BENDING THE BOYNE: A novel of ancient Ireland (24 page)

“Boann means to die first,” he told Ith without emotion.

The shaman gave a coughing laugh. “Her hunger strike! Easy enough when there is no food to be had.”

Elcmar shook his head. “Her slave dribbles broth into her. Boann still has fever on her.” He handed Ith the small carved image of the hag.

Ith looked at him, astonished. “You carry the death-hag?”

“That image hung around the neck of my first kill on the Continent, a trader from a far shore who tried to cheat me.” Elcmar took it back and stood. “I shall not be defeated. Not here, not by these people.”

It was Elcmar who came out of the camp walls, alone. Remains of Ith’s boat, dragged upriver by quiet ones during darkness then set afire, lay strewn in the Invaders’ clearing. Elcmar passed the charred boat, its ribs pointing east toward the coast. He could bolt, escape, he could go north to Connor or south to the Lake mine. Instead he rode past the central mound and to the Starwatchers. He expected an arrow or stone to find him, but none came.

Again he took his white horse directly into their village clearing. He halted at its center and waited, proud there on his animal. A ring of strong Starwatcher men surrounded Elcmar and stood in silence.

At his bold arrival, the elders left their tasks. They refused to approach him on the horse and gestured toward the mounds. He turned his horse, and all proceeded toward the council place at the great oak tree near the central mound. The young scouts, carrying pikes and stone axes, followed in a group but no more Invaders arrived.

The elders halted at the entrance to the cursus. Elcmar abruptly dismounted to walk with them. They all filed through the cursus. A light breeze crossed the clearing as they gathered close to the oak’s whispering branches.

Elcmar faced the Dagda, admiring the polished red macehead, and he gestured at it. “This mace came to you over the great waters, in trade.”

The Dagda met his look without comment.

“There shall be a truce. These are the terms.” Elcmar took care to speak simply. He came here to win the quiet ones over, not make a speech. One scout translated though quite a few among the Starwatchers appeared to understand his words.

The elders listened. The champion’s belt carried many weapons but his arrival without warriors made the elders receptive, although some showed offense.

“There should be no more violence, nor any taking of hostages, by either group living along the Boyne. No one, Invader or Starwatcher, should be found outside of my camp or your village after sunset, except with my express permission or from your elders. Anyone wanting to be out at night must carry this sign of permission.” Elcmar drew out a pouch containing a supply of strange stones, hard and glossy layered-yellow stones, saying that these stones could be carried as passes. He gave the elders the striped pebbles, tumbled by water to a uniform size and shape.

“These cannot be duplicated to supply extra passes, for this stone comes from the Continent. You must restrict who carries these few safe-passage stones,” he said, ignoring their irate looks.

The elders confirmed with him that Boann lived, and Aengus. The Starwatchers withdrew from him, and deliberated. Perhaps now a peace could begin with these Invaders, he overheard one say. Dissent followed and the elders leaned together in heated debate.

Shortly the elders rose and motioned that Elcmar rejoin them. “We demand a council in order for any truce to become effective. Boann with Aengus must be allowed to freely visit the Starwatchers. She is not your hostage. At her option, Boann may divorce you. We shall continue our starwatching. The cattle raids must stop; you must grow your own food. You must have permission to clear trees. If we cannot agree in council, Invaders must leave the Boyne.”

They sounded adamant and Elcmar nodded to all of it. He might yet find gold here.

The Dagda raised his mace. “Anyone accused of violating this truce shall be judged by both sides in an open hearing. Three Starwatchers and three of your people shall decide upon it and they shall decide the punishment.”

Elcmar readily agreed. Their truce being complete, it was sealed by an exchange of touch with the elders. The elders set a date for the council, on the next crossquarter or perhaps during Brightsun; he didn’t understand what they said fixing it on the sun but he didn’t inquire. This same promise to confer had been made after the prior spring equinox and Sheela’s murder, and he paid it little regard then or now.

He rode away from their council place, his rib injury taunting him. On his way he met with the suffering countenance of Oghma, barring his pathway through the grasses.

The old man shook the upraised fist on his good arm.

Elcmar gave him one slow nod and rode on to the walled camp.

Tadhg left the council place with the Dagda. They refreshed themselves at the north stream and caught a salmon to send to Boann. The two men walked back to their village, the sun slanting in the west.

Tadhg sighed heavily. “Making peace is harder than making war.”

The Dagda considered what had happened. “What their champion Elcmar said is partly true. Boats have reached Eire within living memory. But those traders came for exchange in a ceremony between equals, not to despoil us and abuse this land.

“Now we are all hostages, held in their darkness.” The Dagda looked at the silent, disused mounds in the deepening twilight.

But come you back when summer’s in the meadow.

From:
Danny Boy

The Time of Bright Shoots

L
IR WAITED FOR
favorable wind and seas, then ventured again into open water from the northwest edge of the Continent. Their repairs were soon put to the test, for a sudden gale lashed them and blew them far off course. Tension showed on all the crew, and fear. Cian watched a huge wave come rolling, curling high above into a deadly green tunnel to slam them broadside.

“Hang on!” Lir shouted at him. The rowers had seen the giant coming; they strained and pulled and the tiny hide craft turned away at the last instant. Up they rode at a sickening angle toward the frenzied sky then down, down.

Too busy to cheer or curse, the mariners watched and rowed. The storm slackened but not enough for them to make it to shore. Through that night they stayed awake, to keep their boat within sight of beacon fires atop mounds along that coast. The soaked and freezing crew checked seams for new leakage. When the low clouds broke up at sunrise, a cape and large islands beckoned far to the southeast. They could see nothing but waves to the north. More time had been lost, but they were alive.

Cian released his ropes and clambered over men and bundles to reach Lir at the stern. He meant to urge Lir to turn back again, to fires and hot food, but his friend spoke first.

“We are far to the east of where I wanted to cross open water. Should I find the north coastline and hug that up to Cymru and cross over, or risk all and head us west for Eire? By the way, in this tight channel the surface current can reverse in just a few notches of the sun.” Lir’s eyes scanned water and sky. Cian kept quiet, hands gripping a thwart.

Lir ran a course straight for Eire, assisted by good visibility. They had only waves leading to the horizon without any reference points on land during sunlight. The men looked for birds, monitored smells on the wind, and watched for branches carried on the shifting currents. They watched also for any vessels. At night they sighted on sunset stars, and constellations, and with that Cian could assist.

He woke with the sun’s first rays, wondering if they had passed into deep blue oblivion, never to sight land again. But no, there was his friend Lir silhouetted against water and sky, as if he were back in a coracle skimming the Lake Of Many Hammers. The sea and skies remained in blessed calm. Without that, they might glide to the back of beyond on the open water over which Lir guided them.

They had scarce food supplies and scarcer fresh water. Cian rationed his own portion of water to moisten the plant cuttings he brought wrapped in oiled skins for Boann and Airmid.

The seas heaved again with heavy swells where Lir turned northerly for the Starwatcher island. Scattered islets to the northeast marked the yawning end of the channel and the men rallied to see these familiar dots far on their right. The crew compared notched sticks that tallied how many sunrises it took to reach this place, settling a bet they made when Lir set his course west. The salts, as the men called themselves, boasted about the places and distances they knew along the channel. Lir’s daring had added to their knowledge about traveling this channel relying on sun and stars and currents.

Their first signs were seabirds, terns and shearwaters making steep-angled dives for fish. Cian exulted with the brave mariners when Eire came into view. Lir traced the eastern coast, keeping it in sight but not close. He looked for a specific mouth on the coastline and there used his boat’s shallow draught to boldly bring them up a black-pooled river past the sheltering headland. At last their patched and reinforced ship did arrive.

They landed after the spring equinox. The surroundings seemed placid along this river.

He stood together with Lir, untying his bags from the load. The two solemnly agreed that during a set quarter of the next lunate, the boat would return for him. The crew watched the shores and the water, nervous that their naomhog might be spotted by Invaders.

Lir gestured. “This place lies not far south and east of the Boyne.” He pulled Cian’s dark head close and whispered. “You’re home, lad—now find us the gold!”

Cian touched his friend and each of the crew and spoke fervent good wishes to all. Trouble showed on the Seafarers’ faces: here the dangerous part of his journey would begin.

He dropped over the ship’s side, pulling his oiled leather bundles over the shallow water. When at last he touched Eire, his legs steadied. He stood there on the shore, inhaling its cool scent of woods and herbs, hearing its familiar birds. He had been gone for over two seasons of the sun. It seemed much longer than that. Cian touched a stone in silent and heartfelt thanks.

He glanced back. Lir’s boat sped from view, headed east across the rough strait to where it was safer to rest, make repairs, and take on supplies. Invaders would not bother to pursue them in the violent currents around a speck of land off Cymru’s north coast, Lir had told him. “That islet has small passage mounds for its people do follow Starwatcher ways. Metal has yet to be found where I and my crew can hide!

“Outsiders came there and built themselves a banked henge and stone circle. A small circle though it was, the locals knocked it and put up a strong mound over it. They ousted those intruders’ arses, so.”

Cian turned and made his way south into the gently sloping mountains backing his landing spot on the Liffey. With the spark glowing in his head, he sought the sun metal.

Gebann’s map sent him first to the area of Glassamucky Mountain, where he found the giant stone containing a distinctive large cupmark and several smaller cupmarks, just so, as Gebann told him. Sly Gebann said to sight from a natural notch in this giant bullaun stone to a distinct notch in the mountains. At sunset he must align that notch with a constellation and follow it to ridges lying beyond Lugnagun mountain, and to the high peak of Lugnaqilla. There on western slopes, he would find a noisy stream running through a stand of ash and oak. This stream trapped the sparkling sun metal as it rushed through overhanging cliffs streaked with white quartz.

Cian followed Gebann’s directions, crossing the peaks and rivers etched by the smith onto the small plaque. He ignored hunger and thirst, checking his path against the plaque, at times choosing one way against the other as he went deeper into the mountains.

When he found what he sought, he had cause to marvel at the old smith’s accuracy. Gebann guided him right to the stream. Placer gold for the taking glittered under laughing water and gold fell out in chunks with a tap to exposed veins in the cliffs. Cian rocked on his heels to see the gold, some nuggets the size of a child’s fist.

He loaded two deep leather bags with gold in less than three suns and hoped that his bags would be strong enough. These bags could be carried off later, the weight distributed to either side of his body. He built a cist of flat rocks in a dry place above the stream’s high water mark and there he deposited the heavy bags with a thud. As he covered them, he decided against notching any of the trees around his hidden cache of sun metal.

Cian marked the hiding place with a carved half circle on his stone plaque. He also marked a natural stele there with the same half circle placed around a natural cup mark. It felt good to be carving stone for awhile, and he relaxed. That night he verified the orientation of the carved half circle against the sky, just after first darkness in the west. He lined up his mark with the early spring constellation he had followed. He looked at which sunset stars shone at all four directions around this tall stone. Too excited to eat, he slept well and rose with the sun. He found a sharp antler bone to carve stone, choosing to save the short copper daggers he carried.

He followed the stream down and at different points along this stream, Cian carved several more symbols on prominent slabs. He had to work fast and he marked only stones whose surfaces already contained natural cup marks. The antler tool broke, so he found a hard stone and fractured it easily into a long, thick blade. On his way out of the Wicklow mountains, he etched several elongated, hasty lines as directional markers for his return to the stream of sun metal. His right hand bled from using the crude stone blade, but he ignored it as he eagerly turned north to the Boyne.

Cian progressed invisibly over the land.

Boann moved patiently through the meadow along the stream to the north of her village. A scout, the young lad called Dubh for his dark hair, stood close by while she worked. She had evaded bringing any Invader woman or slave on her outing this morning. Elcmar was away from camp on this day, off on a short hunt. She did not care to think what his warrior party might actually be doing. The Invaders raided cattle much farther away now, in daylight and with minimal deference to the truce with her village. When they returned, stolen cattle appeared in the pens and there would be a noisy feast at which they embroidered the tale of another daring cattle raid against neighboring peoples. She must help the elders figure out how to stop the raids.

On her way this morning she visited her father at his house. Since his stroke, Oghma recovered some mobility but rarely went carving. His hands could no longer clasp his tools. Indeed, his last carvings at the kerbstones appeared to be shallow and lacked the lavish artistry of his earlier decorations. Perhaps Daire could take over the carving, quick of mind and strong as he was.

Boann thought about all this while harvesting young medicines and vegetable plants. She hungered for greens and ate tender shoots while she worked. She searched for burdock, a delicacy whose stems could be stripped and then steamed. It would be a treat for Airmid; she knew not to eat it herself while nursing little Aengus. Young nettles, she pulled to make into soup for Oghma. The nettles reminded her: Sheela of the spirits had been dead for more than one cycle of the sun. That did not seem possible.

Soon it would be the crossquarter, the Time of Bright Shoots after spring equinox. Boann wondered again if the council of Starwatchers and Invaders would come to pass. She relished being outside the camp walls alone, though Elcmar’s informers would be sure to tell him about her solo foray.

Boann looked up from the thick plants. A magnificent fox crouched nearby. She blinked and suppressed her joyous exclamation. Cian had come to her silently, hiding low and watching her from the rippling grasses. She motioned and he looked at Aengus lying in a willow carrier at her side. Cian pointed toward the village, then back to the spot where he crouched in the fox skin. He angled fingers low in the west. Boann understood to return at dusk. Then swiftly Cian faded into the meadow.

She picked up Aengus and the greens, and took a different path back to the great hall. There she managed to stay calm, trying not to pace until dusk arrived, feeding Aengus then tucking him in with her trustworthy older attendant. Boann used the excuse of a sudden illness to avoid the feast planned for Elcmar’s return to the great hall. She waited to be certain no one followed, and slipped like water through the camp walls. She found Cian waiting at their special place in the meadow.

He smelled different than she remembered, but not like an Invader. Her heart pounded.

They sat down among pliant young grasses. He held out a closed hand then opened his fingers to show her an aqua bead strung on a plaited leather cord.

“Cian! I have never seen such a stone, the color of sea water!” This ocean-blue bead delighted her as he slipped the cord necklace over her head.

Of even more delight to her were the numerous plant cuttings and roots wrapped in moss inside soft leather. But she had trouble eating the dried-out olives he brought and he chuckled when she wrinkled her nose and spat them out. Those got soaked along the way, he told her, but were good when fresh; and she smiled.