The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island) (34 page)

Her first thought had been that her people had attacked Dun Cullan and taken control of the hillfort. But if that were true, Bridei wouldn’t have appeared so rushed and desperate. O’Bannon must still be in control, curse the man. Yet, all was not lost. Bridei had a plan to free her.

But how could he possibly do so? He was but one man, surrounded dozens of warriors. But Bridei was resourceful, and he also seemed to be favored by the gods. She must have faith in him; she must not give up hope.

Dear Bridei. He hadn’t died in the souterrain as she’d feared. Nor had he run away and left her. He’d come for her and meant to free her. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “You have to trust him,” she spoke aloud. “You have to be strong. You must do it for his sake. And for your own.”

* * *

“I’ve found out where Dessia is being held, and I have a plan to free her,” Bridei announced as soon as he was alone with Emer in the guesthouse. As Emer gazed at him skeptically, he continued, “Tonight, while I’m performing, you will leave the hall. You will head toward the gate, as if you are going back to the forest. But instead of going out the gate, you will circle around to the back of the hillfort. Near the midden, there’s an old thorn bush. Behind it is a door. The door leads down some steps to another level, and lower still is the prison where O’Bannon has secured Dessia.

“I’ll leave a rope behind the thorn bush near the door. I want you to tie one end of the rope to the thorn bush, then enter the underground chamber and throw the other end down to Dessia, so she can climb out of her prison. Then the two of you will secure the door as it was and take the rope and hide it behind a workshop or storage building. Then you’ll give Dessia your cloak. Pretending to be you, she’ll leave the hillfort and go to your dwelling in the woods.

“After you’ve freed Dessia,” Bridei continued, “you will return to the hall, where I will still be performing. When I’m finished, we’ll both leave the hillfort. I’ll say I’m escorting you home, but of course, I have no intention of coming back to Dun Cullan. The last part is especially tricky, as Dermot expects me to go to Dessia tonight and give her some poisoned wine. But I have a plan to get Dermot out of the way. I’ve become friendly with the cook, Maeve, and I’m going to have her put something in his food. It won’t kill him, but it will make him too ill to do very much for the rest of the night. By the time he recovers, you, I and Dessia will all be far away.”

“Where will we go?” Emer asked.

“There’s a forest near Cahermara that’s protected by a magical spell. We’ll stay there for a while, long enough for O’Bannon to think we’ve fled the area.”

“And then?”

Bridei hesitated. He hoped that once Dessia was free, her people would regain their courage and rejoin her at Cahermara. The hillfort was well enough fortified that Dessia’s warriors should be able to defend it. But he wasn’t certain Dessia’s people would rally around her. Their confidence in her “magic” was badly shaken, and it might not be easy to convince them to fight for her.

But Dessia’s problems weren’t Emer’s concern. He said, “As soon as it’s safe to travel, I’ll take you to Ath Cliath. It’s a large settlement. Someone there is bound to need the services of a skilled healer.”

“You expect me to live in a place where I know no one?” Emer asked, her eyes wide and anxious.

 “I know it’s frightening to think of beginning a new life in an unknown place. But it’s the only way you’ll ever have a chance at happiness. Besides,” he soothed, “I’ll stay with you for a time and help you.”

Even as he said this, Bridei wondered how he could bear to leave Dessia for so long. But perhaps such a journey wouldn’t be necessary. He might be able convince Dessia to make a place for Emer in her household. But he didn’t want to mention this idea until he was certain Dessia would agree.

“Can you remember everything I’ve told you about my plan?” he asked.

Emer nodded. “Although I’m not certain it will work. What if the guard at the gate stops Lady Dessia as she’s leaving? How will she convince him that she’s me? Even if she gets away, the guard will think it very strange if he sees me leaving a second time.”

“Don’t worry about how Dessia will get away. As you may have heard, she’s a sorceress. She’ll find a way to fool the guard.”

Emer’s expression grew scornful. “If she’s a sorceress, how did O’Bannon manage to abduct her? And why doesn’t she free herself rather than having us put our own lives at risk?”

Bridei struggled to control his impatience. “What do you expect her to do? Shapechange into a bird and fly out of her prison? She possesses special abilities, have no doubt of that. But for her powerful magic to work, she requires certain materials to cast a spell, and she’s unlikely to possess those things in the prison where she’s being kept. As for how she was abducted, her spell of protection worked to guard Cahermara from attack for many years. Unfortunately, it was not proof against treachery from within her household.”

“Oh, you mean Beatha,” Emer said. “She was the one who arranged to let O’Bannon into the hillfort.”

“Beatha? She betrayed Dessia?”

“Aye,” Emer responded. “I’m certain she was the one.”

Bridei was shocked. He thought of the beautiful cloak the young widow had given him. He’d never questioned the reason for her generosity; now it seemed he should have.

“Where is she now?” he asked.

“I’m not certain,” Emer answered. “I know she came here afterwards, thinking O’Bannon would welcome her. She was wrong. The chieftain was very harsh with her. He told her he didn’t want a traitorous bitch like her in his household.”

“You observed this yourself?”

“Nay. My mother told me about it. She was trying to convince me to leave this place, and mentioned what had happened to Beatha as proof that O’Bannon would never forgive me for what I’d done to his wife.”

“How did Beatha come in contact with O’Bannon?”

Emer shrugged. “She has family who live between the Fionnlairaos territory and ours. Perhaps she met him there and that’s when they arranged things.”

Or, perhaps her family carried a message to her when they came to hear him perform,
Bridei thought with a stab of regret. Dessia had resisted the idea of inviting everyone to Cahermara for a celebration. He’d pushed her to agree, and inadvertently given O’Bannon the opportunity to find a way into Cahermara and abduct her.

Yet O’Bannon was not as clever as Bridei had once thought. Having used Beatha and Emer to gain his ends, the chieftain then rejected them. O’Bannon must think that as women they were too unimportant to worry about. It was a foolish outlook, and a mistake Bridei intended to use to his advantage.

“Do have any other questions?” he asked Emer.

“I’m certain I will,” she responded. “But I can’t think of any of them right now.”

“Then I’m going to see to the other details of my plan.” Bridei drew near to Emer. “I think you are very brave to help me, Emer. I won’t forget what you’ve done, and neither will Dessia. We’ll make certain you’re rewarded.”

Emer’s eyes narrowed and she pursed her mouth sourly. “Of course, you make promises to me now, since you’re trying to convince me. That doesn’t mean I’ll ever be repaid.”

“Listen to me,” Bridei said sternly. “Lady Dessia is a woman of honor, and she has always rewarded those loyal to her. I vow upon my life, she won’t forget how you’ve helped her.”

Having reassured Emer, Bridei left the guest house and started toward the kitchen. He had much to do in the next few hours if he was to honor his promise to Dessia. “Be with me now, Lady Rhiannon,” he whispered under his breath, “Grant me good fortune as you have so many times before.”

* * *

Bridei watched the crowd gather in O’Bannon’s hall and tried to calm himself. A flock of tiny swallows seemed to be swooping and dipping inside his belly. He kept thinking about everything that could go wrong with his plan. Emer might decide not to help them, out of fear of O’Bannon. She might be observed and stopped before she was able to free Dessia. The guards at the gate might prevent Dessia from leaving. Dermot might not fall ill from the tainted food Maeve had prepared for him. Or, Dermot might sense something was amiss and refuse to eat it. The guard at the gate could recall that a woman he thought was Emer had left earlier in the evening and become suspicious when she saw her leaving with Bridei.

Bridei took a deep breath. He’d done all he could. Now Dessia’s fate—and the fate of Emer and himself as well—was in the hands of the Goddess.

Despite his reassurances to himself, Bridei couldn’t eat. Instead, he took out his harp and began to tune it, holding it to his ear as he plucked the strings, so the noise in the hall didn’t interfere. He’d decided he would do as he did last night and sing a few songs before he began the tale, then drag out the story until it was very late. He needed to give Emer as much time as possible to get Dessia away.

As Bridei tuned the harp, he glanced over to where Dermot sat next to the other warriors near the hearth. Dermot appeared nervous, as well he might. given his own plan. Was he too nervous to eat? Again, Bridei fought back the waves of dread that seemed to clutch his belly, and began to strum the harp. The crowd quieted. Bridei began to sing.

As he had the night before, Bridei chose a lively tune to begin his performance. He followed it with another rousing song that got them clapping. As he played and sang, Bridei kept an eye Dermot see if he was eating. Maeve had promised to lace Dermot’s food with an herb that would cause violent stomach cramps. Bridei worried the warrior would taste the herb and not eat enough for it to have an effect. Getting Dermot of the way was crucial.

With effort, Bridei forced his gaze away and told himself he must trust in the Goddess. He wouldn’t think about all the things that could go wrong; instead he would concentrate on making his performance so enthralling no one would want to leave the hall.

Finishing the second song, he began another. Although many people were clearly enjoying the music, others seemed to be growing restless. When he paused at the end of the song, someone called out, “The tale! Tell us the rest of the tale!”

Bridei smiled and inclined his head. Setting aside his harp, he began. He told the tale of Arthur’s adult life, embellishing as he went along, making a legend out of the high king’s accomplishments. All the while, Bridei kept an eye on Dermot. For a long time nothing happened, then all at once the warrior grew pale and began to shift uneasily in his seat. When he got up abruptly and left the hall, Bridei knew this was his chance. He let his voice fade and grow hoarse. Casting a regretful glance around the hall, he said, “There’s more to Arthur’s tale, but I’m afraid my throat is sore and I’m not able to continue. Perhaps Lord O’Bannon will allow me to stay another night so I can finish.” He inclined his head to the chieftain.

Conflicting emotions warred on O’Bannon’s face. It was clear a part of him wanted to chastise Bridei for not finishing as he’d promised. But it was also obvious he’d enjoyed the tale as much as anyone and was eager for the rest of it. “One more night, I’ll grant you,” he finally said. “But no more.”

Bridei put his harp into the leather bag he carried it in, then stood. Although he wanted to leave immediately and find Emer, he forced himself to be patient and respond cordially to the people who came up to speak to him.
Behave as you usually would
, he told himself.
Don’t let anyone guess you’re anxious to leave.

The questions people had for him seemed to drag on. Then all at once, he looked up and saw Emer. She gave a slight nod, and his heart leaped in his chest. He smiled at those gathered around and said, “If you will forgive me, I promised to escort Emer home.”

As the warmth vanished from people’s faces. Bridei felt pity for Emer. No wonder she was so eager to leave this place. The people here seemed to despise her. Pretending not to notice the change in mood, Bridei bid everyone goodnight. Then he went to where Emer waited. “All is well?” he murmured under his breath.

“Aye. So far,” she responded.

They left the hall and started toward the gate. “Have you seen Dermot?” Bridei asked, again in a near whisper.

“Aye. He was headed toward the midden when I saw him. Clutching his belly, he was.” Bridei saw the flash of Emer’s teeth as she smiled. He had to repress a guffaw himself. Maeve had done exactly as he’d asked and gotten Dermot out of the way.

But there was one more trial ahead of them. They had to get safely out of the hillfort.

The gate was closed, which Bridei had expected this time of night. But it made things trickier as they would have to get the guard to open it. “Hullo,” he called up to the gatehouse. “Can you come down here and help me open the gate?”

They could hear the guard coming down the ladder. “O’Bannon said nothing about anyone leaving this night,” he grumbled. Reaching the ground, he grabbed one of the torches from its bracket and held it up. “What’s this? The bard? And you . . .” The guard drew in his breath as he recognized Emer.

“Now you can understand why we’re leaving,” Bridei responded in crisp tones. “O’Bannon allowed Emer to listen to my performance, but now he wants her gone.”

The guard’s gaze veered back to Bridei. “What’s your part in this?”