smiled grimly. “Oh, we shall. I tell you, sir, peace is my only aim. But it should be on our terms, not his. We must never submit to him. It can only get worse.”
Gilhan’s hand went to his sword. Suddenly he looked very old and drawn. “So we fight, lady?” he said as bravely as he could.
Isolde favored him with her sweetest smile. “Not yet, dear sir. No, let us play a game of delay and draw him south. While he waits, we gain time. Time to call in our men and sharpen up our swords, time to renew our defenses and make ready to fight.”
“Now the Gods be praised!” Sir Gilhan chuckled. “Truly you are your mother come again. I can see her now at the helm of her war-chariot, riding down the Picts, raining spear after spear on their heads. They did not look so fearsome then, battered and bloody, scrambling for their ships.”
Isolde compressed her lips.
Let it not come to this.
Aloud she said, “And we’ll drive them off again. Now let us take charge of the castle at every point. And good sirs, I pray you, call up all my knights. Send out the heralds, sound the trysting horn. Let every man who loves Erin rally to us today!”
T HE WOODLAND LAY BEFORE THEM, dark and deep. Drained as she was by the Council meeting and all that ensued, Isolde still felt her spirits reviving as they rode under the trees. The rich humming silence, the busy denizens with their unseen lives, the primeval smell of leaf mold, moss, and pine, the sense of a great secret slumbering at its heart, all brought Isolde a quickening in her blood.
This is what draws Tristan back to the forest and always will.
In that instant, she felt close to him again. But even this fragment of comfort was fraught with pain.
Where are you, my love?
She gritted her teeth.
On. Get on.
There’s still work to be done.
She had toiled all day with Sir Gilhan and her knights, reviewing the defenses round Dubh Lein. Among those who attended were several younger men, who all paid keen attention every time she spoke. One in particular, Sir Niall, had made himself useful with probing, intelligent questions and quiet asides. As they stood in the courtyard discussing the chances of attack, he brought up a weakness that others had overlooked.
“Remember the Dark Pool below the castle, madam,” he murmured respectfully. “It breaches the walls where the river flows in from outside. This must surely have been taken care of long ago, but with your permission, I’ll check that it’s still safe.”
“Safe?” snapped Sir Gilhan, clearly nettled, “of course it’s safe.” The river entrance had been barred against invaders long ago; he had overseen it himself.
In truth, it was all as Sir Gilhan had said and no more had to be done. But Isolde had drawn strength and comfort from the young man’s concern. Truly, there were wise and loyal knights in Ireland now. She need have no fear of finding them when the need arose.
And now, she could turn to the real work of the day. Mounting up, she set out for the forest, with Brangwain riding behind. Slowly, she turned her thoughts to what lay ahead. Indeed, he would surely be waiting for her already, standing motionless in the shadow of his favorite tree. A Druid’s ears could hear the mole tunneling in the darkness of the earth and the whisper of the spider as she spins. She leaned forward and gave her horse’s mane an affectionate tug. He will certainly hear you coming, my flat-footed friend.
Yes, Cormac will be there.
High in the sky, the round-bodied, gleaming sun stood trembling at the high point of summer, and all the forest about her seemed alive. Rustling, the silver birches leaned down to gossip as she passed, and the wood pigeons chuckled musically from every bough. As they went deeper in, a hare stopped at the side of the path and bowed her head.
“Good day to you, little Mother,” Isolde murmured.
“It’s a good omen, lady,” she heard Brangwain say.
And that was not the first sign of the Goddess
Gilhan’s hand went to his sword. Suddenly he looked very old and drawn. “So we fight, lady?” he said as bravely as he could.
Isolde favored him with her sweetest smile. “Not yet, dear sir. No, let us play a game of delay and draw him south. While he waits, we gain time. Time to call in our men and sharpen up our swords, time to renew our defenses and make ready to fight.”
“Now the Gods be praised!” Sir Gilhan chuckled. “Truly you are your mother come again. I can see her now at the helm of her war-chariot, riding down the Picts, raining spear after spear on their heads. They did not look so fearsome then, battered and bloody, scrambling for their ships.”
Isolde compressed her lips.
Let it not come to this.
Aloud she said, “And we’ll drive them off again. Now let us take charge of the castle at every point. And good sirs, I pray you, call up all my knights. Send out the heralds, sound the trysting horn. Let every man who loves Erin rally to us today!”
T HE WOODLAND LAY BEFORE THEM, dark and deep. Drained as she was by the Council meeting and all that ensued, Isolde still felt her spirits reviving as they rode under the trees. The rich humming silence, the busy denizens with their unseen lives, the primeval smell of leaf mold, moss, and pine, the sense of a great secret slumbering at its heart, all brought Isolde a quickening in her blood.
This is what draws Tristan back to the forest and always will.
In that instant, she felt close to him again. But even this fragment of comfort was fraught with pain.
Where are you, my love?
She gritted her teeth.
On. Get on.
There’s still work to be done.
She had toiled all day with Sir Gilhan and her knights, reviewing the defenses round Dubh Lein. Among those who attended were several younger men, who all paid keen attention every time she spoke. One in particular, Sir Niall, had made himself useful with probing, intelligent questions and quiet asides. As they stood in the courtyard discussing the chances of attack, he brought up a weakness that others had overlooked.
“Remember the Dark Pool below the castle, madam,” he murmured respectfully. “It breaches the walls where the river flows in from outside. This must surely have been taken care of long ago, but with your permission, I’ll check that it’s still safe.”
“Safe?” snapped Sir Gilhan, clearly nettled, “of course it’s safe.” The river entrance had been barred against invaders long ago; he had overseen it himself.
In truth, it was all as Sir Gilhan had said and no more had to be done. But Isolde had drawn strength and comfort from the young man’s concern. Truly, there were wise and loyal knights in Ireland now. She need have no fear of finding them when the need arose.
And now, she could turn to the real work of the day. Mounting up, she set out for the forest, with Brangwain riding behind. Slowly, she turned her thoughts to what lay ahead. Indeed, he would surely be waiting for her already, standing motionless in the shadow of his favorite tree. A Druid’s ears could hear the mole tunneling in the darkness of the earth and the whisper of the spider as she spins. She leaned forward and gave her horse’s mane an affectionate tug. He will certainly hear you coming, my flat-footed friend.
Yes, Cormac will be there.
High in the sky, the round-bodied, gleaming sun stood trembling at the high point of summer, and all the forest about her seemed alive. Rustling, the silver birches leaned down to gossip as she passed, and the wood pigeons chuckled musically from every bough. As they went deeper in, a hare stopped at the side of the path and bowed her head.
“Good day to you, little Mother,” Isolde murmured.
“It’s a good omen, lady,” she heard Brangwain say.
And that was not the first sign of the Goddess
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