earlier.”
Dunlaing glared at Liam and his brother. “We shall have a test. If the animal fails, the man who drove his spear through the heart of my pet will meet a similar fate. However, if this fox does everything I expect, then I accept that it truly was a mistake, and I’ll not hold him responsible.” He snapped his fingers and the fox jumped into the air, twisting itself into a ring so that its snout and tail nearly touched. Before it reached the ground, the animal straightened out and landed on its feet.
The king gathered the fox onto his lap. “’Tis him, ’tis him!
He’s been restored from the dead. Go now!”
Liam didn’t want to take chances. He whisked them away from Cashel quickly. During the journey the children had more questions, blurting them out at once like jabbering seabirds fighting over bait.
Brigid patted the head of Liam’s eldest. “Seamus, why don’t ye tell them what happened.”
The effusive lad happily obliged while she gazed at the woods they trotted past.
She thought she spied a red fox near the area where they’d captured the one they brought the king. Had the fox escaped the king?
“Aye, I’ve seen her, that Brigid of Glasgleann.” Dunlaing slammed his fist on the arm of his ill-carved chair.
Ardan stood in front of the king, hoping not to reveal too much delight in the news. His assistant, Troya, stood in his shadow. “Do ye know where she’s staying?” Ardan tried desperately to motion Troya away, but she wouldn’t oblige.
Troya pulled on Ardan’s walking stick. “We’ve got to find her.”
Dunlaing groaned. “Did ye have to bring yer apprentice with ye, Ardan? I’ve plenty to worry about without that woman causing a ruckus and disturbing the ruling king.” He motioned to Troya and she stepped hesitantly forward, dropping her mangy ash-colored head toward the ground. Dunlaing pointed to the door. “Make sure he doesn’t spot ye on yer way out.”
Ardan knew the king’s remark would throw the old woman into a rage.
Troya popped her head up and pointed a crooked finger at the king. “I am a druidess and a poet of satire. Kings should fear me. Listen to me.”
Ardan pushed her away again and whispered, “Wait for me outside.”
A guard helped with the request.
After she was behind the red curtains and rock walls, Dunlaing muttered, “Why do ye keep her, Ardan? She’s no poet, and no one fears her satire. She’s a sham.”
“She still learns, king.”
“She’s as old as my seanmhathair. Take up a younger apprentice.”
Ardan said nothing.
King Dunlaing accepted a cup from a servant, sniffed at it, then threw it to the dirt floor, slinging golden liquid across one stone wall. He rocked on the flimsy chair. “I have to live in these conditions while this king’s house is rebuilt. And if that were not enough, that Brigid woman comes to insult me.”
Ardan could not believe his luck. “She was here?”
A servant retrieved the cup and backed out of the room. “She visited with the intent of returning my pet fox. Or so
I thought. She deceived me, that one. The fox left my presence almost as soon as she did.”
The complaint was petty, but the king had information Ardan needed. “How long ago was that, king?”
“Yesterday. Enough of that. What news have ye?”
Ardan sped through tales of warring clans as rapidly as possible and returned to Troya.
The old woman paced beside their horses. “I’ve read it in the stones, Master Ardan. I know the time has come. Once the honor price of blood is paid, the gods will be pleased and I’ll have trouble no longer.”
This pleased Ardan. Long ago he’d found an unsuspecting companion who held a grudge against Brigid. He had allowed her to think he would restore her honor, though he never expressly said so, and she had no idea what he was really going to do.
Ardan circled Troya, meditating on his schemes. If his original plan had worked, Troya would have found the lass at her
Dunlaing glared at Liam and his brother. “We shall have a test. If the animal fails, the man who drove his spear through the heart of my pet will meet a similar fate. However, if this fox does everything I expect, then I accept that it truly was a mistake, and I’ll not hold him responsible.” He snapped his fingers and the fox jumped into the air, twisting itself into a ring so that its snout and tail nearly touched. Before it reached the ground, the animal straightened out and landed on its feet.
The king gathered the fox onto his lap. “’Tis him, ’tis him!
He’s been restored from the dead. Go now!”
Liam didn’t want to take chances. He whisked them away from Cashel quickly. During the journey the children had more questions, blurting them out at once like jabbering seabirds fighting over bait.
Brigid patted the head of Liam’s eldest. “Seamus, why don’t ye tell them what happened.”
The effusive lad happily obliged while she gazed at the woods they trotted past.
She thought she spied a red fox near the area where they’d captured the one they brought the king. Had the fox escaped the king?
“Aye, I’ve seen her, that Brigid of Glasgleann.” Dunlaing slammed his fist on the arm of his ill-carved chair.
Ardan stood in front of the king, hoping not to reveal too much delight in the news. His assistant, Troya, stood in his shadow. “Do ye know where she’s staying?” Ardan tried desperately to motion Troya away, but she wouldn’t oblige.
Troya pulled on Ardan’s walking stick. “We’ve got to find her.”
Dunlaing groaned. “Did ye have to bring yer apprentice with ye, Ardan? I’ve plenty to worry about without that woman causing a ruckus and disturbing the ruling king.” He motioned to Troya and she stepped hesitantly forward, dropping her mangy ash-colored head toward the ground. Dunlaing pointed to the door. “Make sure he doesn’t spot ye on yer way out.”
Ardan knew the king’s remark would throw the old woman into a rage.
Troya popped her head up and pointed a crooked finger at the king. “I am a druidess and a poet of satire. Kings should fear me. Listen to me.”
Ardan pushed her away again and whispered, “Wait for me outside.”
A guard helped with the request.
After she was behind the red curtains and rock walls, Dunlaing muttered, “Why do ye keep her, Ardan? She’s no poet, and no one fears her satire. She’s a sham.”
“She still learns, king.”
“She’s as old as my seanmhathair. Take up a younger apprentice.”
Ardan said nothing.
King Dunlaing accepted a cup from a servant, sniffed at it, then threw it to the dirt floor, slinging golden liquid across one stone wall. He rocked on the flimsy chair. “I have to live in these conditions while this king’s house is rebuilt. And if that were not enough, that Brigid woman comes to insult me.”
Ardan could not believe his luck. “She was here?”
A servant retrieved the cup and backed out of the room. “She visited with the intent of returning my pet fox. Or so
I thought. She deceived me, that one. The fox left my presence almost as soon as she did.”
The complaint was petty, but the king had information Ardan needed. “How long ago was that, king?”
“Yesterday. Enough of that. What news have ye?”
Ardan sped through tales of warring clans as rapidly as possible and returned to Troya.
The old woman paced beside their horses. “I’ve read it in the stones, Master Ardan. I know the time has come. Once the honor price of blood is paid, the gods will be pleased and I’ll have trouble no longer.”
This pleased Ardan. Long ago he’d found an unsuspecting companion who held a grudge against Brigid. He had allowed her to think he would restore her honor, though he never expressly said so, and she had no idea what he was really going to do.
Ardan circled Troya, meditating on his schemes. If his original plan had worked, Troya would have found the lass at her
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