiance of moon,

Splendor of fire,

Speed of lightning,

Swiftness of wind,

Depth of sea,

Stability of earth,

Firmness of rock.

"St. Patrick's Breastplate"

Young Yseult longed to get off her horse. She had begged to come along on the trip to Connachta, but so many hours in the saddle were exhausting, especially given the unseasonable warmth of the last few days. Only a month had passed since Beltaine, but the weather was as hot as at Lugnasad, the festival of high summer. On the journey, many of the rivers they had forded were high with snow melt. Her tunic clung to her, damp with sweat between and beneath her breasts, and the leather saddle chafed the insides of her thighs through the material of the breeches she wore for riding. The young warrior Gamal had entertained her on much of the long ride, but today it was even too hot for flirtation.

They had stopped at a number of raths held by local kings on the journey, but they never stayed more than a day, and everyone in the party was tired from traveling nearly the breadth of Eriu. The High King's negotiations with the Bretain kingdoms of Dumnonia and Venedotia were going well, and a marriage between his daughter Eithne and the Dumnonian king Marcus Cunomorus was being arranged to seal the peace. Lóegaire had decided it was time to fetch Eithne from Cruachu, where she and her younger sister were in fosterage with Ailill Molt, king of Connachta; he seemed to think the kings of Eriu would be more likely to accept a peace already made than to make peace themselves with their Bretain enemies.

Originally, her mother and Lóegaire had not planned on bringing Yseult along, but she was fourteen years old, stubborn, and of mixed blood. Those of both Gael and Feadh Ree descent were known for their wild eye and passionate temperament.

Yseult accompanied them to Cruachu.

She had always wanted to see the royal seat of famous Queen Mebd, the greatest queen who had ever ruled in Eriu, and the extended complex of hill-forts and houses didn't disappoint her. Cruachu was not just one rath, it was many, spread over a larger area than any other in Eriu. Earthworks loomed on all sides as they wound their way toward the main hill-fort of the king of Connachta. The bustling atmosphere of the settlement reminded Yseult of Tara during a fair.

When they rode through the high wooden gates between the earthen ramparts, Eithne, her sister Fedalma, Ailill Molt, and his wife Ronait were there to meet them, flanked by druids and warriors. Eithne was fourteen, marriageable age among the Gael. Marriageable or not, Lóegaire's daughter looked frightened and young. Yseult's talent for knowing was not as strong as her mother's — her own strongest power was that of calling — but she didn't have to read Eithne's mind to know that her step-sister did not want to be married across the sea to a Bretain king.

And Yseult would not have wanted to be in her place.

"Welcome your arrival, greatest king of the fair island of Eriu," Ailill Molt said formally to Lóegaire after they dismounted. The High King checked a frown. The words were perfectly correct, but even Yseult noticed that the other king had not added any praise of Lóegaire's exploits and excellencies as was custom when greeting an honored visitor. Perhaps Eithne's foster father didn't approve of sending her across the sea in marriage.

Yseult wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of one hand and glanced at Lóegaire's elder daughter. She was a lovely young woman with hair the color of ripe wheat, braided formally in three plaits that reached past the tops of her thighs, each fixed with a fine silver ball. Her sister Fedalma was brighter in coloring, with hair the color of sunset and a dusting of freckles across her cheeks and nose.

What would it be like to be forced to marry a man she had never met, far away from anyone she knew? Among the Tuatha Dé Danann, arranged marriages were frowned upon. At the same time, Yseult was well aware that her mother's two marriages had been the result of political considerations. No one had made the decision for Queen Yseult, but she had nonetheless chosen men for the good of her tuath and for the good of Eriu, going along with the dictates of her role as kingmaker.

"Baths are being prepared for you," Eithne said quietly to the travelers, and Yseult nearly sighed in relief at her words. "But you may take refreshment first if you wish."

Yseult was thirsty and hungry, but she wanted a bath more. It hadn't rained all week and the roads of Connachta were dusty. Her mother went with Lóegaire and Murchad to the mead hall, while Yseult, Brangwyn, Aidenn, and Gamal followed Eithne and Fedalma to the bath house.

"Do you fight with my father's champion Murchad?" Eithne asked the two young warriors.

Aidenn and Gamal nodded.

"Have you ever accompanied him to the land of the Romans?" she asked.

"We have been all over the known world with the giant Murchad," Gamal claimed in his booming voice. Gamal loved nothing better than the chance to tell a tale. But Eithne obviously wasn't interested in a good tale; she wanted information about her future home and husband.

Aidenn gave Eithne a long look and she blushed. "Do you mean the island of the Bretain or the lands to the south?"

"The island of the Bretain."

"Yes, we've been there," Aidenn said, totally ignoring his friend Gamal's exaggerated claims.

Eithne's blush grew deeper. "Perhaps after you have bathed and eaten you will tell us about where you've been?"

"Of course."

Gamal let out his loud laugh. "We will tell you tales of Romans and Africans, of people who put rings in their noses and their gods in houses, tales of beasts as high as the gate of a rath and birds as tall as a human who feed on the dead. You want to hear about Romans? We can tell you of magical bath houses where hot water never grows cool, of huge places with wall of gleaming stone, of games lasting more than a moon in which men fight wild animals from all over the world, some looking almost like men themselves."

Eithne's expression was growing increasingly apprehensive, and Brangwyn and Yseult exchanged a long look. With the mutual understanding of the Feadh Ree, the cousins nodded. Brangwyn would talk to Aidenn and make sure he didn't tell Eithne anything to make her more nervous than she already was. Unfortunately, Yseult probably would not have much luck persuading Gamal to tame
his
unruly tongue.

* * * *

After a dinner of salmon caught in the nearby rivers and wild boar caught in the nearby woods, the young people left the hill-fort to wander beneath the stars. Luckily, Gamal
had
listened to Yseult and did not exaggerate as much as usual when telling Eithne tales of her future home. Hearing the Bretain were not giants or monsters with three heads seemed to calm her.

The six of them stopped on a rise and looked out over the raths and round-houses below them, circles in shades of gray and blue in the moonlight. Yseult felt Gamal lean into her and smiled.

"What do you want most in the world, Fedalma?" Brangwyn asked to steer the conversation away from Eithne's future.

"To be with my sister always," the youngest replied, linking her arm through Eithne's.

"And you, Yseult?" Aidenn asked, jumping in. Yseult was grateful; Fedalma's answer could only remind Eithne of what she would be losing in marrying across the sea.

Yseult repressed the memories of older half-brothers and sisters and answered Aidenn's question with the second thing that came to her mind. "I would like to be as wise as my mother and rule over kings, commanding hearts and minds."

"You already command the heart and mind of one man," she heard Gamal whisper in her ear.

"Certainly not an impossible dream for the daughter of the kingmaker," Brangwyn said, chuckling.

Yseult shook her head. "Ah, but not as easy as it may seem. People will always compare us. She is 'Yseult the Wise' and I will always be 'Yseult the Fair.'"

"You don't know that now," Eithne said.

"Mebd was only sixteen when she became queen of Connachta," Yseult pointed out.

"She certainly commanded the hearts and minds of men," Aidenn commented dryly.

Yseult burst out laughing. It was said of Queen Mebd that every man stood in the shadow of the next. The legends counted nine husbands — and as many bed companions as men who helped her fight against Cú Chulainn.

"Perhaps I can make due with a few less than she," Yseult said in a tone of mock modesty, and even serious Eithne laughed.

Yseult was glad.

* * * *

The weather changed the day after they arrived in Cruachu. Although all had longed for a little rain while riding the dusty roads, none had longed for driving gales from the northwest, turning false summer to false winter and postponing their return to Tara. After the unseasonable heat of the last few days, the ground was too dry for such a downpour, and instead of absorbing the moisture, it rejected it, turning roads into rivers, with the exception of the timber roadways across the bogs. No right of safe passage through the five provinces of Eriu could make travel in those conditions less than hazardous. As a result, they were confined to the round-houses and each other's company, to tales ancient and recent, listened to the ballad of Diarmuid and Grainne, heard how the wiseman Patraic had climbed a nearby mountain and made Christians of those who followed, played fidchell and brandubh and dice.

When the sun returned after four nights, everyone was eager to get out again. Crops needed to be checked and livestock tended to, but exercising horses and sword arms was the far more popular duty. It was a perfect day, the sun warm and the breeze cool on bare skin.

After a midday meal of salt pork, oat porridge and mead, Yseult was making her way to what was left of the rath's herb garden after the destructive downpour. She was concentrating on avoiding mud and puddles when a soft voice stopped her.

"Yseult."

She looked up, surprised that she hadn't noticed her stepsisters' presence.

"Would you like to go swimming?" Eithne asked. "Fedalma and I are going to the stream to wash off the smell of smoke from being stuck inside for so long."

Yseult shook her head. "It sounds tempting, but I promised my mother and Ronait I would help see what can be saved of the herb gardens after that downpour. Afterwards, I have weapons practice with Brangwyn and Murchad."

Eithne made a face. "It's much too nice for weapons practice."