The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance Part 38

The terrible thing was that she knew she could never have done aught but save him, not even had the Morrigan herself appeared to forbid it.

Forgive me.

"Where are we going?" Aodhan asked softly at her shoulder.

"Hold your tongue," she whispered. "It is not for you to speak, but to be humble and silent."

She thought she heard him laugh, but the sound was quickly gone. Here he was surrounded by those who would cheerfully have killed him had they met him on the battlefield or found him alone afterwards. There were doubtless many who would still be glad to spit him on the end of a sword. Ruadan's betrayal had not been forgotten.

But they would not do so as long as she vouched for him and staked her honour upon his behaviour.

"Seanat!"

Niamh, her black hair flying loose behind her, ran up to Seanat with a cry of relief and joy. She embraced Seanat with her strong arms, kissed her cheeks and stood back, laughing.

"We thought you dead!" she said.

"You thought her dead, Niamh," Riona drawled, coming up behind her. "I always knew she would return."

Niamh made a face and embraced Seanat again. "How many did you slay?" she asked breathlessly. "I killed ten, and I would have slain four more if only-"

"Don't believe her," Riona said, crossing her arms across her chest. "She always-" She broke off, looking over Seanat's shoulder. "What's this?"

Both women stared at Aodhan. He bowed and stood quietly under their inspection.

"I am looking for the Ard Ri," Seanat said quickly.

But Riona was not to be distracted. "I do not know you, stranger," she said to Aodhan. "From which fine do you come?"

"Do you forget the laws of hospitality?" Seanat snapped. "He is my guest."

There was nothing Riona could say to that. She frowned and pulled Niamh aside.

"Lugh is in his tent," Riona said.

"Very well," Seanat said.

As she began to walk away, Aodhan at her heels, she heard Niamh's whisper. "She is not herself. What can be wrong? Who is he?"

They can feel it, Seanat thought. They know he is not of the Tuatha De.

And indeed it seemed as if every man and woman they pa.s.sed cooks and smiths over their fires, warriors and pages, healers and poets turned to look as she made her way to the great tent in the centre of the camp. Still, no one stopped her, nor spoke except to welcome her back. Perhaps it was only her imagination that their eyes followed her when she stopped before the warriors who guarded the new High King.

"Cathal," she said, nodding to the larger man. "Fearghus. Will you ask the Ard Ri if Seanat of the Daughters of the Morrigan may speak with him?"

"Our king rests," Cathal said. He looked at Aodhan. "Is this an urgent matter?"

Urgent? She might go to one of Lugh's lieutenants and report what she had done. She might hope that Brighid would soon return from her mourning to speak for her. But it was Lugh to whom she must appeal, Lugh who had slain his own Fomoiri grandfather to save the Tuatha De.

"I ask to see him," she said.

The warrior turned, drew back the tent's flap and went inside. Seanat heard low voices, and then Cathal came out again.

"The Ard Ri will see you," he said gruffly, with another long look at Aodhan.

Seanat unslung the spears from over her shoulder and removed her sword and dagger, leaving them with Fearghus as custom dictated. Cathal nodded, and Seanat lifted the flap.

Lugh sat on a stool padded thickly with sheepskin, deep in conversation with his uncle Goibhniu, the powerful smith of the Tuatha De. Both men looked up as Seanat and Aodhan entered.

"Seanat," Lugh said. His golden ha ir was as bright as ever, his eyes as blue, but his forehead was streaked with blood and the cuira.s.s he still wore was slashed and dented. "What do you ask of me?"

His weariness shamed her. "My lord," she said, hesitating. "I ask a hearing."

"For what purpose?" Goibhniu said. He looked, narrow-eyed, at Aodhan. "Who is this boy?"

"My lords," Seanat said, "he is Aodhan. I have brought him under my protection."

"Your protection?" Goibhniu said. "Why should he need-"

Lugh raised his hand, and the smith fell silent. There was a coldness in the High King's face that chilled Seanat's blood. "I see why," he said. "Come forwards, Aodhan."

Aodhan obeyed and bowed deeply. "My Lord King."

"Your king is dead."

Straightening, Aodhan met Lugh's eyes without fear. "Many I knew are dead, or driven into the sea."

"Fomoiri," Goibhniu growled. He began to rise, but once again Lugh stopped him.

"Why is he here?" Lugh asked. "Why have you brought an enemy among us?"

Seanat would not tell him of Brighid's challenge. She would not lay any responsibility upon the lady when it had been her choice and no one else's.

"I came upon him in the forest," she said. "He fought fairly and with honour. I spared him."

"And brought him here?" Goibhniu demanded. "Have you so soon forgotten Ruadan?"

"I have not forgotten, my lord. But the Fomoiri are no longer a threat to us. They will not return. And Aodhan . . ." She took a deep breath. "It may be he is like the Ard Ri, as much of the Tuatha De as the Fomoiri."

Lugh rose. "Is this your claim, Aodhan?" he asked.

"I do not know, my lord," Aodhan said. "I was fostered to Fomoiri. I was raised as one, and fought for them. For this I make no apology."

Goibhniu growled again. "You must not permit this serpent in our midst, nephew," he said.

Seanat held her breath. Lugh was staring at her again, weighing, judging. She had offered her hospitality to Aodhan, which could not be withdrawn. He had three choices: to kill Aodhan, compelling her to defend him unto death, even against the whole of the Tuatha De; to exile them both; or to accept her word of honour that Aodhan would do no harm. She would not have blamed him if he had chosen the easiest way: exile.

But he sighed and shook his head. "I do not understand you, Seanat," he said. "It is not like the Daughters to show mercy in battle. If you have lost your taste for fighting . . ."

"Never, my lord!"

He searched her face again. "If our enemies still had the means and will to fight, I would not be lenient. But my judgment is this: he is yours, and whatever he does is on your head. You will face his punishment should he flout our hospitality."

It was the very best Seanat could have expected. She bowed low, avoiding Goibhniu's piercing stare, and took Aodhan's arm. He paused, gave a bow of his own, and followed her out of the tent.

"My thanks, Seanat," he said.

She continued towards the Daughters' tents without stopping. "You may not share our quarters," she said. "My sisters will not accept you easily. You may sleep by the fire outside, with the hounds."

"Am I your hound, Seanat? Am I permitted to go freely about the camp if I wear your collar?"

His quiet mockery stung worse than any wound. "I have no use for collars. Your honour binds you, as mine does myself. I will see that you have blankets and food and ale."

"But not your company?"

She gritted her teeth and didn't answer. She pointed out the fire to him, where a pair of Daughters, Bronach and una, were warming their hands and talking quietly.

"This is Aodhan," she said without preamble. "He is my guest. I offer him the hospitality of our fire and a share of our food."

The Daughters exchanged glances, but neither challenged her words. Seanat nodded to Aodhan, went on to the tent and gathered up her blankets. By the time she brought them back to the fireside, Aodhan was seated and the Daughters were walking away, casting sharp glances over their shoulders.

"It seems they care no more for my company than you," he said.

Seanat grunted. "They spend little time with men."

"Are you forbidden to take lovers then?"

Her skin grew hot. "Not forbidden. It is easier when . . ." Show no weakness. "You are not my lover, but my guest."

"Will you tell them what you told the Ard Ri?"

Never had Seanat had cause to lie to her sisters. But she had lied to Lugh when she'd said Aodhan had fought with honour. He had not fought at all.

But to tell them that he was Fomoir, in every way that mattered . . .

"Let them think what they will," she said harshly. "Stay here. I will bring meat."

He stayed, and afterwards she spent a little time sitting and eating with him to show that he was, indeed, her guest and not to be troubled. She knew how easily rumours flew around any war camp, and she wanted his position secure before the questions came.

They came soon enough. Seanat had just sought her blankets in the tent she shared with Riona, Niamh and Bronach when the three warriors burst in.

"It's true, then?" Riona demanded. "He's Fomoir?"

Casting off the blankets, Seanat sat up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "He is," she said wearily.

"Here!" Bronach exclaimed. "In the very camp of the High King!"

Seanat got to her feet. She could tell them he was almost certainly half Tuatha De, but she was too angry.

"You speak of the Ard Ri," she said. "I have seen him. He has granted me the life of this warrior, whatever he may be."

Riona glared, her arms tight across her chest. "You've gone mad, sister! Send him away! He will bring only sorrow!"

Bronach muttered agreement. Niamh moved her hands as if to soothe the anger that bubbled like a cauldron near overflowing.

"Seanat is no fool," she said softly. "There must be good reason."

"Is there?" Riona asked. Her eyes narrowed. "You have a smell about you, sister. The smell of a lover."

Niamh gasped. Bronach sneered.

"His lover, are you?" she said. "Can you stoop so low, Seanat? A Fomoir . . ."

"Thus did Brighid take Bres the Beautiful, and Cian take Ethlinn," Niamh said, "to bring peace-"

"Which never came!" Riona said. "And there is no need for conciliation when the Fomoiri have been driven from Inis Fail!"

"There is even more need," Niamh said, "and our king has given his blessing." She approached Seanat with a gentleness that Seanat could hardly bear. "You have your reasons, Seanat, even if only your heart knows them. I will stand beside you."

A look of pain crossed Riona's face. Bronach continued to sneer. Seanat pushed past them, walked out of the tent and went straight to the fire.

Aodhan was sitting almost where she had left him, knees drawn up and hands dangling between them. He was so intent on the fire that he didn't hear Seanat until she was almost on top of him.

"Get up," she commanded.

He rose slowly, watching her face warily. Seanat heard the others come up behind her. She seized Aodhan by the shoulders and kissed him as hard as she could, feeling the shock of his surprise and then the eager response. She pushed him away and spun to face the others.

"Does that satisfy you, Riona?" she asked. She stared at Bronach. "Now you truly have reason to despise me."

Pale with anger, Bronach stalked away. Riona lingered, glanced at Niamh, and followed with a heavy tread.

Aodhan stood unmoving, his body tense with anger. Niamh would not meet Seanat's eyes.

"I will stand with you," she said. "But it would be wise not to provoke-"

"I'll provoke whom I choose," Seanat snapped.

With a gentle shake of her head, Niamh went into the tent.

"Did you find that amusing?" Aodhan said behind her.

"I found it necessary."

"To prove myself your property?"

"You are not my-" She broke off as Aodhan's hands settled on her shoulders, stroked down, came to rest on her hips. She could feel the heat of him through her thin sleeping shift.

"Prove it," he murmured. "Where can we go to be alone?"