The Exile (7 page)

"Ah, my beautiful boy, come to me, my sweet." She patted the skin beside her. "There is so much for you to learn but we have all night."

He sat beside her, all embarrassment gone as her hands touched him. She unclasped the butterfly and the front of her chemise fell away, leaving her naked to the waist. Sláine stared. Brighid smiled; it was a haunting expression on her pale skin. She pulled his jerkin over his head and drew him closer into an embrace. Her hand set against the flat of his chest, Sláine felt the beat of his heart as it quickened.

"What do I-?"

"Hush now, my beautiful one, let our flesh talk. Let our bodies find their own language." She took his hand in hers and laid it gently on her breast. Sláine felt his breath catch in his throat as he thrilled to the touch. Her skin was perfect, although not smooth, far from it. It was made up of thousands of tiny creases, each one earned and owned by life lived to the full. He cupped her with both hands, losing himself in the sheer swell of sensation. Her red curls fell down across her face. She moved to brush them away but he stopped her. He wanted to see her like this, like lovers do. "I have such delights to show you," she whispered. "You are favoured of the Goddess, Sláine Mac Roth, but you should know that she collects beautiful things." She squeezed his hand. He felt her flesh stiffening against his touch.

Brighid leaned forwards and kissed him, her mouth closing over hers, and he lost all sense of self. As they moved, touched and kissed, he was unable to tell where he ended and she began, such was Brighid's skill.

"Let me make a man of you," she breathed.

And he gave himself to her completely.

Four

Pranks

Samain might have signified their ascent into manhood but they were not so grown up that they didn't take delight in pranks. Indeed, their apprenticeships opened a whole new world of possibilities for their jokes, and those new possibilities in turn brought more delight.

The old druid, Cathbad, was the butt of their first and most elaborate charade.

It was a simple lie and its success or failure depended very much upon the integrity of the druid. An honest man would walk away untouched but a liar would find himself humbled.

To honour his reign, King Grudnew had ordered the construction of a new Great Hall, almost twice the size of the current roundhouse. It was a sign of prosperity, a very visible message that could be passed from village to village - Murias thrived beneath Grudnew.

Twenty good men had been digging out the foundations for over a week. It was back-breaking work. From dawn to dusk they shovelled earth and clay, banking the waste high while the children wheeled it away in barrows. It was the sight of all that clay that gave Dian the bright idea of hiding some "ancient treasures" in the unbroken ground. He could imagine the salivating Cathbad declaring the find a great discovery even as he proceeded to translate the gibberish the boys had painted onto the "old" tablets. No doubt it would be some great wisdom that only he had the knowledge to fathom.

"Do you think he'll fall for it?"

"The pompous old fool wouldn't dream of admitting he doesn't understand something," Dian assured them. "He'll proclaim them works of antiquity, no doubt hidden there by followers of the Carnun, Horned God, and promise to unlock their secrets and we'll all get to have a good laugh at his expense."

"Nice," Cullen said approvingly. Anything even vaguely humiliating always received Wide Mouth's seal of approval.

Dian had been learning his letters for several months and had a passing fair knowledge of Ogham script. Enough, certainly, to convincingly forge a few shards of wisdom.

Cormac, Niall, Cullen, Fionn, Sláine and Núada laboured painstakingly over the actual painting of the stones, trying to replicate perfectly the scratchings that Dian had made in the dirt. Dian's own images were more elaborate, quite stunning representations of the Horned God himself and images of some wild hunt where the beasts had risen up to chase the men from their forests. The imagery was all very deliberate. He hoped that Cathbad would leap to a certain set of conclusions.

"They're close enough they might be letters but they aren't any letters old Cathbad will have seen before."

"So whatever he says is a lie?"

"Whatever he says is a lie," Dian agreed.

The friends waited for cover of night before they crept down to the building site. The clay tablets were heavier than any of them had expected them to be. They scrambled down into the pit, digging away as quickly and quietly as they could and hiding the various fake relics across the length and breadth of the site. With the moon waxing, they re-covered the tablets and crept back to their beds to sleep out what remained of the night.

Sláine returned to Brighid's bed to take a new lesson in the skill of giving devotion. There was so much he had to learn of the ways of the flesh and, for a coin, she was a willing teacher.

"You'll make a good husband and a skilful lover," the Daughter of Danu whispered in his ear as he slipped into sleep. It was all pillow talk but it was pleasing to hear. He had never thought of himself as being someone's husband but the time would come, he knew, when he had to make a choice from the girls of the tribe. Who would it be? He had no idea. Eabha had a pretty face, but wore her fat a little too comfortably for his tastes. Eilis on the other hand had the taut form of a hunter, her muscles as hard as her face. Isibeal always smiled when she saw him and Keeva blushed whenever he came within ten paces of her, but none of them set a fire blazing in his heart. None of them made his blood sing; not the way Brighid's touch did. He fell into a dreamless sleep, savouring the feel of her hand on his bare chest.

He woke twice in the night. The first time he thought he heard voices, women talking softly. The second time he saw Brighid on her elbow looking down at him. She smiled and kissed his lips.

"Sleep, my beautiful boy," she whispered.

And he did.

For two days the young men went about their duties, desperate for their forged wisdom to be discovered, but either the diggers passed over their finds without taking a blind bit of notice or they were digging in the wrong place.

On the second morning, Tall Iesin left Murias, taking Fionn with him. He promised to be back for Beltain with new stories gathered from the furthest corners of the Tir-Nan-Og especially for the boys. They gathered at dawn to wave Fionn off. He looked so small as he shouldered his pack and set off with Iesin, but then the balladeer made dwarfs of giants with his lanky frame. Fionn was almost running as he hustled to keep up with his master. It was an odd feeling watching their friend leave. They had never been apart before. Sláine found himself wondering if they would actually recognise their friend when - if - he ever returned. Things, he knew, would never be the same between them again. Where there had always been seven, now there were six. It felt as if a part of his life had been torn away and that he was never going to see it again.

He didn't know how to cope with what he was feeling, so like any man he threw himself into his work and simply ignored it.

Fionn's departure was the first sign that they really were men now - or if not men, at least they were no longer children.

On the third day the cry went up for Cathbad to come, quickly. The town was abuzz with rumours in a matter of minutes. Something had been found at the new site but no one knew exactly what. The old druid grumbled as he emerged from the nemeton, his face set like thunder. Dian followed a step behind him doing well to keep the smile from his face when they passed Sláine and Cullen standing on the corner by Rioch's inn. Wide Mouth pulled a face. Sláine turned his back on the pair of them, he was laughing so hard. Cathbad's sour humour soon changed as he saw the clay tablets the workmen had unearthed. Three were crude, nothing more than scratchings of something not dissimilar to Ogham script, but the fourth was a work of art. He licked his lips appreciatively and demanded it be carried with haste and reverence to the nemeton where he might peruse it in peace. Cathbad turned his attention to the cruder tablets. He clucked and tutted, and hemmed and hawed over the possible meanings of the letters. Grudnew came, followed by Gorian. Sláine and Cullen of the Wide Mouth followed five paces behind the warlord.

"What is it, man?" the king demanded, hunching over the tablets.

"The voices of the damned, sire," Cathbad breathed. "From the past, come to share their secrets with us."

It was almost too perfect.

"Are you sure?" Grudnew asked sceptically.

"I do not question you on matters of kingship, sire. I do not expect to be questioned in matters of the spirit. When my fingers brushed the tablet I caught a trace of the author's anguished cry. His words, recorded here, are of great import, recorded in haste as all around him crumbled to dust."

"Fascinating," Gorian said, "and you can actually read his words?"

The druid twisted his birdlike body and craned his neck around to look up at the warlord, thinly veiled hostility in his ancient eyes. "I can, warrior. Can you?"

"Perhaps you will share their wisdom then?"

"No," Cathbad said sharply. "The knowledge is for the king's ears only." He tapped a grimy fingernail at one of the spidery symbols. "See this mark here? It is a portent, and this one beside it bears the king's name. Now do not question me again, warrior. There is more to this world than your philosophy allows for. Steel is no match for stone, and stone is of the earth, of the body of fair Danu herself."

"You talk a lot of rot, old man," Gorian said, shaking his head.

"Hold your tongue, warrior!" the Druid spat, lurching up from his crouch.

Grudnew laid a restraining hand on his friend's shoulder. "I would hear these words, my friend."

"Then you are a bigger fool than I took you for," Gorian muttered in disgust.

"Do not overstep yourself, Gorian. Now, druid, perhaps we should find somewhere more private?"

Rubbing his hands with undisguised glee, the druid nodded. "Yes, yes, yes, my king. To the nemeton, there I have another treasure from Danu's belly to show you. Together with these tablets it sheds much light upon the trials our tribe will face over the coming years. It is truly a gift from the Goddess, sire."

Grudnew raised an eyebrow curiously. "Then the sooner we see these wonders, the better."

"Yes, yes, yes, sire. The sooner we see them the better."

"No," Grudnew said, "not we as in you and I, druid; we as in the warlord and I."

"But-"

"Mark me well, druid. Any observation on a threat to the wellbeing of the Sessair is for Gorian's ears. He, every bit as much as I, stands as protector of our people."

"But these words are from your wife, the Goddess herself. They are not for his ears any more than a midnight promise between lovers is for a stranger's."

"I'll brook no argument from you, druid. Now, lead the way. Time is wasting and I am eager to hear your words."

"Perhaps you aren't such a fool after all," Gorian said as they followed the crook-backed druid to his holy house. "Sláine, Cullen, stay here."

"But we-" Wide Mouth stopped mid-objection as Sláine elbowed him in the side. "Yes, master. Right here."

"You're learning, lad," Gorian said, disappearing into the nemeton behind Grudnew and the Druid.

"Not fair," Cullen grumbled sourly as the door closed, shutting them out. "Dian's in there. He gets to see it all."

"And he gets to tell us all about it," Sláine said.

"Well there is that." Wide Mouth sat down with his back against the wall of the nemeton and began plucking stems of grass from the dirt and rolling them between his fingers. When Cullen found a blade he liked he gripped it in both hands between thumb and forefinger, and blew, transforming the simple grass into a high-pitched whistle. He grinned up at Sláine.

A few minutes later they heard uproarious laughter followed by a foul-mouthed rant and then more laughter.

The door slammed open and Dian came charging through it, laughing uncontrollably even as he hurdled the low fence surrounding the nemeton.

"Do you reckon they found Dian's signature on the picture?" Cullen asked, getting up and dusting his hands off on his breeches.

They watched Dian disappear down the lane.

"Looks like it, doesn't it?" Sláine's grin was infectious. He slapped Wide Mouth on the back. "Come on, best make ourselves scarce. I bet old Cathbad's none too happy."

"I can't wait to hear what future he predicted for the king."

"Then we better catch up with Dian."

Word of the druid's humiliation spread quickly through the town. Cathbad was feared but he wasn't liked. Anything that brought him down a peg or two was welcomed by most of the inhabitants of Murias. Their stunt hadn't just undermined the pompous old druid, it had seriously humiliated him.

Cathbad wasn't the only one to be on the receiving end of one of their pranks. A few nights later it was Rioch's turn. Núada made sure the side door was open so that when the other boys drove one of Piaras's cows down from the pasture they were able to lure it inside the inn and coax it up onto the second floor. They set a small plate of honey on the landing and crept out.

Come morning Rioch's howls of frustration rattled the inn's windows.

No matter what he tried the animal wouldn't go down the stairs. He tried sweet smells, driving it with a board, pushing it, kicking it and screaming in its face. The cow just settled down on the landing and looked up at the innkeeper with a baleful stare.

It took eight Red Branch warriors to get the frightened cow back down the stairs, along with Piaras muttering about how the dumb animals will go up stairs but they won't come down again, because of their weight and how they might fall.

Piaras himself was the butt of another joke less than a week later, when he woke to find that his entire herd had been dyed blue with woad.

Breaking into Grudnew's roundhouse was Dian's revenge for the trouble the others had gotten him into with Cathbad.