Each trunk gave rise to equally thick, gnarled and twisted branches, which held clusters of leaves that shone like green polished rock. The bark was deep, matte black, and the leaves glowed against them. I suppose they were tall enough; they were all over my head and the ground was thick with their leaves, acorns, and deadfall branches.
“How old?” I asked Kyra.
“No one knows,” she said. “It is said that they were here long before the hall was built, when the first people to flee the rising sea came to gather acorns for their winter food. For the nuts they drop are very sweet and good. So the first people knew they would prosper even here.”
We were still climbing, and the slope was steep. Then we got to the top; a wide, flat rock overlooked the surrounding countryside. We stood looking out over what seemed the whole world.
All around us the mountain slopes were covered with forest. The most rocky slopes held trees like these—oaks twisted and windblown but stubborn and hard. Like the people who live among them, I think. In places where the soil was thicker, the tall Caledonian pine clothed the slopes. It was wet here, wetter than you would think; and numerous creeks and streams tumbled down, whispering, gurgling, and sheeting over the rocky beds into lakes small and large scattered within the forest.
The rest of the way was not a difficult climb. Kyra’s friend greeted us at the arched door to the hall.
This was where I first met Mondig. He was a short man, strongly built. He rather reminded me of Gray, but his face was so ugly. His eyes were slightly protuberant, his mouth weak, and he had no chin at all.
“Kyra,” he said. He didn’t sound at all happy. “I had believed you dead…”
“Or worse,” Kyra finished the sentence for him.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Yes. I suppose that’s right.”
He glanced at me. “I suppose this is the one.”
“She is,” Kyra answered.
“Yes, yes.” He rubbed his hands together. They made a dusty, rasping sound. “Another God child, I suppose. Well, at least this one’s pretty. The other two, the ones already here, could be set out to scare mice.”
I was nettled. “What!” I asked Kyra. “Have you brought me before another fool who wants to say my mother was a loose woman?” The talk at Igrane’s court had cut me more deeply than I realized. I’m not so easily angered, but I was tired of people casting aspersions on Riona, who was, by all accounts, a brave, strong woman.
Mondig drew back, looking startled. Something like respect flashed in his eyes.
“She’s direct enough,” he told Kyra. He still looked dubious.
Maeniel held my arm. A gust of wind hit, blowing my dress and hair wildly. It was strong enough to make everyone clutch at their clothing and duck their heads against the dust, twigs, and dead leaves set flying.
“They liked this place,” Mondig muttered. “I can’t think why. Don’t stand outside in the cold. Come in where it’s warm.”
As I said, the builders of the hall had taken advantage of a natural depression when they built it. The arched door was so low even I had to duck down to enter, but once inside I was stricken with awe at its size. As I said, it resembled an amphitheater. Most of it was underground. In this climate, that made sense.
There were staggered rows of seats on each side. They were made of stone, obviously carved out of the limestone that made up this mountain. Aisles led down toward a central court around a fire pit. In that sense, it was like a conventional house, only much, much larger. The roof was braced by many posts, each bearing different carvings.
“Each tribe has a place here,” Kyra told me. “They know by the carvings on the posts where they are to sit. You will be seated in the center.”
The posts held up a lattice of curved beams that in turn held a woven osier dome, covered by cowhides. In turn, green turf waterproofed the roof. From the outside, it looked like our house used to—a green mound near the sea. Every exposed bit of wood was carved in the most wonderful way I have ever seen. The largest of the chiefly halls paled by comparison to it. Salmon leaped, dragons swam, wolves hunted, bears roared, trees bloomed, vines climbed; and above, stags gamboled, antlers high, holding the osier lattice that held the roof.
“Each post tells a story,” Kyra said, her hand resting on the nearest one. “See? Down at the bottom kelp, samphire, dulse. There is the eel, coiling among the water plants. They are on an eel river and take their living from the sea.”
Knot work spun among the living things, fishermen and women. No salmon, but shark, hake, and turbot. Above, oak leaves and hazel flowed out of the knot work toward the roof. Each pillar was different, each exquisite, each told of the life its people led.
“I never taught you how to read them completely,” Kyra said with regret. “One with knowledge can tell not only the way they live but where, and even how many are in the particular village or villages.”
She let her hand fall away from the post with a look of regret. We continued walking down the stair, toward the center of the hall. That’s where the seats of the queens were. They were not really chairs and yet they weren’t thrones either. Each marked the house of heaven they belonged to.
The salmon, painted with the colors of the breeding fish, leaped from the back of one seat, the comb held sway at another. The wolves, a whole pack, attacked over the back and at each arm of the one next to the fish. All of the houses of heaven were similarly marked. They formed a rectangle, a long, wide rectangle, around the fire pit.
The hall was filled with people, all working on the posts, painting the figures with bright enamels, putting up tables on the stone steps of the amphitheater, spreading weavings and cowhides on the stone seats and hanging banners from the roof. Though I knew some of the seats were empty, they had all been touched up with fresh enamel. All but one.
The Dragon Throne.
It stood alone at the end of the rectangle, looking past the six seats on each side. The wood, though as magnificently sculpted as the rest, was dark, dry, and blackened by age. The rather squat dragon body was part of the chair side; the long neck formed the back and coiled around to one side and above the person who would sit there.
“Thirteen months?” I asked.
Mondig stood at my elbow. “Their calendar had thirteen months. They reckoned time by the moon,” he said. “Now we use the sun. The dragon has no place among them.” He spoke dismissively. “And besides,” he added, “it is unlucky, since the last queen took her place. She died within an hour of taking up her position.”
“I thought the dance floor fell into the sea?” I asked.
“No, that was the one before her,” he answered. “They wouldn’t give up trying, though. The one after her died in childbirth. And still there was another. She slipped and fell on the path up to the top of the cliff. She never got to take her seat at all. By then the Dragon Throne was called the perilous seat, and we stopped trying. Besides, we are all enmity with the dragons. When we see them, we kill them. They are too fond of our salmon runs.”
He scratched his stomach and looked at me sideways.
“Yes,” I said. “You are not what you were.”
“Girl,” he said, “don’t play with me and don’t take that seat. If you do, you might die even more quickly than the rest.”
Gray, Maeniel, and Issa had pitched a tent in the oak woods near the great hall. Kyra helped me to dress. Maeniel had found a tolerably sheltered spot, but it was still cold. I shivered, even though the water in the wash bowl had been warmed at the fire.
“How much power have the queens got?” I asked.
“A lot,” Kyra said. “Don’t let that little rat Mondig fool you. Most control a faction among the people, and that faction will back their decisions, if it comes down to it.”
“I don’t know anyone here,” I said.
“Yes, you do,” she said. “Maeniel is widely respected, as is Dugald. They know him for a druid and a powerful one. Gray comes from a large family. They will back him. Yes, they are poor, but good fighters. Then there’s me, and I’m not completely forgotten. I have friends among Scathatch’s daughters from the Isle of Women. They are widely respected, also, and sometimes feared. Your mother had kin among the people and among the Irish at Dalraida. Remember, Riona was the wife of a king, and she had the reputation of being a woman of strong character. No, you are not alone.”
She made me wear a white dress trimmed with gold and combed my hair down my back. I wore the amber and garnet necklace Maeniel bought me, and the moonstone ring. The shoes changed to white leather with lace up tops, low boots, sort of.
Maeniel came in. He was carrying the sword and belt under his arm. Unceremoniously, he drew the blade and folded my right hand around the hilt.
I tightened my fingers and raised the blade. It shimmered like the moon on the waters of a lake. The steel seemed to glow from within.
“I can’t…” I began.
“Yes… yes, you can,” he said. “I’ll get it back.”
“You will—worse luck,” I said. “Not many things live as long as you. It’s smaller than I thought.”
“You have grown in more ways than one,” he told me. “I’ll get another belt and scabbard. These are too large for you.”
“It wouldn’t be seemly to wear it tonight,” Kyra said.
I nodded.
“She might face a challenge,” the wolf said.
Kyra turned abruptly and walked away, toward the door of the tent.
“A challenge?” I asked.
He looked at Kyra. “You didn’t tell her.”
“No! It so seldom happens.”
“But she is not well known here, and it might,” Maeniel said. “It behooves her to be ready—if and when. That’s why I made her the gift of the sword now instead of waiting for a more auspicious occasion. I want her to have a good weapon at hand.”
Kyra was silent and stood at the door with her head bowed. “Few women can really defeat a man in single combat,” she said. “I know I couldn’t. In theory, the queen who is seated should be an expert in the martial arts, and once, God knows, they were. But long ago by several hundred years, the custom fell into abeyance and has never been revived. Besides, Mondig made a promise to me that if she didn’t take the Dragon Throne, he would make sure her acceptance would be voted by the people and she would be seated and welcomed as one of their own.”
“What’s between you and Mondig?” I asked.
“He owes me a favor,” Kyra said.
“What kind of favor?” I asked.
“I was married to his brother,” Kyra said.
“He was,” I said, “the one you didn’t choose. The right one.”
Kyra threw back her head, and her face became a mask of indescribable pain. But she didn’t answer.
“He’s so ugly,” I said.
Kyra pushed aside the curtain and left.
“No one will be seated in the chairs tonight,” Maeniel told me. “Though the rest of us will join Dunnel and his family, Bain and Issa—we will sit together and you will be introduced to the company.”
Dugald stepped into the tent. “In this, you will be guided by your elders, young lady. Kyra, Maeniel, and I have already spoken of this together, and our plans are made. Politics is the art of the possible, and whatever you may think, the thirteenth month and the Dragon Throne will be ignored by you. Do you understand me, young lady?” he said sternly.
“Yes,” I answered quietly. “Yes, I do.”
“I don’t like the look in her eye,” he told Maeniel. “I want your word you won’t do anything foolish or provocative tonight. Do you hear me?”
“I give you my word. I won’t do anything either foolish or provocative tonight,” I answered.
He was wearing his robes, his ceremonial robes, the ones with the ogam symbols on them. He had the gold crown of his order. It’s not really a crown, but a wreath. Gold oak leaves, acorns, the catkin flower, and the twisted roots completed it.
“You will do magic,” I said.
“I’m going to have to. They must be convinced of your bona fides. You know your mother’s genealogy?” he asked.
“I’ve known my mother’s genealogy since I was five,” I answered. “And all her family connections. You taught me. It was almost the first thing you taught me.”
“Yes. Well, best have them at your fingertips, for you must recite them before the assembled company tonight. A lot of the people here will be relations of yours, albeit distant ones, and they will wonder how you fit into the sphere of the Painted People.”
“The whole thing?” I said. “It goes back to before the Iceni queen and probably will take me an hour and a half to—”
“Yes, yes,” he broke in fiercely. “All of it. Tell me,” he asked Maeniel, “do you think she looks innocent enough? They will have heard of the business with Arthur… it wouldn’t do for anyone to believe she had been compromised. An invitation to be a concubine is a slap in the face to a lady of your rank. You didn’t let him take any liberties with you? Or give him anything like a… like a… you know,” he said to Maeniel, “a down payment.”
“What!” I screamed. “I still haven’t—I wasn’t—I wouldn’t have been able… What are you saying? What are you accusing me of?”
At this minute Kyra reappeared at the door to the tent. She grabbed Dugald’s arm. “Oh, for God’s sake, you old fool. Belike the girl is on pins and needles. She has a terrifying ordeal ahead of her, and you have to make things worse by accusing her of all manner of nonsense. Of course she hasn’t done anything like what you’re suggesting. For heaven’s sake, old man, they were together for only a few moments, and they were never alone.”
I caught the last word on the fly, because she pulled Dugald out of the tent and dragged him away. Maeniel and I stood alone. I found I was crying. Maeniel gave me a clean linen cloth, and I wiped my face and eyes.
“They have it all arranged between them, just like Merlin, Igrane, and Arthur at Tintigal,” I spat.
He made a noncommittal sound.
“Do you trust Mondig?” I asked.
“No,” he answered. “He reeks of duplicity.”
“He threatened to kill me,” I said.
I saw Maeniel’s eyes change. The shadow of the wolf was in them, and they shone like mirrors in the dim lamplight.
“How very, very foolish of him,” Maeniel said. “He has Kyra and Dugald completely fooled.”