eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520 Macon GA 31201 The King’s Daughter Copyright © 2008 by MC Halliday ISBN: 1-59998-033-9 Edited by Lindsey McGurk Cover by Christine Clavel All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: February 2008 www.samhainpublishing.com
The King’s Daughter MC Halliday
Dedication
“Everytime there is a struggle, it is a preparation for what is to come.” Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes from the documentary, The Last Days of Left Eye At any place on the road of life we are faced with challenges and try to do the best we can with the knowledge we have at the time. Our journey is often fraught with rutted cobbles and wide streams but I believe each fall or flounder we might make along the way is a chance to learn, to do better.
Lisa Lopes was searching for answers and struggling with her mistakes when she went to Honduras, courageously filming her painful quest for awareness. When she died in a car crash, Lisa was thirty years old and I dedicate this book to her incredible bravery and hard won wisdom.
The King’s Daughter
Prologue Through the waters of life, a royal maiden is come clear. Fair of face and heart, she be in a snare of treachery and treason. Her promised warrior King has near to him a blackened heart And a bloodlust knight whose wife doth brew a poisoned cup. The maiden’s father dreams of spells and curses And would end them with a sword against her mother. This woman yet unproven does proffer gifts of herbs and potions, A cloak to hide beneath and a way to shelter by means of Royal Oak. A knight would kill her and do his love undone, but please his King. Alas, a spell be cast and he be changed, no longer man nor knight. From briar thorn a web be spun, for the maiden to be Quean. In this foul weave she must feign, to keep faith in her desire. Whilst a messenger doth covet her and from a bitter judgment, There be lamenting of such sorrow over cruel and foolish deeds. Over these events, I watch to see as this maiden bear her destiny.
I make this written in the sixth month Uath, so it is in the year, 997. Torgaad of Kincora, Record Master, Lough Wizard of Munster, Eire
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Chapter One “My Father, I will honor your pledge of my betrothal.” Her blue eyes glittered bright with anger. She lowered her head. “I bow to your wish and be your offering of peace to the King of Connacht.” “If my sons not be gone to the otherworld, I would not command this of you.” Bascogne grasped the long hair at his temples. “I grow weary of battle to keep Munster clan safe.” Magaith went to him, putting her hand on his arm. “Fate does craft my unwelcome betrothal, not you, my Father.” He looked down at the small white hand against the bright red of his cloak and sorrow filled his heart. Once she be wed to Borda of Connacht, he would sorely miss her sweet company. Bascogne, King of Munster, closed his eyes against a flow of tears. “Hush now, we are not yet to part,” his daughter said as she patted his arm. “The journey is a few days hence and we shall ride together to Castlestrange fortress. The wed vow cannot be spoken until the month to come and then we shall say farewell. All told, it is long off yet.” Bascogne looked at her, his smile weak. “The days pass slowly for the young. It is not so for the elder.” A gentle laugh like music, escaped from her lips. “My Father, you are not old.” At that, he took her in his arms and breathed in the musky fragrance of Angelica from her long golden-brown hair, covered in a veil of cream silk. He placed a large hand at the back of her head and pressed her against his shoulder, careful that his carved Yew brooch did not graze her cheek. The king wished to hold her thus forever but there could be no other judgment, he must give her to Borda of Connacht. The sound of echoing footfalls on the timber floor induced them to draw apart.
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Bascogne held firm his daughter’s hand. “We shall not speak of parting, until the time is come.” He looked upon the dark-haired knight approaching. When he reached them, the knight Sygtryg bowed. “Forgive me, my king. There be a message from Dublin.” “I wish to see the knight messenger now.” Bascogne put his arm around his daughter’s slight shoulder. “Take Magaith with you.” Sygtryg bowed and held his elbow to her. “Shall we walk in the fortress yard?” Her chest pounded as she put her arm through his. The mere presence of her knight protector caused a stirring that made her near faint. She let the knight guide her through the north transept, past the sentry knights at the door and into the sunshine. They walked to the edge of the high summit overlooking cattle grazing on green rolling hills. Wisps of cloud hung in patches in the sky, smoke rose in narrow slow drifts from shelters in the nearby town of Cashel. “Is Connacht land akin to ours in Munster?” She spoke with care, not to reveal her sorrow at leaving him or her fear of the arranged wed vow. All the while wishing she might find the courage to press him on his affection for her. Though there be slight hope he would defy the King of Munster and take her for his own before it was too late. “Returned from battle in Connacht, knights speak of rough common land. There be bog lands and much forest. The winters are cold and the summers hot.” She turned to him. “If truth be known, I do not wish to go.” His dark brows knitted together. “It be your father’s dearest wish to keep you with him. He promises you to Borda, not for his own sake but for Munster.” “Do not reproach me, Sygtryg.” “I beg for pardon. I spoke only to remind you of the king’s affection.” She eyed him with care. Perhaps the king did ask he comfort her but he was as a blank slate. Always, his aims remained hidden from her while she be wise to the deepest judgments of others. The knight spoke further. “You shall have a full wed vow to Borda of Connacht. Not the wed knot tie of one year and a day.”
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“I would rather the knot tie, for if the king did not suit me, I could leave him without partition. It brings me such sorrow, never again to see my father or you.” As Magaith spoke, she saw his face tighten. “My dear companion.” “Once you are gone…” He took pause to clear his throat before continuing. “Once you are wed, the king shall not need a protector for his daughter. And I shall become a simple knight in service.” “Is this your sole fear?” She faced him. “You shall not ever see me again.” The knight lowered his eyes much like her father had done. Perhaps he was to shed tears but he tossed his head back and his dark eyes were clear. “The king’s wish be my wish also.” She wanted a sign, a word of the knight’s affection for her. “Without the task of the king’s daughter upon you, it shall soon be time for you to wed.” He smiled with no light in his eyes. “With the king’s blessing.” Did Sygtryg not desire the comfort of a wife and the joy of children? A nobleman as he was with property and position should be a most worthy husband. Perchance, her heart leapt, it be his sole wish to take me as wife. Then her spirit ebbed. It would not matter if this knight professed his affection, she must wed Borda. “Since we are to journey in the seventh month of Duir, I shall want a lighter cloak. Ask the weavers to have it soon finished, that I might embroider it on the way to Castlestrange.” “My lady,” Sygtryg said, releasing her arm. “It shall be so.” As he walked from her with his long gait, Magaith gazed upon his dark hair trailing down his back and over his wide shoulders, much pleased in his appearance. And he was ever of good manner and a knight of honor. Her great affection for him, born of contented years together, made the upcoming betrothal to Borda unseemly. Struggling with tears, she wished her affection for him might wither that she should find some joy without her dear Sygtryg. When he disappeared inside the door to the transept, two sentry knights took position on the summit near to her. The wind began to blow with gusts that took her hair and veil
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high above her head. She reached up and drew her veil down, gathered her cloak about her and turning, made her way back to the fortress. Loud voices could be heard coming from the great hall. She crept down the length of the transept, stopping at the archway to the hall and nudged against a wall tapestry where she held her breath. One orator was her father. The other, a male voice she did not know. The men were arguing over a leaving day, the day to begin the journey to Castlestrange in Connacht. “It is too soon,” her father said. “We cannot be ready by the morrow.” “You must be away soon. Or else I fear the worst.” “Olaf retains a great sea force but his knights cannot match us on land.” “He may attack your camp at night whilst you dream in your bed.” “I shall place all sentry knights on watch. Now, go find yourself some meat and mead to sup. And then take rest.” “As you say.” For her father to abide such a coarse manner, the knight would be of elite rank with privilege. He was a knight not familiar to her. She leaned away from the tapestry to gain a view of him as he stepped through the archway. Her head brushed his shoulder and the knight jumped back, drawing his sword from the scabbard at his side and holding it over his head. “The walls be ears,” he whispered, his eyes twinkling. “Do not speak so to me.” She set her shoulders back. She saw the brooch made of bronze on his cloak. “I be daughter to the king.” A smile played on his lips, he was amused. “Ah, the fair Magaith. It is an honor, my lady.” The knight let the sword drop and bowed. “You are not known to me.” “I be Glunn, knight messenger to the king.” “If you are a knight in service to our king, how is it I do not know you?”
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“I search out Olaf’s secrets in Dublin.” He winked. “And solely return to Cashel fortress to speak of these to the king.” His dark eyes shone. “If we did meet before now, my return would be swift and sure to you.” “Go now, as the king has told you.” A blush grew upon her cheeks. “I wish to speak to my father.” The smile left his face. “Pay heed to this, go from here as soon as you are able.” “When we depart, it be the king’s judgment.” The knight lowered his dark head. “Truth.” When he lifted his mass of shaggy hair, his eyes were twinkling once more. “I shall forever lament we did not meet before.” The blush upon her cheeks deepened and she hurried past him into the great hall. The king was sitting on a bench along the east wall, his head in his hands. “Father,” she said quietly as she approached. Dropping his hands to his lap, the king met her eyes. “We leave the morrow. All must be ready at dawn, for then we depart.” Magaith saw sadness in him. And fear. “It shall be so.” “You must keep safe and so we leave sooner. I cannot lose you to Olaf’s knights as I must give you to Borda.” He held his arms open to her. “For our clan.” She went to him, stunned quiet by his confession. Her heroic father, King of Munster by means of combat victory for twenty years and more, who had lost his sons in battle and two wives in childbirth, was offering his daughter as a sacrifice. He loved his clan, his kingdom, more than her. He would offer her up for the safety of the clan. And deliver her to barbarians. She willed to keep affection for him whilst fear clutched at her breast. He was her father and king. She would give him pardon. After all, it was his duty above all else to keep Munster clan safe. She allowed her father to hold her in his arms. She could see he suffered in his judgment to offer her up to the warrior king. It did seem many judgments he was forced to make brought great suffering to him.
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When servants entered the great hall laden with bowls of beef and a platter of fish, Magaith drew away from her father and watched them hurry about the tables. More servants entered bringing dishes of baked root vegetables and jugs of mead. Then fortress knights came in accompanied by their wives and took places at the tables. Once they were seated, the king led her to the high table. She supped little and then retired early to her sleeping chamber to oversee her packing for the morrow’s journey. Servants roused her in the early morn to wash and dress. Then she was set upon a clad horse guided by Sygtryg. As the sun rose and it grew light, she saw they were midst a lengthy procession, with many knights in the lead, taking the rear and flanking the sides. Always, Sygtryg remained near to her, directing his horse across verges and down narrow rifts when the road tapered, to stay at her side. His stallion was strong and sure, worse terrain had been traversed by the hardy beast. Her steed was powerful, hand picked by her knight protector. In Connacht, would there soon be a knight as loyal and devoted to her? Would it ever be she could trust another as much as her own Sygtryg, whilst taking pleasure in his company and manner? Tears sprang forth, coursing down her cheeks, tracking paths through the road dust. She sat high on her steed, letting the wind blow the tears dry, and did not glance at her knight, lest he stop the procession and draw attention to her grief. The king must not know of her deep sadness and dire fear of her days yet to come, as wife to the warrior King of Connacht. When they stopped midday, Sygtryg helped her from her horse and led her to a shrouded table laid with silver bowls for washing and linen towels set alongside. Once freshened, she made her way to the supping table where the members of the traveling party were waiting for their king and his daughter. As she took a seat on a bench next to her father, there followed servants pouring jugs of mead into goblets. Bowls laden with smoked game and beef were placed on the table, along with some vegetable roots from the evening meal the day before. A great volume of chatter rose up and Magaith hoped
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her new clan would be as cheerful and content. A tear sprang to the corner of her eye; she thought she had let the tears come until they could no more. Quickly wiping at her cheek with her fingertips, she looked up to see Sygtryg watching her. Magaith lifted the corners of her mouth to deceive him with her smile. The knight continued to gaze upon her, his brown eyes staring to the center of her being. She felt his breach into her fear and sadness. Yet, his eyes offered no kindness. “Forgive me,” she whispered to her father. “I am in need of rest, not food.” “Are you well?” His eyes searched her face. “Weary, is all,” she replied as she rose from her place. As she made her way into the tent nearby, she glanced back at Sygtryg and he remained closely watching her. A shiver went down her back. In the tent, several straw mattresses were laid out with blankets atop and she chose one farthest from the tent opening, in a corner. First, she removed her veil, then her shoes and settled down with her face away from the tent flap, lest the knight enter. When next she saw Sygtryg, she wished to hide from his stare. She could not face again those brown eyes seeing to the center of her being. In those eyes, she saw all she was and all she was not. Her father and her knight would give her up as chattel, to a clan king in a pact of peace. In the heat of the summer tent, she shivered again. And fell to dreaming. Then through her slumber, she heard a voice call to her. “My lady. It is time to ready for leaving.” She lifted her head from the mattress and opened her eyes against the brightness of the afternoon sun upon the tent. “I am wakened. Come.” Sygtryg was at her side, on one knee. “Do not wed Borda of Connacht. I wish to take you away and make you mine, if I need change the stars in the skies to do so.” She was transported to a place of magic, her heart burst with joy and she felt all to be good. She was to be protected and loved by her own Sygtryg. And she need not be bartered chattel and wed the warrior king.
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The knight leaned into her, holding her close and she placed her arms around him. He smelled like dust, sweat and heaven. She breathed him in and put her lips at his neck. Sweet soft skin for a man so strong and hardened. She felt a heat that licked deep and the knight had the same surge of desire; he drew her closer and moaned against her hair. “My love. My love. Let us go far from here…” “My lady!” These words were called from outside the tent. With them, came a shock of fear that her knight be discovered in her arms and sent to the otherworld. She struggled from his embrace and sat up on the mattress, smoothing her hair. As she glanced around, she saw she was quite alone. It came to her, a vision dream happened in her sleeping. It seemed as truth itself, so sound the vision. But the meaning of the dream? Was she to forsake her betrothed, the warrior king? And offend her father, the King of Munster, by taking leave with her knight protector? Was it her great affection for Sygtryg and his deepest knowing of her that advised their joining? The tent flap tossed to one side and Sygtryg entered, sword drawn. “My lady!” “Forgive me.” She shook her head to feign waking further. “I am yet in sleep.” “There is much danger on this journey.” His voice was harsh. “Do not fail to speak when I call you.” “You be fearful for me, I ask for pardon.” The sword dropped to his side. “I over guessed your condition.” He ran a broad hand through his thick hair. “And be wrought with worry.” “My knight, I shall be safe with you as my protector.” His hand fell slowly to his side. “I ask it be so.” “I had a vision dream.” A need to speak her truth before it be too late, made the words pour forth. “And in that dream, you changed the stars to have me for your own.” The knight stared at her, stock-still with sword in hand and hair tousled in dark richness around his head. She clasped her hands over her heart.
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With all her being, she sought he would speak of his affection for her. That he choose her over his king and clan. Take her away and keep her forever with him. That he offer his life to her. And seek to hold her above all else. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “Speak no more of this.” She gave a single nod to him as he stepped from the tent. The knight protector would not choose her over his king. She would betray her king, her own father, to have Sygtryg as her beloved. But he would not do it. Even for her, he could not betray his king. He did not return the great affection she possessed for him. Her heart closed into a small tight lump. She completed her dressing, fingers fumbling at her veil clasp as she vowed, “I shall be wife to a king and content with it.” Then she lifted her chin and made her way from the tent, resolving to keep her vow. For the remainder of the day, the procession went slowly and it was twilight before they stopped to set up a camp. A hilltop was selected, that knights could watch the countryside as the royal party slept. Once the order was made, servants hurried about the set up of tents while others lifted heavy tables and benches from the caravan to forge a supping place. Kitchen serfs made fires to roast meats and carried barrels of mead and beer from the caravan to make ready for the evening meal. Magaith retired to her tent and called for mead to be brought to her; she would not sup at a table near Sygtryg. The darkening of night did not bring sleep, her knight protector stood outside her tent and the tight lump in her chest grew into simmering bitterness. She would do what was asked of her and marry the warrior king. But she would not open her heart to him. And she could not forgive Sygtryg for turning away from her. When she was called to wake at dawn, Magaith had slept without dreams and she was glad of it, no more visions to have her touch the tether of hope and then lose the hold. No longer would she cling to faith in those she loved and trusted. She washed and dressed, mounted her horse without aid of Sygtryg and took a place in the procession near her father. The king offered her a smile with lips pressed flat. Lifting her head to him in response, the king signaled the party to ride.
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It was not long before they reached the clan border, where they were greeted by a band of knights bearing the Connacht crest on their shields. Magaith eyed them carefully. They were much like her Munster clan: tall, dark-haired men wearing cloaks with brooches pinned at the shoulder, helmets of leather and bearing shields made of stretched skins. Connacht knights took lead of the procession and as they moved once again, the King of Munster turned to his daughter and smiled. There be an ease about him now they be on Connacht land but also a brightness she had not seen in a long while. The betrothal was valuable to her father, it made peace with Borda and united the clans of Munster and Connacht against King Olaf of Dublin. She lowered her head to her father, bowing to their twofold royal destinies. For the remainder of the journey to Castlestrange, she still could not bear to look at Sygtryg, keeping her interest on the bogs they circled and the forested commons land through which they rode. This was land not fit for tenants and she was pleased when the trees opened into the rolling hills of tribe land with cattle grazing and men working in fields of tall grasses. These men of the Connacht clan stood tall and quiet, watching as the royal procession filed along the seldom-used road. These were solemn workers, nonfreemen standing alongside the tenants of this land. Coarse people of hard labor and long hours, scratching their means from plots given and taken at the will of clan noblemen. Shrewd eyes narrowed in their swarthy brown faces, their dusty, tattered tunics hitched up with rope, exposing brown sturdy legs. All with spears at their side. Word would soon spread of their king’s betrothed making way this day to Castlestrange, accompanied by her father, the King of Munster. “My lady.” It was Sygtryg, come alongside her. Keeping her gaze ahead, Magaith answered, “Speak.” “We are soon to reach Castlestrange. It is the king’s wish we not be parted. No matter the arrangements, I am to be camped at your door.” “As the king wishes.” The knight dropped back. She felt him stay behind her but did not look to see his position. It did not matter, for soon Sygtryg would return to Cashel fortress with her
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father and she would be alone. She would be wife to Borda, the warrior king and have his knights at her side. Forever more, her days would be spent in sacrifice for her clan. Simmering anger rose up again and she struggled against it, lest it show itself in harsh words and looks. She would present herself always as the daughter to a king. In the distance, smoke rose in thin drifts toward the heavens and Magaith knew they were close to arrival at Castlestrange. Her new home. Her new clan. Her new husband. It was then she gave thought to his appearance and manner. What if he was ugly and ill-mannered? Or worse, cruel and taken to beatings. Another swell of fear rose up and Magaith allowed a brief spark of anger to quell it. She would make her way in the clan of Connacht, bear sons for the king and be a worthy wife to him. The procession continued on through the village, an assemblage of wooden shelters with thatched roofs. Women attended their looms and beside them, swaddled babes lay in baskets. As Magaith looked upon these people of another clan, they stared in return with empty faces. No songs to greet her, no joy at her arrival. Barren lives of a clan she was chosen to dwell among, to the end of her days. They came to a knoll, atop was a stone fortress. The Connacht knights circled back and spoke in low voices to the King of Munster. He then signaled his lead knight to take the main party to the fortress. The servants and lower rank knights would take shelter in the village. The royal group was led up the hillside by the Connacht knights, through the courtyard to a transept door. They dismounted their horses and servants led the beasts to nearby stables as the royal party was shown into the transept. The knights escorted them further to the great hall, adorned by many gold-threaded tapestries and shields, trophies won in battle. Much like Cashel fortress, a stone fireplace was centre of the room with large tables set around it and long benches lining the walls. At one end of the great room were plush draperies and behind them, likely the king’s sleeping chamber. A shudder took the length of her body. “Are you in need of a cloak?” Her father stood next to her. “It is not cold I feel.” She looked at him and whispered, “I be fearful, Father.”
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“I will be with you, yet. And Sygtryg be at your door.” She opened her mouth to speak further, when deafening trumpet instruments heralded the great hall with the King of Connacht’s entrance. Magaith held her breath, she was to see her husband and know his nature.
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Chapter Two The way proved long and testing. She was about to set her bundle on the roadside, when spirals of wood smoke caught her notice. The place she sought was beyond the next hill. Before long, thought Imagael, I will be with her. She placed both arms about her bundle and hastened toward the village. Word had come to her by means of hearsay, at the time she was proffering a brew of Heather to a woman in want of affection from her miserly husband. By way of payment, the grateful woman had offered the tale of an upcoming betrothal; Borda of Connacht was to make a pact of peace with the King of Munster by means of a wed vow to his daughter. As the news of the nuptials came to full meaning, Imagael had gasped and almost dropped the flask. Coming to her aid, the love-poor woman had thought the healer ill, suggesting a place to sit and recover. Imagael eased onto a bench, flask in hand, and sat a while, letting a vision of Bascogne’s daughter come to her. When the vision did not come clear, Imagael was restless to return home and brew a potion of Gort to see the young woman plainly and know her position. Did the coming union please the maiden? What place was the wed vow to happen? Would Borda bring about her happiness? After drinking the potion, she saw these answers. And further, she saw the king’s daughter was destined for the otherworld. Imagael could see the means and the manner of her death, and might stop it happening if she be there. And so, the healer set out for Castlestrange with a cloak bound up in a linen cloth, along with Rowanberries, and her most oft used herbs and roots. The journey took two walking days as Imagael had no horse to ride the way. It was a matter of resting at dark and walking with the sun to guide her. For two nights she ate Rowanberries for sustenance, lest a wood fire attract knights or marauders. 18
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On the third day she had grown tired and was to take rest, when the sighting of the wood smoke over the hill, drew her on. Imagael had seen the place before, in the vision dream and knew the warrior king’s fortress near the village, on a knoll that took shape beyond the hill now ahead. She walked on until almost reaching the summit of the hill. Then she stopped and under the high summer sun, took a cloak from her linen bundle. The snares of this place and time had been revealed to Imagael and not the least, her own passage to the otherworld if she be seen. So, Imagael tucked the herb bag under her arm and swung the cloak about her shoulders, pulling the hood over her head Thus covered, she made her way over the hill, down the gentle slope and into the village. Women were outside their homes and set to weaving, keeping watch on babes nearby in baskets. The weavers kept their eyes and hands at their looms as Imagael went forth unseen to the fortress on the knoll. She did not stop at the open transept door attended by knights, nor did she stop at the archway into the great hall. Imagael kept on until she was at the side of the king’s daughter, awaiting the arrival of Borda, the King of Connacht. She heard the maiden whisper her fear to her father and the King of Munster spoke to comfort her, when a blast of instruments made known Borda’s entrance. The warrior king was of no matter, already Imagael knew him with her visions. It be the king’s daughter she must stay beside, watching for her safety and to reveal herself, when it was time. *** After the instruments sounded, Magaith wished to close her eyes, shut up her ears. She did not care if the King of Connacht was good and kind, fair of face and strong in body. She did not wish to wed the man known as the warrior king, but return home with her father and be always with her Sygtryg. A strong urge to flee made her legs restless and her hands fidget with the folds of her tunic.
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Knights were leading a small group into the great hall, amongst them was a man wearing a cloak of brilliant blue. She had never seen color dyed to such depth, the wearer must be the warrior king. He was of good height, with long hair shimmering gold in the light from the small, high windows. His eyes were bright and his skin smooth. The King of Connacht took pause at a bench and flung his cloak behind him before he sat down. His movements were quick and sure. “Good wishes to the King of Munster,” he called out. “Come near.” Bascogne left his daughter’s side, took a place on the bench beside Borda and began talking in a low voice. As the King of Munster spoke, Borda looked at him and after a short while, lifted his head to look upon the small party from Cashel fortress. When Magaith felt the warrior king’s gaze upon her, heat burned at her cheeks and she willed her hands still at her sides. Borda motioned to his first knight and still watching her, imparted words to the man. The knight came to Magaith. “I am known as Mael, in service to Borda, King of Connacht.” The knight bowed and then said, “The king desires to meet his betrothed.” She replied, “As the king wishes,” while smoothing the folds of her tunic. The knight, Mael, led the way to Borda and took position at the side of his king. She was close to her new husband and could see his eyes were of the darkest blue, brightly gleaming. Forthright, he stared back at her with a calm bearing and an inner strength that would stead him well in challenge. When he arose from his seat, the King of Connacht offered a slight bow of his head. “Daughter to Bascogne.” His voice was deep, strong. “It pleases me to meet you.” She fully lowered her head, a deed unknown to her. As daughter to a king, there had been no need to show reverence among her clan. How changed her life was and how further changed it would become. She lifted her head and saw the heavy draperies across the sleeping chamber. For a second time, a shiver took her body.
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“You are cold.” Borda turned to the knight next to him. “See the fire is lighted. And have the tables laden with mead and food. Mael, go now.” He looked again upon her. She forced herself to speak in her discomfort and fear. “I be obliged to you.” “It be my desire to care for you,” the warrior king said and then added, “We shall talk of this at a later time. If you be willing.” “If it be your wish.” Magaith felt the quickening beat of her heart. Borda took a step toward her. “Moreover, I hope it be your wish.” He was so close, she could feel the strength of his limbs although they remained at his side. She searched his face, the brightness in his dark blue eyes revealed he was pleased in her. The curl of a smile formed upon his lips and she sensed his desire to give her surety. He seemed a fitting counterpart in wedlock and her fears lessened. “Truth, it be my wish also,” she said and fully lowered her head once more. “You are a king’s daughter and shall be a king’s wife. Forever more, you shall bow to no man, not even this king.” Feeling his tenderness, she looked up to meet his gaze. As he smiled, he did seem a man of honor, worthy of the title, king. And he possessed a pleasing appearance, fit and strong, virile. She smiled from her heart, perhaps she could be content and bear him many precious sons. And so, the wedding was arranged for the first day of the month of Duir, as wed vows were banned in the month of Uath. There were a few days for preparations to be made ready. Many hundred pounds of honey must be collected for cakes and mead, cows and sheep slaughtered for spit roasting, goats milked and cheeses made, oats and barley milled and baked into breads. During this time, the betrothed pair engaged in walks and spoke of their future. Of herself, Magaith spoke freely to Borda as she found him a receptive, lively man with a ready smile and thoughtful attentions. He did not seem a warrior but then, she was not his enemy. Since the agreement for the wedlock, their clans had been united. From dusk to dawn, Sygtryg was at her door but she would not look upon him. As she passed him on sentry, the tight lump in her chest almost burst with bitter anger. He
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possessed no affection for her and had slighted her love. She kept her words in check, for she was about to embrace a new life. She would aim to be happy in her husband and upcoming marriage. Moreover, her father was pleased with her, telling her often of his affection and his pride. On occasion, he spoke mournfully of the time he was to depart after the wed vow. She was assured of his affection and her rightful duty for Munster. Meanwhile, gaming parties took place with knights and noblemen collecting many wild fowl for the wedding feast. Clan artisans made drinking vessels and bowls of wood, and some platters of bronze for the noblemen’s tables. Scores of cauldrons were set over fires to brew beer and prepare mead. Musicians, storytellers and balladeers from all over Eire gathered at Castlestrange to perform at the wedding feast. In these days, Imagael stayed hidden in her cloak and sought out the malcontent known through her dreaming. She stopped at the homes of the villagers and listened to their tales and chatter. On the eve before the wedding day, she proceeded to the large wood shelter of Mael, first knight to Borda. And there she found him at supper with his wife, known as Gormfla. Mael lifted a cup of mead and drank it down. As he set the goblet on the table, he said to his wife, “I did gain favor with our king as he looked upon me with my sword and shield against other men. I stand by Borda to protect him and go to battle for him. My life I give as my king does desire.” “He is a worthy king. You do well, my husband.” Mael poured mead into his cup and again, drank it down before setting it to the table. He spoke in a low voice. “I should not speak further.” “It is the wed vow to Bascogne’s daughter that brings you to speak thusly.” He leaned toward his wife, whispering, “Borda takes Bascogne’s daughter for his wife, in a pact of clan peace. This be not seemly for a warrior king.” Gormfla whispered back, “I know of what you speak, husband. There be no bravery in this pact. It is no longer warrior by which our king shall be known.” Shaking his head from side to side, Mael wailed, “What is to be done?”
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“To remedy all, I know a way.” Gormfla leaned in closer to her husband. “And this wed vow shall be ended.” “He is happy in his wife. How can this be done without loss of Borda’s favor?” Gormfla spoke softly. “I shall brew the berries of Yew, Hellebore and Devil’s Bit. At the wedding table, you slip the potion into the maiden’s cup.” “You be a pleasing wife to me, Gormfla.” His face turned dark. “And if this plot be found out? We shall be sent to the otherworld by Borda’s command.” “There will be much celebration with music and dancing, you shall know when to slip the potion without notice.” “And her passage to the otherworld will be swift?” “Swift as an arrow that pierces the heart.” “Then it shall be so.” Imagael departed the house of Mael, making her way to her sleeping place in the copse where she left her herbs and roots in the linen bundle. She must make a remedy for the poison, lest her eye not be keen and the potion be sipped. *** The day dawned bright for the wedding and Magaith was greatly cheered with the omen of sunshine. All seemed to bode well for the future wife to the King of Connacht: the omen, the vows exchanged in the seventh month of Duir, her husband’s pleasing nature and countenance. She bathed from a bowl with scented water, adorned her hair in a fine silk veil and dressed in a wedding tunic from Borda, threaded with gold. She found wild flowers at her door, gathered by children of the village and she carried these as she made her way to the fortress. Sygtryg trailed behind and reached for her as they neared the transept. “My lady,” the knight fairly cried out. “Are you content?” Magaith took pause and looked down at his hand upon her arm. Sygtryg lifted his hand as if burned by fire. “I ask for pardon.”
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Her bitter anger at a boil, she met his eyes. “If I was not content, it would make no change in this day. You have made this known to me.” The shriveled lump in her chest made her words harsh but she gave him reprieve, for she would strive to be happy. “I am content to be wife to Borda.” His face grew sad and her heart went out to him, he had revealed his suffering. “Are there words I might speak to soothe you?” His brows furrowed. “I wish you not hold bitterness in your heart toward me.” “I shall summon up our days spent together at Cashel fortress with fondness. But I must embrace a new aim, that of wife to Borda.” There were no words that might further aid him and not be false. She turned from her knight protector, made her way through the transept door and into the great hall. Her father was there to greet her. “Daughter, the day has come.” His eyes were red and swollen. “I be content. Do not weep for me.” “I well up with tears for this joyous day. I shall not dwell on the days to come without you at Cashel fortress.” The king held his elbow out to her. “I shall take you now to Borda.” They wove their way through throngs of knights and noblemen and women, all offering best wishes for the nuptials and blessings for the marriage. And then she saw him. It was as though a halo shone around his head, so bright the gold lights in his hair. The blueness of his eyes, so dark and gleaming, they were shining lights radiating joy. His skin was gleaming, light brown and smooth as river stone. She yearned to be close to her husband, touch his fine-looking face with her fingertips, glide her hands over his taut velvety arms and have him gaze into her eyes with his joyous light. And at that moment, through the multitude separating them, their eyes met and from where she stood, Magaith could feel his affection. And longing for her. A fire began in her belly and flowed through her limbs and upwards, flushing her face. It was as if she were in his arms and feeling his body on her own, moving against
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her. A great force seemed inside her, as a wave from the ocean might engulf her and carry her away. She allowed the great force to take her over, no longer afraid. Coming over to her, the warrior king took her hand gently and led her to the priest, standing in wait before a wall of shields. The vows were exchanged between them, Magaith seeing only the light and gleam of Borda. She knew nothing of the tears of her father, the stern look of Sygtryg, the glances exchanged between Mael and his wife. When the ceremony ended, she felt transported as in her vision dream of Sygtryg but their fates were now greatly changed. Her contentment lay with this man, her warrior king and gentle husband. As Borda gently led her through the gathering of noblemen and women, she was glad of her knight’s resolve not to betray his king. She deemed to seek Sygtryg out later and speak to him of it. Her husband led her to the high table, set with silver goblets and bowls. Once they were seated, he called a servant for mead to be poured. They raised their cups together, Borda looking into her eyes with a joyous light and they entwined arms, drinking as one. When their cups were set on the table, the king leaned to her and whispered, his lips against her ear, “I could not dream myself happier, wife.” The softness of his lips and sweet breath caused a quiver over her body. This time, she embraced the feeling and desired more, in the quietness and solitude of his sleeping chamber. At her husband’s neck, she said softly, “I am yours.” A shudder traveled through him. This pleased her, she so wished to join with her husband and in turn be made a woman with sons by him. It was then, the King of Munster, clan knights, noble men and women took their places at the high table. In the great hall as the tables began to fill, there rose up a noise of chatter and gaiety. Magaith felt comfort in it. Her new clan was not barren of contentment after all and they seemed happy in the union. Platters of roasted meats and fowl, and bowls of boiled root vegetables were set atop the tables. Servants poured mead or beer into goblets as storytellers regaled them epic tales of Vikings and long ago battles. The noisiness increased with each pour from the
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jugs, until the tales could no longer be heard. Well wishers came and went from the high table, shouting over the chatter. Singing broke out at various tables with other tables nearby joining in, until the King of Connacht called for the musicians and singers. The tables fell hushed and all listened to the balladeers accompanied by lyres and harps. Magaith reached for her goblet, felt a weight upon her arm and heard a whisper in her ear. “Do not drink further from this goblet. The mead now be poisoned.” Sense of the unseen bode well for the king’s daughter and she sat back on the bench, placing her hands in her lap. It seemed some witch or wizard was watching her and making her safe, where her own knight protector, Sygtryg, could not. Again, a whisper in her ear. “Drink no more tonight.” The fire of love changed to a burning fear, shooting as sparks to her fingers and toes. She knew not if it was her new husband that did this or someone in his household. It might be a nobleman of privilege. Or a knight. Or a servant. In a soft voice, she asked her husband to pardon her for a short while and then made her way to the transept and out into the quiet of the yard. No knight would follow. She was not yet given a protector and no longer had the protection of her own. In the darkness, a woman appeared from naught and came into sound being. “You are not safe if you remain here. You must come now with me.” Magaith leaned toward the shadowy figure, narrowing her eyes. “You are not known to me and so, I shall not.” “I seek to spare you from the otherworld.” “You speak falsehoods to mislead me.” The king’s daughter spoke in a harsh whisper. “And corrupt my union with Borda.” “My pledge, I shall keep you safe. Now come with me.” Magaith raised her hands and looked about her. “Where should I go?” She set her hands to her sides. “I am a king’s wife and this be my wed vow eve.” “We must depart from here. We go to Torgaad of Kincora.” “He is but fable. You seek to do me in.”
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“Solely, I be here to keep you safe.” The woman’s voice was soft, imploring. Touched by the gentle tenderness, Magaith said, “Bear out the truth in what you say, that I might have faith and depend on you.” “I am your mother, known as Imagael. And you, my daughter to Bascogne.”
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Chapter Three Magaith took pause, could this be? She found her voice. “The king, my father, spoke of my mother, long ago gone to the otherworld.” “I speak full truth, I am mother to you.” The woman approached, lifting her lengthy cloak open. “Come. We shall leave here unseen.” “What is this?” She asked, touching the brown spun fabric of the cloak. “My cloak will hide us. Be quick, my girl, lest we be seen.” Her fear of falsehood grew further. “What matter if you are seen?” “Your father does believe I curse him, nightly as the sun lowers in the sky. He wishes me to the otherworld and would make it so, if he but find me.” “This cannot be! My father would not hurt a woman who bore his child. And more, the woman who is my own mother! You speak falsehoods!” “He did command your knight protector to raise his sword against me if he should find me. I beg of you, come with me and do not seek another remedy at this time.” Imagael tilted her head and appeared as if listening to the wind. Then she said, “I must stay unseen.” And lifting the cloak over her head went from sight. Magaith heard a shout from the transept door. “What keeps you, my lady? Are you well?” Sygtryg rushed to her side, his brows twisted in concern. She whispered close to his face, “In truth, I be of great fear. May I trust you with a most graven secret?” As she spoke the words, Magaith recalled the knight’s refusal to take her away when she asked it of him. And she saw further, with his great loyalty to his king, no truth about her mother would pass the knight’s lips. “I ask for pardon,” she said and stepped back. “You are no longer my knight protector. It is of no matter.” 28
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“I shall stay as your protector until I be sent away.” “Then leave, my knight.” Sygtryg took a step forward and held Magaith’s arms. “Do not speak so.” “In duty to your king,” she began, but with the knight so near that his shallow breaths gently blew upon her cheek, she could solely whisper the last words. “Leave me.” “If you be fearful, I shall foreswear my duty!” He spoke with a force she had not heard before. “And forsake the king to aid you!” “This protection and loyalty you declare to me is newly found.” “I be ever loyal to you, in my heart.” He was so close, he might lower his head and kiss her. “But to be loyal to my king, I could not take you as wife.” His grip on her arms became as firm as his voice. “You must be wife to a king. Even if it be to a Connacht king.” “I did wish you take me as wife. And now…” She shook her head. “Now,” Sygtryg went on, his tone hushed. “You no longer hold me in great affection.” “It is best said, my affection for Borda be great.” Again, she shook her head. “My affection for him be as a spell upon me.” “You fear a spell be cast?” He took pause, his hands still firm on her arms and then said, “Speak to me! What has made you fearful?” She gazed into his dark eyes, so bright with worry and felt the need to speak. But not of her desire for Borda. “My wedding cup be poisoned.” “Poisoned?” “Before I sipped, warning was given to me.” His grip eased and she added, “I must depart this place to stay safe.” His hands tightened on her arms. “Who speaks to you of leaving?” She watched his face as she replied, “My mother, Imagael.” His hands dropped from her and he stepped away. “It cannot be.” “She doth say it so and wishes me to depart now with her.” “This be your mother in truth?”
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“I have a simple knowing this witch speaks no falsehoods. Perchance she be my mother.” He ran a hand through his thick hair. “I will go with you and keep you safe.” Magaith narrowed her eyes. “For a chance to raise your sword if it be my mother?” “I be foremost, your protector,” he said so quietly, she had to strain to hear. “To keep you safe, I would forsake my word to the king.” *** The wife to Mael bent over her husband at the high table, saying, “The maiden has taken leave. But did she first sip the cup?” “It may be so.” Mael said as he looked down the length of the table and then at the revelers in the great hall. Gormfla shrieked a whisper in his ear. “It must be done!” At the shrill tone, the knight twitched and looked upon his wife. What be her gain in this? The force of her voice bespeaks much is hidden from me. Her eyes gleamed at him as two tiny black beads. He had thought her with him in this plan but could see now, she had a further aim. “Keep your tongue. We shall take pause and see what has been done.” “She must be to the otherworld before this eve is ended!” Mael spoke softly. “It may not be and if that, we shall try again.” “This eve!” Gormfla said sharply, through her teeth. “It must be done this eve!” “It may not be so. Settle, wife.” With harshness, she replied, “I shall see the maiden does not go to Borda’s bed.” The knight knew then, Gormfla desired the warrior king for herself. It be her plan for him to poison the king’s bride and then, the maiden to die. And when Gormfla spoke part truth to the king, the plot would end with Mael as the betrayer. Then he would go to the otherworld and Gormfla would surely have her king. The power of battle anger rose up in him and he placed his hand upon his sword. Then he let it fall. Brehon Law would ask him to recompense his wrong and so he must
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die if he raise his sword to kill his wife. As yet unknown, a better means would come. Mael set to bide his time and wait, his wife would repay her wrong. *** “I be mother to Bascogne’s daughter.” Imagael spoke whilst still unseen in her cloak. “Knight, shall you raise your sword against me?” Sygtryg glanced at Magaith. “I shall not keep my word to the king.” “You must hold faith in me.” The cloak slipped from Imagael’s head. “My daughter’s life depends upon it and so, it be most noble of you to break this promise.” “Noble? I betray my honor as a knight!” He spat the words out. Releasing a breath, he said softly, “And yet, I know my judgment be moral.” “I shall take Magaith now and secret her away.” Imagael then looked to her daughter. “If you be willing.” Magaith sought to know the woman’s heart. “You wish to protect me but I ask for full truth, you be my mother?” “I am.” “And wish no harm to me?” “Upon my word, I seek you be safe as you are daughter to me.” Magaith heeded her knowing and said, “Then I shall leave with you.” Imagael nodded and turned to Sygtryg. “If you wish to be knight protector still, meet us in a thick copse of trees just north of Castlestrange, in the forest. It be a good place to hide from the knights that will soon be in search.” “Shall I gather food and mead?” “You must not draw notice. Go now to the king’s stables and in the first stalls are two black stallions. Bring them to the place of hiding.” The knight nodded. “It shall be so.” Imagael lifted her cloak over Magaith and they were gone from sight. Going swiftly to the stables, Sygtryg clad the horses of mention. Then he rode one and kept reins on the other, whilst circling the village outskirts.
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In the cool forest, his face was still hot with the shame that he be not loyal to his king. Though, it be most fitting to fail in this oath as Imagael could keep her daughter safe, in a manner he could not. She brought to light the poisoned mead and then secreted Magaith away from harm in the hiding cloak. The witch did plan to keep her daughter safe and in this, she be upright and moral. In spite of that truth, he stung from the betrayal of his knight pledge. The sun was low in the sky when he arrived at the place described. He leapt from his stallion and tethered the horses in the copse of trees. Then he slipped quietly from the grove, settled into a place of ferns and bushes, and positioned himself on watch for the witch and her daughter. It came to him as he lay there, the witch might lure him to this spot as she steal Magaith away. Perchance, the witch did not wish the knight with them and could do better on her own. He fought against these thoughts for she would allow no harm to come to her child and would seek to keep her safe. Alas, if she meant to send him on a feigned chase, a knight in pursuit of a witch might forever be lost in the Connacht forest. If this be a chase, he would never again see the fair-hearted Magaith. A stab of pain arose in his chest and he saw for the first time, he could not bear the suffering if it be so. There came a noise of thundering hoofs upon the earth and the knight took his leave, making his way through the bracken to the horses tethered in the hiding place. As he approached, he saw they were gone and quickly found a fallen log to lay behind, with leaves to cover him. When the riding party neared, he felt the hooves upon the earth and heard the shouts of men. If these riders be Connacht knights in search of Borda’s wife, they would raise their swords against him for hiding in the forest. And if the riders be Connacht clansmen, he would be taken to the fortress and presented to the warrior king. And that king, believing the knight to steal Magaith, would send him to the otherworld. The suffering in his heart would end with passage to the otherworld. If he but find Magaith and ask her for his wife, he would suffer no more. To always have her by his
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side and nightly, in his bed. He had erred, placing his king before his beloved and delivering her up to Borda. Cursing upon himself, the knight pledged to find Magaith and ask her for his own. Once, she sought his love and he hoped with all his heart she did love him still. *** When Magaith did not return to join her husband, Borda asked of the servants and knights to search the fortress and grounds. The warrior king remained in his seat at the high table, believing his wife to be nearby and easily revealed. Castlestrange fortress was heavily guarded and no thought of abduction came to him. After all reports from the searchers, Borda conceded the lady was not at the fortress. Upon the king’s command, search parties gathered at Mael’s shelter in the village. There, the warrior king bid the many knights and clansmen with steeds to search the village, outskirts and forest, sending them out in small groups with knights entrusted in the manner of search. Bascogne joined a group of Connacht knights led by the knight Mael. The King of Munster saw the fierceness in their faces as they sought out the Connacht king’s wife. And so kept silent his daughter’s knight protector was also missing. If Sygtryg was found with his daughter, the knight’s end would be sure. But Bascogne wished the knight be with her, for Magaith would not come to harm with her protector at her side. Though, if it happened that his knight was with his daughter and they be found together, then battle with Borda would follow. And the warrior king would send the party from Munster to the otherworld. Upon this thought, Bascogne knew he must devise a plot to keep safe his visiting clan. And signaling Mael he was leaving the search, he rode back to the village to seek out Borda. Two knights were positioned outside the house of Mael. Bascogne tethered his horse and at the door, called to the warrior king that he be allowed to pass. A servant woman opened the door.
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The shelter was of good width and length with a large stone fireplace in the midst of benches and two tables. Borda was seated at a table nearest the fire with the wife to Mael beside him. Bascogne saw the shrewd face on the knight’s wife, her small eyes shiny as wet river stones and her mouth compressed. When the woman spoke to Borda, the king of Munster watched the change as her mouth lifted up and her eyes sparkled. Her voice was soft and beguiling. Bascogne knew she would seek the king’s favor as all clan sought favor from their king. But in her manner, he saw more. “What news?” Borda asked. “I fear, no word as yet.” The Munster king placed himself at the table across from Borda and Mael’s wife. “It is my heartfelt wish, Magaith be safe. And soon found.” Borda nodded. “We shall not take rest until it be so.” “It came to me that I might gather a riding party of my clan and seek beyond the forest for Magaith.” “As the sun rises on the morrow, we shall know what must be done.” “More mead for you, my king?” Gormfla held up the jug and smiled at Borda. “Pour it,” he replied, his eyes still on Bascogne. “If my wife is not found, both kings of Munster and Connacht shall take knights and clan to ride the morrow.” “What if this be Olaf’s plot and perhaps, a trap?” Bascogne wished to keep Borda from the search. “He seeks to have your knights away, to take your fortress and send you to the otherworld. You must keep safe.” The warrior king grasped at his hair and with his hands on his head, rested his elbows on the table. “It cannot be that the King of Dublin did take her. For if it is so, then Magaith is gone to the otherworld by Olaf’’s hand.” Bascogne saw the glimmer of a smile on Gormfla’s face. “What is it, wife to Mael, which pleases you so?” Gormfla’s eyes grew large. “I am not pleased.” “I saw the smile, when Borda spoke of Magaith gone to the otherworld.” Borda’s head lifted and he sought to meet Gormfla’s eyes. “Speak!”
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Her gaze was upon the tabletop. “I know naught of the lady.” “Speak!” The warrior king crashed his hand upon the table. “Or I shall raise my sword to you!” She met his eyes. “My king, I speak truth.” Her tone was meek. Then Bascogne of Munster stood up and drew his sword, yelling, “I raise my sword!” Her wide eyes on Bascogne, Gormfla cried out, “I would have Borda for myself, this be truth! But the lady gone, I do not know! I do not know!” The King of Munster placed the sword tip close to the woman’s face and yelled, “If your eye be pierced, shall more truth unfold?” “Take pause! Take pause as I speak!” She waited until the sword was drawn back and then said, “It is my husband and first knight to Borda, who has taken against his king!” “Mael?” Borda’s voice was quiet as he spoke. “My own first knight?” Her eyes on the point of Bascogne’s sword, she said, “He sought to give your wife a poison cup at the wed vow celebration.” Bascogne yelled, “The poison found the mark?” Gormfla whispered, “The outcome is not known to me.” As he stood from his seat, Borda the warrior king let out a great howl and drew his sword. He held it to the woman’s heart and then plunged it deep. Gormfla sagged to the wooden floorboards. As he withdrew the sword, blood gushed forth and the woman twitched. Borda wiped the blade across Gormfla’s tunic and slid it in the scabbard at his side. The warrior king met Bascogne’s eyes. “I shall send for Mael.” *** From beneath the cloak, Magaith watched as Sygtryg covered himself with leaves. She whispered to her mother, “He is not safe. The riders shall find him.” Imagael put a finger to her lips.
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Magaith whispered in her mother’s ear, “We must cover him in this cloak.” “Stay here, lest we be seen.” “I will not allow him to go the otherworld. There is time, yet.” Nodding, Imagael rose from her position and they made their way carefully over dry twigs and leaves. They stopped once as knights on horseback came thundering past and Magaith saw great fear in her mother’s eyes. When they reached Sygtryg, Imagael took a long length of the cloak and draped it over him. The king’s daughter crouched next to the knight and spoke near to his ear. “We have covered you in the hiding cloak. You shall not be seen, Sygtryg.” His head lifted from the leaves, earth smeared his face, bits of vine and twig entwined his hair. The length of his body was covered in dried leaves from a winter past. “You look a wood nymph,” Magaith whispered as she stifled her laughter. Once more, Imagael put a finger to her lips. Magaith nodded in reply and looked again upon the knight. His eyes were dark but bright, glittering. She knew his happiness at seeing her and placed her lips upon his cheek. She saw his ears turn red and then his neck, the color spreading to his face. Her brows twisted, he was cross with her? Imagael’s voice was quiet in her ear. “Lay low.” And she went down, atop the knight. She tilted her face to his, to look upon her dear knight protector. His sweet breath was on her face, his mouth near hers. Imagael spoke so quiet, it seemed inside her head. “Be still.” Those lips so close, fuelled her desire to place her mouth upon him and know his kiss. He stared into her eyes. And even with the marriage to Borda, at this moment she wanted her knight. To feel his body against her and his lips, his sweet lips on her mouth. They heard the horses nearby, grunting and shuffling at the earth. Magaith held her breath and listened. A knight said, “Tracks of horses. They go this way.” Magaith recalled the horses brought by Sygtryg. Imagael had spoken to them quietly and they had whinnied, running off to the north.
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“Follow the tracks. I will speak to our king of this.” They heard horses snort and whinny, then the thunder of the hooves once more. And all was quiet. Her eyes were set upon the knight’s neck and Magaith could see a thumping there as a quick beat upon a drum. His dark hair was wet where it curled at his nape. She raised her eyes and saw sweat gleaming on his face. His eyes were upon her. “They are gone.” Imagael spoke quietly. Magaith wished to stay in this heat with her knight so close, she might barely move her mouth and kiss him. He was her Sygtryg, good and strong, loyal and true. And she moved against him, her legs on his. He moaned and placed his arms about her back, his face into her neck. “I feared, I would not see you ever again,” Sygtryg said, his voice rough. A rush of heat coursed through her body, her limbs tingled. She pressed her breasts against his chest, lowering her mouth to his lips. “We must take leave.” It was Imagael, lying next to Magaith. The sound of her voice brought Magaith to bear, their position was weak and she must obey her mother to see another dawn. All thoughts must be on keeping safe and making their way. She spared another moment to stay in his arms and as she pulled back, her hand brushed his groin and a deep yearning for him swept through her. It was tenfold the desire and affection that took her over when she be near his lips. He stared at her with his dark eyes and she wished they were alone, for he might take her tunic from her and she would wallow under his hands and lips. A hand was on her shoulder. “We must leave, now.” She strained to keep her breathing even and rise from the earth with grace. And not look upon Sygtryg laid out upon the dried leaves. She brushed the twigs and vines from her tunic, keeping her eyes from the knight as he sat up and pulled bits from his hair. Imagael shook the cloak and gathered it into a bundle. “Mother.” Magaith felt her heart swell with joy at the word. “Where is it we go? The horses are no more and we must walk.”
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Imagael set the cloak under her arm. “The horses shall meet us the morrow.” And then peering at the sky, she added, “Until then, we shall go toward the lowering sun.” “The horses shall meet us?” Magaith stared at her mother. “I did ask them. I am a witch.” Imagael smiled at her. “You did not know?” Sygtryg set to laughing and Imagael also, soon Magaith was laughing. And the fear quelled up inside them released and they were happy with each other. Wishing the lightness to remain, Magaith deemed not to ask her mother until the morrow, what she must do and what was to become of her.
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Chapter Four In the forest, a knight came upon Mael and asked him to attend the king. He rode back through the trees into the village and at his shelter, handed the reins of his steed to a servant. He entered his house and saw Borda and Bascogne at his table. He bowed. “My king.” “Come,” said Borda. “Sit at my side.” Mael rounded the table and took a place beside his king. “Is Gormfla here?” Borda spoke evenly. “Gone to the otherworld, I fear.” The knight looked from one king to the other and said, “A worthy end as she be not loyal to our king.” “Is it so?” Borda asked and added, “And you, Mael are loyal to this king?” “Gormfla wished your wife to the otherworld. I be constant to my king.” “My wife and this king’s daughter, she is poisoned?” Borda asked evenly. “This, I do not know.” Mael looked again from one king to the other. “If Gormfla’s plot doth unfold, then the king’s wife be gone with surety.” “Before I take my sword and plunge it in your heart, first knight,” Borda said, quietly. “Speak again of your loyalty to this king.” His mouth ajar, Mael’s eyes opened wide. Borda raised himself from the bench and took the sword from his scabbard. “Tell me where her body lay and I be swift to find the mark.” “My king, I do not know! Spare this loyal knight that I might seek out your wife and send her back to you!” “Your words be false!” Borda raised his sword. “You would seek to poison the king’s wife!”
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Bascogne lifted his hand and said, “Take pause.” He rubbed at his chin. “Send this knight to Olaf’s camp to spy upon that king. And if he lives to speak of that king, he tells us truth.” “I would run him through before he lives one day!” Borda yelled. “He would not serve you near as well,” Bascogne replied. Borda lowered his sword. “This king must not believe his daughter gone to the otherworld or you would suffer my sword. Go now to Dublin.” “My king, I shall return with news,” Mael replied, then made swiftly for the door. Borda spoke. “Why is it, you spared this knight?” “Olaf may be moving upon your lands and we must know his position. This knight would seek this out and more, to bring favor from his king.” “Is it you believe the knight’s wife alone was guilty?” “She be immoral,” Bascogne spat the words. “And served no earthly purpose.” Loud bellows of shouting were heard outside and then the door burst open. A low rank knight stood in the doorway, his breathing heavy. “Speak!” Borda yelled. “Tracks of two horses.” The knight spoke with sucks of breath. “In the forest. Going north.” Bascogne thought, my daughter would not go to Ulster in the north. That kingdom is not friend to us and she would go south, to our own clan land. Borda yelled, “It is the King of Ulster who takes my wife!” Then he turned to Bascogne. “We must ride to Ulster and get her back!” “It may be Olaf’s trap.” The warrior king grasped at his hair, saying, “My thoughts are wretched. I can think only, my wife is gone.” “Listen, Borda. Your knight, Mael has gone to the east, to spy on Olaf. You send knights north, on the trail and keep knights here to guard the fortress.” Bascogne watched as the king dropped his hands from his head and nodded. Then he added, “And I shall ride south with my knights in search.”
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Borda stared at Bascogne. “You believe yet, your daughter lives?” “If I did not,” the King of Munster replied. “I would use my sword and end my suffering.” *** Magaith, Sygtryg and Imagael had set out toward the lowering sun but it was soon eve and darkness drew in. The Yew trees in the forest became as giants looming over them, reaching for them and grabbing at their tunics. Magaith held her arms against her chest. “I am scratched by these branches.” “The scratches shall heal, daughter,” replied Imagael. “The Death Trees will not bring harm unless other herbs are brewed with the berries.” “How is it, you came to this knowledge?” Magaith asked. “My mother imparted her alchemy and her mother, before that.” “Shall you teach me this alchemy?” “It would please me, daughter.” Magaith pushed at another branch. “Why is it, we are not seen under the cloak but if we move, we may be find out?” “Movement does cause a ripple as a stone tossed in a stream. And if the onlooker be watchful, they are able to see the ripple. The cloak does fool the eye of the seer but in truth, we are not unseen.” The three walked in quiet for a time, with no more than the night owls hooting until Sygtryg asked, “Who did the deed of poison, Imagael?” “A jealous woman and her bloodlust husband.” “Tell me,” he cried out. “That I might raise my sword and see them through!” “The woman is gone to the otherworld and her husband has solely torment and suffering before him.” “How is this known?” “I see it,” Imagael said plainly. “Is it, you see in dreams and visions?” Sygtryg asked.
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“Dreams. And in visions with a potion brewed from Gort to aid my sight. And at times, the simple knowing what is truth.” “These dreams and knowing what is truth,” Magaith said. “These I do, myself.” “It would be so, daughter of my blood. And further, you shall have visions when potions are added to the seeing.” On they walked in the quiet of the night as hooting owls kept them company. When Magaith again spoke, her voice was low. “I grow weary and need rest.” Sygtryg responded, “We must be long from here before we rest. And find food.” “There is no want for food.” Imagael went on, “In my bag is Rowan. A small portion of berries shall be as nine meals.” “We must go far,” the knight insisted. “My lady, are you able to walk further?” “If it must be so.” Imagael stopped and turned to them in the dark, her face barely seen in the shadows. “My daughter, you shall soon have rest. And Sygtryg, we journey far from here, in a blink of the eye.” She walked a few steps forward and lifted her hand. “I be seeking this Royal Oak.” Suddenly, a tree gave a great wrenching sound. It groaned and stretched until a doorway opened and a dim light shone from within. The witch held out her hands. “Come daughter, beside me.” Magaith went to her mother as the knight asked, “What magic be this?” “I open a Royal Oak. It will take us to another part of the forest.” Imagael held out her hand to Sygtryg. “You must touch me as we enter the door and whilst we are inside. If you release my hand, you will remain always inside the tree.” “And Magaith? Does she not need the touch of your hand?” “She is born of my blood and does not. And now, draw closer,” the witch said and taking hold of Sygtryg, stepped into the open tree. ***
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Mael did not carry out the warrior king’s command and ride east, in search of Olaf. Instead, he took his horse into the forest, to the south. If I find my king’s wife, Mael thought, he will spare me in his joy. Gormfla paid for the betrayal and this would prove my loyalty. Once more, I shall be first knight by the side of my king, at table and at battle. If I but find the lady and bring her back safely to him at Castlestrange. Once the eve grew dark, Mael could not see his way and tethered his horse, taking rest under the same tree. He settled into the soft underbrush, pulling his cloak around him and then closing his eyes. A rustling sound made him open his eyes and he peered about in the darkness, looking for the source. It be a mouse or other pest, he told himself and closed his eyes once more. The rustling sound grew louder and he opened his eyes again. The leaves and branches of the tree were all around him, waving to and fro as if a great wind had come down upon them. He lifted up on his elbows and a branch lashed across his face, another crashed upon his shoulder. Mael let out a yell and moving his legs, pushed himself up against the tree. One long length of branch came around his chest and another around his neck, pulling tight until he could not move. As he lay entwined in the branches, he thought only of his king and that he would not ever take his place by Borda’s side again. *** Her mother drew Sygtryg inside the oak and Magaith took a place behind, stepping into a small circular chamber of bark walls and earth underfoot. Dim light seemed to come from above but as Magaith searched upwards, she could not see a roof or lighted torch, the light appeared to come from far away. When she looked behind her, Magaith saw the opening in the tree was no longer there. Sygtryg glanced around the enclosed core. “We are not to go far this eve.” “What appears to be and what is truth are not forever the same.” Imagael led Sygtryg to one side of the chamber and ran her hand upon the bark. “This is the door to the south and opens nearby the Lough Derg.” She stood back and lifted her hand.
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The tree gave a great wrenching sound as the bark groaned and stretched. A doorway into darkness yawned open and Imagael pulled Sygtryg through, with Magaith coming after. The air was cooler near the lough waters, glimmering under the high moon. “What is this magic?” Sygtryg asked, still holding Imagael’s hand. “Long ago, the Druids crafted doors to journey over Eire in a blink of an eye.” “The Druids are long since past.” There was awe in his tone. “How did you learn of these doors?” “I was born to it,” Imagael replied. “As Magaith has the knowing.” Magaith opened her eyes wide. “I shall use the Royal Oak this way?” “This and more, one day.” Imagael peered into a nearby grouping of moonlit trees and pointed. “We must go there. The trees offer shelter.” They made their way into the copse and Imagael spread the lengthy cloak upon dry bracken. “Rest here.” Magaith lay down with Sygtryg nearby. He settled with his back to her and she closed her eyes. Next she knew, her mother was smoothing her hair. “Daughter, rise now.” As Magaith sat up and stretched, Imagael roused Sygtryg. Then she handed her daughter some berries. “Eat these. Rowan will make you strong.” She placed some berries in the knight’s hand, adding, “Make ready. The horses will be here, soon.” Sygtryg chewed berries as he spoke. “Where is it we go?” “A place north of Kincora. We shall ride, keeping to the lough.” “Is it, your shelter is there?” “We seek Torgaad.” Sygtryg asked. “What be your aim in searching out this fabled wizard?” “Not one of us, not Borda or Bascogne, not Magaith or you or I, shall possess happiness and contentment unless my daughter and I go to Torgaad.” Sygtryg narrowed his eyes. “You know this?”
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“I saw Torgaad in a vision as I sought a remedy. So we go to him.” Imagael’s face softened with kindness as she looked upon the knight. “I fear you shall not gain entrance to the wizard’s cavern.” “He does not wish me to enter?” “You do not possess the will to find the way inside.” He put his hands on his sides, elbows out. “I be of great will.” “Perhaps, the better name for what you need is spirit.” Magaith cried out, “Mother, I bid you! Reveal to Sygtryg the way to Torgaad!” Imagael shook her head. “The secret lies in our hearts. Sygtryg must find it.” “I shall find the way?” Magaith asked. “You have the knowing.” “There is nothing to be done for Sygtryg?” She glanced at him, fearful of losing her knight if he did not stay with her. “We leave him the cloak. And Rowanberries.” Magaith turned to the knight. “What is it you do now? Return to Cashel fortress and await the king?” “I shall do as I am asked.” His eyes were steady on her. “What would you have me do?” “I wish you to stay.” Magaith looked at her mother, “What is your knowing?” “If the knight go to Cashel fortress, Bascogne will seek the truth from him. When the knight doth speak of me, he shall anger the king and go to the otherworld.” “Sygtryg.” Magaith moved to his side, putting her hand on his arm. “Do not speak of my mother. Tell only, I go to Torgaad for safety.” “The king shall know me,” said Imagael, “if the knight speaks of Torgaad.” “There must be a means for Sygtryg to keep with us.” “There be a way.” Imagael put her hand on her daughter’s arm. “The knight must seek out the Lough Derg earthdrake and take the power from the beast.” “What power doth the earthdrake hold?” “Strength of spirit.”
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Magaith turned to Sygtryg. “You shall be with us, if you do this.” Imagael told him, “The power shall not be taken with ease. You must slay the earthdrake.” “By my sword, it shall be so.” Magaith put her arms about Sygtryg’s neck. “Be of the greatest care.” The knight placed his arms around her and as he drew back, asked of Imagael, “What must I take from this earthdrake?” “The flame of fire.” “Is it an amulet?” Imagael pressed her lips together. “Cut out and eat a portion of the tongue.” “From this, I shall possess the power of flame?” “If you do this, you gain knowing from Torgaad.” There came the sound of hooves upon the earth and two steeds appeared near them in the copse. They slowed and cantered over to Imagael. She held out her hand, feeding Rowanberries and murmuring to them. When the berries were gone, they lifted their heads and snorted. “The horses are ready,” Imagael said, running her hands down their necks. “We ride now to Torgaad’s cavern.” *** By the light of torches, Connacht knights followed the tracks of two horses north, into Ulster lands. They rode with no thought of trespass and reached the banks of Lough Erne, there losing the trail. The knights searched up and down the south banks of the lough to see the tracks regained but found no trace. So in the early dawn of morn, they turned the horses back to Castlestrange. One knight was sent to give news to Borda and he went to the fortress where the warrior king had earlier returned. The knight tethered his horse in the stables and made way into the great hall. The king was seated alone on a bench, his hair tousled about his
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head and his eyes red rimmed. He was speaking aloud and placing his hands before him as if gesturing but he was quite alone. The knight knelt before him, lowered his head and took pause. Is it, he thought, this king be mad from sorrow? “What news, knight?” “It is not news I speak, my king.” “You did not find my wife?” “The tracks led to the Lough Erne and there we did go astray of the trail.” “The Ulster knights crossed the lough with my wife!” Borda yelled. “Did you not seek to search the other side? I be foolish in my trust! Go from me!” The knight rose and bowed, then left the great hall. Bascogne came across the knight in the transept. “Do you bring news of the king’s wife?” “The tracks led to Lough Erne.” The knight swallowed before saying, “We did not cross over the lough as it is deep but searched the banks and found no sign.” Bascogne nodded. This news was the same as he believed, horses were sent northward to mystify Borda and his daughter was not in Ulster. Her safety was not of graven suspect as Sygtryg had not returned to Castlestrange. However, the warrior king might soon discover this and to spare his traveling party from the Connacht sword, Bascogne judged they must take their leave that day. The king dismissed the knight and went on, into the great hall. Borda hailed him. “Bascogne, no news. Your daughter is not found.” “The knight did speak to me.” The King of Munster went to Borda. “This day, I go south in search of your wife.” “A south search has no wisdom, Bascogne. Marauders would not take my wife back into Munster.” “I may find her there.” The King of Munster crossed his arms over his chest. “I tell you this, I will not go north and battle in Ulster.”
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“You pledge to wed me to your daughter!” Borda stood up, his face red. “And then you secret her back to Cashel fortress! We did join our clans through wedlock, Bascogne! And you devise a trick to have her back!” Then he sat down on the bench and ran his hands through his hair. “And Magaith, the innocent in this.” “Magaith did get a poison cup and it be not my doing.” Bascogne softened his tone. “I do not know where my daughter is gone but would have her back to you.” Borda raised his head, his hair disheveled and his eyes moist. “Go and seek her out. Bring her back to me.” “May it be so.” Bascogne went from the great hall to the stables. His knights were brushing down their horses. “Prepare, for we return to Cashel,” he commanded them and then went to the servant’s quarters, saying the same. When the belongings were gathered and laden, the party rode south while the King of Munster hoped with all his heart, his daughter and her knight protector were in wait at Cashel fortress. *** Sygtryg lifted Magaith onto a horse and aided her mother in gaining a place behind her. He handed Imagael the cloak and linen bundle before setting himself upon the other horse. They galloped off, along the west bank of the Lough Derg. As they rode, Magaith thought of Borda and then of her knight, Sygtryg. She turned her head, saying to her mother, “My father is pleased in my marriage and I trust I am pleased, yet I do not know my own heart. When I be near Sygtryg, I have such great affection and desire to be with him.” “Who is it you most desire?” “In truth, I do not know.” Imagael spoke against her ear. “All these happenings, your marriage to the warrior king and then the poisoned cup, my knowing of this and your years with the loyal knight, have ended in this quest to find your heart’s desire.”
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“I bring suffering to so many.” Magaith turned her head to one side so her mother could better hear. “I flee Borda on our wedding eve and he must be wrought with worry. My father is wont to know where I am gone and greatly troubled with it. And Sygtryg shall be known as betrayer and go to the otherworld if he is found.” “You seek to do no harm. It be the poison cup that crafted this.” “If I end my quest, shall I end this harm I do?” “To end this quest, you must know what you desire.” “I do not know!” “Then the fates unfold as they shall.” “I wish no further harm!” The horses reined to a stop. Magaith lifted the bridle but the horse stood still. Imagael asked, “Is your deepest desire, to end the harm you believe you do?” “Sygtryg lives, my father is pleased in me, Borda is content and you are safe from harm. This is what I desire most.” “You did not speak of your own contentment. Hence, we must see this out.” The horse reared as Imagael said, “Onward to Torgaad.” *** As Bascogne’s party rode back through the tribe lands of Connacht, the slaves and tenants in the fields stood still and stared at the procession, much in the same manner as they did when the party rode north to Castlestrange. This time, Bascogne felt the clansmen were saddened at the loss of their king’s wife and paid homage in their stance. As the royal party continued on, the land went from grassed and rolling hills with cattle grazing to forested commons land. They left the road, riding back through the forest as the route was shorter although rougher going. The party skirted the marshy bogs but kept south, as much as they were able. When the sun was overhead, a knight scout returned with news. “My king! If I may speak! Ahead, a Connacht knight lies fixed to a tree!” Bascogne reined his horse, saying, “This knight has gone to the otherworld?”
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“He lives yet.” “Lead me to this tree,” the king said and galloped off, behind the knight. Not far, they came upon a large tree with branches holding a man fast against the trunk. As Bascogne looked, he saw a branch encircled about the knight’s neck and another around his chest. “What tree doth hold and keep this knight for us?” The man propped against the tree, opened his eyes. “Tis Mael!” Bascogne shouted. “Cut the branches and bring him to me!” The knight scout drew his sword and swung the blade against the trunk. The Connacht knight fell to the earth, his face cushioned by dried leaves. The knight scout yanked at the man’s hair, pulling his face toward Bascogne. “There be no need for cruelty, this is Borda’s first knight.” The knight scout released his hold and Mael’s head fell again to the earth. “Put him on a horse. I shall speak to him when he is roused.” The main party reached them and they set off with Mael draped over a stallion. As he rode, the king wondered why the knight was south and not east, in search of Olaf’s camp. It must be Borda has a plan against me. So, I shall wait until Mael awakes and if I must, force him to reveal the plot. *** The horses began shaking their heads and snorting, then they came to a stop. With his feet, Sygtryg tapped at the flanks of his stallion but it stayed in place, tossing its head and snorting. When Magaith and her mother caught up to the knight, Imagael said, “The horse knows to go no further. Prodding shall do no good.” Sygtryg swung down from his stallion and went to Imagael, holding up his hands. “I shall catch you.” She slid downwards into the knight’s sturdy arms. Magaith went next and when the knight caught her, he held her close for a moment. When he lowered her to the earth, she looked up at him. His eyes were shining upon her
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and she lifted her hand to his face to stroke his jaw. His skin was prickly with beard but pleasant, even so. He reached up for her hand and placed it on his mouth, kissing her palm. The feeling was wondrous, his lips soft and gentle upon her skin. She shivered and her lips parted as she drew breath. “I ask for pardon in this,” Imagael said. “But we must be quick to Torgaad’s cave. Leave the horses, they shall fend for themselves.” They went down a grassy verge to the bank of the Lough Derg. It was a flat bank though slick with mud and they slipped as they made their way, catching themselves with their hands. They wound their way back up another grassy verge and through a thicket. When Imagael stopped, they were at a cliff wall and she pointed overhead. Near the top of the cliff was a large nest of branches and dried reeds. Atop sat a bird of golden plumage with a red-crested head and throat. “The firebird guards Torgaad’s cave. When we call out to gain entry, the bird will light a fire in the doorway and only those with the power may pass through the flames.” “Mother, I possess the power?” asked Magaith. “You must know it, daughter.” “Truth be told, I am most fearful.” “I shall go first. And after I pass through, shall you be of fear?” “I will be of some surety then. But what of Sygtryg? Where is he to find the Lough Derg earthdrake?” Handing the cloak and a handful of Rowan to the knight, Imagael said, “Go down the lough bank further south from here to find the cave mouth. Inside, the earthdrake sleeps by day but wakes to feed in the lough at the eve. Wear the cloak but know it will not protect you from the fire of the earthdrake’s breath.” “And with the beast dead, I cut the tongue and eat of it.” “You shall have protection. More, I am to speak to you of this. Do not fear what may happen. There be challenges but you shall remain safe if you slay the earthdrake.” The knight nodded and then looked at Magaith. “I shall come back to you.”
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His dark eyes were filled with love and her heart swelled with affection. If he be lost in the fire breath of the earthdrake…she stopped herself, he had always been with her and she could not bear to think of his loss. And he was gone. *** Camp was set up for the midday meal and Bascogne lay comfortable in his tent, when word was given him that the Connacht knight had wakened. He asked the knight be brought to him and sat thinking of ways to make Mael speak of Borda. If the warrior king has a design against me, I must find it out. Best the knight willingly reveal the plot and so I shall ply him with mead and kindness. If that does fail, I shall have him flogged. Two knights entered the tent, holding Mael between them. “Lay him there,” the king said, pointing to a mattress. “And leave us.” Then he poured mead into a goblet and held it to the knight’s lips. “Drink.” Mael sipped at the honey wine and began to revive. “I offer myself to you, King of Munster, for you have saved me from the otherworld.” “This pleases me. Now, tell me of Borda’s plot.” “I know of no plot.” “You speak falsehoods as plain as truth.” “Heed me!” Mael shouted and raised himself upon one arm. “Borda has no plot against you! Your daughter is his wife and she has great affection for you!” “Speak then, of how you come to be south and not east of Castlestrange?” “To win the honor of my king, I sought to find his wife.” “Your king sent you to Olaf and you go against him?” “It is so.” His voice was a whisper. “You, first knight to Borda, do not obey him?” “In this.” Mael lowered his head. “It is so.” “And you thought my daughter taken south?” “Her knight protector, I saw he was not at the fortress or with your knights.”
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“Is it, he could be slain and my daughter taken north to Ulster?” “Borda placed many knights on guard at the fortress. Many of your own knights were attending. Ulster knights could not pass unseen and steal his wife.” “Why is it, my daughter’s knight protector would take her away?” “I might say, she does fear our clan from the poison cup.” Bascogne asked, “You did speak of this to your king?” “Borda has no ears for words against his wife.” The king wondered, if days passed and Magaith was not found, might Borda hear Mael’s words and think them truth? He said, “You shall stay with us, not as slave but as knight.” “First knight to you, my king?” “So it shall be,” Bascogne replied. As this shall keep you close to me and far from Borda’s ears.
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Chapter Five “Torgaad!” Imagael called out. “I seek entry with my daughter.” The golden bird flew down from the nest and as it went past the base of the cliff, a great opening appeared, filled from the bottom to the top with burning branches. A shudder passed through Magaith. “We may pass through this barrier, red hot with flame?” “Daughter, trust it be so.” “You have made the pass through the pyre, before now?” “It is so, Daughter. I shall go first and you must follow, strong of heart.” “I cannot.” Magaith took a step back. “I shall wait for Sygtryg and eat of the earthdrake’s tongue.” “It is not needed by you.” Imagael went to her daughter and set an arm around her shoulders. “The tongue has no power but to believe it has power, this will get the knight through the fire.” Magaith spoke harshly. “You ask Sygtryg to slay the earthdrake and he need not?” “Torgaad did reveal to me, he must seek the earthdrake.” “Sygtryg shall risk his life since it be Torgaad’s desire?” “He cannot find the power in himself.” Imagael drew her daughter closer. “You are able to trust and do not need aid to pass through fire.” Putting her hands on her cheeks, Magaith cried out, “I do not believe!” Imagael held her tight. “Daughter, you must seek to quell this fear. Look inside your heart. Is it, I would speak a falsehood and lead you into flames to burn? You shall pass not harmed through the fire.” Magaith stared into her mother’s eyes and saw truth laid bare. “It shall be so.” “I pass first. You must come directly after, lest the fear rise up again.” Imagael let go of her daughter and went into the fire. 54
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When she could see her mother no longer, Magaith felt the fear licking at her as the flames in the fire. Then she recalled her mother’s words, “You shall pass not harmed.” And breathing deep, she went into the pyre. *** Borda sent a knight to the north, with a message for the King of Ulster, telling of his wife gone and asking consent to search for her on Ulster land. The thought of battle with his wits so wretched and his body weary, made him seek agreement for his knights to cross the border. If his wife be there, Borda wished her not harmed. If battle was declared and she be in Ulster, he could not keep her safe. In his great affection for the king’s daughter, he knew he was a changed man. Once celebrated in Connacht as the warrior king, he had sought out battle and through this, reaped many gains for his clan. Now, he wished only to have Magaith returned to him and would forsake all else but leave his clan. And in this, knew all his wife had given up for a marriage into another clan. Did she fear to stay among us and did leave me to return to her own clan? Her father wanted to go south to look for her, he might know she returned to Munster. I must see this for myself and will go to Cashel fortress. Calling for his servants, he cried out, “Make ready! We depart this day!” And then he went to the stables and spoke the same. When this was done, he called for his knights, asking only two to travel with him. “Keep the party less that we ride quick and sooner reach Cashel.” Borda set a knight to oversee the fortress, awaiting word from Ulster. And as word came from Mael in Dublin, to send a messenger south to him. Borda now thought his kingdom safe and for a time, could rule from Munster land. He joined the assembled servants and knights in the courtyard, and rode from Castlestrange. *** Sygtryg made his way along the lough bank until he saw a large, yawning cave mouth. Inside, the earthdrake would be in sleep. With the sun high and evening far off,
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there was no need yet to draw his sword, so he draped the cloak over his shoulders and pulled the hood over his head. Then he recalled Imagael’s warning, “It will not protect you from the fire breath of the earthdrake.” A freezing fear fell upon him for although he fought in many challenges with noble courage, this earthdrake was a beast not known. Was it, the earthdrake could hear him as he crept along the bank? Or smell him as he neared the cave? Was it, he might enter the earthdrake’s lair as the beast feigned sleep and it snare him in a trap? He drew his sword from the scabbard and swung it in the air, the weight held pleasing. It should do the deed and render him the earthdrake’s tongue. Bolstered, Sygtryg began picking his way further down the muddy bank, his breathing muted. He came to the cave and peered around the stone mouth, into depths of darkness. Cold fear came over him again. He must seek the earthdrake without aid of light. And as the beast was a creature of night, it would catch sight of him in the dark. He set his back against the stone beside the cave mouth. It might be best to await the beast and strike as it went from the cave at dusk. So, he found a grassy place to sit nearby and lay his sword at his side. After a time, the knight ate the Rowanberries. All the while, his thoughts upon the sun position and the coming of night. *** As Magaith stepped into the pyre of burning branches, she was swiftly on the other side and standing inside a colossal, barren place. She could not see the length and breadth of the cavern. The stone walls stretched high overhead and became dim light, near the same as in the Royal Oak. The floor was the same smooth stone as the walls and barely gleamed in the light from above. She took a few steps into the cavern and called out for her mother. Over and over, her voice came back to her until it faded. Is it, the wizard has taken my mother from me and left me here alone? Is it, I should leave this place and seek out protection from my knight?
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She turned, to go back to the fiery entrance and saw only the smooth stone wall of the cavern. The entry was gone. She saw her condition, forever trapped alone inside the cavern. Without food or mead, it would be not long before she went to the otherworld. Magaith thought of her father’s table, well laden with roast fowl and game, boiled root vegetables and honey cakes and jugs of mead. Strangely, the succulent odors filled her nose as if the table was in front of her. A light seemed to appear farther into the cavern and she made toward it, stepping with haste that she might find her mother sooner. When she had walked a lengthy time, she came to a rounded bend in the wall where the glow seemed brighter beyond. She grew guarded and slowed her steps. At the bend, she tilted her head and stole a peek around the other side. A table lay adorned with meats and cakes, vegetables and mead. One chair had been set at the table and in front of it were a silver goblet and bowl. Wondrous smells of roasted fowl and sweet honey drew Magaith to the chair. Sitting down, she reached for the mead and poured herself a cup. When she raised the goblet to her lips, she took pause. Is it, this mead be poison? Or the food not fit to eat? This barren cavern so far from clan, might the laden table be a dream or vision? Is it, the wizard sent my mother to the otherworld in same manner? But Imagael spoke of entry to Torgaad before this time and she did stay safe. Magaith reached again for the goblet and drank sips of the sweet brew. As she set the cup down, there appeared another chair at the table. It was an odd chair with legs of great length and a seat that fairly reached the tabletop. A white haze formed over the chair until gradually, a being became clear. It was small of body with an enormous head and huge ears, a hooked and bulbous nose, and a large lipped mouth. Around the head, masses of coarse orange hair stuck out in tufts. He seemed a most ugly little man and without means of trade for he wore a simple tunic of rough brown wool.
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“I am not pleasing to look upon, it is so.” As he spoke, the wee man looked upon her with round eyes of brilliant green, glittering as gems in the sun. His voice was heavily cast with power. “None the less, I am as I am. And known as Torgaad of Kincora.” The wizard smiled at her and then waved a hand over the table. A silver bowl floated over the food as meat and vegetables rose and settled into the dish. A jug floated over to a goblet and poured a measure of mead before setting down again on the table. The little man lifted the goblet and held it up to Magaith. “Greetings, daughter to Imagael.” Torgaad paused and then said, “It is a bare and empty place to sup. We shall have a fire to warm us.” A round stone fireplace appeared near the table with a blazing log fire burning bright with high flame. Then the wizard said, “A place of wood and tapestry shall make this meal more pleasant.” As he looked around at the stone walls they became as honed timber and were covered with embroidered tapestries, with gold threads twinkling like stars in the light from the log fire. The ugly being met Magaith’s eyes and held them. She began to feel restful and happy but knew it was the wizard and labored against it. “Forgive me,” Torgaad said. “I did not wish to do harm to you. I shall not try evermore.” Feeling safe in this, Magaith spoke. “My mother does trust in you and so I seek to do the same. I come here for shelter and am grateful for your kindness.” The large round orbs of brilliant green narrowed. “Your words belie truth. It is not simple protection you seek, daughter to Imagael. There are matters that cause you graven suffering.” “I seek to end the sorrow I cause to those for whom I have great affection.” “Your marriage to the warrior king,” the little wizard began, his large lips in motion but the voice sounding true as Imagael’s own. “And then the poisoned cup, my knowing of this and your years with the loyal knight, have ended in this quest.”
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Magaith whispered, “My mother’s same words.” “I flee Borda on my wedding eve and he must be wrought with worry.” Torgaad’s lips moved but this time, the voice as true as Magaith’s own. “My father is wont to know where I am gone and troubled with it. And Sygtryg shall be known as betrayer and go to the otherworld if he is found.” Magaith spoke softly. “I did speak these words.” “You seek to do no harm,” the wizard said, once more in her mother’s true voice. “Is it,” Magaith asked, her voice wavering. “You speak suchly to pierce my heart?” “To end this quest, what is it you desire?” Still, her mother’s voice came from his lips. “I do not know!” Magaith cried out and put her hands to her face. “I do not know what you seek from me nor do I know my true desire!” “It is my deepest desire Sygtryg lives.” Magaith’s words to her mother now came from the wizard. “My father is happy, Borda is content and my mother is safe.” From behind her hands, the king’s daughter spoke with sorrow. “This be so.” “Is it not your own happiness you seek?” Torgaad said, his own deep power-laden voice resumed once more. It happened then, she saw further in herself and dropped her hands. “With all I desire for others, I too, wish to be happy and content.” Torgaad beamed a great smile at Magaith. “And now, this be full truth.” “This truth,” she replied. “Be as a talon tearing at my very flesh.” The wizard sipped at his mead. “It can seem so, but if we do not know what we seek, we cannot find the remedy. If we are false to ourselves, believing others made happy will bring us ample contentment, we are fated to be wretched and live in sour hate.” “My contentment would serve no more than myself.” “This be a great falsehood.” The wizard drank again from the goblet and added, “We are not able to have affection for others, if we are not greatly pleased in ourselves.” “I am not pleased.” Magaith’s voice was soft. “And I wish for my mother, here with me.”
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The brilliant green eyes gleamed as gems. “The place you go, you must go alone.” The fire went out, the walls lost the starry twinkling and the table shrank from sight. Light faded and all matter in the room grew smaller, smaller, smaller. All around her became a silent darkness. Her heart pounding and a tingle of fear running up her back, she stayed still and quiet. Measuring her own breathing, Magaith fought the rush of blood in her ears and listened in the void of pure blackness. In the dark, it came to her, a sound the same as rasping draws of breath. The heavy rasps of breathing grew louder. Is it an aged man in sleep? Perhaps the wizard has devised a magic spell. And in the darkness, she reached out with her hands toward the sounds. Dancing her fingers in the air, she felt nothing and took a step nearer the sounds. Nothing. And yet another step with her fingers out in the cool damp air. Suddenly, Magaith stopped and withdrew her hands, placing them on her chest. A bolt of fear passed through her. It was dark. Black, black dark. Cool and damp. Sounds of sleep breathing. The earthdrake. The wizard had sent her to the beast’s lair and once found, she would burn in the fire breath if the earthdrake awakened from sleep. Is it near to sun down and the beast be near waking? She tried to peer against the darkness but knew the bowels of a sleeping earthdrake’s cave would catch no light. And so, bending from the waist and touching her fingers to the stone floor, she made away from the sounds of breathing. It did not matter if her movements took her deeper into the cave or brought her to the open sky. Her lone worthy thought, to be away from the fire beast. *** Before nightfall, Bascogne’s procession set up their camp on a grassy verge where knights would stand watch over the countryside as the king took rest. Before settling, he
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had gone to the shrouded table and washed from a silver bowl. Foregoing the supping table where the members of the traveling party were in waiting, he made his way to the royal tent. He sent word for the party to eat so they took to benches and eagerly reached for bowls as servants poured beer into goblets. The volume of chatter from the supping table reached the ears of the King of Munster as he lay on a straw mattress, picking at the dishes brought to him. There were bowls of fowl and roots from the Castlestrange larder, jugs of mead and honey cakes wrapped in linen cloth. In past days, he would tear the meat from the bones and fill his mouth, all the while hearing tales of the day from the clan at his table. And then, after taking great mouthfuls of mead, he might speak his own tale and watch the smiling eyes of his daughter. He put his hand over his heart. Magaith where is it you have gone? It cannot be to the otherworld. It cannot. I shall not bear it, if it be so. Your knight protector must be with you. He must, for Sygtryg shall keep you safe. He will guard you with his life. And you will soon be found. And home with me. No matter if Borda sends all the clan of Connacht to take you from Cashel, if you wish it daughter, you shall keep with me. Tears trailed down his face and he took a cloth to wipe them. A knight scout called to him from outside the tent. “My king! Borda of Connacht does approach this camp!” Bascogne shouted, “Enter and speak of this!” The knight came in and on his knee, spoke of the riding party with two knights, servants and the king. He added, “They ride without a caravan.” “Is it soon they reach this place?” “They ride swiftly.” “Set knights to keep guard on Mael. Borda must not see him.” “It shall be so.” The knight left the tent and Bascogne reached for his cloak, pinned his Yew brooch at his shoulder and set his sword in his scabbard. Then he went to meet the warrior king. *** www.samhainpublishing.com
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The sun lowered in the sky. Sygtryg watched the fading light, in wait for the darkness of night to descend. He spent much time pondering a way to best use his sword against the earthdrake. At the side of the cave mouth, he would strike the beast as it made for the lough and bring his sword upon the snout, near the head. The knight knew of many ways this plot might fail and looked at each path, that he be ready. The earthdrake might move its head away from the knight as he leapt to the cave mouth or breath fire as it caught the smell of him. The beast might move over swift from the cave and the knight miss his mark in the dark of night. And so the knight prepared, wearing the burdensome cloak as he swung his sword whilst seeing the beast in changed positions. After a time, he took rest on the grassy verge and shut his eyes. The fair Magaith reached out for him to take her away. But he did judge her betrothal to Borda in favor of his king’s wishes. His chest hurt now, just as it did when he grasped her arm in the courtyard before she took the wed vow. Although she had been tender, her spoken release of him hurt as a sword piercing his heart. And after, her wed vow to Borda. His heart had ached through her glowing joy at the feast. Then, her reunion with her mother. His face burned red at the oath he could not fulfill for his king. But if he raised his sword to her mother, Magaith would loathe him forever more. Soon, he would be with her in Torgaad’s cave and then he would speak of his deep, consuming love. To hear her dear voice always, to each morning see her sweet face, to hold her close to his heart and feel her against him. He should speak of the desire that did burn hot at night and keep him from sleep. And when at last in tired sleep, dreaming of her beside him. He must tell her of his affection and take her as wife. At this, his body swelled full with happiness. He would renounce his king with a contented spirit and keep Imagael safe with them, for his beloved Magaith. 62
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*** There be no light, only a great endless dark. Magaith made her way in the cave with her fingers upon the stone floor. The breathing sounds from the fire beast became less and less until she could hear them no more. Away from peril, she now wished to see the open sky and hoped this path would take her there. But stopped. If she should go further in the cave, she would know not when the earthdrake departed and when it be safe to find the way out. She must go back and listen for the creatures breathing. But if she was found in the earthdrake’s path, it would breathe fire upon her and see her to the otherworld. And what of Sygtryg? It might be, he was in the cave now and setting to slay the beast. And when it was done, she might call out for him and he would take her out. She knew her thinking muddled, she knew not where she was or if these events would happen. To save herself, she must think and act upon her thoughts, lest she wish and wish, and the wishes come to naught. In the dark, she turned back and made her way to the sounds of the beast. When she deemed the breathing near once more, Magaith took pause. Is it, she should climb upon the back of the beast and hope the fire breath could not reach her? But she knew not where the beast was in truth and might climb upon the snout. Just then, she heard a loud clatter as though many fishes were tossed on a shore of stones. A knowing came to her, the beast now be awake. A powerful swell of fear grasped at her, her arms and legs heavy as oat sacks and her thoughts scattered into the past, to earlier that day when she spoke of her fear to Imagael. “We may pass through a barrier, red hot with flame?” “Daughter, trust it be so.” “You have made the pass through, before now?” “It be truth, Daughter. I shall go first and you must follow, strong of heart.” “I cannot do it. I shall wait for Sygtryg and eat of the earthdrake’s tongue.” “It is not needed by you.” “I do not believe!”
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“Daughter, you must seek to quell this fear. Look inside your heart.” And Magaith had seen truth laid bare in her mother’s eyes. Now in the darkness of the cave, she caught hold of that truth once more. The way out must be found by keeping fear at bay and drawing on her powers through the blood of her mother. And so, she took Imagael’s words and built strength upon them. The fear was with her still, although it was not now foremost felt as it came to her that she possessed the power to will the earthdrake to obey. She formed this truth and trusted the beast would see it. Then she directed it to rise and leave the cave, telling the beast she would follow and leave it in peace. It came to her then, Sygtryg would be in wait. And the earthdrake let out a great howl, lighting the cave with a burst of flame. In the light, she saw the great length and shape of the beast, the curl of the ears and tail, the long snout with rows of many sharp teeth, and the huge eyes. Sadness for the frightened beast came over her. “I go first, earthdrake. You shall not be harmed.” With a burst of flame, the beast lighted the cave and Magaith knew the path to bear them out to the open. She placed her hands on the stone wall and guided herself down the dark passage with the swishing and thumping of the earthdrake following behind. *** Borda reined his horse beyond the King of Munster’s camp and watched the movements of their traveling party, looking for a sign of betrayal. In his heart, he wished Magaith safe and here with her father but if that be so, she had no affection for him and deemed the marriage ended. If he should find her here, he would do battle with her father and clan to take her back to Castlestrange. Seeing naught untoward, he signaled the knights and they rode into the camp, passing a shrouded wash table, a full supping table and a caravan. It was then Borda saw a tent with the flap tied and two knights in attendance. Keeping his horse at a saunter, he
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wondered, does the King of Munster hide his daughter? And at that thought, his body became a pure heat of longing and desire, further flamed by feelings of betrayal. Thus, he began to form a plan to learn the secret within the guarded tent. He would take pause until the camp be asleep and out of sight from the knights, cut the cloth to gain entry. This plan greatly pleased him and at the king’s shelter, Borda greeted Bascogne with cheer. Inside the king’s tent, Borda sat on one of the straw mattresses and spoke of a knight he sent north to the King of Ulster. This knight would speak of his wife missing and ask consent to search for her on Ulster land. He spoke also of a knight commanded to oversee the fortress and await word from Ulster. And as word came from Mael in Dublin, a swift messenger would come to him in Cashel. Bascogne lay back on a straw mattress as he listened and asked only, “Is it, you believe my daughter is south and you be in search of her?” “It might be Magaith fears our clan and did go to Cashel fortress.” “Is Connacht kingdom safe without you at Castlestrange?” “For a time, I rule from Cashel. If you, Bascogne, agree to this.” “It shall be so.” Bascogne rubbed his chin. “And if Magaith is not at Cashel?” Borda leaned toward him, his voice shrill as an angry cat. “Truth, Bascogne! You know not where your daughter is gone? I know you hide secrets from me!” “Secrets?” The warrior king regained himself. Soon, he would find Magaith within the guarded tent. He ran his hands through his hair. “I ask for pardon. I am wretched of soul. ” Bascogne nodded. “It is so, for me as well. My pardon is granted.” And then he signaled for mead to be poured. *** Her hands grew cold on the stone wall as she guided her way through the dark passage. The earthdrake remained behind her, lighting the cave by flame when the path veered. Whilst she made her way, Magaith thought of Sygtryg, cloaked and lying in wait
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at the cave mouth or now in the cave, seeking the earthdrake. It might be the knight would use his sword on her as she went before the beast. It might be, she passed not harmed and before she spoke, the knight would take his sword upon the beast to slay it for the tongue. Again, the earthdrake let out a great howling cry and lit the cave bright with flame. She looked behind her at the tendril ears, the lengthy snout and enormous black and yellow eyes. She put her hand on the scaled snout. It was hot and she lay both her hands atop to warm them, saying, “You shall not come to harm.” The beast hummed under her gentle touch. Once warmed, she set off into the dank darkness. Her hands were icy cold when she saw a glimmer of moonlight far down the passage. She took pause. It be the cave mouth, I must slow my steps and call to Sygtryg that he leave the earthdrake to pass not harmed. “Sygtryg!” The word came back to her over and over, fading until it was quiet. Listening with a keen ear, she heard the faint sound of water lapping on the lough bank. Then, the distant screech of a night bird. And from behind her, the low breathing of the dragon. She called out, her voice loud, “This be Magaith!” When the sounds of her voice faded and it was quiet, she heard, “Is it, this be a trick?” And the words came to her over and over until the sounds dimmed. She replied, “Lay down your sword!” When it was again quiet, she heard naught in reply from Sygtryg. Does the knight think this a trick, still? And with the earthdrake in her wake, she made way nearer to the cave mouth that the words she spoke could be more readily heard. ***
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A tent was given to Borda whilst his small party billeted with Munster clan and took supper. Borda supped alone, keen to keep his thoughts on the guarded tent. As he ate, he saw himself slipping silently through the camp, cutting the cloth and stealing into the tent. And then, finding Magaith in sleep. He dropped the duck breast at his mouth and settled out full on the mattress. Finding Magaith in sleep, he would go to her and lay kisses upon her, stroking her hair and telling her of his affection. She would be pleased to see him and would open her arms to him. He would lay beside her and at last, take her as a wife. His body became heated as a red ember, feverish with desire and longing. What of her hiding from him in the tent? Her trickery and falsehood was as kindling to the ember and a hot storm swirled up inside him. He was past wretched, now in a madness of suffering and he grasped at his hair, moaning and sobbing. When he was spent and laid his head upon a pillow, a whisper in his ear spoke of the king’s daughter and her aim to craft his suffering that he wither from longing. And he saw he must find her to fulfill his fierce desire or end her spell with his sword. *** From his position at the side of the cave, Sygtryg leaned his head into the opening. He saw but darkness and withdrew his head in haste. Is it Magaith, in truth? How might she come to be in the cave? And not burned to a char by the earthdrake? Can this beast be of magic and trick me with her same sound? I might go in the cave to see, the cloak will keep me hidden. If this be a trick and the earthdrake smell me, all is lost and I be char. But if it truly be Magaith, I cannot pause here and must save her from the beast. He set his sword inside the cloak and went into the darkness. A few steps inside the cave, he heard sounds ahead and stopped to heed them. It was as the swishing and slapping of a catch of fish landing on a seashore. The beast was making toward him and Magaith could not be in the cave. This earthdrake be
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of magic and most powerful. He drew in a deep breath and under the cloak, readied his sword and took pause. A great howl could be heard down the passage and with it, he saw the flame of fire breath. In the light, the knight saw the shape of a woman near the beast. When the howl faded, he heard his name called out, sounding over and over. He then spoke her name. “Magaith.” The words, “Leave the earthdrake pass,” came to his ears many times. Could it be, Magaith is safe and wishes to allow the beast to pass not harmed? This should deny me the tongue and thereby stay my entry to Torgaad. Is it so? Or a trick by the beast’s magic? His thoughts muddled, he be fearful lest he err in his judgment. Should I heed this voice that sound as Magaith? Or know it as a means to send me to the otherworld? There was a while yet to pause, that he might settle the matter in himself. And the knight turned back to the moonlight. *** After Mael supped alone in his tent, the newly decreed first knight to the King of Munster lay upon a mattress and drank the beer given him by servants. He pondered over his tied tent flap and the sentry knights positioned outside, and then the sounds of horses and shouting. Perhaps, guests be joining the king’s camp this eve and I must be kept hidden? Soon, he fell to dreaming. In the midst of night, Mael was grabbed in sleep with a knife set to his throat. He heard a harsh whisper in his ear. “How is it, you be hidden in Bascogne’s camp and south, not east of Castlestrange?” Mael saw then, Borda’s face in the night darkness of the tent. He searched for words to veil the truth. “I be captured, my king.” “Why is it, Bascogne would keep you?” “He fears I know much.”
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“Speak!” “Your wife,” he began, his eyes upon the knife. “Her knight protector did take her away.” The warrior king paused, then fell back on the mattress. Mael put his hand upon his throat. For a while, it was quiet in the tent. “Tell me of this knight.” Borda’s tone was flat. “Your wife be gone and he be gone, also.” “Perchance, he was sent by his king to look for her?” “Bascogne knew naught of his daughter’s knight protector missing.” “Why should the knight be gone with my wife?” “She fears our clan and he would act upon her wishes to take her away.” Borda saw this truth. “And Bascogne knows not of his daughter’s whereabouts?” “In my judgment, he does not know.” “Can it be, she awaits him at Cashel fortress?” “It may be so.” The warrior king sat up on the mattress. “I go to Cashel and if she be not there, a battle plot must be made against Munster clan. And by victory, the kingdom shall be mine to rule and the king’s daughter shall be mine as wife.” *** When the earthdrake let out the great howl and flame of fire, Magaith knew the knight was near to them and called out his name. When the sound faded, she heard him say her own name. Surely, the knight would heed her words, “Leave the earthdrake pass.” She felt some ease in the beast and touching the stone wall with her finger tips, went toward the moonlight. Before the cave mouth, she paused and told the earthdrake to stay until safe passage be pledged by the knight. The beast snorted and went down, laying on its great belly. She put her hands on the heated snout, rubbing at the scales and knew the earthdrake was pleased in this.
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Then she went outside, onto the lough bank. Looking from one length of the bank to the other, Magaith saw naught of the knight and softly called out to him. She heard him say, “Is this a trick upon my eyes and ears?” “I tell you this is no trick,” she replied. “You are my knight protector in a hiding cloak given by my mother Imagael.” “You might know of this by magic.” She searched for words to give him a surety and said, “Under the cloak, when the riders were near, you lifted your head from the leaves, earth smeared your face and bits of vine entwined your hair. I spoke to you this, ‘You look a wood nymph’.” Looking around, she saw no appearance of the knight. She said further, “I placed my lips upon your cheek. And set my body near you. Your arms enfolded me and you placed your cheek onto my neck.” A movement caught her eye and as she watched, the cloak fell to the earth and he stood there in the moonlight, holding his sword at his side. “And I told you then, I feared to not see you ever again,” Sygtryg said, his voice rough. Upon hearing his tone, heat coursed through her body and she went to him. He put his arms about her and she pressed against his chest, tilting her mouth up to his lips. And he kissed her, his wind-burned lips gently settling upon hers. A mellow burning flowed from her groin and her hands grasped at his hair. It felt full and soft, most pleasing. Then he moved hard against her mouth, his tongue touching hers and in her depths, the heat grew like a blaze. His strong arms drew her body up close against him and she felt his yearning for her. He pulled away and holding her by the hands, the knight looked into her eyes. “I wish it be, to hear your voice and see your sweet face always.” His eyes were dark and steady. “I wish to hold you near as this for evermore.”
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She wanted him, her loyal, bold and stalwart knight. Then recalling the earthdrake in wait, she replied, “We must tend to matters.” “Hear me.” He spoke softly, “Not long past, you spoke to me of a vision dream. In that dream, I changed the stars to have you for my own.” How she longed for his affection at that time. And how great her fear of marrying the warrior king and being far from Sygtryg, from her own clan. Her position had altered since and she must make moral judgments for her father, Borda and herself. “The stars be changed and now it is, I be changed.” He flinched and dropped her hands. “I must find my truth.” Magaith spoke with all the tenderness she could muster. “And if my path takes me to you, then we shall be as one. I cannot speak further on this.” “Is it, you seek to settle a score?” “I must speak to those I harm.” His brows knotted, his eyes narrowed. “Borda.” “It be so. And more.” “I wish you to be wife to me.” Sygtryg took her hands again. “Do not return to Borda! Do not be wife to Borda!” Magaith saw deep affection in his fair face and wished to be taken up in his arms. But she could not step away from making all fair and proper with Borda. If she went away now with the knight protector, her desire for Sygtryg would fade as her selfloathing did fester. “I cannot leave with you. Torgaad is showing me the path I am to take.” “Take your own path to me!” She grasped his hands tight in her own. “I hope it shall be so, one day.” He lowered his head and the dark full hair fell over his face as a veil. “I ask you bear with me in this, dear knight.” When he raised his head to reply, she saw his eyes and cheeks were wet. In a voice raw from tears, he said, “I shall take pause for as long as evermore, in slight hope, one day you shall be mine.” He leaned over and kissed her hands.
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“With all my heart, I hope events lead me to you.” She waited until he looked in her eyes. “I must speak now of the earthdrake. Allow the beast to go not harmed to the lough.” He raised his head from her hands. “And what of the tongue?” “Imagael spoke to me, you do not need to eat the tongue.” “Your mother did trick me?” “It be solely a means to aid you in faith.” “I do not need the tongue?” She pressed her mouth into a flat line. “This be truth.” “The beast shall do no harm as it makes way?” “The earthdrake shall pass by us to the lough.” “How is it, you know this?” “I know the beast and the beast, me. Further, I cannot say.” Sygtryg set his sword into the scabbard at his side. “The beast shall pass.” From her place on the lough bank, Magaith turned to look at the cave and the huge head of the earthdrake appeared. It snorted and smoke drifted up from the snout. Then with enormous legs thundering upon the earth, it made swiftly for the water and slipping into the lough went from sight. “We go now to Torgaad?” Sygtryg asked. “I must sleep soon and afterward, we shall go to him.” He took her hand and led her down the muddy bank in the moonlight. When they had gone a short way, the knight led her up a grassy verge and once atop, laid out the cloak. “Take rest here.” Magaith lay down and Sygtryg set a length of cloak over her, asking, “Is it, this wizard be of great age and wisdom?” “Torgaad of Kincora is small of body with a huge head and ears. Coarse orange hair stands out about his head. His eyes are brilliant green, glittering as gems. He speaks with great power and knows all that happened to me.” “How is it, you came to be in the earthdrake’s lair?”
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“The wizard made it so. I was supping at his table and next, all was gone and I was in the dark cave with the beast.” “He did not speak to you of the dark cave?” “I knew not where I was or what to do.” His hand found hers and gripped fast. “You fared well.” Pleasure filled her chest, a feeling not prior known. She had not before been tested and then in victory, honored. “It pleases me when you speak so.” In the moonlight, he smiled. Her pleasure grew further, she long knew the knight and did value him with all her heart. And all the time he desired her, he conducted himself with loyalty to his king and set his affection aside. She saw then, the measure of his suffering. And her heart did open to Sygtryg as his suffering lasted on, even now. And she reached up for him, lay him down beside her and nestled on his broad chest, safe in his arms. He whispered into her hair. “I shall not press myself upon you.” She tilted her head back that he could reach her mouth. His lips came upon hers, soft and gentle. Then his breathing grew forceful and his arms went tighter about her, his hand on her hind side, drawing her close. His mouth, his hands, his body were on her and her hips nestled against him. He released her mouth, groaning, “My love. My love.” His hand slipped to the shoulder of her cloak and under her tunic, drawing it down until her chest was bare. A feeling not known before, an excitement with feathery edges of pleasure surged up from her belly and flowed from her breasts. She wanted him to look at her, kiss her. He went to place his mouth upon her breast and she stiffened. What if he should not enjoy the means of her lovemaking or find pleasure in her body, would this be their sole joining? He lifted his head. “This be too soon.”
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His eyes were full of tenderness and her heart was laden with full affection for him. She reached up and pulled him to her, whispering, “I be fearful that I shall not be pleasing to you.” “To touch you, my dearest, to kiss you, my love, pleases me.” He held her as his mouth sought her neck, her ear and then he kissed her on the mouth until she felt only the heat of her body. When she wriggled and moaned, he again kissed her ear and her neck, her chest and to the slope of her breasts. She lifted her breasts to him. He placed his mouth over a nipple and suckled. Pure pleasure shot through her and the heat in her belly burned hot, she rubbed against his groin. He lifted his body over her and straddling her hips, pulled off his tunic. She had seen knights and servants washing in the courtyard but not as near as this. Not near enough to touch. His manhood was thick and upright against the flat of his belly. She put her hand out to touch him but could not and instead lay her hands on the smooth skin of his chest, dancing her fingers over the ripples of muscle and skimming over his nipples. His neck stretched back as he shuddered, his hands went to her breasts, rubbing them in circles. She arched up under him, eager for his mouth again. He set his body alongside her as her cupped her breasts and sucked at her nipples. The searing pleasure grew, her breath coming in loud gasps when he lifted up her tunic and turned her on her side to face him. His lips took hers, his breathing fierce and she opened herself to him. His hand caressed her soft mound as he slipped his hardness inside her and with a sharp pain, stars began exploding in her head, her body stiffened with an odd tremor. She heard a moan from her own lips and let out a deep sigh, her limbs tingling and twitching when he let out a shout and drew her tight to him. He shuddered as he rocked against her and then lay still with his head on her neck. He murmured, “My love. Are you content?” “This be heaven on earth.” “I wish you be wife to me or I should not have done this with you.”
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“I wished for it also and am happy.” Then he kissed her gently, set her tunic back over her shoulders and covered them both with his cloak. She fell fast into sleep with his arms around her.
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Chapter Six Before Bascogne’s camp roused with the sunrise, two knights secreted Mael from his tent to ride to Cashel fortress. Once the King of Munster had risen from his bed, a knight came to him. “Forgive this early hour, my king. There be a matter of much worth for your ears.” Bascogne tossed a cloak over his sleeping tunic. “Speak.” “Last night, the cloth be cut from the guarded tent. It appears a means of entry to the knight Mael.” The king knew then, Borda did find Mael and speak to him. “You do well to bring me this news. Send a knight to ride swiftly to the fortress and upon my command, place Mael under guard in the keep.” The knight departed and Bascogne set about planning his words to Borda, of finding the Connacht knight south and of Mael becoming a Munster knight. When the truth be known, Borda would no longer heed words spoken by Mael. Alas, he might deem the king of Munster the same teller of tales and so the words to Borda must be chosen with care. They were on the road and riding side by side, when Bascogne broached the matter. “I must speak to you of your first knight sent to Dublin.” Borda looked at the king, his brows lifted. “Mael?” “The same. He be found in the forest, south of Castlestrange.” “You say he be found? And south not east?” “The knight spoke of seeking your wife and finding her to gain your favor.” Borda reined his horse and cried out, “Magaith is found and awaits me?” Bascogne knew Borda did feign his words and reined his horse to face the warrior king. “Forgive me, she is not found. I speak solely of Mael. He did join our clan and become first knight to me.” 76
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“First knight to you, Bascogne? It is betrayal and Mael must suffer the point of my sword! Where is he now?” “Soon at Cashel fortress, to be held in the keep.” “I seek to know, why did you not send Mael to me?” “He was found as we set camp.” “Is it, you wish him near for other aim?” “I did find this knight speaks tales.” “Let us ride onward,” Borda said. “And you may tell me of these tales.” *** She was in his arms, his body close and warm. When she opened her eyes, Magaith saw Sygtryg watching her, a gentle smile upon his lips. She lowered her head to his chest, put her arm about him and he lay kisses upon her hair, her forehead, her cheeks and then her closed eyes. “It does take all my will to keep my hands and lips from you,” he whispered. “Now I be with hope.” She lifted up and rested on an arm. “I wish to give you my promise we will be together but I cannot. Foremost, all matters must be settled.” “And Torgaad does show you the way.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “Perchance, this way be as wife to me and therefore, I shall bear not kissing those fair lips for this moment.” The knight tossed the cloak from his bare body, stood up and pulled his tunic on, over his head. His body was lean and taut, his measures without flaw. As she stared at him, a surge of heat sprouted and flowed through the breadth of her. She clasped her hands together that she not reach up and draw him down to her. She desired once more his lips upon hers, his hands and mouth on her breasts. And at the last, his hand sliding to quell her great fire. He was on one knee beside her. “Magaith?”
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In her musing, she had closed her eyes tight. “I desire you more than ever, dearest Sygtryg.” He leaned to her, his lips brushed hers. Tender, soft. When he lifted from her, she met his eyes. “I be repentant of our joining.” His eyes narrowed. “Is it as wife to Borda, you speak so?” “I am, in truth, not wife to him.” She saw his face soften. “Our joining did craft a storm of desire that rages in me.” “It be the same for me.” His tone was rough, his eyes dark with passion. “I wish to give you my promise before we join again.” He paused, pressing his lips together. Then he said, “I shall take that which you give with a happy heart. If you wish to give me your promise before my lips touch yours with desire and my hands are once more upon your breasts, then I shall wait.” A tear dropped down her cheek, into her hair. He touched the damp trail. “Speak to me of your sorrow.” “I desire you.” Her voice was jagged with passion and sadness. “And full truth, I do not wish to wait for your lips and hands upon me.” He lowered his mouth to hers, his kiss laden with tender affection. She put her arms around him and drew him down to her. His hands caressed her hair as his mouth nuzzled into her neck. At once, the heat burst into flame and she moaned. He raised up to look into her eyes as his hand pushed her tunic down from her shoulders. Then he slid the cloth below her breasts. With her chest bare to him in the light of day, she felt a surge of passion and arched her back. As his gaze went to her breasts, the fire licked at her belly. She yearned for his mouth sucking at her nipples and moaned again. His fingers traced the fullness of her breasts, slowly. She cried out and his lips were on hers, his breath against her cheek. His tongue entwined with hers as his hands roamed over her tunic and then he sat her up with care. He lifted the tunic over her head as she raised her arms. His gaze took in her body as he laid her back on the cloak.
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She closed her eyes to the thrill of his hands skimming over her legs, thighs and belly. She put her arms above her head, arched her back and opened her legs to him, relishing the ache for his touch. He stroked her breasts, not yet touching her nipples. She thrust her chest to him and moaned. His fingertips grazed the hard nubs of her nipples and the ache in her peaked. “Suckle me,” she whispered. He straddled her, cupping her breasts. His mouth went over her nipples, sucking and licking. Moaning, she wriggled under him and he slid a hand down her belly to her wetness. His fingers were moving on her as his mouth went from one nipple to the other. The daylight dimmed and her storm broke, crashing with thunder and streaks of lightening. With a cry of her name, he entered her and such pleasure was known, she pulled him to her and kissed him with abandon. His breath was harsh and sweet, she felt a further ache that grew as he moved his hips without hurry, up and down. He lifted his head to look at her and as she met his gaze, sparks went through her body, tingling to the tips of her toes. Again, he cried out her name and held her as he shivered and shuddered. Full contentment and peace took her over. She sighed into his neck. He held her, stroking her breasts and belly. He traced her nipples with a finger and then rubbed his palm over them. The flame became a roaring fire and she moaned, reaching for him. Laying on his side, he turned her to him, putting her leg over his back. His fingers stroked her nipples and at the same time, her wet mound. She swooned as he entered her and pulled her close so the length of her body touched his. Her lips sought his mouth. With heavy sighs, he kissed her long and languidly until the ache was unbearable. She put her hand on his round hind side, pushing him to her and he began thrusting. She whimpered with pleasure, he looked down at their joining and groaned. The heavens were revealed to her, she was transported to the skies on a bursting star.
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They lay hugging each other for a long while. His hands slipped over her back and then came around to her breasts, fondling the soft slopes. He fingered her nipples, lightly tugging and rubbing. She moaned. “Let us stay here, forever.” “We need naught else.” He folded her in his arms. “Perhaps, food and mead. And shelter in the winter. A warmer cloak.” She giggled and snuggled against him. “Magaith.” “Hmmm?” “I shall never cease to wish you be my wife.” Her eyes flew open. She had taken from him that which she could not give back. A promise. She struggled for words. Naught came. He stood and reached for her hand. “Let us go to Torgaad.” His body was so lean and fine, his face so beautiful. She gave him her hand and he helped her to her feet. Then she put her arms around his waist, drawing him close. His passion flared and with a sigh she let him go, searching the ground for her tunic. He stooped to gather his clothing, saying, “And let us go swiftly, that matters be soon settled.” Smiling, they watched each other dress and then Sygtryg took her hand and they went on their way. Not long after, Magaith heard the cries of a bird. Strange sounds of clicking, clucking and clacking. The sounds grew closer, until she saw the bird above her in a tree. “This bird,” she said, pointing upward. “Be calling to me.” Sygtryg looked up. “A raven.” The bird began to squawk, the sound became as a chant. “A king be mad. A king be mad. A king be mad.” “This raven doth speak,” Magaith said. His brows creased. “I heard no words.”
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“The raven did say, ‘A king be mad’. Three times over.” “The king be your father? Or Borda?” “It is not my father, I would say.” “If Borda be mad, his judgments cannot be truth.” He stared at Magaith. “It may be your father is not safe. Nor you, my beloved, if you return to him.” “If Borda be mad,” she answered. “Not one of us in Munster be safe.” They went on toward the cave and the raven with them, flitting from branch to branch. Magaith asked, “Shall you enter the firebird’s pyre with faith?” “Full truth, I be not ready.” “I wish my mother here. She aided me in faith.” Farther along in a clearing, they saw a woman appear and she stood in wait for them. As they got near, Magaith saw it was Imagael and rushed into her arms. “My daughter,” the witch said, softly. “You have gained much knowledge, I feel this in you.” And stepping back, added, “I see you have your gift from Torgaad.” “A gift from Torgaad?” “The raven. He speaks of that which you must know.” “Sygtryg cannot hear the raven’s words.” “This bird be solely your messenger.” “I be most obliged to Torgaad for his gift.” Magaith placed her hand on Imagael’s arm. “Mother, we seek to cross the pyre.” “Sygtryg shall not enter Torgaad’s cave this day.” “If it not be so,” the knight asked. “What is it, I must do?” Imagael replied, “Return to Cashel fortress.” Magaith cried out, “You did say, if the knight go to Cashel fortress, he shall anger the king and go to the otherworld. We cannot send him to Cashel fortress!” “Torgaad did speak to me.” Imagael spoke with firmness. “The knight must go.” “No heed shall be paid to the wizard,” Magaith replied and went to Sygtryg, taking his arm. “You shall stay with me.”
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“It cannot be so,” the witch insisted. “You must also go to Cashel fortress with your knight protector.” “I know not what to do.” Magaith felt a shiver of fear. “Once we be at the fortress.” Her mother’s voice was gentle. “The knowing will come to you.” “I be of great fear.” “All you need shall be with you. The horses shall be here soon to take you swiftly. You hold the bird as messenger of things you must know. And possess the cloak for hiding.” Imagael put her hands out, toward the knight. “Sygtryg shall be with you, strong of body and spirit. And more so, Torgaad shall watch over you, daughter.” “I fear not ever to see you again.” “I know I will see you.” “In this world?” “When our aim is good and proper, the fates be in our favor.” Imagael looked at the knight. “See no harm comes to her.” He grasped Magaith’s hand. “My pledge, it shall be so.” *** Washed and refreshed after their ride to Cashel fortress, Borda and Bascogne were supping a midday meal in the great hall. A knight came in and leaned to Bascogne’s ear. “Mael did ask to see you, my king.” Bascogne sought pardon from his guest and went from the hall into the south transept, over to the watchtower and there, down shallow steps to the dank, dim keep. He went past two sentry knights and into a small chamber with an earthen floor. Mael was sitting upon a heap of straw and jumped up at the sight of Bascogne. “When you release me from this place, my king, I will prove my loyalty.” “To whom are you loyal, Mael?” His voice raspy, he shouted, “Borda has a plot against you!” The King of Munster waved a hand. “You may speak further.” “I shall, if you release me and grant me shelter as first knight to you.”
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Bascogne knew his answer false. “It will be so.” “Borda did speak to me. He would battle all of Munster if his wife be not at Cashel fortress.” “The king did speak to you?” “On the journey here, he came into my tent.” “What is it you told him?” “I did not speak and solely listened as he spoke.” This knight weave truth with falsehood, Bascogne thought but asked, “You pledge this be full truth?” “All I speak be truth. Hear me, you must see Borda to the otherworld.” “And bring us to battle with Connacht kingdom? There be no wisdom in that.” Mael lifted his arms, his hands outstretched. “If all from Connacht but I are slain by sword, there shall be no one left to speak at Cashel fortress.” “This king you desire slain by sword, be husband to my daughter.” “She is with her knight and does not wish to be restored to her husband.” He came before Bascogne, whispering, “Take this measure and free her from her vows.” “You speak naught but falsehood.” Then the king yelled, “She be given a poison cup by your own wife and fears she is not safe among your clan! And is gone until no further harm shall befall her!” Mael stepped back and whimpered, “My wife is gone to the otherworld by Borda’s hand, your daughter be safe now.” “Whilst you breathe, my daughter is not safe, nor my kingdom.” Bascogne spat the words out and went from the keep. Mael hung his head, his face in his hands and moaned. The door slammed and two knights stood in position outside the cell. When Bascogne returned to the great hall, Borda was still supping. He looked up from his bowl. “What is it, the knight betrayer say to you?” Taking his place at the table, Bascogne picked up his goblet and drank a full measure before saying, “He did speak of battle with Connacht.”
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“Battle does please Mael. He be a worthy knight in that and did gain me many shields.” Borda glanced around the great hall. “More shields than hang on these walls.” “My knights keep all spoils they gain from battle.” Bascogne signaled for more mead and drank again before saying, “It is not battle I seek. Nor gain from battle.” He leaned toward the warrior king. “Thus your marriage to my beloved daughter.” “She did leave me. It might be, battle resolve this matter.” “You forget, my daughter was betrayed by your clan. She be fearful and has claim to be so. Mael does yet breathe and he doth betray you with each breath.” Borda tore at a meaty bone and with his mouth full, asked, “Shall I raise my sword upon this knight?” “He be your knight, I cannot say.” “Is it…” Borda chewed as he spoke. “You use your sword with care or save this knight for me?” “I shall not raise my sword against Connacht.” He leaned toward the other king. “I do not forget my daughter be now of this clan.” “Bascogne.” Borda dropped the bone into his bowl. “If your daughter is not returned to me, I must be avenged.” “Is your thinking muddled? Your clan did give a poison cup to my daughter and if any shall be avenged, it is I!” Bascogne lowered his tone. “Heed me, I know not where she is or if I ever see her again.” “Your daughter is wife to me. Under Brehon Law, I shall be avenged.” “Our clan did not take her from you. It be not wise to avenge us.” “You tell me I am not wise and my thinking muddled.” Borda stood up from his chair and yelled, “I should raise my sword to you! I be the King of Connacht!” “I beg for pardon,” Bascogne said. This king be swift to rage and does act upon my words with unruly manner. “I say now, if your daughter be not here by the morrow, I depart from Cashel fortress.” Borda placed his hands upon the table. “And upon my return to Castlestrange, I shall plot to avenge my wife taken from me.”
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This king is mad, thought Bascogne. I did not take his wife and with these words of revenge, I should slay his small party swiftly and as Mael did speak, leave no one to impart the deed. After, the remains could be left in the forest and marauders thus be of blame. As Borda departed, going from the great hall into the transept, Bascogne thought further; I pause until this eve to make judgment and see this matter end. *** The horses rode south, swift and sure around the Lough Derg and into the rolling hills of the countryside. There the raven flew on and disappeared from sight. It was not until Magaith and Sygtryg reached the outskirts of Cashel town that they stopped and sent the horses back to Imagael. They donned the cloak together and were making their way up the rolling knolls leading to the fortress, when the bird returned. It sat, clucking and clicking on a branch of an Elder tree. “My raven be here.” Magaith paused to listen and then said, “Borda seeks battle with our clan if I am not returned to him by eve.” The knight tossed the cloak from their heads. “You shall not go back to him!” Magaith gazed into his wide dark eyes. Such sadness in his great affection. She gently replied, “I know not what else to do. Borda will set upon us in battle and our clan shall be made to raise swords against his warriors and knights. If I am not returned as wife, my father shall lose honor.” “Our king will stay with honor in our hearts, if you do not go to Borda.” “To cause battle for our clan and make simple my father’s word as king,” her voice quivered. “I cannot.” He took her hand. “I shall not give you up.” “You must, dear knight.” “If I give you to Borda, my heart will splinter and the shards cut deep forever. I shall always want you and need you with me.” He placed his hand on her cheek. “To know you are wife to another, I shall not bear it.”
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She spoke softly. “This is beyond our desires and affection.” “Then, know in your heart you are the only one for me.” He held her gaze as he stroked her cheek. “I shall yearn for you and always want you with me. Keep this in your heart and know it forever more. If ever it is, you want me or be in suffering, I shall come to you. This be my solemn vow.” Her eyes welled with tears as her heart swelled in sorrow. “I shall not forget.” He took her in his arms. She put her head on his shoulder and cried quietly, her tears taken up by his cloak. When she was spent, Magaith put her arms about his body and held him close, gaining deep comfort. After a while, he grasped at her hair under her veil and drew her head back. His dark eyes roved her face, taking her in with great sorrow. The knight pressed her head to his shoulder again and held tight to her. When he released her, he looked not at her but kept his eyes on the hills ahead as they made to the fortress. It was when the sun shone directly overhead, Magaith saw the watchtower perched on the highest knoll. Her heart quickened at the sight. At long last, she be again midst her own clan with her father nearby. She stopped when she saw a gleam of light, the sun catching on the helmet of a sentry knight. “Shall we reveal ourselves as we enter the fortress?” “It be best if we watch from beneath the cloak.” “To search out a plot?” “And also, we seek truth behind words.” Magaith took a deep breath and reached for Sygtryg’s hand. He looked at her then, his dark eyes sad and sorrowful. “I know you shall go to Borda as you believe you must, but solely if you be safe.” She tried to smile but knew no light reached her eyes and so pressed her lips together. “Come,” the knight said, holding tight her hand. “You be home, now.”
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And they made way up the last steep hill to the fortress yard where the bustle was less than they were wont to find midday. The only movements in the courtyard were the bread makers as they ground oats and rye in large pestles outside the door of the oven shelter. In several positions, sentry knights stood in still attendance as they gazed out over the hills. Sygtryg signaled with a hand that they go into the north transept door and then on, into the great hall. Magaith stayed close to him, fear rising in her that they might soon be parted and she would no longer wish to follow through her plan to return to Borda. She reminded herself, the King of Connacht could not know of their presence. She would simply watch and wait with her knight until she was ready to show herself. The great hall was cool and barren of servants. The supping tables were cleared and the benches set back against the walls. Across the room, a knight sat on a bench outside a sleeping chamber. He looked up as a floorboard creaked underfoot and stopping, they glanced at each other under the cloak. Sygtryg motioned to step with care and they went on, through the hall to the draperies of the curtained chamber. Soft voices were heard coming from beyond and they took pause. A sudden voice rose loud from behind the curtain, “Enter, wife to Borda and her loyal knight protector!” Under the cloak, Magaith stared open-mouthed at Sygtryg. “Do not be in awe, I know your thoughts,” the voice said. “Enter.” They parted the draperies, went in and lowered the cloak from their heads. On a mattress Borda sat with a man not known to Magaith. He had a long white beard and hair. The eyes were cruel, immoral and like black shining stones. A wizard of darkness. “Daughter to Imagael, you be graced in your knowing.” He smiled at Magaith. She frowned. “I know not of what you speak.” The wizard cocked his head to one side. “Perchance, this be truth? You be not aware of your knowledge?”
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Magaith knew naught of her thoughts as such. She had a little knowing at times and went to speak so when Borda held his hand toward the white bearded man. “I was assured of your coming and glad in it.” The warrior king went on. “This be Harrold. Brother to me.” “As I be kin to Borda,” the wizard said to Magaith. “You be my sister now.” “I did not see you at the wed vow.” Her heart was thumping. Could this be a wizard of darkness? “Is it, you did hide from me and my mother?” “Your mother.” The man with the black eyes laughed as he spoke. “She did attempt to hide from me. And then, she did take you from my brother.” His eyes seemed to become far blacker. “Now, I see before me a wretched girl, so sorrowful of the harm she brings. Not the least, to this king.” Magaith looked at her husband. Borda was beautiful, his hair soft gold and shining in the dim chamber. She could smell his sweet fragrance from where she stood. He smiled at her and her heart became as it was when they be together at Castlestrange. She knew his warmth and gentleness, she smiled in return. “Wife,” Borda said. “Come here by me.” She dropped the cloak from her shoulders as Sygtryg gathered it up. Magaith took a place near him on the straw mattress. “My husband.” “I did suffer so without you. And solely wish you return to me.” He slipped his hand under her veil and touched her hair. “And you are here.” “I be fearful of the clan of Connacht and took to safety.” The words came unbidden. “You return to the home of your father.” His hand withdrew from her hair. “You choose not to return to me at Castlestrange.” Again, the words came without thought. “I knew you were here at Cashel.” “This be truth,” the wizard Harrold said. “As told to her mother by Torgaad.” “Wife.” Borda narrowed his eyes. “You appear as I speak of battle to your father. Torgaad be wise to tell you I am here.” “I seek to make proper that which is amiss by my own fault. A wretched sorrow fell upon you as I be in hiding and I wish to ask for pardon, husband.”
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His head tilted to one side. “Words? Solely words for the great sorrow you did bestow upon me?” She felt the tendrils of his madness reach for her heart. “I ask for pardon and be humble to you for evermore.” “Magaith!” Sygtryg yelled. “You did hide from fear! This clan doth give you a poison cup and this king should offer pardon!” Slowly, Borda turned his head until Sygtryg be in his sight. “This knight protector did take my wife and keep her.” He paused and then looked at his brother. “Harrold, what shall we ask from him to recompense this most immoral of deeds?” The wizard placed his hand on his lengthy white beard and stroked it. “This knight shall pay by becoming servant to you. What do you say, my king?” “It be most fitting, brother.” Harrold raised his hand, murmured a few words Magaith could not hear and then Sygtryg was no longer in the sleeping chamber. She looked around the room. “Where is my knight protector?” “In the king’s stables.” Harrold looked at Borda and they laughed together. Then he said, “Go, you shall find him there.” Magaith gathered her tunic skirt and swiftly went from the chamber into the great hall. The knight stood up from his seat on the bench. It was Glunn, his brows twisting at her appearance. She made past him as he spoke. “My lady, you appear from thin air yet again.” “I have no wish to speak to you.” He came to her side, meeting her pace as she walked. “I have thought solely of you since our meeting in the transept.” She stopped. “How is it, you are outside Borda’s chamber?” He met her eyes. “Your father did ask this of me.” “To keep watch on this king?”
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“I be in waiting on the King of Connacht,” he said and then leaning to her ear, lowered his voice. “Your father does desire I watch this king as a spy would.” “Then stay and keep watch, knight.” She resumed her swift walk across the great hall. Glunn took a few long steps to join her. “Perchance you thought of me?” Without looking at him, she replied, “I be wed to Borda.” “The vow was made but naught else.” She glanced at him. His eyes were twinkling and his mouth drawn up at the sides. Her voice hard, she said, “You be not a noble knight but a common rogue.” His laughter could be heard as she went through the transept. In the courtyard as before, bakers were grinding grains and sentry knights stood on guard at the hilltop. She ran on to the king’s stables and went from stall to stall. At the last, there be a stallion of pure white. “Sygtryg?” The horse whinnied and lifted his head, over and over. “Quiet, now,” Magaith whispered and went to him. She took his muzzle and laid it against her shoulder. “This be not the last. Fear not, you shall be knight again.” The stallion puffed through his nostrils, his head rising and lowering. She ran her hand down the white silky brow and nose. “Even as you be changed, my deep affection shall not change.” The sound of laughing came from the stable doorway. “This be the great and noble knight protector?” Borda asked. “He be a knight horse now,” the wizard giggled. Then his tone became stern. “Come, lady, to your husband.” Magaith glared at him. “Lift this spell and I come.” “This is as it shall be, for the knight. Your husband awaits you, lady.” “I would go willing but not with tricks and falsehood. My knight did not wrong this king, nor me. Release him from the spell.”
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Borda spoke. “Come now, wife and leave this horse.” “I shall not be wife to you until the change be made.” “You possess a deep affection for this knight,” Borda said, harshly. “Or horse, as he be now.” The wizard added, “It be so. And because of this, he shall stay a beast.” Magaith cried out, “This be not fair and ruin all, for a good and gentle knight! I did wish to be wife to you, when you were kind. Now, I cannot!” “Is it, you did wish to come with me and be my wife?” “This be truth.” Borda stared hard at the wizard. “You change this outcome?” Harrold shrugged. “I make a surety of the maiden’s wish.” Her voice hard, Magaith said, “You make a surety that I not be wife to Borda. I will return to Castlestrange for the sake of my father but shall keep from my husband as long as Sygtryg be changed.” Borda took pause and then addressed his brother. “Lift the spell on the knight.” “This be your wish?” The wizard stared hard at Borda. “This witch did cast a spell upon you.” Borda asked Magaith, “This be truth?” “I know not how to cast spells or concoct potions.” “The witch does speak falsehoods,” Harrold said. “Nay!” Magaith spoke loudly. “This be truth!” “Who is it, I believe?” Borda asked, looking one to the other. Harrold looked at Magaith, his stare as cold as a forest night in winter. “This witch, she speaks solely to entice you, brother. And keep all truth from you.” “You have the knowing in you.” Magaith touched Borda’s chest. “In your heart. This wizard, he does lead you astray.” “Brother, is it so?” Borda asked as he turned to Harrold.
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The wizard‘s eyes were as black stones. “You shall not heed words spoken by this maiden, made from the seed of the king, Bascogne and delivered from the loins of the witch, Imagael.” Magaith took Borda by the shoulders and turned him away from his brother. “With those words, he does give you a spell.” “I am king and do not take a spell from my brother!” Borda flashed his eyes at the wizard. “You be against this king?” “I do not spell you,” Harrold replied, his voice soft and sweet. “The fair maiden does speak falsehoods.” He put his hands out to the king. “I be kin to you, seek truth with me as your brother and counsel.” “I know not who speaks full truth.” Borda shook his head, side to side. “So, I keep you both near to me. My wife, in whom I have affection and you, brother, in whom I have all else.” “And what of Sygtryg?’ Magaith asked. “Until I know if you cast spells upon me,” Borda replied. “The knight shall stay as horse.” “Keep faith in me.” Harrold put his arm across his brother’s shoulders. “Let us walk in the fortress yard.” They went out the stables and into the glare of sunshine. “The change to her knight,” Borda said, “make her wretched toward me.” “Brother, the witch does craft you into a fool.” Borda stopped and narrowed his eyes. “For that, I should pierce you with my sword!” “Hark my words. She does seek affection from her knight. She be not fit as wife to a warrior king.” “I be affectionate to her,” Borda replied. “And seek her affection in return.” “She be a witch and solely serve herself.” “In truth, this does not alter my affection.” He put his hands in his hair. “I desire her with me and back at Castlestrange as my wife.”
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“My king, she shall not go to your wedding bed.” “Cast a spell,” Borda whispered. The wizard nodded with a soft smile upon his lips. “Brother, it shall be so.”
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Chapter Seven The sounds of cawing, clicking and clacking heralded the raven as it flew into the stables, alighting on a post near Magaith and the knight horse. “My king,” the bird said. “She shall not go to your wedding bed.” The stallion snorted and pawed at the straw in the stable. Magaith believed the horse could now hear the raven’s words and said aloud to Sygtryg, “This be truth.” “Cast a spell,” the raven cawed. “Brother, it shall be so.” A roll of fear rose up from her belly and she sensed the terrible power of the dark wizard, Harrold. He might force her with a spell to Borda’s bed and much more. She sent her thoughts to her mother, asking that she come to her aid against this spell. Alas, it might be, Imagael would not reach her by eve and she be spelled to do as Harrold wished and be sent to Borda’s bed. Sygtryg whinnied and then set his muzzle on her shoulder. Perhaps as a beast, Sygtryg was now keen to her fears. She patted him, saying, “I call for Imagael to aid against this spell.” The horse grunted and rubbed the soft folds of his mouth against her cheek. Sorrow welled up in her and tears spilled down her cheeks. It was due to her this knight be changed and she did not possess knowledge or power to defeat the dark wizard. It might be, Imagael did not possess the power and Torgaad must be called upon. She sent another silent request to her mother that she ask the great wizard for aid. A sudden shout came from the stable door. “Daughter, you are here!” She looked up as her father ran to her side. He looked upon her, saying, “You shed tears?”
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“This be Sygtryg,” she said, stroking the nose of the white stallion. “A spell be cast upon my knight by a wizard of darkness. He be brother to Borda and shall cast a spell upon me, to go to the wedding bed against my wish.” The stallion reared up. Magaith reached for him, stroking his neck and the horse settled. Bascogne put his arms around his daughter’s shoulders. “I know not what to do.” She looked into the king’s eyes. “I did call for my mother to aid me.” The thick brows of the king twisted. “Your mother? Imagael?” “I shall hear no words against her. You tell falsehoods that she be not of this world. And it be truth, I know her as a good woman.” “You know your mother?” “She told me of the poison cup and did secret me to a safe place with Sygtryg.” Bascogne glanced at the horse. “If he did not raise his sword to Imagael, then he has his worthy fate.” “I did ask Sygtryg to give his word that he not harm my mother. She did take me away and keep me safe.” “In that, I shall spare him now. What of the safe place you went?” “Imagael led me to Torgaad of Kincora.” “You be spelled by this wizard!” “Torgaad did give me knowledge and my mother also.” “I seek solely to protect you, daughter.” Bascogne’s voice lowered. “Long ago, your mother cast a spell on me.” A knowing came to Magaith. “She did not spell you. Solely, you suffer in dreams, nightly.” The king nodded his head. “I suffer at sleep, this be truth.” Further knowing caused her to say, “It is of your own making.” “It cannot be.” The king’s voice was soft. “She bore me a daughter and I did desire a son and heir. So I sent her away after a year and a day, to seek another wife to bear me
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sons. Since that day, I did suffer at sleep. I feel her laying beside me and am wretched in this spell.” She felt more and so asked, “Is it, you have affection for her still?” “I desire she be gone to the otherworld.” Firm truth made her say, “My mother is of great heart. She cast no spell on you.” “This cannot be truth. Forgive me, daughter, I shall raise my sword if she come near to me and thus end my suffering.” “She spoke of this. I must keep her from you.” Magaith stroked the horse’s head. “I leave the morrow with Borda and shall see you no more.” “Then it is farewell, daughter,” Bascogne said and walked from the stables. Magaith placed her brow upon Sygtryg’s throat and wept quiet tears. *** After hearing her daughter’s plea and taking a potion of Gort for sight, the witch saw Bascogne speak to Magaith in the stables. Imagael knew his spirit be tired and full of sorrow. Perchance, in his own torment, he did not know the suffering he gave his daughter. Her tears held the misery her father would trade her for peace, trade her mother for another wife and at the last, he would set his hind side to her in her affection for her mother. A remedy to his torment must be found and further, the pressing matter of aid to her daughter against the wizard Harrold. Of his dark deeds, Imagael knew more than she revealed to her daughter. There be a spell Harrold cast to make Magaith affectionate to Borda upon their meeting and ever afterward, if she be near to him. Harrold also partook of the poisoned cup and knew of her own hidden presence at the wedding, and might be behind the plot for her daughter to flee to safety. Whereupon, Magaith would then be blamed for Borda’s wretched decline into madness. In this, the witch wondered, what doth Harrold seek? Another vision came to her and she watched as Borda entered the king’s stables, without his brother. He went to the last stall, watching as Magaith leaned against the knight horse and kissed his nose.
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“I must know your truth.” His hands were out, palms up. “Before we wed, did you give to me a loving cup?” “I did not know of magic.” She rubbed the horse’s soft muzzle. “Nor did I know my mother be a witch until after our wedding vows. I speak full truth to you.” “You gave no spell to me for affection?” Borda asked with his eyes on hers. She stepped from the stall and went down the stable passageway. When she reached the door, she turned back to him. “It be my heart alone that capture you.” “It may be, you cast a spell upon me and so I am bewitched. But I be happy with it and content that you be wife to me.” “I was content to be wife to you.” She shook her head. “No longer.” “Listen, Harrold does speak great sagas but does not yet lead me to a fate of greatness. I desire to be High King of Eire, with all kingdoms under me.” Borda took her hand and gazed into her eyes. “With you beside me, I shall become High King and exalt you as my quean, a new name under king but near as mighty.” “I speak that it shall be so, for all who may come after me.” “It be for you I wish this. Not for those who may be named quean after you.” His voice was shrill as he grasped her hand. “I do this solely for you.” “Until a change be made to Sygtryg.” She pulled her hand from his. “And he be man once more, I cannot be at your side.” “I did ask Harrold to change him but he does not think it wise.” Borda took her by the arms. “You shall be wife and quean to me.” “And with you as high king, my father shall no longer hold the crown of Munster.” “He shall be as nobleman to me.” Borda dropped his hands from her arms. “If he fail in this, he shall swiftly go to the otherworld.” With this vision sight, Imagael knew Borda would dragoon her daughter into obedience and if need be, spell her to bow to his desires with the dark wizard’s aid. And Bascogne, the worthy King of Munster, would fall and his clan with him. The layers of Harrold’s plot were as an onion. What more was to be revealed?
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The witch gathered up some herbs and roots, placed them in a linen cloth and went to Torgaad. She told him what she had seen. “If Borda judge Magaith not of good heart,” the wizard said. “She shall not be a willing wife to him.” Imagael added, “He does wish she be humble to his desires.” “It is her affection and kindness that cause her to be meek. She must find her way to be strong with her good heart.” “Harrold is powerful and shall cast spells upon her.” “This is but part truth.” The brilliant green eyes glittered. “She seeks to make others happy and in so doing, gives them her power.” “She does not see this.” Torgaad’s voice was potent. “The way is long and many falls from the path need to happen, yet.” “It woes me to know she suffers still.” Imagael wiped at a tear trailing down her cheek. “Is it, she can keep off the spells?” “Magaith is of your blood.” “My daughter is not practiced against magic given from others.” The wizard said, “She has learned a little of her powers.” “My daughter calls for me to aid her.” Torgaad smiled. “You wish also to see Bascogne?” “This be so, that I might mend the past.” He wagged a finger at her. “Speak full truth.” Imagael breathed deep and let out the breath before saying, “Bascogne has affection for me and does create his own suffering. I desire to aid him in healing, speak to him of my affection and grant pardon for his judgments against me.” “He cannot forgive himself.” “I shall light the way.”
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“Not with spells, Imagael.” The wizard shook his head. “You may solely use the means from the heart. They be as powerful as magic. But with the dark wizard, use whatever you are able.” She drew in a sharp breath. “My powers cannot match his.” “If you be at the end of your wit, call upon me.” “I be most honored, Torgaad.” “Call upon me,” said the wizard, his potent voice deeper in his fervor. “As the future of Eire is at stake.” Imagael felt a surge of humbleness and lowered her head. “Full truth.” The wizard leaned to pat her arm. “In my great affection for you, I would aid your daughter and more.” His little plump hand tapped on her cloak and she lifted her head. His gentle smile and green eyes were bright with warmth. “Now, off you go.” Imagael collected her linen bundle and went from the cavern. *** Magaith sent for a straw mattress and pillows to be brought to the stables. She had them arranged to one side of the stall with the knight horse to be near him. Until he be changed to man, she would not leave him. As eve set on, she had a light supper brought along with oats for the horse. When the feedbag was placed over his nose, the knight horse whinnied and shook his head. Magaith shared her supper of roast fowl and root vegetables with him and spoke of their past together, fearful that he forget. She sensed Sygtryg inside the horse shape, yet his thoughts be growing strange and wild. He be turning into a beast and she would remind him against this. She spoke until the dark of night when she grew tired and lay upon the mattress. A sound at the stall doorway caused her to lift her head. “It was said, you be in the king’s stables.” The knight messenger Glunn, spoke from where he stood in the dark of the stable passage.
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“Go, I wish to sleep.” “In the stables?” He took a step into the stable chamber. “You be daughter to our king.” Sighing, she dropped her head to the pillow. “I choose this.” “Perchance, you wish me to be on guard?” She heard the jest in his tone and if she could see it, there would be a twinkle in his eye. “It is the king’s wish you be with Borda.” He moved a step closer. “You be alone.” “Not so.” Glunn shifted in the darkness. “I see a stallion but naught else.” Sadness took her over once more and she swallowed against a threat of tears. “Leave me.” “You be of sorrow, my lady.” He took another step toward her and went down on one knee. “May I aid you?” She lifted up on an elbow; he was a dim shadow in the dark stall. “If Borda knows you be here, he shall send you to the otherworld.” “He does not seek to keep you safe. Nor content.” “Do not speak against that king.” “It be truth.” “I ask that you do not speak so.” “If you shall need me, call upon me and I will come.” “Leave me.” The tears were close. Not long ago, Sygtryg had made the same vow. The knight’s cloak rustled as he rose and his soft footfalls crunched in the straw as he went out. She drifted to sleep. A presence awakened her. Imagael was standing near the mattress. “I am here at Cashel fortress and shall be with you the morrow. Now, I go to your father.”
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Magaith cried out in a raspy whisper, “Nay! He shall see you to the otherworld and I shall wither until I be with you once more!” “I must go to him and show him my affection. This night, I seek to heal him.” “I cannot be without you, Mother.” She reached up and grasped Imagael’s cloak. “Draw on your magic to keep safe from his sword.” “It is that I cannot. He must see truth to change his thoughts against me.” “He has dreamed this long age to end his sorrow.” She pulled her mother’s cloak to her chest. “If you go to him, he shall pierce you with his sword in his trust it would end the curse upon him.” “Torgaad has spoken. I cannot craft magic to change his heart.” Magaith stood up, took her mother’s arms and held them tightly. “My father shall not know you as kind and with no spell to protect you, he will send you to the otherworld. You must stay with me this night!” “Already, the dark wizard shall know me here.” “I did set a shield around this stall when you appeared. The dark wizard does not know you be here with me.” Imagael tilted her head, it seemed she be listening. Then she spoke, her voice soft and full of wonder, “Your powers without potion be now great.” “I be blood of your blood.” Magaith sat upon the mattress. “Now, come here with me. We must speak of Sygtryg and the spells cast by Harrold.” As she took a place beside her daughter, Imagael asked, “Is it, this knight you choose?” “I will not be wife to Borda until Sygtryg be man, once more.” She took pause, recalling Sygtryg’s fine form and his hands on her. “After, I shall do as I am told.” “As you be told?” Imagael’s mouth dropped open. “As my father wishes, I shall be wife to Borda and keep peace for our clan.” A rumbling grunt sounded from the stallion. Magaith glanced over at him.
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Imagael spoke. “Borda does wish to be high king above all else. If that comes to be, your father shall lose his crown, whether or not you be wife to Borda.” Her mother’s voice was firm. “You must choose for your own sake.” “As long as I am with Borda, he shall not be against my father.” She glanced once more at the stallion. “Therefore, I stay with Borda and shall keep this knight horse with me always, until a change be made.” “Harrold shall spell Borda against your father. And you.” Magaith crossed her arms over her chest. “It is not so, yet.” “I am powerless against his spells.” Imagael picked at the straw under the mattress. “I cannot keep his spells off nor can I lift those cast by him.” “So, Harrold cast the spell on Sygtryg and it must be him who sees it undone.” “With all my heart, I wish it was not so.” Her mother’s eyes welled up in tears. “I know you be wretched in his change to horse.” “I hold sway with Borda and will soon have Sygtryg returned as man.” “It be Harrold you must sway.” “If Borda wishes it, Harrold must do it.” “And if the dark wizard cast a spell on Borda?” Magaith let out a breath. “What be his aim in that?” “Borda wishes the crowns from all five kings of Eire, to be high king. And Harrold seeks to hold power with Borda as high king.” “In all this, I do not see the aim for the change to Sygtryg.” “His heart is cruel and he doth gain pleasure from such deeds.” Imagael shook her head. “Although, his truest aim I cannot see as yet.” “Without Borda to command Harrold to lift the spell.” Magaith swallowed at her tears. “All is lost for Sygtryg.” Her mother pressed her mouth into a flat line. The knight horse whinnied, pawing at the straw. “I shall find a way.” Magaith blinked at the tears in her eyes. “By some means, I shall find a way.”
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Chapter Eight In the mid of night, Imagael went from the stables to the sleeping chamber of Bascogne. She found him in a thrashing sleep, flailing his arms and moaning. Her heart went out to him and she lay on the mattress, placing her arms over him and murmuring comfort in his ear. “I be with you now.” His eyes fluttered and he mumbled, “I suffer so with you here. Be gone, witch.” “I shall give you comfort.” “Comfort shall not save me from this wretched burning.” She set her mouth upon his fevered lips and brought his burning heat to flame. When his breathing became fierce and his hands were upon her, she pulled up on his tunic and with her heart and body did ease his unbearable fire. When she lay beside him with her head upon his chest, he stroked her hair in near sleep. “Keep awake, Bascogne,” Imagael whispered. “I am not a vision.” He opened his eyes. “You cause me such suffering. I should take up my sword and end this curse upon my body and my mind.” “I may ease your nightly burning, if it be your wish.” “Why is it you cast this spell upon me?” “I cast no spell. I be affectionate to you from before the day of our wed vow in knot tie.” He drew her closer in his arms. “I did not wish to send you away. It came to me in a dream that I should give you up as you would bear me no sons. It all be for naught, for my sons be gone to the otherworld and their mothers also.” “The past be done and gone, Bascogne. Do not sorrow over that which cannot be changed.” www.samhainpublishing.com
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“Is it you will stay with me as wife?” “I shall stay and be content with it.” He kissed the top of her head. “Sleep well, wife.” She closed her eyes, full pleasure taking her over and she fell fast in sleep. In the morning, the raven came with the sun. It sat at the window, saying, “Magaith make ready.” Imagael blinked to waking in the strange chamber with Bascogne in sleep beside her. It came back to her, the night before with Bascogne and his promise of affection evermore. This outcome be most pleasing to our daughter, Imagael thought as she crept from the mattress. She slipped on her tunic and then made her way to the king’s stables. Upon reaching the doorway, she paused at the sound of loud voices inside. Imagael heard her daughter say, “I wish to ride my knight horse to Castlestrange.” “Harrold does wish to ride the stallion.” Borda was with her. “It shall not be so. I ride him.” A deep laugh. “He would spell you to consent.” “I shall not allow it.” Her daughter’s voice was firm. Another deep laugh. “You be spirited, wife.” The voice grew harsh. “My brother is a wizard of great power. Do not go against him.” “I keep off his spells, do not fear.” A pause, then Magaith said, “Have I not kept from your bed?” A hush came over the stables. Imagael could hear the wind in the rafters. From behind her, she heard, “I see with my own eyes, the witch, Imagael.” She turned around. It was Harrold. “In truth, you are not a witch but a poor woman who does concoct potions to see and heal.” His eyes were black, hard and shiny as wet river stones. “With ease, I would smite you down.” The cold of his heart sent a shiver through her.
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The wizard smiled. “I put fear into you.” The smile drained from his face. “You should fear me greatly. If I do not have that which I desire, I shall see you and your family ground into the earth as ashes from a winter fire.” A knowing came to Imagael. “You say yourself as brother to Borda and yet, he has no power of magic. You are not brother in truth but seek to guide him as such with a spell.” His eyes were black ice. “This be falsehood.” “Your blood,” Imagael began, her courage strong in truth, “is not Borda’s blood.” “Speak no more or lose your tongue.” The witch sought strength over the threat. “Give the knight horse to my daughter.” “I shall ride the stallion.” “Borda!” Imagael called into the stables. “Your brother wishes you here.” The warrior king and Magaith appeared at the stable door. “Mother, it pleases me to see you.” Borda asked, “Harrold, you wish to speak?” The wizard replied, “Is the stallion ready for me?” “I ride him,” Magaith stated. Harrold looked at Magaith and then at Borda. “Brother, what do you say?” Imagael put a hand on Borda’s arm and opened her mouth. No sound came forth. “Is it you be spelled?” Magaith whispered. Then she turned to Harrold, crying out, “Lift the spell from my mother, wizard!” He smiled. “The witch’s tongue be loose.” Magaith eyed her mother sharply, the knowing coming to her. “Harrold hides the truth.” Then she looked at Borda, saying, “He is not your brother.” “Falsehood!” The wizard yelled. “Our father was the same.” “You take my mother’s tongue to keep truth from Borda.” “I did tire from her words. And I grow tired of yours.” He faced his brother. “The witches speak against me to confuse and therefore put us apart.” Borda asked Magaith, “This be truth?”
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“Harrold does spell you to hold sway over your kingdom and when you be high king, he will be the power over Eire.” “Do not listen, brother.” Harrold’s voice was potent. “There be no spell.” “He be my brother and servant,” Borda said to Magaith. “And has not done this.” “In secret, he does spell you to do his bidding.” She pointed to the wizard. “He wishes to possess the power of a king through you.” Borda shook his head as he ran his fingers through his long hair. “Once more, I know not whom to believe. My thoughts are wretched and I be torn.” “You must rest, my husband,” Magaith said softly. “Let us stay at Cashel fortress till the morrow.” “It shall be so. I go now to my sleeping chamber.” “Husband, before you depart,” Magaith grasped his arm. “Command the spell be lifted from my mother.” Harrold gave her a stare of ice and spat out, “The king need not ask. It is done.” “And my knight be changed back to man?” “The knight betrayed this king,” Harrold replied. “And suffers for it.” “In his aid to me, Sygtryg did not betray this king.” Magaith faced Borda once more. “I ask the spell be lifted from my knight protector.” “My thoughts be muddled.” He took a few steps, adding, “Let us speak of this at a later time.” Magaith nodded to him, hopeful and watched as Borda walked away, his head low. Then she put her arm around her mother. “Is it you be recovered?” Imagael swallowed and said, “I have my tongue, once more.” “It be not long.” Harrold’s hard black eyes set upon Magaith and then her mother, his words a harsh whisper. “Before I bestow upon you the greatest of suffering for your words against me.” Magaith gathered her courage and eyed him the same. “Borda shall know your falsehoods and betrayal.”
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“Fool!” The wizard laughed, the sound like a hollow deep gurgle. “This king be spelled to madness and with each sunrise, it does swell and grow. Do you not see, I did intend all this? The spell cast to make you affectionate to the king and then, the poison cup from a wife with mad affection for him. And the witch, I allowed her to remain unseen at Castlestrange and take you away with the knight.” “You bring to bear your own falsehoods?” He laughed again, a hollow giggle. “And more! I did speak in my brother’s ear of your betrayal and spell Mael to be caught and do the same.” “You spoke of my betrayal?” Harrold put his face close to Magaith, his sour breath upon her cheek. “You, the King of Munster’s daughter, be the element of my plot. It shall seem Borda’s madness set forth from you and your betrayal with the knight, Sygtryg. Connacht clan shall despise you and deny your sons the crown.” He laughed again, the fetid breaths bursting upon her face. “If ever there might be sons between a mad man and his cold wife.” She stepped back from him “You did spell me to the king’s bed.” “I did agree but in truth, did not do so.” He smiled, the black stone eyes gleaming. “I keep your spell from me.” “Nay, you are but a flea, I may flick off as I desire.” Harrold brushed his fingers on his cloak and then furrowed his brows. “For now, you serve my aim.” She crossed her arms. “I shall not.” “And the knight you seek to be regained? I hold you with his spell.” “What of my knight? Is it not your wish for Sygtryg to remain man and be seen affectionate to me, thus make me more despised to Connacht clan?” “I must present to side with the king.” The wizard’s face twisted into a mask of grief as he said, “And the knight horse brings you such great sorrow.” Imagael spoke up. “You be without gentle mercy. Perhaps, you were kept from your mother’s breast and made to suck upon a Briar’s thorn?” The black stone eyes turned to her. “Is it, I should take your tongue again?”
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“My mother did not wish wound to you.” Magaith spoke hurriedly. “She seeks to know the cause for your heart of stone.” “I am as I am.” “Torgaad said the same of himself.” “Torgaad!” Harrold thundered and raised his fist. “The ugly little creature with a heart of lightness and foolery! Do not measure him to me!” “There be no measure.” Magaith kept her heart closed as she added, “As he be ugly, you are not. As you be ugly, he is not.” The wizard pressed his lips together and then said, “This be pleasing to me.” Her hatred boiled up, she wished to curse and yell upon him. For Sygtryg, she would not anger him further. “I wish to speak to my mother.” He shrugged. “Do so. I shall know of what you speak.” “Leave us and listen with your keen wizard ear from afar.” “Your tongue be sharp.” He pursed his lips. “You may lose it as your mother did.” “That would not be pleasing to Borda. He wishes words of affection from me.” Black smoke rose up around Harrold as he said with a rumble in his chest, “I bestow upon you the greatest of suffering, this be my pledge.” Then he swirled his cloak and was gone, wisps of smoke trailing behind him. “Daughter, you must hold your tongue with Harrold.” Magaith lifted her shoulders. “The words burst forth.” “When Borda be lost to madness, you shall not have his protection.” “I shall find a remedy before then.” She took her mother’s hand, leading her into the stables. “You be away all night. What of my father?” “He did ask I stay as wife to him.” “My father did not raise his sword to you but ask you to stay as wife?” “I went to him as a vision and comforted him. After, he asked me to stay and I spoke of my contentment. He kissed my hair, saying, ‘Sleep well, wife’. And in his close hold, I then fell into sweet dreaming.”
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“Mother!” Magaith said, throwing her arms about Imagael. “Light does shine even in the midst of darkest night!” They held together for a while before pulling apart. “I wish the change to Sygtryg not be for long.” Magaith spoke in a low voice. “I feel him grow wild and strange.” “You did aim to know the earthdrake and can do so with this knight horse, for however long.” “When the spell be lifted,” Magaith asked as she looked into her mother’s eyes. “Sygtryg will not be wild and be full man once more?” “I believe it so. Torgaad would better speak of this.” “I could not bear it, if he be strange to me and not my own Sygtryg.” She put her head on her mother’s shoulder and whispered, “I miss him so. He has been with me for a long age. And now, he be gone and yet, not gone. I wish for surety, Sygtryg be restored as he was.” Imagael replied softly, “Torgaad be of truth. You might go and ask this of him.” Magaith lifted her head. “Leave Borda and cause more sorrow? Leave Sygtryg with the wizard? I know not what to do.” “If you do not know, then take pause until the knowing comes.” “We depart the morrow.” Her eyes opened wide. “And you shall stay here with my father. What then?” “You do not know the days to come. But remember always, you possess some power, daughter.” Imagael gripped Magaith’s arms. “And you know the way to reach Torgaad.” “How is it, I shall get by without you?” Imagael drew her daughter to her shoulder and softly whispered, “The same as all the years before this.” “I did not miss you then and be without suffering in that.” “Your gifts of power and knowing, aid you now.” Magaith stepped back from her mother. “And if I cannot be without you?”
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“I will come. As Torgaad shall, if you ask for him.” “Mother.” She placed her head once more upon Imagael’s shoulder. “With his great power, may Torgaad change the knight horse to man?” “As I told you, he who cast the spell can solely undo it.” Magaith held her mother. Harrold’s pledge of suffering did begin before he spoke the words. Bascogne appeared at the door of the stall. “You must come, daughter. Borda be ailing and does call for you.” “Attend with me,” Magaith whispered on her mother’s shoulder. They walked from the stall to where Bascogne stood at the stable door and then went together across the yard, into the transept and through the great hall to Borda’s sleeping chamber. Bascogne held back the drapery as the women passed into the room. They went to the mattress where Borda lay and Magaith kneeled down beside him. His skin was white and his lips blue. Sheen of sweat and oil glimmered on his bare chest and face. His hair lay across the pillow in long greasy strings. He turned his head, his dull eyes searched the room, unseeing. Pity overcame Magaith and she set her hand upon his brow. A gurgle came from the warrior king and his hand lifted up, lingered in the air and then dropped to the mattress. Magaith spoke softly, “Mother, he be great in his ailing.” “I shall make a brew to give him strength.” As the words left her mother’s lips, dark round lumps appeared on Borda’s chest. “Be swift. This ailment keeps on and I fear, shall soon overtake him.” Imagael went to Borda, touched his skin and then rubbed her fingers. She drew them to her nose and sniffed. “I know not the remedy for this, save to ease his suffering. Know, I shall try.” She went from the chamber and Magaith heard her speak in a low voice to her father, on the other side of the drapes.
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He came through to the sleeping chamber and stood by the mattress where Borda lay. “Imagael fears this be a spell and no potion shall bring change.” Magaith looked up at him. “Yet, my mother brews a tonic?” “She does go now, to do so.” “If this be a spell,” Magaith said as she rose up. “Harrold cast it to be rid of this king and take his crown.” Bascogne stared at her and then asked, “He be a wizard?” “Harrold be a wizard, dark of heart.” “Borda’s own brother would do this?” “Harrold, in truth, is not brother to him.” She watched Borda lift his arm once more and drop it to the mattress. Magaith looked at her father. “The wizard does plot against this king.” Bascogne shook his head. “He falls swiftly with a plague. I fear, he shall not be husband to you much longer.” “We must keep Borda safe and make him well. His sons shall be kings.” “Your sons shall be kings.” Bascogne faced his daughter. “If Borda goes to the otherworld, you desire to stay at Cashel?” “Would this wound you, Father?” “Your mother and I are made up.” He took Magaith in his arms. “I wish for you to be safe and content. If it be you deem to stay at Cashel, I be pleased with it.” She pulled back from him. “Sygtryg must be made man for me to be content.” “Is it the knight you desire?” With all her heart, she desired him but as wife to Borda, she could strive to keep Munster clan safe. It did seem then, the most worthy cause was Munster and not her own happiness, in spite of her quest. Alas, Torgaad be known as wise and she was not. “I know not what I must do.” “I did not ask what you must do, daughter. Is it the knight you wish as husband?”
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Her soul cried out silently, I wish my dear Sygtryg as husband and his lips and hands upon me always. She said, “For now, I seek knowledge and truth that my judgments be wise.” Her father nodded. “I would be content to have you take the crown of Munster after me and bear sons by a nobleman or freeman, to be king.” “You judge Brehon Law as false?” “Women are equal to men apart from kingdom rule. This be a misfortune for Munster clan and perchance, all Eire.” “I could not lead a crusade against another clan, Father.” A small smile came upon his lips. “Perchance, that be a most noble stance.” She smiled in return and then gazed down at Borda. The smile quickly faded. Dark lumps had spread to his neck and face, many sprouting from his eyelids and blue lips. His face had swelled, the white skin tightly drawn and glossed in oil. On his chest, golden fluid had oozed from the lumps and had begun to form thick brown crusts. “Ask my mother be sent for.” Bascogne went with haste from the chamber and shouted in the great hall. A clamor of footfalls followed and then all was silent. She picked up Borda’s hand and held it between her own. It felt slimy as a stone, long in a pool of water and as cold. His fingertips were as blue as his mouth. She felt him leaking from his body as the golden liquid oozed, slow and measured. “Magaith.” She turned at her name and saw Harrold standing near the drapes. “You do this to Borda!” His lips curled into a smile. “And I be able to do the same to you, your mother and your father. I could make the knight stallion suffer as this.” She stood up. “Ask of me, what you wish.” “I desire you. Be wife to me.” An unseen cold hand slid over her shoulder and grabbed at her breast. A chill began in her heart and spread through her veins until she felt as ice. “I be the element of your
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plot of Borda’s madness and the Connacht clan despising me! You speak now, you wish to wed me?” He waved a hand in the air. “I desire you.” “I be wed to Borda.” “He be not long for this world.” Her heart a lump of frost, Magaith stood and faced him. “You send Borda to the otherworld to have me as wife?” Again, the dark wizard said, “I desire you.” “I loathe you!” The fire of truth lit her heart. “You be not moral and speak with a cruel tongue. You seek to bring sorrow to all near you. To make wretched all the kingdoms of Eire!” His eyes grew blackest black. “You shall agree to be wife to me.” Cold damp seeped into her inner centre and she sought the fire again. “I would see myself to the otherworld before that!” “I rather you be willing.” The wizard came across the chamber and took pause beside her. “If you not be willing, I cast this same spell of death on all Munster clan.” She looked into the cold black stone eyes. Her throat tightened. He spoke truth. He would take all her clan with this ailment and his heart be not moved. “Let me speak further.” Harrold leaned over and his sour gusts of breath blew over her face. “You shall be Quean of Eire alongside me as High King.” She swallowed against a heave. “Borda did speak to me of this.” “I make the same oath as Borda. But I deem to make it so.” “What of Connacht clan despising me?” Magaith stepped back from Harrold. “You bring betrayal to Borda upon my head.” He raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders. “There is a simple remedy. I shall cast a spell of affection for you on Connacht clan.” He took a step toward her, his eyes black bottomless pits of malice. “Hark me, daughter to Bascogne. I be of great power. And you, daughter to Imagael, be of great spirit and some power. As one in wedlock, we shall rightly take the crowns of High King and Quean of Eire.”
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Shielding her thoughts from the wizard, her heart pounding in her chest, Magaith decided to be false to him. She would speak as he wished to hear and keep Munster clan safe. And more, she would do this until a means came to her of shifting the outcome of his desire. And it might take a long, long while to find a remedy. With her heart tightening into a small lump, she set upon her duty as the king’s daughter and said, “We shall have sons of great power and courage.” Harrold’s black eyes shone with a cold light. “Our sons shall reign over Eire and with my hand to steer them, in lands far beyond.” “As future wife to you, I ask you grant me my desires.” He took another step toward her and she felt his passion flow over her as a wave. Her insides rolled and churned. She willed to be strong and would not allow a joining with the coarse wizard of darkness to come to pass. “What is it you desire?” His stinking breath blew upon her face. Keeping her chin lifted in spite of the sourness lingering between them, she answered, “Borda be released from this spell. This king be without fault and near gone from this world. We did not join after our wed vows. In truth, he is not husband to me.” “He must go to the otherworld, I have no want of him.” Her heart took flight for the beautiful king. “I desire no one suffer in my judgment to wed you.” “He ails as it is my wish, not yours.” “It is my desire Borda lives.” The wizard looked hard at her. “Not as husband.” “I speak truth, not as husband.” Harrold waved his hand over Borda and chanted in a low voice. The sores on the king’s chest ceased oozing and the swelling of his face began to shrivel. The lumps grew smaller and his blue lips became red. He began to moan and thrash about. “Is it, he recovers?” Magaith asked. “There be no haste. I wish you wed to me before he full recover.”
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“And now.” Her truest desire burst forth. “I ask Sygtryg be released from his spell and be made man.” Once more, the wizard looked hard at her. “I cannot see your aim. Show me your truth and I will release him.” At that, she knew her thoughts be unseen and Harrold be a fool. He did deem her solely a simple woman and judge her poorer for it. “The knight long be my protector and I be thus affectionate to him.” As Magaith spoke, she allowed only the truth of her words to be known to Harrold. “I give my pledge to wed you.” “After we speak our vows, the spell shall be lifted.” “I ask you honor my desire, now.” She felt her desperation eke forth. “We must seek my divorce through a Brehon judge before we wed and it be not soon.” His lips curled up. “You have much to learn. My powers are beyond Brehon Law and I shall deem us wed when I wish.” Again, her insides rolled and she steeled herself against a vision of her near future, as wife to Harrold. His bony embrace, his wet kisses from under the scratchy long white beard, his cold hands and bitter heart. She searched her thoughts for a pardon to give him. “I ask that you take pause with me. I have been wife to Borda and must amend my thoughts as wife to you.” She let him know the muddle she was feeling and kept all else secret. Harrold narrowed his eyes at her. “I see you be willing.” And said further, “Therefore, I grant you three sunrises. Then, we shall be wed and that eve, you come to my chamber to lay with me.” “Sygtryg and Borda shall be released?” “I release them the morn after.” Magaith reached out to him with her mind to make sure his words be truth. She sensed a cold wall of evil and knew no more than the malice in his heart. “This be settled.” The wizard turned to go and then looked back at her over his shoulder. “I command you, do not seek aid from Torgaad.” “Is it, you fear his power be greater than your own?”
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His eyes were as black holes. “If I did not desire you so, I would see you to the otherworld in this moment.” “If you wish me as wife, you must take my tongue as it is.” “Do not forget I could take your tongue and yet, have you as wife.” Another rush of cold befell her. He would do this and more. Much more. Harrold pulled his cloak around him and went out through the draperies.
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Chapter Nine She had three sunrises to find a remedy to the spells. If not, Harrold could nightly make her suffer his foul embrace and Sygtryg would remain changed, forever lost to her. It did seem, their fate together be set in great darkness. Her mother entered Borda’s sleeping chamber and came to the bedside of the ailing king. “He looks fair.” “Harrold did lift his spell.” “Your worry be lessened.” Magaith struggled to keep her voice calm. “In this, it be so.” “You will stay at Cashel fortress a while longer.” Imagael leaned down and put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “And we shall find a remedy for Sygtryg.” “Harrold spoke to me of releasing the knight horse from the spell.” “Is it, he seeks profit from you in return?” Magaith stood up and whispered, “The gain he seeks is to wed me.” Her eyes grew wide and Imagael cried out, “Never shall you wed him!” “I must agree. For if I do not, all Munster clan shall suffer from the same spell given Borda.” “All of Munster depart from this world before I see you wed him!” “Is it not my duty to protect our clan? And I wish my Sygtryg be restored. Unless I know him man once more, I cannot ever be content.” “There be a while before the wedlock take place. We shall find a way from this.” “I be granted three sunrises. Then, I must wed him.” Imagael closed her eyes. “Nay. Nay. Nay.” “At present, I know not what else to do.” “Go to Torgaad.” Her mother patted her arm. “He shall show the way.” “Harrold did forewarn me, not to seek out Torgaad.” www.samhainpublishing.com
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“He did not forewarn me. And so, I shall go.” Magaith drew her mother away from the mattress where Borda lay. Softly, she said, “Harrold will know you see Torgaad.” “He shall not if you set a shield about me and let him see I go to gather herbs and roots for potions.” “I shall speak to him of a loving cup you prepare for me.” Magaith took pause and then asked, “What is it, you tell my father? I be heavy of heart with these falsehoods.” “We must stay truth from Bascogne to keep him safe.” Imagael took her daughter’s hands. “And to shield your aim from this wizard.” “He must not know the truth.” “Without end, be on watch.” “With all my power, it be so.” “I go now for my linen and to speak to Bascogne.” Gripping tight Magaith’s hands, Imagael said, “If I do not return before the third sunrise, you must not wed him.” “Do not speak so. You shall be here.” “If I am not, make this promise to me. Put off the vows until I return. Use your powers to sway Harrold.” “My powers against that of a wizard?” “Your powers as woman with man. Lay kisses upon him. Hold him near and speak of your affection.” His thin lips upon hers, harsh beard cutting into her tender skin. His breath fetid and his reedy arms tight around her. His coarse hands slipping under her tunic, upon her breasts. Gripping and grabbing. Her insides rolled and churned. If she had eaten a morning meal, it would have left her. “I do not wish to ever be in his bony embrace or taste his sour bearded kisses. I further envision his cold hands and am overcome. I will not allow his lips or hands upon me.” “If you wed him, this shall happen forever more.” “I cannot do it, mother.” She closed her eyes as she said, “And would rather see myself to the otherworld.”
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“I leave you a potion that you not suffer as you hold him in your arms.” Imagael pressed her daughter’s hands and proffered a slight smile. “Know I return swiftly.” Magaith watched her go from the sleeping chamber and then looked down upon the warrior king in sleep. If this be the man she was obliged to lay with, she could do it. But to bed the dark wizard, she could not bear such suffering and would rather the spell of oozing dark lumps upon her. She went after her mother to collect the potion. “This be a hearty brew for strength and courage. A few drops shall aid you.” Taking the flask from Imagael, she tied it to her belt. As they embraced, Magaith wished her a safe journey and then went out to the king’s stables, making her way to the last stall. The knight horse was pawing at the straw spread over the earth. She stroked his white snout and throat. “Even as such, you be most pleasing, dear knight. Pure white as a snow. Smooth and soft as tapestry.” Sygtryg whinnied and shook his large head. “Fine head and form, striking to behold. And I would deem, precious to ride.” The knight horse nudged her shoulder, a deep rumble sounded in his throat. “Shall we ride over the hills?” The horse raised his head, up and down. “You be willing! I shall search out reins and a stool.” The steed she rode was always clad and ready for her, so she went to the first stall in the stables to find the tack. She came back with bridled reins, placing them in his mouth and over his head. Using the stool, she lifted a leg over him and slid onto his bare back. He shifted under her, stepping back and forth. She knew this happening be fresh for him and took pause until he was calm. Reaching forward, Magaith patted his neck. “Ready, Sygtryg. We ride.” She led him through the stable passageway, out into the sunshine. There he whinnied and snorted, and she let him sniff at the light wind. As he calmed, she shook the reins and
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the knight horse trotted through the courtyard, past the sentry knights and down the hillside. When they reached the field below, he began a fast trot. It was not long before he was in a full gallop. The strong body took the run with grace and ease; she fairly flew over the land as his white mane streamed out behind his grand head, held high to the wind. To keep her place, she was made to clasp tight on the reins and clutch at his sides with her legs. She thrilled at the powerful movements of his horse shape, his flanks bulging and hind tightening under her. His strides were quick and long, his hooves beat as thunder bursts upon the ground, each jolt coursing up through her. As she rubbed against his back, a searing heat flared in her belly. Her hands flowed over his soft flanks, her fingers danced over the ripples of muscle. She arched up over him pulling up on her tunic, eager for his nearness. The knight horse galloped on, her body hot as a flaming fire and when she could no longer bear it, she drew back on the reins and the knight horse reared. Her world exploded and then shrank to simple warmth and peace. All her contentment flowed to the knight horse as she laid herself on him, put her lips to his smooth neck and draped her arms over his shoulders. A rumble sounded in his throat and kept on until she sat up. Then he whinnied and rose up on hind feet, pawing at the air and she clung tight to the reins. The knight was pleased with her upon him and proud he could make her so content. They be as one again and her heart was joyous. His great strength was plain, his pleasure known. “Soon, we be together.” She patted his neck. “My mother did go to seek aid from Torgaad and you shall be made man, once more.” As they rode back to the fortress, she kept secret the dark wizard’s desire for her as wife. Sygtryg could do naught as horse but he would be told if Torgaad could not prevent her wed vow to Harrold. It was growing dark when they returned to the stables. She was humming as she brushed down the knight horse, when Harrold entered the stall. She paid no heed and kept to her brushing.
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Harrold came to her side. “I cast this spell upon the knight to make you not content.” She faced the wizard, anger burning in her heart. “My knight protector be no longer man and you believe me content in this?” “I know you be content.” Magaith inclined her head, that the harsh breaths from her words be upon his face. “You be in a grave muddle, wizard. I be not content. This knight be noble and worthy, not deserving of this spell.” She went to speak further of the looming wed vow and took pause, Sygtryg must not know of it. “And,” she searched for another thought. “Borda be spelled and not deserving of it. And you know me as content?” “Your words be truth.” The black stone eyes narrowed. “But I know you speak falsehoods.” “How is it, I speak truth and false together?” He put his hand upon her arm. “I shall bring to light what you keep from me.” She withdrew her arm as if touched by flame and spat out, “A wizard of darkness can bring naught to light!” “In a battle with words, you may gain for a brief time. But in the end, my powers conquer all. That you should harken to, as when your mother’s tongue be loose.” “You deem to counsel me, yet you possess no wisdom. In truth, naught else be in your realm but black spells and the threat of such spells.” “Still, my desires be fulfilled,” he said, his eyes gleaming as wet stones. Her insides fluttered as though she swallowed a live bird. The wizard spoke to remind her of his aim to bed her as wife. And she could not speak further, Sygtryg must not know of the wizard’s desire and aim. “You learn to keep your tongue, at last.” The corners of his mouth curled up. “This does please me, daughter to a king.” The knight horse snorted, shook his head and kicked at straw. Setting his hands upon his sides, Harrold let out a high-pitched giggle. “As you obey and I be content in it, this stallion is not pleased.”
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Sygtryg reared up, his fore legs thrashing in the air and his hooves came down upon the wizard’s brow. Harrold fell back into the straw and lay still, a wound to his forehead poured blood. The knight horse reared up once more, his legs battering at the air. “Nay!” Magaith called out. “Take pause Sygtryg, for this wizard alone can undo your spell!” The horse whinnied and set his hooves into the straw. “I fear,” she said in a low voice. “Harrold shall strike back for this.” She placed her hands under the mouth of the knight horse and looked into his eyes. “You must be away from here.” A deep rumble sounded in his throat. “It be best if you go to Torgaad.” The horse shook his head, back and forth. “You must be away,” she said as she took off his reins and bridle. “At Torgaad’s cave, make sounds to tell him you be there and wish entry. When the firebird comes down and lights the pyre, gallop through the flame. You shall be safe.” The deep rumble sounded as the knight horse nudged her cheek. “I set a shield about you, so Harrold will not know your place on the journey.” She kissed his nose. “Go now, before the wizard awakes.” She led him from the stables, her hand under his chin. In the courtyard, she hugged his neck and then patted his side. “Go now, Sygtryg.” He lowered his head and set his hooves in place. She nudged him on his flank. “Go now.” He stayed firm. She spoke softly. “I shall never give up hope for you to be regained as man and we be together. It must be that you depart, lest the wizard settle this score and send you with a spell to the otherworld.” His head remained low, his hooves set firm.
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“Sygtryg,” she began, searching for a way to give him surety of her safety. “This wizard shall not harm me. This be full truth. In my great affection for you, I seek to be with you forever and will not bring this hope to an end.” The stallion nudged her cheek with his snout. “Swiftly now. Go.” The knight horse raised his head into the wind and took off at a gallop. She watched the dust swirl up behind him and he went down the crest of the hill, from sight. Magaith looked back at the stables. The wizard would press her to release the shield she set around Sygtryg to keep him hidden. She must be stronger and more spirited than ever. She went to Harrold. His face was covered in blood, his eyes closed. She kneeled at his side and picked up his hand. It was cold and damp. She sensed his spirit ebbing from his body and was muddled. He could go to the otherworld and she be glad of it. But if that should happen, the spells cast by the wizard would keep on, with Sygtryg lost forever as horse and Borda withering on his bed. Alas, she was not learned in the ways of healing or remedies and could not aid Harrold. Remembering her mother’s potion for strength, Magaith loosened the flask from her belt and removed the stopper. With one hand, she tilted the wizard’s head. With the other, she set the flask to his lips and slowly poured the brew into his mouth. When the potion was used up, she lowered his head to the straw and tugged her veil free from the clasp. She folded the silk and wrapped it around his wound, tying it in place. After that, she ripped away the bottom of her linen tunic and wiped at the wet blood on his face and neck, the white beard and hair stained red. The wizard’s cloak was soaked with blood and she pushed it from his shoulders, easing it into a pillow behind his head. She picked up his hand again. Cold and damp. She released his hand and went to sit on the other side of the stall that she be removed from his nearness but could watch him for signs of worsening. If simple fate should take him, she would be free of his desires and Eire free of his immoral spells. As it
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be, the dark wizard did weave a web so tight he must live and she was obliged to serve him in healing. She wished to cry and moan against the plot spun so fixed. For if he lived, she should be wretched and if he should die, she would be the same. She must be strong for her beloved knight, and bring a remedy to bear or Sygtryg would be lost forever. With one more look at the fallen wizard, she left the stall and went out into the courtyard. There she called for a nearby sentry knight. As he approached, she said, “I bid you, find the knight Glunn and bring him here to me.” The knight bowed to her and then ran across the yard to the knight’s quarters. She heard vague shouts and then Glunn was walking with haste toward the king’s stables. He bowed and upon rising, said, “My lady, you did ask for me.” “Go now with haste to Cashel town and return with the healer. Take a torch to light the way as you return. Be in no doubt she carries her herb bundle.” He eyed her carefully. “You be not well?” Magaith took pause and then answered, “The healer is for Borda’s brother, Harrold. He lies near the otherworld from a wound to his brow.” “I shall ride swift and sure.” Then he turned from her and ran across the courtyard to the knight’s stables. As she looked on, a young groom led out a black stallion and the knight leapt upon the horse with a torch in hand. He glanced over at her and with a nod of his head, rode off at a gallop. The dust swirled up behind and Magaith was reminded of Sygtryg. It did seem an age since he had galloped off. It was, in truth, not long ago at all. The young groom was standing outside the knight stables and she called to him. “I wish to speak to you.” The boy came to her. “Go to the servant’s quarters. Ask that water, towels and bowls for washing be brought to the king’s stables. Ask also for a table and oil lamps, clean linens, mead, goblets and honey cakes wrapped in cloth.” The boy bowed and ran to the fortress.
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She turned back to the king’s stables. Her belly churned at attending the dark wizard when she despised every measure of him. All in Eire be pleased if he be lost to the otherworld. She took pause. If she be drawn into full judgment of him, it may become agreeable for her to heap level upon level of judgment on others until at the last, she be as cruel and heartless as Harrold. She went to him with a forced good spirit. He lay still, the silk around his head sopping scarlet with fresh blood. Fear rose up in her the healer might arrive too late and any good fortune for her beloved be lost with Harrold’s passing to the otherworld. She began pacing the small stall. How long to Cashel village from the fortress? How long before the knight Glunn find the healer? How long for two to ride a stallion up the hills, back to the fortress in the black of night with a torch to light the way? How able the healer in herbs and potions to mend such a wound? Magaith stopped. Is it, I should call my mother to return at once to Cashel fortress to heal the wound and thereby, be given surety Harrold shall live to regain Sygtryg as man? But in so doing, forgo knowing Torgaad’s wisdom for breaking from the wed vow to Harrold? In the dim light, she looked upon the shadowed wizard lying still on the straw. No matter the outcome, if he went to the otherworld or stayed in this one, her future held naught but doom. When two knights carried a table into the stall, Magaith asked a sentry be on watch for Glunn arriving with the healer from Cashel. Servants came then with lighted oil lamps, jugs of fresh water, clean towels and silver bowls. She ordered the lamps and washing utensils set on one side of the table. Other servants brought folded linens, mead in jugs, goblets and a basket of cakes wrapped in cloth. These were placed on the table
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and then the servants bowed to the king’s daughter and made to leave. Magaith asked one servant remain to carry away the soiled towels and linens. She set about removing the red-soaked silk from the wizard’s head and washing the blood from his face. She rinsed the dried pink stain from his beard and hair. Gently, she lifted his head and passed the bloodied cloak to the servant in waiting. She lay a bundle of towels under Harrold’s head and then signaled the servant to take the stained linens from the stables. The wound on the wizard’s brow continued to seep so Magaith laid a folded piece of linen over it and wrapped a cloth tight about his head. Taking up his hand once more, she saw no change in the cold and damp of it. What a fool she was, for earlier thinking solely the wizard would force her to reveal Sygtryg to him and not of the direst of outcomes, the black wizard passing to the otherworld. She must find a remedy and swiftly. Once more, she took a place on the straw across the stable from Harrold. Is it in my power to spell this wizard to healing? Magaith cleared her thoughts and readied herself. She set her mind to his wound under the silk and saw it clot until the red no longer flowed. She envisioned his weak thin body and her insides heaved. She tried to push the disgust from her mind and set her feelings aside, thinking of his body well and strong, the wound healed. After a while, she went to him and took up his hand. It remained cold and damp. She let his hand drop into the straw, went to the table and poured a goblet of mead, drinking the whole of it down. She poured another measure and took the goblet with her as she sat in the straw. This time, she drank little by little as she watched the wizard. He kept still, not a twitch of his limbs or a flutter of his eye. His breathing seemed labored, his chest barely lifted with a breath. His skin was as white as his beard, he looked like a banshee. A giggle rose up inside her. She put a hand to her mouth to stifle the sound for this setting did not deserve such manner. But the giggle seemed beyond her command. It grew and grew from small tittering at first, to guffaws that she clamped her lips against. The more she tried to stop
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the sound, the more the laughter burst forth and she giggled until tears streamed from her eyes. As she wiped at them with the back of her hand, she was overcome with shame. All would be lost for Sygtryg, if this dark wizard go to the otherworld. If her mother be there, she would heal the wizard. And if her father had not long ago sent her mother away, she too would have the gift of healing and would not need to wait upon another to aid her. A sudden wave of anger sprang forth as she had no power in this and the wizard must be healed. He must not go to the otherworld. More precious than her own destiny was Sygtryg be regained as man. The wizard must live. Magaith shouted, “Torgaad! This dark wizard must live! It matters not that he does wish to take me as wife, I shall do as I must that Sygtryg might be regained! Harrold must live! Torgaad!” And her head drooped down, aid might come too late. Then there was a noise of shouting in the courtyard. She opened her eyes, she had fallen into sleep. Jumping up, she went over to the wizard. As before, his skin was pale and his chest barely lifted. She let out a deep breath, he lived yet. A knight came to the stall. “My lady, the healer be here.” “Send her to me.” Magaith smoothed her hair, picking out bits of straw. She pressed the front of her tunic with her hands, barely aware of the shortened torn hem. The healer entered the stall. “You wish me attend, my lady?” She wore a sackcloth tunic and a threadbare cloak. Her eyes were dark, her hair grey and her skin brown. “There,” Magaith said, pointing to Harrold. “He be wounded and his spirit ebb.” The old woman went to his side and began unwinding the linen wrapping around his head. “Bring the lamp that I might best see the wound.” Magaith carried the oil lamp near the healer, set it on flattened straw and looked on as the red-soaked linens were taken from the wound.
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The woman leaned over the still man, saying, “I shall make a compress to lessen the flow. Bring me fresh cold water and a clean cloth.” As the healer opened her herb bundle, Magaith poured water into a silver bowl and picked up a piece of folded linen. She laid these beside the woman and watched, as herbs were chosen and sprinkled on the linen. The woman folded the linen further, set the parcel in the bowl of water until it was wet, and then laid the compress over the wound. “More cloth for wrapping,” she said. Magaith fetched more linen from the table and handed it to the woman, who set about securing the compress. With that done, the healer reached into her bundle and took out a few flasks. She looked over at Magaith. “How long since he be as this?” “From early eve.” “How many red-soaked wrappings did you take from his wound?” “Two.” The healer selected two flasks and one by one, poured them into Harrold’s mouth. Then she collected her belongings, tied her bundle and sat down beside him. “Shall he be well?” Magaith asked. The old woman shrugged. “We must take pause to see if it be so.” “He must live!” Magaith shrieked, a surge of despair bursting from her lips. “Heal him, however you are able! He must live!” A wind blew through the stables. Magaith felt the draft blow over her as if she stood upon the hillcrest on a winter night. The old woman rubbed her arms and pulled her thin cloak tighter. As Magaith looked on, she saw a white haze form over the straw where she earlier sat. Gradually, Torgaad came clear. Small of body with enormous head and ears, a hooked and bulbous nose, and overlarge lipped mouth. Masses of coarse orange hair stuck out in tufts. He was bare of feet and wearing a simple brown wool tunic. In the lamplight, he looked upon her with brilliant green eyes, glittering as gems in the sun. “Daughter to Imagael, you call for me to aid Harrold.” “Torgaad, I be most grateful for your aid!”
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The healer spoke. “I be pleased to see you at last, great lough wizard.” Torgaad lifted his hand to her. She became as if covered in ice, stopped still with her mouth open and eyes wide. He then turned to Magaith. “Prepare, for next you know, Harrold shall be well once more.” “For this, I am most obliged to you.” “I ask that you not speak of me to the dark wizard til you know it be right.” “My oath, it shall be so.” “And I spell this healer,” he waved his hand at the old woman, “to not recall this happening.” Then he looked upon Magaith. “Is it, you know what you craft by keeping this dark wizard from the otherworld?” “Solely, Sygtryg may be regained.” With a deep sigh, he said, “The fates be changed by your wish.” “And Sygtryg? Is it, his fate be changed?” “This, I cannot see. The dark wizard does hold the spell and he can solely lift it.” “Is the knight horse with you?” “He doth journey to Kincora, now.” “Shall my wed vow be stopped? Do you know a way, Torgaad?” “The fates be changed. Thus, all is changed. I must see if this can be so.” “Again, I be obliged to you.” “Now, in a blink of your own eye, Harrold shall be well.”
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Chapter Ten She heard words. Mumbled, angry words. Magaith looked over at the dark wizard. His eyes were open and his brows furrowed as he stared at her. She felt a cold shiver through her body. “I am near to the otherworld and your knight horse has done this to me.” His mouth had not moved. His words were heard in her head. “I bring all aid to you,” she said aloud and from her loss of Sygtryg, brought a feeling of sorrow to bear that she allowed him to see. “I would not have you leave me.” His mouth dropped open and she saw a white coating on the pink of his tongue. His thoughts came to her. “I did not believe you would come to have affection for me.” “I be so full of fear you go to the otherworld.” She hid her disgust and showed him solely sorrow in her thoughts. “I cannot wait until we wed so I may reveal my great affection.” “Come here beside me,” she heard inside her head. She said to the healer, “We be obliged. You may leave us now.” The woman picked up her bundle. “To sup is all I ask.” “You shall sup and more. Go to the servants quarters, you shall find mead and meat there. Take a mattress by the fire, if you wish. I shall see you have ample recompense.” “I be most obliged to you, my lady,” the healer said and left the stall. Magaith went to the dark wizard and laid her head upon his chest, careful she showed him feelings of affection. She shielded her hopeful thoughts of a delay in the wed vow as Harrold be not well enough. And of Torgaad, that he find a way to prevent the wed vow. When she could bear her head upon his chest no longer, she said, “I go now to bring knights to take you to your sleeping chamber. You must be made restful.” 130
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As she rose up, he grabbed her hand. “If this wound did cause you to know your affection for me, I would wish it again, a thousand times over for you to feel for me as you do.” She set a smile upon her lips. “I would not ever wish you harm.” He let her hand go and lay back in the straw, his eyes bright in his ashen face. Magaith left the stall and made her way through the stables, out into the dark of the courtyard. She breathed in deep, filling herself with freshness, free of his smell of sour skin and dried blood. With no cloak, she shivered in the cool night air and set her arms about her. As yet, she had no desire to go in search of knights to carry the wizard to his chamber. She wanted to rid herself of the presence of him. Then she turned and looked at the stables. Alas, she had not kept a shield around these thoughts and he might know she sought to be away from him. And had no affection for him. All be lost, if this be so! And she reached out to him with her mind, searching for his thoughts. He be in sleep. She crumbled to the earth and made a vow, forever to be on watch. In his presence or not, she must take care. Precious care. The way of falsehoods be not kin to her but she must strive to keep a shield against her musing and stay all erstwhile thoughts. She went in search of Glunn. At the knights’ quarters, she sent in the young groom to bring him to her. “It be late, my lady.” He had the twinkle in his eyes. “No good shall come from asking for me at this hour of night.” “I be weary of your jests. Gather a party to take the Connacht King’s brother, Harrold, from the king’s stables to his sleeping chamber.” His face solemn, he bowed and turned from her, going back inside to rouse other knights. She made to go back to sleep near Sygtryg but on the way to the stables, recalled his flight to Torgaad and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. She went to her own chamber, hopeful he now be safe in Kincora and put on her sleeping tunic, falling fast into sleep.
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In the dark of night, she heard a whisper from her curtain and called out, “Who goes there?” A shadow moved from the draperies, into the moonlight from her high window. “Tis I, the knight Glunn.” She sat up. “You have a message?” A bare whisper. “My lady, I ask for a moment to speak.” “Harrold ails?” “I beg for your pardon, my lady. Harrold does not ail.” “Speak, then.” “My manner is coarse and unseemly from years away from my clan, in hiding.” “This be mid of night and to speak suchly, a morning hour would suit better.” He stepped closer. “I know you be not content and of sorrow. I wish to aid you.” Lying back upon the mattress, she shook her head. “You did aid me well this eve.” She heard a rustling sound and as she turned on her side, saw him near the bed. She closed her eyes. “My lady,” he whispered. She did not answer, feigning sleep. He would go when she had no words for him. He came to her bedside. “My lady.” A judgment came to her. If it be known to Harrold that she did take this knight to her bed, he would not wish to wed her and then release Sygtryg in his hatred of her. If he did not, she would find a way to regain her beloved. But she would not wed Harrold. She pushed the coverlet from her body and writhed about as if in sleep. The moonlight would give him good vantage so she let the tunic drop from her shoulders and crawl up her thighs. She sighed deeply and waited. His fingers barely chafed her thigh, stroking the soft, soft skin. In half sleep, she saw Sygtryg behind her closed eyelids and moaned, the flame igniting in her depths. The top of her tunic was lowered by his hand and when she knew her breasts were bare to him in the dim light, a wanton desire took her over. She extended her chest outward, seeking the touch to her breasts that fanned the flame to fire. His hand
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cupped one breast and then the other. She moaned and his mouth came down on a nipple, sucking and licking her to great pleasure until he withdrew. She took in a breath, she wanted more. His mouth lowered on her other nipple and suckled until she groaned and writhed. Then, no more. She lay in full heat, wanting him to touch her further. Then, his mouth settled over a nipple as his hand slid to her wetness, caressing her. She opened her legs to him. His fingers slipped inside her, his thumb on her swollen nub, rubbing. The sparks began, popping behind her closed lids as wet wood on a fire. Then he was beside her, unclothed. He had pulled off his tunic. She did not want him to lay with her, merely to give pleasure and so make the dark wizard angry. He lowered himself over her. She reached up and pushed him to the mattress. “What be your desire, my lady?” His tone was desperate. “Naught else, knight.” “I be in need of more.” She felt a jostling from him and looked over in the moonlight to see his hand doing what she would not. “Leave me now.” He rose from the mattress, pulled on his tunic and went out. She breathed in her willful lust and savored it. With his sharp wizard eye, Harrold would see what she had done and while wed to Borda. She be not a woman to hold faith or trust in, Harrold would leave her wed to a cuckold. Next she knew, sunlight streamed through the high small window. Her raven was there. “Awake, awake.” She sat up on her mattress. “I be awake, speak.” “A king be gone.” Clack. Clack. “Who be this king?” “Borda be gone.” Cluck. “Borda has returned to Castlestrange?”
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Caw. Caw. “The dark heart did take him.” “Harrold took Borda away?” “Borda is to the otherworld.” Clack. Clack. A great sadness came over her. Not for the loss of husband but for the loss of a worthy king to Connacht clan and a protector from Harrold. She recalled the promise given to spare Borda. “Harrold did pledge a divorce to me!” Cluck. “Falsehood.” “And the dark wizard’s word Sygtryg be changed after our wed vow?” “Falsehood.” Cluck. She muttered to herself, “What shall I do?” Caw. Caw. “Be of care or you be gone.” “Harrold has great affection for me!” Clack. Clack. “The dark wizard be bitter with your truth.” Magaith fell back onto the mattress. Did the eve before with Glunn bring this about? She put her face into the pillow and released great wrenching sobs that took her whole body. Tears streamed from her eyes and wet her hair. Her nose ran and she reached for the torn dress at her bedside and wiped at her face. At last, the sobs turned into heaving sighs and she set her mind to keeping safe and soon, uniting with Sygtryg. The more she tried to think, the more certain she became that Harrold did place a trap so potent, she was firmly snared. No matter that she took a knight to her bed for her pleasure. What had she done? She covered her face with her hands, the smell of Harrold’s dried blood and sour flesh came to her. She withdrew them in haste. Why did she not wash the smells away before she lay with the knight? She felt the deep red of shame heat her face and chest. Then she quelled it with more pressing matters, there seemed no prospect of freedom for Sygtryg or herself with the death of Borda. And as she was not skilled at falsehoods and plots, there was a likelihood she would craft Harrold’s wrath and thus, be not breathing by summer’s end.
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Magaith remembered the night before when Torgaad told her the fates be changed as Harrold lived. He had said, “You know what you do by keeping Harrold from the otherworld?” And she replied, “Solely, Sygtryg may be regained.” Torgaad then said, “The fates be changed.” It came to her then, the full import of what she had done. As Harrold lay dying, she had thought solely of Sygtryg’s changed fortune. In her fierce desperation, she had ended Borda’s fate. And it seemed, she had crafted the fate of all Eire under the dark wizard. She had not considered Torgaad’s warning. Once again, she had been a fool. She did not possess the power to challenge Harrold. And it seemed, she possessed no wisdom to plan her own destiny. She had surely changed the destiny of all Eire in her judgment that Harrold live. Bleak despair took her over. And she saw no wisdom in ever rising from her bed. She gave word no one was to come to her sleeping chamber, save her mother when she should return. She sensed Harrold’s cold mind attempting to glimpse her thoughts and she let him see a jumble of words and great pain with despair. She refused her father’s request to see her or for the healer to aid her and sent the old woman away from her chamber. When servants brought washbasins, jugs of heated water, clean towels and laundered clothing, Magaith did not allow passage and turned them away at her curtains. When bowls of food, honey cakes and jugs of mead were brought to her, she waved them away and asked for water. And later, she called only for a servant to attend to her chamber pot, all others were denied entry. That night, she dreamed of Borda on their wed vow day. A halo shone around his head, so bright, gold lights were in his hair. The dark blue of his eyes were shining with full joy. His skin gleamed as river stone and was as smooth. She yearned to touch his fine-looking face with her fingertips, glide her hands over his taut velvety arms and have him gaze into her eyes with his joyous light. And then, Magaith awakened to the dank sour smells of her bed and turned her face into her pillow.
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The next morning, she woke content with the vile odors of her body and bed linens. During her waking moments, she staved off all thoughts until she felt hollow and her mind barren. She was without wishes or desires, taking only to sleep and sips of water from a goblet at her bedside. During that eve, she dreamed of Sygtryg outside the earthdrake’s lair. He spoke to her, his voice rough with passion and upon hearing his tone, heat coursed through her body. She went to him and she pressed against his chest, tilting her head. He took her in his strong arms and kissed her with his soft mouth. Tingling surged through her and her hands grasped at his hair, so pleasing. Then he moved hard against her mouth, his tongue touched hers and her heat grew to a blaze. His arms drew her body up against him and she felt his yearning for her. Suddenly, he pulled away and holding her by the hands, looked into her eyes. “I wish it be, to hear your voice and see your sweet face always.” His eyes were dark and steady. “I wish to hold you close as this for evermore.” And her heart, body and soul cried out for him in her sleep. Her sleeping became as her waking, a black chasm of sorrow. Another day passed, perchance two days, when she opened her eyes in the morning light and saw her mother sitting near. “My daughter, is this how it shall be? Languishing on your bed until you go to the otherworld? I brewed a potion for you to rise and be well.” Magaith’s dry lips parted, she wet them with her tongue and whispered, “There be no aim to my healing.” “Your soul is sorrowful.” “It is that all is lost.” “This may not be so. Torgaad did find a way from the wed vow.” Magaith struggled to lift her head and lay back upon the pillow. “Speak to me.” “When you are well,” her mother said and placing a hand behind Magaith’s head, held a flask to her lips. “Drink this, now.” Magaith turned her head. “Speak to me of the way, I must know.”
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Her mother sighed. “The old laws avow a wizard may not wed a witch. Therefore, a Brehon judge has been called to make a decree on the wed promise.” “Harrold shall spell the judge.” “From the first vision, Torgaad set a shield to protect this judge from Harrold.” Imagael lifted the flask. “Drink.” “Take pause,” Magaith said. “If I do not wed Harrold, what of Sygtryg?” “If you do wed Harrold, he shall not keep his promise to release Sygtryg as he did not with Borda. We shall find a way to aid Sygtryg. For now, he is safe with Torgaad.” “He be safe but not man.” “Torgaad shall find a way to cause Harrold to release the spell.” Imagael lifted the flask, saying, “You must be made well. Drink.” “Harrold’s word is false. All is lost.” “It seems so now. The blackest night is ever followed by the rising of the sun.” “I be without hope for the morrow.” “Trust in me.” Imagael kissed her daughter’s brow. “Drink.” She looked into her mother’s dark beseeching eyes. Such great affection and gentleness flowed from them, a feeling of comfort and ease took Magaith over. And so, she sipped the potion until the flask was empty. With care, Imagael laid her daughter’s head back on the pillow. “Harrold shall prevail over all,” Magaith murmured and fell into sleep. Imagael took up a limp pale hand from the blanket and held it between her own. The spirit of her daughter faded until her will was spent and she declined in strength. There seemed no path to restore her hope and contentment. A rage bubbled up inside her for the dark wizard had crafted this dark web of which there be no hope. She shivered as a draft passed through her. Harrold’s cold eye was upon them. In a low voice, Bascogne called then from the drapery at the chamber entry. “Wife, I be fearful and must know, when shall our daughter be well?” Imagael set Magaith’s hand upon the blanket, got up and went to the curtains. “She be of low spirit, still. Harrold did cause her to ail.”
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“He will soon be King of Connacht. Magaith shall wed him and all shall be content.” Her brows twisted. “You believe this wizard a worthy husband to our daughter?” “I know naught of wizards.” Bascogne waved his hand and then set bright eyes upon his wife. “Harrold seeks to be High King of Eire and our daughter shall bear him sons and be quean to him. Her sons shall rule the kingdom Eire!” She looked hard upon his eyes bright with passion and saw his simple thoughts of power and gain. Her husband was spelled by Harrold. “Truth,” Imagael said, taking care in her words. “She might be quean to Eire and wife to Harrold and yet, be not content.” His face became as stone. “She be Quean of Eire, her first born son shall be high king after Harrold and you speak to me of our daughter’s contentment?” “I be not wise in matters of crown and rule.” She put her hand on his arm, there be no worth in battle against the spell upon him. “I shall take your lead in this.” “It is a noble path to be Quean of Eire.” “Our daughter be most worthy.” “Heal her swiftly. Harrold seeks the wed vow, soon.” A sickening swell of loathing came over her. And not solely for Harrold. She tried to release the growing hatred for her husband, it was not his own weakness. He was spelled. “I shall do all I am able,” she replied. “I begin preparations this day. The gathering of honey for cakes and mead, fowl and game hunts. Cheeses must be made and breads baked.” Bascogne rubbed his hands. “It shall be a great wed vow celebration.” She could merely nod. “I shall have fine silk weaved into a wed tunic and veil for our daughter.” “That is fitting.” Imagael forced the words from her lips. “Perchance, I should bid the attendance of the King of Ulster. And the King of Leinster.” “In a gesture of peace.”
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“As a step for Harrold to be High King of Eire.” He rubbed his hands once more. “Such contentment I possess!” “Attend to your plans and preparations, I shall stay with Magaith.” “Restore her swiftly,” Bascogne said, parted the drapes and was gone. Imagael went to her daughter’s side and looked upon her in sleep. It seemed, the graven powerful blackness Magaith felt sweeping through her life, had come to claim her father. And Imagael saw it would claim her too, if she did not find a means to end it. The spells cast upon those at Cashel fortress was solely the beginning.
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Chapter Eleven Imagael called for Torgaad. She could not sense his reply and again called for him. Magaith opened her eyes. “Come nearer to me.” When her mother had taken a place on the mattress close to her, she whispered, “Harrold does thwart your message.” She leaned down to her daughter’s ear. “Is it, you are able to call Torgaad?” “Harrold prevail over all.” “This cannot be so.” “All is lost.” “You be not well and know not of what you speak.” “All is lost to a graven powerful blackness.” Imagael sat back and gazed into her daughter’s face. She might not be well but knew of what she spoke. “Rest.” She watched Magaith close her eyes and laid down beside her, wishing for dreamless sleep. It did not come and she lay awake with dark thoughts of Harrold. Later that morning, Imagael had hushed servants bring basins, heated water and towels. She sprinkled scented water on a dampened cloth and dabbed her daughter’s ashen face and neck. She removed the sodden sleeping tunic and wiped the sour smells and filth from Magaith’s arms and chest. She slipped a laundered tunic over the frail body and then lay a fresh blanket over her. The basins, dirty towels, blanket and tunic were taken quietly away. At the last, she had honey cakes and mead brought to the chamber for when her daughter fully woke, and took position on a nearby stool to wait. Glunn came to the sleeping chamber curtain and with lowered voice, called for Imagael. “The Brehon judge is here and wishes to speak with you.” “Tell him, I be with my daughter who ails.” His brows creased. “Shall she recover?” 140
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“It is my dearest hope.” Imagael glanced back at her daughter lying still on the mattress. “I do as I am able for her.” “I shall speak to the judge.” She heard his footfalls as he left and thought of the Brehon judge. Should she tell him her daughter be a witch as she be a witch? Thus so, putting an end to the wed vow. Or would Magaith wither more at this, knowing Harrold would then never release Sygtryg from the spell? She did not know the answer and was grateful not to see the judge. Glunn came back to the sleeping chamber curtain and with lowered voice, called out again for Imagael. “I know a way to keep Magaith from wedlock with the wizard.” “How is it, you know of Harrold and my daughter?” “Am I not a spy?” Imagael looked at him. “Speak of your remedy.” “If she be wed to me, she cannot wed Harrold.” “When my daughter is recovered, you may ask her.” “You may judge for her.” He looked over at Magaith lying asleep on the mattress. “She need not be well to wed.” Imagael fought down the bile rising in her throat. “That be not moral.” “She does not wish to marry Harrold.” Her eyes narrowed. “You do not speak of affection for Magaith.” “My troth be of the same worth to Magaith as to me.” He smiled. “She shall be free of the wizard and I will be wed to the king’s daughter.” “You speak full truth, I grant you.” Imagael swallowed against the sour taste in her mouth. “I tell you this, my daughter shall not wed you.” “Perchance, she shall.” He shrugged, his eyes twinkling and then his gaze went to Magaith on the bed. “She did lay with me.” Imagael coughed at the bile in her throat. Glunn went on. “As her mother, you judge. Shall she be wed to me? Or the wizard?” Her eyes hard, Imagael replied, “It is not for me to judge.”
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“It be a blunder, not to bring the priest now for the wed vow.” If Magaith not be ailing in the bed nearby, Imagael would have shouted but she kept her voice low. “I would rather she never wed! Go from me.” Glunn tossed his head and smiling like a brigand, went out. Shortly after, the draperies were thrown aside and Harrold strode into the chamber. “Imagael, you decline to see the judge?” “Hush. She sleeps.” Imagael said softly and crept over to the dark wizard. “I stay with Magaith until she recovers. I cannot leave her.” “Speak with the judge that we may wed. I shall stay with Magaith.” “Nay! You did bring this upon her and must leave now.” His eyes became rounded orbs of dull black stone. “I cast no withering spell.” “You devise to have her and she suffers in your snare of darkness.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “Did I not speak to you of this?” “Is your heart so blackened, you cannot wish my daughter contentment?” “When she doth allow my wishes, she shall be content.” “Contentment is found through our own desires, not those of others.” “It be her desire.” He let out a high-pitched sound like a chuckle. “She has professed great affection for me and a longing to be my wife.” Imagael’s mouth dropped open. Could it be, Magaith devised a plan of keeping Munster clan safe by means of wedlock to this vile and cruel wizard? Harrold gave another sly laugh. Imagael felt the room grow small and dim. She grabbed the drape at her side and clung to it. From far away, she heard him say, “This wed vow be not solely my own desire. Her withering has more to do with you not in favor of her wishes.” As the room darkened and she felt her grip loosening on the drape, the sound of screeching laughter reached her ears. She slid to floorboards, with the image of Magaith in the arms of the dark wizard, his vile mouth seeking her sweet lips. And so she said, “Another did ask for her hand.”
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Harrold was standing over her. “Who troth his pledge to wed Magaith? Speak to me! I must know!” The words were pounding at her as she lay on the timber floor. “Who troth his pledge?” Knowing then, her daughter did set a shield over her chamber, Imagael lifted her head. “At last, there be a secret kept from your keen wizard eyes and ears.” *** The sky was robin’s-egg blue and a mild breeze floated her veil behind her shoulders. Magaith sat on a grassy bank of the Lough Derg, the waters lapping near her feet. She glanced at Torgaad, sitting beside her and tossing pebbles in the water. “I shall say to the judge, I have no magic and therefore, I am not a witch.” “This be not truth, daughter to Imagael.” He tossed another stone. “I must speak so, perchance to save another.” “We cannot strive for our desires in falsehood. Does it not make the outcome false?” He placed his small hands in his lap and set sparkling rich green eyes on her. “Our destiny is solely found through truth and truth alone.” “If my intention is to spare another, is it not a moral judgment made in truth?” “Is suffering from a falsehood, moral?” He tossed a pebble. “There be no destiny of contentment, if that be so.” “But if I do not wed Harrold, Sygtryg is surely lost.” She clasped her hands over her heart. “And without him, I desire to go to the otherworld. I am in a dark snare that leaves me with not a glimmer of hope.” “In falsehood, you shall wither in spirit and bear solely suffering till the end.” He gave her a soft smile. “Rely on truth and it shall carry you through with hope, to an outcome of peace.” “I be fearful for another.”
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“To fulfil our destiny, we cannot use falsehoods that betray our spirit.” Torgaad’s powerful deep voice seemed to seep into her bones. “Events must unfold as they shall in truth.” “I know what I am to do.” “Then go now, daughter to Imagael.” Magaith sat bolt upright. She was in her bed, in her sleeping chamber. “Daughter?” She looked over at Imagael, her face twisted with worry as she sat upon a stool near the bed. Magaith sought to soothe her. “Do not fear.” “Are you well?” “Well enough. I know the path to take.” “How can this be?” “I spoke with Torgaad, in a dream.” “You did tell me, ‘Harrold does thwart your message’. Was this to make the wizard believe Torgaad could not be reached?” “I know not of what I spoke.” Magaith put her hand to her brow. “I do not recall much. Words did seem to come forth without my bidding.” “Torgaad. I knew he would not abandon us.” Imagael took a place on the mattress with her daughter. “Speak, what is the path to take?” “Full truth. We must say to the judge, I am a witch and daughter to a witch.” “You may lose Sygtryg forever.” “I must not be swayed by my own notions or judgments.” “This be a dire challenge.” “In an attempt to guide through our own desires,” Magaith began, choosing her words with care. “We believe we bring about the outcome we wish for. I did so with the knight, Glunn.” “Do you wish to speak to me of that?” “I took him to my bed that Harrold might release me from his desire to wed.”
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“Glunn did proclaim a desire to wed you.” “The knight is a rogue and not fit for a husband.” “Rather the lion than the lamb?” Magaith sighed. “Not the lion nor the lamb.” “Daughter, the judge did ask to see me.” “Go to him.” She gripped Imagael’s hand. “Speak of our birthright given us from the Druids.” “And if by speaking such, Sygtryg is not returned to man?” Her voice soft, she answered, “I must not fret over events I hold no sway over.” “Again, daughter. What if Sygtryg is not regained?” Magaith lowered her head. “My heart shall break and I shall suffer forever more.” Then she lifted her head, her eyes bright. “But I will not go to the otherworld because it is too much to bear. I shall bear it. By some means, I shall bear it.” Her mother embraced her and held tight. When she released her, Imagael said, “Honey cakes and mead are laid for you, on the table. You must sup.” “Before you depart, I must speak to you.” Magaith pressed her lips together and then carried on. “The first night I took to my bed, I dreamed of Borda on our wed day. I saw him as he was and my desire for him was the same as that day.” “Dreams for us can be remembering and no more.” She patted her daughter’s hand. “Borda be just gone to the otherworld, it is right to mourn for him. He was husband to you.” “I betrayed Sygtryg in my desire for Borda.” “Our dreams come to us, we do ask for them.” She leaned toward her daughter. “Harrold did cast a spell on you to be affectionate to Borda.” Magaith nodded and then her brows twisted. “It did not seem so when I was away from him.” “A spell of presence. So Harrold might beguile you, when you were not with Borda. Your affection for Sygtryg was strong when you be away from Castlestrange.” Magaith put her hands on her head. “Did I betray Sygtryg when I lay with Glunn?”
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“It is what you deem.” Imagael sat back. “I did not, in full truth, lay with him. I let him bring me pleasure and then sent him away. I lay with him to rid myself of Harrold but not to betray Sygtryg.” “You did not betray Sygtryg?” “In my heart, I do not judge it so.” Imagael patted her daughter’s hand, “Then, you have no need to ask me.” She arose from the mattress. “Now, I must leave you.” “I shall sup and bathe before you return.” Her mother leaned down, kissed her brow and departed through the draperies. Magaith tossed aside the blanket and placed her feet on the floorboards. She used her arms to lift herself from the mattress, stood a moment and then went to the table. After pouring a full measure of mead and drinking it down, she tasted a honey cake. She poured more mead and called for hot water and towels. Nibbling at the cake, she combed the knots from her hair and then waited as the servants arranged a washing table. When they left the chamber, Magaith pulled her sleeping tunic over her head and began to wash, rubbing a wet cloth over her body. In fresh basin of Angelica scented water, she rinsed until her skin gleamed. Then she dunked her head into the basin and swirled her long hair in the water. “Behold, a maiden fair.” The deep voice came from behind her. A shock passed through her body and limbs, her mind numbed for a moment. She reached out for a nearby towel before she turned around. It was Harrold. Grinning, madly. “This be my chamber.” She heard her voice shake and felt a tremble through her body. “You may enter solely upon my word.” “Meek daughter to Imagael, have you not yet learned?” He took a step toward her. “I do as I wish.” She fiddled with the edges of the towel, that it cover the front of her body completely. Her hair dripped long trails of water down her back, she shivered.
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Under the wrapping on his brow, his eyes were shining hard black specks, the skin wrinkling around them in his wide grin. “And I wish to see you. Now.” “Speak and then depart.” Her voice quivered. “I do not wish to speak.” He took a slow step closer. “I wish to gaze upon you. Let fall the towel.” Mead boiled up in her throat. “I ask you let me be until the wed night.” He pointed to the wrapping on his brow. “I be not well as yet.” His grin fell. “It be my sole desire to gaze upon you.” Her thoughts became a muddle. Her skin prickled from the water trailing down her back and legs. She tried to think and felt a blaze of heat upon her cheeks, flushing down to her breasts. “I am shamed for you to look upon me when we be not wed.” The dark wizard took another step closer. “Other men gaze upon your bareness. Let fall the towel that I may see you also.” She gripped tight to the towel. No words came, she could not refute the truth. “After all.” His eyes danced over the towel. “I may wish to renounce my betrothal if you be not fitting.” “Nay, Harrold.” “I did see your hind side.” He smiled, then his face grew sombre. “Now, let me gaze upon your breasts and thighs that I may make a wise judgment in my promise.” A tear trickled from her eye. “Nay.” “Do as I command!” His eyes were as dark storms, his voice as thunder. She found a point of strength inside herself and made it swiftly grow until she could rouse her power. “Nay!” His face became blood red and he lifted his hand. “I shall take it from you!” “If you do this, I shall never go to you.” The pale wrinkled hand wavered in the air. She added, “I shall despise you with all my being.”
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He tilted his wrapped head, his eyes shriveled to black points. “What change be made if you despise me? You seek to deceive me with words of affection but your heart is known to me. You bed another man and he then pledge his troth.” Shivering, weary and hollow, she found no words for him. “And I know Imagael does speak to the judge of a witch lineage so you not be allowed to wed me.” Magaith found strength at the thought of her mother. “This be truth.” “She be a fool. All happens as I desire.” Then he wriggled his fingers, saying, “I could smite you at this moment with a simple wave of my hand.” “You wish me as wife.” “I must judge you worthy.” He eyed her covered body. “Let the towel fall.” She wished him soon gone and so lowered the towel below her breasts. He smiled through his unshorn beard and took a step closer. His gaze roved her breasts and damp, hard nipples. He put his hand out, cupped a breast and then rubbed her nipple with his thumb. Against a wave of loathing, she shut her eyes. Two hands were rubbing her breasts, fingers at her nipples, tugging until they were puckered and swollen. Then his heavy sour breaths were upon her face, his hands gripping the fullness of her breasts. He lifted them. “These be lush.” Through clenched teeth, she said, “You do more than gaze upon me.” His fingertips gripping her nipples, he said roughly, “You do more than let men gaze upon you.” Her eyes flew open. “I do as I wish.” “Nay, I do as I wish.” He slid his hands over her breasts and down to her belly. “Let me see further.” She held firm to the towel. His hands roved the smooth skin of her belly, pushing at the towel. “I wish to see all of you.” She gripped the top of the towel tighter over her belly. “Nay, Harrold.”
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Then he bellowed, “I say again, let the towel fall!” She stared at him and with all her heart, wished that he not see her. He lifted his hand and the towel flew from her hands to the timber floor. She shut her eyes against his leering gaze and heard him say, “All is dark. I cannot see!” Magaith opened her eyes. The wizard had his hands out in front of him, waving them in the air. She peered at him. His eyes were glazed, unseeing. “Torgaad is here!” He yelled, his fingers reaching blindly before him. “Torgaad, you spell me into darkness!” She stood still for a moment, looking for a sign of Torgaad. One glance about the chamber, told her he was not there. “Torgaad!” He screeched. “Torgaad, I did not wish to harm the maiden!” On tiptoes, she crept away from his hands. Had she solely done this? She went to the mattress where a fresh tunic had been laid out and slipped it on. As she combed her hair, she watched the dark wizard reaching into nothingness. “Where is it you are at, Torgaad?” He yelled and then stopped. His head cocked and he seemed to be listening. “Magaith? Come to me,” he pleaded. She quieted her breath and stood stock-still. “Magaith? Come to me.” She stayed still. “Magaith?” Harrold’s tone hardened. “If you do not come to me, I shall spell all of Munster with the sickness I gave Borda! Come to me!” She faltered, would he do this without sight? Or was it, she could leave him to stumble on his own and he could do naught? A movement at the drapery caught her eye and she looked over to see her mother. Imagael stared as Magaith put a finger to her lips and then pointed to the dark wizard. His arms were out in front of him as he fingered the air. “Magaith! Come!” Imagael pressed her lips together, her mouth curved in a smile.
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“All of Munster clan shall depart this life, if you do not aid me!” Harrold dropped his arms to his side. “You must come to me now or I shall do it.” He raised one hand. “If you send all in Munster to the otherworld, who would aid you then?” Magaith took a step toward him. “In darkness, you would be alone.” His head twitched. Magaith smiled. At last, she had found power over the dark wizard. “Who has done this to me?” Harrold looked blindly around the sleeping chamber. “Did you ask this of Torgaad?” “I did not.” “Your mother? Poor witch that she be, perchance she has done this?” From her place at the draperies, Imagael replied, “This spell be more than my powers as a poor witch.” “Magaith?” The dark wizard cocked his head. “Is it, you be this powerful and spell me into darkness?” “I did desire you not lay eyes upon me. With all my heart, I wished it not be so.” His hands groped at the air around him. “I command you, lift this spell of darkness! And swiftly!” “You did cast spells upon me and on those all about me, snaring me in a trap to make me wed you.” She took a step toward him. “This spell I cast in innocence but perhaps, it shall release me from your trap.” “I must sit. I be not well,” Harrold muttered. “Lead me to a bench.” Magaith narrowed her eyes at him. “I shall not aid you. Find the way alone.” “Imagael?” Harrold said, meekly. “I be obliged for your aid.” “No one shall come to you,” Magaith stated. “Not until the spells you cast be lifted and you pledge no further harm.” “Accept no pledge from him!” Imagael cried out, “His word be false!” “I shall spell him to darkness once more, if he breaks his pledge to me.” Harrold let out a high-pitched giggle. “You shall not! You fear I leave your knight as horse! This be my great power over you!”
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Magaith took pause to let a spark of fear abate and then answered, “Torgaad did show me I must leave the fates to unfold as they shall.” “I see the fear in you.” He tittered again. “You care too much and I shall draw on that affection to have my way.” “Full truth, I be fearful. But I no longer shall allow your threats and spells to hold power over me. I am released from that.” “I might raise my hand and your knight horse be gone.” “He be with Torgaad. Therefore, you cannot spell him.” Harrold cocked his head again. “How is it, you know this?” “Torgaad did tell me the knight horse was on his way to safety. And then my mother did say, Sygtryg is safe with Torgaad.” “When did Torgaad tell you this? I have not allowed it.” A knowing came to Magaith, to speak of the white wizard. “He came as you lay in the stables, wounded.” His hands went out in front of him, he staggered and then regained himself. “Torgaad recovered me from the wound?” “He brought you from near the otherworld.” Harrold cried out, dropped to the floor and sat with his hands propping up his body, his head hanging between his arms. “You be wretched upon hearing this.” Magaith said and when he did not speak, she reached out with her mind to know his truth. She saw a tall, pleasing, dark haired man of tender years with great happiness and affection in his heart. “Who be this fetching youth in your present thoughts?” Harrold muttered to the floorboards, “You know naught of my thoughts.” She saw the dark haired man plainly and felt his heart truly, Harrold spoke falsehoods. But there were more pressing matters. “I ask you lift the spells you cast.” “I do as you wish and lift the spells.” He let out a sigh. “All but the knight horse.”
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Chapter Twelve “Lift the spell upon Sygtryg or you shall not regain your sight!” “To return the horse to man,” Harrold lifted his head. “He must be here.” “Nay!” Imagael shouted. “This wizard shall send Sygtryg to the otherworld!” Magaith replied, “Harrold stay in darkness forever, if it be so.” “Do not fear. I wish my sight returned.” Harrold continued, “When a trade be made, I ask the knight horse be at Cashel fortress.” “The spell can be lifted without Sygtryg here,” Imagael insisted. The wizard looked about with unseeing eyes. “I wish for surety in the trade.” Magaith replied, “My word of honor be a surety.” “It is as I ask. Not more, not less.” Imagael and Magaith looked at each other, there be a plan in Harrold’s request. Likely, a plot to regain his sight and then his power over Magaith once more. Imagael shook her head at her daughter and mouthed the word, nay. “I must ponder this,” Magaith said after a pause. “Mother, call for knights to take Harrold to his sleeping chamber. I wish him no longer here.” Imagael passed through the curtains and Magaith went to the table, poured a goblet of mead and sipped at it. “You drink,” Harrold said, his voice weak. “I am parched and wish for mead.” “Ask for mead when in your own chamber.” “You fear to come near me?” “I despise you and wish not to approach you.” “You despise me and all I desired was you as my wife.” “Not full truth. You wished for Borda’s kingdom and thus did send him to the otherworld. And you desire all the kingdoms in Eire under you as high king and in that, take my father’s crown.” 152
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“With you as quean do not forget.” “Your words make me unwell. Speak no more.” “Be kind to me.” His voice was soft but there was hardness beneath. “This spell you cast doth give you power over me for only a short while.” “And then? You likely plot for when the trade of spells take place.” “I give you all of Eire at your feet. Or great suffering. You should choose wisely.” “Perhaps, the knight horse should remain at Torgaad’s cavern. I have not made a judgment on this yet.” “The knight horse shall be here.” Harrold spoke as two knights entered the chamber with Imagael. “This I know.” Without speaking further, she let them take him. And then she went to her mother and held tight. She was foolish to believe she had power over the dark wizard and his black plot had ended. Her mother led her to a bench and sat her down. Taking a place beside her, Imagael said, “We shall plan as does the dark wizard and leave no moment to fortune.” “We must know Harrold’s dark thoughts to plan against his every device.” “I should seek Torgaad’s guidance. He sees Harrold’s hidden thoughts.” With a sudden light heart, Magaith looked at her mother. “Torgaad shall bring Sygtryg here!” “We could ask that of him and he judge if it be wise.” “Without Torgaad, I see no way from Harrold’s plot and greatly fear for Sygtryg.” Imagael put her arm around her daughter. “We must believe all be well.” “With all my heart, I shall seek it be so.” Imagael untied a flask from her belt. “A brew of Rowan.” She pulled the stopper and held it out. “Drink.” Magaith tipped the potion to her lips and downed the measure. Strength flowed through her body as she passed the drained flask to her mother.
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“For now, you have no more to fear from Harrold.” Imagael spoke as she capped the flask. Then she sought out her daughter’s eyes. “So I shall depart to Kincora and seek out Torgaad.” “I shall journey with you.” “It be best if you keep watch on Harrold.” “I beg of you.” Magaith pressed her trembling lips together and then added, “I wish to see Sygtryg soon and not await him.” “I shall bring him here the morrow.” “I might be with him this day!” “Daughter, you must keep watch on Harrold.” She took her daughter’s hands. “Your thoughts be on Sygtryg but a darkness shrouds Cashel fortress.” “Harrold does devise another plot?” “A plot perhaps, but treachery is clear.” *** His limbs were wasted, his belly bloated. Gruel given him by the knights barely kept him from the otherworld. In the first days, he had walked his cramped cell but lately, the knight Mael solely lay upon straw heaped on the earthen floor. Hope for release was beyond him when he heard the guards speak of Borda of Connacht gone to the otherworld. The King of Munster would let him fade away in the fortress keep. He was lying upon the sodden filthy straw while rats scratched at the empty gruel bowl, when the door opened. “You be summoned,” a knight announced. “Come.” “Who is it, doth send for me?” Mael asked, his voice hoarse. “Hold your tongue,” said the knight standing to one side of the open door. Mael got to his knees, pushed himself up from the straw and wobbled on weakened legs into the outer chamber. Two knights shoved at him with the blunt end of their spears as he made his way up the stone steps of the watchtower into the south transept. They prodded him into the great hall and toward a sleeping chamber.
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He took pause with one knight as the other passed through the draperies. The knight reappeared. “Enter,” he said, pointing to the chamber with his spear. Mael parted the curtain and stumbled into the room. Sitting on a bench was a man with a wrapping on his head and long white beard. “Come.” Going to him, Mael croaked, “Have mercy on me!” And with a loud thud, flung himself to the floorboards in front of the man. “Rise up, fool!” Mael raised his head from the boards. “What is to be done with me?” “If you do as I ask, you shall not go to the otherworld.” The knight got to his knees. “It shall be so.” The old man waved a hand in front of his nose. “First, you must wash. Then, I shall speak of matters I wish you to attend. The washing table is there.” He pointed to the other side of the chamber. “I be most obliged.” Mael huffed as he used his hands to hoist up from the floor. He tottered to the table. “To whom is it, I owe my release from the keep?” “To your king.” As he drew his tunic off, Mael said, “Borda lives, yet? I did hear the Munster knights speak of my king gone to the otherworld.” “Borda is gone and the King of Connacht’s crown be mine.” Mael looked full upon the white bearded man seated across the chamber. “I beg for pardon, my king. I did not know for I be cut off from events.” “Wash and then we shall speak of how you shall do my bidding.” “As you wish, my king.” And he set about washing, his weakness suddenly gone. *** Bowls of fowl and vegetables, breads and cheeses lay before her as Magaith sat alone at a table in the great hall. Earlier, she had been joined by her father but he spoke of being weary and after picking at the meat and vegetables in his bowl, he kissed his
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daughter upon her brow and retired to his sleeping chamber, asking a servant for a jug of mead to be brought to him. At Cashel fortress, knights and wives had always been invited to the royal table to share tales and news. Since Harrold’s arrival and until this day, the king had offered his company solely to the dark wizard. Magaith knew it was the spell cast upon her father but hoped he might soon regain his bright spirit. She too, picked at the food in her bowl and ate little, consumed with thoughts of the morrow, when she would see her beloved Sygtryg regained as man. She obliged herself to think of Harrold and keep her thoughts of him forefront but again and again, found images of the knight appear in her mind and she could not stop her longing for Sygtryg. She attempted to think of Torgaad, accompanying her mother and Sygtryg the morrow. As soon as she thought of Sygtryg, she was again centered on how he might look and feel. “My lady, may I come to your table and sup with you?” It was Glunn. She did not wish his jests or worse, hear him speak to her in a manner that made her blush. “I shall depart soon.” He took a place at the table near to her. “One should not sup alone.” “My father has taken to his chamber early this night.” Glunn leaned to her, his voice soft. “It be fitting, for the king’s wife is restored to him.” “Do not speak so.” “I ask for pardon.” His mouth pressed into a flat line. “The king’s wife is your mother.” She sat quietly, eating little. “You be low and I might raise your spirits.” He pushed his bowl away. She looked up from her plate. He was grinning at her. “I shall render a ballad, if you wish.” “I wish to retire now.” Magaith pushed her chair back and stood up. The knight rose and went to her side. “I can keep you content in your bed.”
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Her cheeks burned. “You are the least of men to go to my bed.” “You did not believe so once.” She stared into his twinkling eyes. “I lay with you to craft Harrold’s hate. Not from desire.” “I felt your desire from my touch.” His hand caressed her shoulder. “You did moan from the pleasure of it.” “I do not possess affection for you.” She pushed at his hand. “Nor you for me.” “I wish you be my wife.” His hands were splayed out in front of him, palms up. “That be a great flaunting of my affection.” She looked at him with care, seeing the desire he had to be wife to the king’s daughter. “It be a mere pose without the least affection.” Not waiting for a reply, she left for her chamber. After pulling on her sleeping tunic, she lay upon her mattress and brought her thoughts to Harrold. She saw a dark haired knight washing with relish. A flutter arose in her chest, the morrow she would see Sygtryg as man. Tall and strong with broad shoulders. Long dark hair curling at the back of his neck. Eyes like embers as they gazed into her eyes. Lips roughened from the wind but so tender. Large hands caressing her hair or grazing her cheek softly. Powerful arms enfolding her, holding her close against his chest. And the smell of him. Like fresh air and sunshine. His low voice becoming rough with his desire. She saw herself pressing her breasts against his chest, tilting her head up, her mouth moving to his lips. Her loins responded with the vision and she moaned, letting the passion grow as she imagined his lean body against her and his sweet lips on her mouth. So soft those lips, gentle against her own. Then his mouth pressing hard on hers, his tongue fanning brighter the sweet flame of desire. And his hands, pulling at her tunic and baring her chest. A thrill went through her as his eyes went to her breasts and his fingers traced her curves. She closed her eyes. His mouth was sucking at her nipple, his teeth gnawing her hard nub until she cried out with pleasure. His hand slid to her wet mound as he lowered himself to her.
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She wanted him with her now. But he would be here the morrow, changed to man and she could hold him, kiss him and be in his arms. He would take her soon and wholly as he did before, with his body, heart and spirit. She would make it so. And they would be together. For always. If she might sleep, the morrow would come more swiftly and she closed her eyes. *** Set upon the table was a platter of roasted meat and a jug of mead. Mael grabbed a shank and began biting at it, swallowing before the meat was chewed. Sitting nearby at the table was the King of Connacht, his gaze upon some other attention. “My king, you spoke of me doing your bidding,” Mael said, between mouthfuls. “What is it, you would have me do?” “For now, take your fill and be strengthened.” “I be most obliged.” Mael spoke around the meat in his mouth, breathing harshly through his nose. “You shall need sustenance.” “Hard labor? I be willing.” “You be first knight to Borda. He saw your courage and strength in challenge, and in battle. You shall need these for the task I ask of you.” “I possess both virtues in large measure.” Mael poured his goblet full to the brim with mead. “Shall you speak to me soon of the task?” “After you sup.” As he tore at a bone, Mael replied, “It might be, I sup all this night.” “So be it.” “Is it, I be first knight to you?” Mael drank his mead down and poured another full goblet. “I be loyal and true to my king.” “You seek to send Borda’s wife to the otherworld and then plot against him with Bascogne, how is this loyal to your king?” The knight’s mouth dropped open.
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“I know you did plot against Borda many times over.” He sought a place to lay blame. “It be at my wife’s bidding.” “Nay. It was my wish.” The fear drained out of Mael as a flowing river. “Your wish to see him gone and take up his crown?” “And take his wife.” The goblet near his lips, Mael froze. “Upon my honor, it be Gormfla who plot against his wife.” “I know more. You did say to Gormfla, ‘It be false as Borda take Bascogne’s daughter for his wife. This be not as a warrior king’. And then Gormfla did say, ‘I know of what you speak, my husband. There be no bravery in this peace. It is no longer warrior, by which our king be known’. And then, the poisoned cup to give his wife, upon which you both agreed.” “I know not how you see this,” Mael said, his voice quivering. “Upon my life, I did agree, solely to keep honor for Borda as warrior king.” “And after, when you tell Borda his wife be with Sygtryg? Was it solely to keep honor for him? You plot to keep in favor with that king and yet, you betrayed him to Bascogne. When found out, you were sent to the keep.” “My thinking be muddled in those days.” The knight leaned forward. “Be sure of this, I shall be loyal and speak no falsehoods to you, my king.” “You be a fool.” “I shall be loyal, this be truth!” The King of Connacht laughed with his head back and his mouth wide. It was a sound like a shrill scream and it sent a shiver down the knight’s back. He dropped the bone into his bowl and sat back in his chair. “Fool,” the king said between giggling and chuckling. “Fool.” “What is to become of me?” The king’s face became as stone. “You shall do as I ask of you the morrow. Then, we shall see.”
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*** Magaith tossed and turned, seeing Sygtryg each time she dreamed and again as she awakened from sleep. Morning would not come soon enough and she rose before the dawn, drawing her cloak over her sleeping tunic and going out into the twilight to look over the hills. Out there, Sygtryg might now be coming to her. She could see his flowing white mane as he galloped, his strong flanks and legs as he strode onwards to her at Cashel fortress. He would be home soon and the trade of spells would take place. He would be again as he was and they would be together. Forever. Her heart beat wildly, she desired him so very much. Torgaad might be with him. With surety, her mother would be with him. Imagael would not let him journey here without protection. Her mother had but little shelter to offer in magic but she could be mindful, if harm should befall the knight horse before he arrived. Magaith knew it would not happen, Harrold wished his sight returned and if a plot did unfold, it would be after the spell trade. As the sun began to light the sky, she turned back to the fortress and went to her chamber to change her tunic. She washed at the basin, combed her hair and set her veil in place. Then she went to the table in the great hall for the morning meal and sitting alone, she nibbled at oat bread with honey and sipped at a goblet of mead. The fluttering in her belly seemed as a thousand butterflies and she could barely down food or drink. When might her mother and Sygtryg appear? How soon after could the spell trade take place? And could she lift the spell from Harrold? As she had cast the spell unknowingly, perhaps she could not lift it. And if not, then Sygtryg would stay horse and there be no hope for him. Fear took her over, if Torgaad did not come with Sygtryg, all might be lost. She attempted to quell her dread of the spell trade by thinking, if I hold the power to cast a spell, then I be able to lift it. Mumbling to herself, she began saying this over and over that she might further her faith. She left the table, went out into the courtyard and stood gazing out over the hills. Some time passed, all the while she chanted.
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Then, a knight in the watchtower proclaimed, “A rider comes from the west.” Her heart pounding, Magaith said, “It must be my mother, returning to us.” Several sentry knights took positions on the west side of the fortress knoll. All was quiet for a while until the knight in the watchtower announced the rider was the king’s promised wife, Imagael. Hearing that, Magaith’s belly was again filled with a thousand butterflies. She began to pace the courtyard saying under her breath, “If I hold the power to cast a spell, then I be able to lift it.” The next she knew, Imagael rode into the yard on the knight horse and Magaith ran to them. Her mother slid from the stallion as Magaith held Sygtryg’s head in her arms, kissing his silky white brow. Imagael put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and the knight horse whinnied. “We be together and this pleases him.” Magaith let joy take her over. Sygtryg lapped at her cheek with his tongue. Magaith giggled, saying, “I shall brush you down.” “Daughter, Torgaad judged it best not to journey with us.” “Shall he come later?” “This I do not know.” “I wish the spell trade to take place soon.” Imagael replied, “I go to Harrold now.” And after patting her daughter’s arm, she went into the fortress through the transept door. As she brushed the knight horse in the king’s stables, Magaith whispered, “With all my heart and soul, I missed you.” The stallion lifted his head and snorted, and she put her arms about his neck. “Soon, we shall be together with you regained as man.” He nuzzled her cheek. Her chest swelled with joy and she burned with the longing of last night. Her hands caressed his chest and smoothly down his bulging flanks. Sygtryg shivered. Imagael returned, saying, “Harrold does wish the spell trade take place in his chamber, when you are ready.”
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Magaith stared at her mother. Sygtryg would be changed to man, very soon. And she must lift the spell of darkness from Harrold. “Let us go now.” “Do you not fear Harrold has a plan?” “My fear is solely I cannot lift the spell from Harrold.” “You cast it, daughter and so you shall lift it.” Magaith nodded. “I hold that same faith.” Taking the reins on the knight horse, Magaith led him from the stables with Imagael at her side. They went through the yard, into the transept and through to the great hall. As they entered, Sygtryg whinnied and rose up, kicking at the air. “He does sense the dark wizard,” her mother said. “Hush, Sygtryg,” Magaith told him as she pulled on the reins. “The time has come for us to face the dark wizard and you be made man once more.” He settled, shaking his head and snorting. Magaith stroked his neck. “Soon, we shall be together.” And he allowed her to lead him across the great hall to Harrold’s curtained sleeping chamber. From outside the draperies, Imagael called out, “We await you, Harrold.” “Enter,” came from within. With her mother holding the curtain to one side, Magaith led the knight horse into the room. It seemed dimly lit for mid morning and heaps of soiled linens were scattered about, whilst the wizard might simply raise his hand and the linens be laundered. Or at the least, he might call for a servant to do his bidding. “The knight horse be here,” Harrold said from a bench in the middle of his chamber. “And so we shall make the spell trade. To prove my good faith, I lift the spell from the knight first.” Imagael whispered into her daughter’s ear, “What plan be this?” Her brows knotted up, Magaith shook her head at her mother but turned to the dark wizard and said, “This be most pleasing to me.” Harrold lifted a hand and spoke a few words in a low voice.
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Beside her, the shape of the horse shifted and grew smaller. She let go of the reins and there stood Sygtryg as man. Tall, strong, dark haired and beautiful. Her heart stopped, she was certain. She could not breathe. He took the reins from his shoulders and opened his arms to her. She could not move. She stared at him. His deep dark eyes, so full of love. His skin, smooth and gleaming. His lips, ample and soft. His body, broad and tall and strong. She felt her knees weakening. “Lift this spell from me!” Harrold shouted. Tugging her attention from Sygtryg, Magaith looked at the wizard. She set her thoughts on his sight and saw it returned, murmuring the words, “As I cast this spell of darkness, I now lift it.” Under the wrapping on his head, Harrold blinked. “My sight be regained.” “Now the spell trade is done,” Imagael said. “We shall take our leave.” From the corner of her eye, Magaith saw one of the piles of soiled linen move and as she turned to look, a thin and wretched man leapt out with a spear in hand. With careful aim, he hurled it at Sygtryg.
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Chapter Thirteen Suddenly, all in the room were stopped as if covered in ice, except the dark wizard. Torgaad came into being and stood before Harrold. “Why is it, you craft an end for the knight protector?” “I wish him gone to the otherworld.” Torgaad’s eyes glittered under knitted brows. “This be about Magaith.” “I wish her as wife.” Harrold pointed at her protector knight. “And she shall not allow it as long as he still lives.” “She could never have affection for you.” “It is, I wish her wife to me.” Harrold set his dark eyes on the little wizard. “With the knight gone, I be sure of a wed vow.” “There be no truth in falsehood. Each day would bring such great suffering to you. Your desire for her would be returned as hate.” Torgaad held his little hands out. “What destiny in this?” “I know solely I desire her. And so, I shall have her.” Torgaad pressed his lips together and then asked, “What condition causes you to create such torment?” Harrold laughed. “There be no suffering for me in taking that which I desire.” “It is the taking that creates suffering.” He shook his enormous ugly head, side to side. “You would take Magaith when she is not willing to wed you.” “I do not wish to hear of suffering.” Harrold waved his hand at the little wizard. “I shall do as I please.” “Long ago, you did spell me to be as I am.” Torgaad sighed. “And that be not enough, still you be against me in every way. When shall you take pause?” “Take pause and perhaps, be kind and good? What gain in that, brother?” “Contentment. Affection. These are most worthy to possess.” 164
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Harrold emitted a screeching laugh. “The crown of all Eire! Fortune and land, these are most worthy!” “Since we be as babes, you dismiss virtue as foolish. And plot to take as you wish, by whatever means you command. Brother, your powers were not meant for foul deeds.” “I use my powers as I wish.” Harrold leaned forward. “Just as you do, Torgaad.” “You seek to ruin and torment. There can be no contentment from this.” “There be contentment for me.” He sat back on the bench. “Any ruin or torment is a claim made by those who are not fond of my desires and thereby, create suffering for themselves.” “Nay, brother. You did spell me to cause torment and suffering.” Harrold giggled. “I make you look the fool you be.” “I never asked you lift the spell upon me nor protested about it.” Torgaad let all his power come through his voice as he said, “But I ask this, stop the spear before it finds the mark.” “This be not about you, Torgaad. Go from here and do good, elsewhere.” “I ask, once more. Stop the spear.” With his head back, Harrold laughed like a scream. “Nay!” “Then I choose intercede. Upon saving you from the otherworld, I may change one spell you cast. I shall change this outcome.” Harrold stared, open-mouthed. “And not return yourself to beauty? Has this spell of hideous appearance not caused you great suffering? When I heard you brought me from near the otherworld, I thought with surety, you would reverse the spell I did cast many years hence!” “With it, I am able to live. Sygtryg shall not, if the spear finds the mark.” “You did plot this! You spell the knight horse to wound me and then send to Magaith the notion of calling for your aid!” His voice sad, Torgaad told him, “You brought all upon your own.” “Falsehood!” Harrold shrieked. “Not all live as you live. Not all speak as you speak.”
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“I know you avenge my spell of ugliness!” Torgaad looked upon his only brother and wished his heart be softened. “Stop the spear or I shall do it.” “I shall have my way in this.” “Nay, brother. You shall not.” Torgaad lifted his hand and then watched as the wizard of darkness grew smaller and smaller, and became a little brown field mouse. It sat on hind legs, tiny paws bent in front of a small pointed head. The eyes were as two glittering specks of black river stones as it squeaked at Torgaad. “When I know you learn to be kind and good, brother, this spell shall be lifted.” He picked up the mouse from the bench, placed it in the folds of his cloak and then took the place where Harrold had been seated. Torgaad looked about the chamber. In front of Imagael, Magaith stood with her arms outstretched toward Sygtryg. His eyes were fastened upon a spear poised mid air at his chest. Mael had a small smile upon his lips. Torgaad waved his hand and the spear clattered to the floorboards. Magaith screamed, “Nay!” as she jumped toward Sygtryg. Imagael was behind her daughter, her fingers reaching for Magaith’s cloak. Sygtryg stood wide-eyed. Then they all lowered their heads to look at the spear lying on the floor. “Torgaad,” Magaith whispered. “I be here,” he replied. They all turned to see him sitting upon the bench where Harrold was the moment before. “No more to fear,” the wizard said, patting his cloak with a small white hand. “Although, we must settle on what is to be done with Mael.” All eyes went to the Connacht knight. “I be loyal to my king,” he protested. “And did as my king asked of me.” “This be truth,” Torgaad agreed. “But what shall be done with you?”
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“Send him back to the keep,” Magaith said. Dazzling green eyes looked upon her. “Sygtryg is not gone and still, you would send him to the keep?” “He might yet do Sygtryg in, if he be allowed freedom.” “Without Harrold to command you,” the wizard asked of Mael, “is it you would do such a deed?” “I be knight and act solely upon command from my king.” Mael got on his knees. “I beg of you, do not send me back to the keep!” “Once, I was commanded to raise my sword to Magaith’s mother,” Sygtryg began. “I would have done so, in loyalty to my king. Whether it be fitting or not.” Imagael gazed from one to the other of them. “Shall we condemn this knight for doing as his king commands?” “There be further truth,” Torgaad began. “Mael did take a spell of strength and nimbleness cast by Harrold. And long since past, Harrold cast a spell over the knight to do his bidding.” “Harrold may not be here at present,” Magaith said as she looked about the chamber, “but he shall command this knight and Sygtryg be in peril without end.” Torgaad answered, “Harrold shall not command this knight or any other. He shall relinquish the crown of Connacht and leave Munster clan be.” “Is it, you be of surety in this?” Magaith asked. “As of this day.” Torgaad smiled, his eyes glittering as brilliant green gems. “I keep a great influence over him.” “Harrold shall give up his kingdom and in it, his desire to be high king of Eire?” “I believe he no longer possesses this desire.” Magaith insisted, “Always, he shall desire to take me as wife.” “I would venture Harrold no longer seeks to be wed.” “He has another aim.” She looked about the room as if she might see the dark wizard in hiding. “Perhaps, to see me to the otherworld.” “Now, his aim be far less. I might suppose, to keep from birds of the sky.”
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Her brow creased with puzzlement. “Keep from birds?” Torgaad pressed his lips together. “I must seek not to jest. Suffice to say, he shall no longer pose a threat.” “It is my wish Mael be sent back to Connacht,” Sygtryg announced. “A wise judgment,” Torgaad replied. “You be noble to forgive this man and give him his freedom.” Magaith sighed. Sygtryg be so moral and kind, he bestow pardon on Mael after he threw a spear at his chest. She looked over at the knight, his eyes were on her. He was striking with his long dark hair falling about his wide shoulders, his finely shaped face and smooth skin, full mouth and dark eyes. She went to him and his arms opened, he drew her to his chest. He felt good and smelled like sunshine, she smiled to herself. Her dreams and visions were past, Sygtryg was here and holding her tight against him. She set her face into his neck, so soft and sweet. Then she kissed him below his ear. He held tighter and she sighed as he turned his head and set his lips upon her eyes. A rush of affection came upon her and she sought his mouth. But his hands cupped her face and drew her head gently back, he looked into her eyes. She felt the heat in his gaze and his great affection. “I ask that you be wife to me.” Sygtryg said his voice rough. She shivered at his tone. “It is my deepest desire.” “Then divorce Borda as soon as you are able.” “He be gone to the otherworld.” She thought then of her father and of Munster. “Alas, I shall be given in a wed vow to the next Connacht king.” Torgaad spoke. “There be much rivalry for the crown in that kingdom for a long age. Fear not of war with Connacht.” Sygtryg looked upon Magaith, his eyes bright. “Shall we be wed this day?” “This day,” she whispered to him. He drew her to him, touching her lips softly with his and then brushing them over her eyes and cheeks. He came back to her mouth and kissed her soundly. Then he picked her up, his arms under her legs and across her back, and with his eyes always upon her,
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carried her to her chamber. There, he set her down gently and kissed her once more, holding her close. “Prepare for the wed vow, my love,” he said and went out. Imagael entered her daughter’s chamber, nodding as she passed the knight. “Mother, I be so content!” Magaith twirled about the room. “My Sygtryg, is he not the most beautiful and noble of knights!” Imagael took her in her arms and whispered into her ear. “Before the wed vow you must reveal to Sygtryg your pleasure gained from Glunn.” Pulling back, Magaith stared open mouthed at her mother. “I was not wed to Sygtryg. Nor did I promise him. And I solely lay with Glunn to craft Harrold’s hate.” “I see as you protest, you believe to lay with Glunn was not moral.” “Perhaps.” Magaith bit her bottom lip. “This be truth.” “If you do not speak of this to Sygtryg, the secret you keep will gnaw at your heart and craft a hole between you as man and wife.” “I cannot. He may turn from me and not wish to take me as wife.” “This be the gnaw at your heart forever more.” Magaith dropped to a stool and put her face in her hands. Imagael put her arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Often, the judgment that crafts fear and a moral judgment are one and the same. You must find it in yourself to be strong and rise to the challenge.” Magaith raised her head, her eyes tear-filled. “I cannot be without him.” “You do not know that he will turn his hind side to you.” “If there be a chance of that.” She shook her head. “I cannot speak.” “I do not wish for you to grow bitter from a fear he might leave you if you did speak to him. And in that bitterness, feed a hate for him.” “I be of the greatest affection for Sygtryg.” Her voice rose as she spoke further. “I shall never be bitter and come to hate him. Never!” “My dearest Daughter, you shall.”
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Magaith rose from the stool, her hands clenched at her sides. “You do not know this!” “I do not wish to wound you.” Imagael put her hand on her daughter’s arm. “I see full truth and speak from the heart. The judgment be yours.” Magaith let out a deep breath. “And so it is.” “I wish you solely contentment.” “Mother, I make this promise. I shall live forever happy in my wedlock to Sygtryg.” Imagael embraced her daughter, keeping her last thoughts to herself. All vows crafted in fear were doomed. *** Sygtryg was washing from a barrel set up outside the knight’s quarters, humming and lathering with delight. He was man and Magaith was soon to be his wife. His soul was brim full with happiness and as he splashed the cool water over his skin, he took pleasure in his regained form and the anticipation of joining with his beloved. Shaking the water from his hair, he heard his name called out. He grabbed a towel and wiping his face, turned to the voice. “I must speak to you, Sygtryg. It is a most graven matter.” He looked at the knight unknown to him. “Speak.” “I did ask the hand of the king’s daughter before you.” He kept at his drying. “As did Harrold. Magaith did deem me as a worthy husband to her.” “I did ask after she lay with me.” The towel dropped to the earth. “You speak falsehoods.” “Nay. Ask the maiden.” Sygtryg had a rush of anger. He saw blackness and then bright red. He leapt forward and brought his fist down on the knight’s nose. The knight put his hands to his face as Sygtryg pulled his fist back and then rammed the man’s belly. The knight went down and Sygtryg kicked at his sides.
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The next he knew, he was held by four knights of low rank. “Release me,” he yelled, struggling against their grip. “That I might send this teller of falsehoods to the otherworld!” The knight raised up from the earth, blood dripping from his nose. “It be full truth! Ask the maiden!” Sygtryg took pause. Would this knight be so eager for his words to be known, if they be false? He calmed and lowered his arms. “I shall do so, now.” He took a fresh towel from near the water barrel and wrapping it about his waist, went into the south transept, through the great hall to Magaith’s sleeping chamber. He called out from the curtain, “Magaith?” “Enter, dear Sygtryg!” He tossed the draperies aside and strode in, damp and half-naked. She ran to him, flinging her arms about his neck. She giggled. “You cannot take pause until the wed vow?” The towel dropped from his waist and her hand roved over his bared hind side. He stiffened, heat engulfing him. Her hand slid around to his front and found him hard. His whole body wanted her. He could have her, take her now. And then leave her to the knight she judge to lay with. He pushed at her with his hands on her arms and held her away from him. “You did lay with a knight while I be changed?” The truth was in her eyes. Sygtryg spoke, his words honed to sharpness. “I did watch as you wed another and deemed you lost to me forever. And then, I did not keep my pledge to my king for your sake. I greatly suffered in this and further.” Magaith reached out to touch him. He stepped back. “A dark spell doth change me to horse and I be not there when you most need aid.” His voice shook as he said, “Then I be made man and united with you, and find you did lay with another. I see you hold no true desire for me.”
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Her mouth dropped open. “Nay, solely I sought a way from Harrold. I did not wish to be with Glunn!” “In spite of my great affection for you, I shall never be wholly pleasing to you or a fitting husband.” She reached to him again. “I did fear you should depise me if you heard of this.” “My love knows no bounds.” He flung her arms from him. “It is your lack of affection for me that did cause this.” Then he strode out. Her cries followed him through the great hall. “Sygtryg! Sygtryg!” *** When she saw him come to her chamber in near nakedness, her belly lit with a quick flame. He was a vision to behold. His skin gleaming as water trailed down his body from his wet hair. The muscles of his arms and chest rippling and shifting as he walked. Below the short towel, his thighs bulged and tightened. She could feel the rise of his desire when she put her arms around him and nudged her belly close. With ease, the towel could be taken from his waist, leaving him bare to her touch and sight. She loosened it from him, slid her hand over his firm round hind side and then over his skin to his belly, and lower to his silky hardness. Until he pushed at her and held her at arm’s length. His hands gripping her so tight, she almost called out. It was then he spoke to her of what he knew. He did not ask her aim or if there be a plan in it. Her insides hollowed for he had not wished to heed her and purely cast her aside. Once, the knight did look into her eyes, saying, “I wish it be, to hear your voice and see your sweet face always. And hold you near as this for evermore.” She went to her bed and putting her face to the pillow, let her heartbreak with tears and sobs. After a time, her mother came to her. “Hush now, Daughter.” Magaith raised her head from the pillow. “He did turn away from me.”
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Imagael rubbed her daughter’s back. “Sygtryg be wounded. He shall boil and then simmer. When he simmers, he shall see another side and come to you.” Magaith rolled onto her back. “I did lay with Sygtryg many times before we returned to Cashel fortress.” Imagael sighed. “When a man lies with a woman he possesses great affection for, he covets that woman and wishes her to be solely his. Daughter, Sygtryg’s wound is greater because he does covet you.” “No wed vow or promise, and yet he covets me?” “He sees you as his. Leave him be and he shall regain his affection for you in spite of his pride.” “His pride keeps him from forgiveness?” Magaith laid her arm across her face. “I shall not wed such a man.” “You be of sorrow that Sygtryg cannot find it in himself to forgive you now and stop up the wound to your hurt. I say to you, he doth wound as you wound.” “He be not worthy of me.” Magaith withdrew her arm from her face. “I did offer all up for him. My spirit be set aside in all matters and solely for Sygtryg. All I did abide is for naught.” “The sorrow shall lessen and your wound will heal. And you shall soon want him back with you.” “I speak suchly, if he did come back to me, I should turn him away.” Magaith sat up. “Ask the knight Glunn be sent to me.” Imagael put a hand on her daughter’s leg. “It not be fitting. If the knight comes to you here, you shall craft further sorrow for Sygtryg.” “My blunders be great, ’tis truth. Alas, if I cause further sorrow, I no longer fear it. Sygtryg did judge me plainly.” “It be your wound that bring these words. You shall forgive him as he shall forgive you.”
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“I deem he be not worthy of me.” Magaith slipped past her mother, went to the washing table and began combing her hair. “If you please, ask the servants for fresh water and towels.” “I shall do so. First, speak to me of your aim.” “Tell the king my wed day is here,” Magaith kept at her combing. “I shall wed the knight Glunn.” Imagael went to the washing table. “Do not wed in haste. You speak so, solely to bring sorrow to Sygtryg.” She stopped her combing, her eyes narrowed at her mother. “I release him from his promise to wed as he does to me. His suffering shall end.” “Perhaps. But your suffering shall not, Daughter. You did tell me, the knight Glunn is a rogue and not fit for a husband.” “Rather a rogue than a brute!” “I beg of you.” Imagael put her hand on her daughter’s arm. “Take pause. Do not speak to Glunn this day.” Magaith shook off her mother’s hand. “I wish a swift settling of matters.” “This not be you in truth, to seek wedlock to another!” She clenched the comb tight between her hands. “This be me! I shall take great comfort in keeping from a knight not able to value my harsh trial! All I did endure for him and him alone!” “Your heart is hard from the deepest of wounds. Hark me, it shall soften as the days pass.” “I shall not allow it. This time, I shall not forgive him for turning from me.” Imagael went for servants to bring water and towels to her daughter’s chamber. Then she went to the knight’s quarters. She called for the stable boy to ask for Sygtryg. He came to the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “I must speak to you of a thorny matter.” She put her arm through his. “Come, let us walk.”
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As they strolled across the courtyard, Imagael looked up at Sygtryg. His jaw was set and his eyes bright with rage. This would not be done with ease. She began, “I beg of you to hear me through before you speak.” He glanced down at her. “If I do not, is it you shall spell my tongue gone?” “You be free to go, if you judge I speak too much.” He nodded and raised his head to look upon the hills. “You be greatly wounded, this I know. Magaith be greatly wounded also.” She felt the knight stiffen at her side. He did not speak. “You shall boil and steam in your sorrow, keeping from her. Then, the wound shall heal and you will desire her with you.” She heard him release a heavy breath. “Sygtryg, her wound shall not heal until you go to her. And then, it will take some time as you shall take time to heal.” She looked up at him. “If you forgive Magaith soon, you will spare the lengthy time of sorrow.” His eyes stayed on the hills. Imagael went on. “Full truth, she did judge to be with that knight to craft Harrold’s hate. And did not fulfill the knight’s desire.” At her words he began shaking, his body coursing with suppressed rage. “She does possess the greatest affection for you and was fearful to speak of this, that you might turn away from her.” Sygtryg looked down at Imagael. “I see her with that knight. I cannot bear it.” “Can you bear it if she takes to him in her sorrow?” He let her arm drop from his and stepped back. “Let her take to him.” His tone was harsh. “Let them cleave unto each other forever more!” He turned to leave. Imagael grabbed his arm. “She desires you!” Shaking his head, he replied in a low voice. “I no longer desire her.”
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Chapter Fourteen Imagael let him go then, watching his long strides across the courtyard. Perhaps she made it worse by speaking to him. At least now, she knew the sharp cut of his wound and his deep affection be the knife in his heart. She hurried to the north transept, made her way through the great hall to Magaith’s chamber. There she took pause and called out for her daughter. Upon hearing a reply, she parted the draperies and went in. Magaith was without clothes at the washbasin, drawing a wet cloth over her arms. Imagael took a seat on a nearby bench. “I did see Sygtryg.” Magaith spun around to face her mother. “Is it, he spoke of me?” “I see he does possess great affection for you.” “He did speak as plain?” “Not as such. His wound is deep but he shall forgive you.” “He is coming to me, now?” “Soon.” Magaith narrowed her eyes. “You speak falsehoods.” She turned back to the table and again began rinsing. “Go, Mother. I make ready to see Glunn.” “Is it, you sent for him?” “He shall be here before long.” “If he comes and you be washing, still?” “No matter.” She doused her lower arms in the basin. “Is it you forget? He did see me bare when I lay with him.” Imagael sensed the wall her daughter was building and was heartsick for her. “I be of hope that you and Sygtryg shall mend and thus forgive. If he knows you admit the knight Glunn into your chamber when you are not clothed, he will not heal.”
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Magaith set her eyes on her mother. “I no longer fear his sorrow. I suffered much for him and he did turn away.” Sighing, Imagael rose. “You shall never mend with such a bitter heart.” Magaith set her shoulders back. “I be bitter if Sygtryg did not know my deepest truth, this you told me. Now I be bitter that he does know. Either way, Mother, I be bitter.” As Magaith went back to her rinsing, Imagael went out. In the great hall, she saw Glunn approaching from the south transept and waited for him at the curtain. “My daughter be not dressed. You must await her.” His eyes were twinkling. “I shall ask her,” he said and called out, “Magaith!” There be a pause and then they heard her reply. “Come!” Glunn winked at Imagael, tossed aside the drapes and disappeared inside. Shaking her head, Imagael made her way across the great hall. My foolish, foolish daughter. You devise a plot near as cruel and heartless as the dark wizard. *** When Magaith heard Glunn call out her name, she almost denied him entry. Her heart wished it was Sygtryg come to see her and he would rush to her, take her naked in his arms, beg for her forgiveness and carry her to the bed. His eyes would look upon her with the deepest affection, his lips, hands and body would take her to the far reaches of the skies. But it be Glunn and so she shook off her truth. In place, she crafted a wanton lust. For this is what Sygtryg believed of her and she would see it so. The knight Glunn came in and his eyes roved her bare breasts, her belly and set upon her thighs. He licked his lips and swaggered over to where she stood at the washing table. A chill went through Magaith. She was wet and yet, it be not solely that which caused the shiver. He be proud and crude in his strut. His finger traced a track of water running down her chest. “I shall help you rinse.”
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As he reached for a cloth in the basin of water, she struggled to regain the wanton lust that would bolster her courage with this coarse and roughened knight. Wiping the cloth over her breasts, he said, “These orbs bring me more pleasure in the fullness of light.” He replaced the cloth with his hand, grabbing at her breasts. Then he took a nipple between her fingers. His tongue flicked out over his lips. She pressed her mouth tight in distaste. “I take these which you offer up to me.” He leaned over and took a nipple in his mouth. At first, his suckling was pleasing and she breathed deeply. Then he sucked hard and she cried out. He lifted his head. “I am learned in the art of pleasure, am I not.” Lowering his mouth again, he sought the other nipple and sucked until she cried out. He rose up, smiling. She squeaked, “This be not pleasurable to me.” “You wish me unclothed.” He pulled his tunic over his head to reveal a thin chest and scrawny arms, a protruding belly and legs like sticks. “I shall please you as husband, forever more.” The words rang in her head. Husband, forever more, forever more. “I do not wish to wed you!” She stepped from him. “I heard you speak to your mother. Do not be of shame, I shall take you as wife.” He went to her and putting his hands on her breasts, rubbed her nipples under his thumbs. “You take pleasure from my hands on you.” Heat was rising in her but with his lack of grace and affection, she did not want him in truth. As she wriggled from his grasp, his hands held her breasts tighter. “I shall suckle you until you cry out over and over.” He lowered his head and placed his mouth over her nipples, sucking at them as he released loud moans. She closed her eyes. If she see the knight at her breast as Sygtryg, she might bear this. And she let him come to her behind her closed lids. His mouth was on her nipples, his hands were holding her breasts and lust licked at her belly.
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Then she opened her eyes, looked around her chamber and down at the knight sucking and moaning at her breasts. It was not Sygtryg. She must not do this. Even if he never forgave her, she could not do this. She did not want to wound Sygtryg further. Finding her voice, she said, “I do not wish this.” He looked up, his mouth at her nipples. “You desire to wed me and I desire to take you now. To make firm our promise.” He went back to sucking, his eyes closed and his breathing harsh. Already, the ache inside her was begging to let go and before long, she might willingly open her legs to him. She pushed him from her. He smiled, running one hand over his thin chest and taking hold of himself with the other. “I shall please you, now.” The heat went from her. “I say to you, no more.” “You did offer yourself to me. Not once but twice and then turn me away.” His face took on a thunderous rage. “I shall take you!” He pushed her and she staggered. When she got to her feet, he pushed her again. This time she fell near her bed and he heaved her onto the mattress. As he climbed over her, she shoved at him and then used her feet to kick him off. “If you do not leave me, I shall spell you into a beast!” His brows creased. “You be no witch. You speak falsehoods!” Before she could muster a spell, he leapt upon her, holding her arms and wedging his legs between hers. She fought him and screamed and screamed and screamed. Then his hand was upon her throat and she could not breathe. Next, the knight was off her and she lay there, gasping and coughing through sickening thuds of flesh meeting flesh. When it was quiet, a blanket was laid over her and a voice whispered, “Magaith, are you well? Magaith?” And she knew naught else until the sounds of water poured into a basin. Then water swishing and dripping from a cloth. Her throat burned. Water. A damp cloth was placed
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on her brow, covering her eyes. She wished to reach out but her arm was as a leaden weight. She fell back into the depths of sleep. Her mother was at her side when she opened her eyes. “Daughter, do not speak. You need time to heal.” Magaith lifted her hand and touched her lips. Imagael poured water into a goblet, raised her daughter’s head and set the cup to her mouth. “Sip gently.” Magaith sipped and swallowed. Her throat was on fire. She squeezed her eyes shut against the suffering. Her head was eased to the pillow. She slept. The sun was dim through the high windows. She looked around her chamber and spied the washing table, where she had stood without shame for the knight Glunn to take her. She turned her head away and saw her mother sleeping on a nearby chair, her head lolling and her arms hanging at her sides. The sight tugged at her heart, she be not worthy of such devotion. Shifting on the mattress, her face away from her mother, silent tears soaked her pillow before she fell to sleep again. Her back was being rubbed. She tried to raise up but her arms were weak. “Settle, daughter. I smear a salve to ease your throat and give you strength.” Magaith let out a sigh. She was safe. “What of the knight Glunn?” “Glunn be banished from Munster.” Imagael spoke as she kept at the salve. “The king doth decree, if he return any knight or clansmen may raise their sword or spear to him.” Magaith thought of her beloved. “Sygtryg,” her mother said as covered the potion with a clean piece of linen. Magaith rolled onto her back and stared at her mother. “That day, your screams brought notice. I came to your aid with knights. Sygtryg pushed to the fore and took the knight from you. He beat him, near passage to the otherworld.” Magaith lifted her brows.
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“The knights with me,” Imagael went on, “did struggle to hold Sygtryg away from the knight before it be so.” Her knight protector. She thought of the voice in her ear, whispering, “Magaith, are you well? Magaith?” “I did speak to you when Sygtryg be in the grip of the knights.” Full shame took her over and she shut her eyes. She did lay bare on the mattress for the knights to see. Sygtryg must despise her for this, as well. “There be far too much beating and clutching and battling for the knights to glance upon you.” Imagael lifted a blanket over her daughter. “And Sygtryg?” Magaith felt her heart leap, there be a chance yet. Imagael pressed her lips together. “He be in wait, sitting outside your chamber.” Magaith opened her eyes. Her mother placed a gentle hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “He waits to hear that you recover and be well. He will not come in to see you.” It was as though a fist did pound upon her chest. “He boils still with rage. He shall mend. And I trust he will desire you again.” Magaith shook her head, tears sliding from the corners of her eyes. Sygtryg was loyal and with that loyalty, did ask it from her. She did twice betray him and he would not forgive her for a second time. She did blunder too often and in truth, she be not worthy of him. “I be much pleased that you forgive. His wounds shall also heal in time and then we shall see.” Magaith recalled the afternoon they made their way to Cashel fortress. Sygtryg had said to her, “If ever it is, you want me or be in suffering, I shall come to you. This be my solemn vow.” Her mother answered softly, “He be not ready to come to you.” “Speak to him of his vow to me.” “Not before he is mended for he shall not give you the comfort you desire.” “It be his solemn vow!”
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“It shall do no good if he does come.” “I want him. I wish his arms around me.” “You must take pause and let him mend.” “Then, speak to him of my wish that he pardon my foolish deeds.” “I shall go to him now.” Imagael went to the curtain and as she passed through, found Sygtryg getting to his feet. His eyes were wild and his hair tousled about his shoulders. “Is she well?” His voice was a whisper. “She recovers.” He let out a great breath. “She be slow to heal in her sorrow.” Imagael put a hand on his arm. “If you give pardon for her judgments made without wisdom, she shall mend swiftly.” He shook his head. “I cannot.” “It is as her mother I ask.” Sygtryg stared at the floorboards. “I will not see her.” “You need not see her. Give your pardon to me and I shall speak of it.” “I wish that I be able. As a knight, truth is honor, honor is truth. I cannot give pardon when there is none for me to give.” “Find the affection you once possessed as you lay with her, your pardon lies there.” His jaw lowered, no sound came forth. “You pose as such a noble knight but in truth, you be not.” She went from him then, making way back through the curtain to Magaith’s bedside. “It may be Sygtryg is not the man you hoped. He cannot give pardon and believe himself a noble knight in this.” Magaith’s brow furrowed. “He be a most loyal and noble knight.” Imagael sat beside her daughter. “He doth err as we all err. And yet, he cannot give pardon to you, whom he did promise to wed.” “I be cruel and foolish, not worthy of him.” Imagael’s eyes flashed. “Nay! You did err in your judgments. None of us craft wisdom without erring and then seeing so, we might take another path.”
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“Mother, you believe he must give pardon?” She took her daughter’s hand and clasped it. “I say to you, a wed vow with a man who cannot give pardon shall be a sad and wretched wedlock.” Magaith sniffed at her tears. “If I did craft wise judgments, he need not give pardon. If I did not blunder, he would hold affection for me still.” Imagael gripped her daughter’s hand. “Fate is what it is. There can be no wishes that it be changed. Accept and go forth.” “I cannot.” Magaith closed her eyes to a flow of tears. “I desire him with me.” “Fate shall bring you great rewards, if you release the past.” “I adore him with all my heart. I want him, solely him.” “Your wound is fresh yet. Rest and be well, you shall see a change.” Magaith kept her next thought from her mother. I shall not change and be always wounded in my desire for him as husband. Thinking her daughter wished to sleep, Imagael went out to brew a potion. Magaith needed her strength regained or she would slow recover. Ground Coll added to a potion of blackberry Muin, would give her daughter the wisdom to see the knight as he was in truth, not as he deemed himself. As she worked over a fire in the courtyard, it came to her that the knight protector might take the potion, as well. She could not command it but she might ask it of him. When the brew was made, she filled two flasks and after taking one to Magaith, she went at once to the knight’s quarters. Imagael called for him, fearful he might send her away before she could ask him to drink the potion. He came to the door and stood with his arms crossed over his chest. She knew he did so to protect his pride in the event she was there to scold him. “I did brew a potion for wisdom.” She held the flask up. “And ask that you drink it to better know yourself and Magaith.” “What foolish notion be this?” “I see that I did wound you when last we spoke. I beg for pardon.” He leaned back against the door. “I grant my pardon to you.”
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“This potion shall give you the wisdom to see the truth of all events.” “I see the truth.” “It may grant further sight to truth.” He gazed at her, his chin held high. Then he dropped his arms and stepped toward her, his hand out. “I shall see naught changed but I will drink the potion.” As he took the flask, he asked, “It shall do no harm?” “My pledge as healer, it shall do you no harm.” He lifted the stopper and drank the potion. Then he handed the flask back to Imagael. “What am I to do, now?” “As you were before I came.” He nodded and disappeared inside the barracks. Imagael let out a breath. It was done. She returned to Magaith’s bedside and made herself comfortable on a stool. Now, the waiting began. *** After he drank the witch’s potion, Sygtryg found he desired sleep and took to his bed. He dreamed she was laying out upon a mattress. Unclothed, so beautiful. Soft and fragile. He lifted his body over her and straddling her bare hips, pulled off his tunic. Her hands went to his chest, her fingers skimming over his nipples. His head went back at her touch as his hands went to her lush breasts, rubbing them under his palms. The flame soon became a hot burning fire on his loins and he lay down, putting her leg over his back. He stroked her rounded breasts and soft belly. He took a peaked nipple in his mouth as he slipped his hand over her wet mound, she moaned. Desire surged through him and he entered her, pulling her close so the length of her body touched his. He was lost to her, his hardness throbbing with a pleasure not known before. Her lips sought his mouth and he met those sweet lips, kissing her until she whimpered. In his
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grave need for her, he began thrusting. He looked into her sweet face, then down at their joining and groaned. The pleasure went through him as wave and then a storm. He held her in his arms for a long while until the stirring began again. He slipped his hands over her back and then came around to her breasts, fondling the soft slopes and rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. His desire for her was as a tempest, he wished the storm to last and last… The dark slithering web of the wizard bound him tight. He must see his way from the snare or all was lost. Never would he have his beloved with him again, if he did not. Fear of the dark power took him over as cold thin lips clamped on his mouth and sour dank smells filled his nose. Thin bony hands crawled over his body. His spirit waned until it was near gone. What way from this? A spark of hope came to him that if he lay with another, the web might loosen and he might then be free. He must do it, to be joined with his beloved. And he chose not to see further, a judgment of this deed was the least of all to fear. Then he woke and rolled to his side, letting the dream come to full meaning. Magaith did all to seek a way from Harrold and regain him as her beloved. After, he rose and went to her. Imagael ushered him in, glanced over at her daughter and then went out through the draperies. He went to her bed and kneeled at her side. Her eyes opened and she smiled up at him. His heart leapt and he took her in his arms. “Is it, you allow me pardon I be not worthy of?” “It is I who must ask for pardon,” she whispered in his ear. The stirring in him began with her soft breath and he sought her mouth, taking her as a hungry man long without sustenance. She was his food. He lifted his head. “I ask again, will you take me as husband?” Her face was as a glorious light. “I will, my love! I will, I will!” “The morrow?”
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And with her nod, he lowered his mouth to hers. When they had kissed to brink of grasping at each others tunics, Sygtryg let her go with a promise to see her the morrow. Once he had gone, Magaith called a servant for her mother to attend her, swiftly. Imagael arrived to see her daughter twirling about her chamber. “I be the most content of brides!” “And the day?” “The morrow!” “We are ready for the feast.” She took her daughter in her arms. “I shall send to Cashel for the priest.” Magaith pulled back. “I had no tunic made.” “Your father had silk woven into a wed tunic and veil. I shall have them brought to you.” Magaith took her mother’s hands. “If you were not with me, to guide and aid, I would not be taking Sygtryg as husband.” “It pleases me you be content, at last.” “I be obliged to you, Mother.” As Imagael kissed her daughter’s cheek, a brown field mouse scampered across the floor, climbed on the mattress and hid under Magaith’s pillow.
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Chapter Fifteen The next morn, Magaith took off her sleeping tunic, went to the washing table and bathed. She rinsed her hair in scented water and then dried with linen towels. She slipped the silk wedding tunic on and began combing her hair, humming to herself. This very day, Sygtryg was to be her husband. All black events were overcome and they were happy and safe, there was no more to fear from Glunn or Harrold. When she had set the veil to her hair with the clasp, she smoothed the front of her tunic with her hands, watching the gold threads catch the light. Full happiness taking her over, she went from her chamber into the great hall where many tables had been arranged with benches. Musicians and balladeers gathered in a corner, plucking at stringed instruments and chatting. Knights with their wives were standing in clusters, talking and laughing as the King of Munster went from gathering to gathering, goblet of mead in hand. Magaith went to him. “Father, I be ready.” His smile was wide, his face flushed red. “You appear as a goddess.” “This tunic is most pleasing, Father.” She kissed his cheek. “I be obliged to you.” His smile waned. “Full truth, I do not recall when I asked it sewn.” “No matter,” she patted his arm. “These last events best be not recalled. Let us be happy in this day.” The king’s smile returned. “Your wed vow to Sygtryg, is most pleasing to me.” “I be of utter contentment.” “I shall speak of Sygtryg later, at the celebration.” She put her hand on his arm. “Speak now to me of what you shall say!” “He be a worthy husband for the king’s daughter and all Munster shall know.” Imagael had come over to join them, saying, “This be truth. He did prove his loyalty, strength and affection through the darkest of times.” www.samhainpublishing.com
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Next Magaith knew, her knight protector was beside her. Tall, with dark hair falling over his broad shoulders and beautiful dark eyes shining with deep affection. Lips, ample and ready for her kiss. Sygtryg took her hand. “Let us be wed.” And they walked together to the priest, brought that day from Cashel. The chatter in the hall lessened until it was quiet and all present stood in attendance. Magaith and Sygtryg each held the hands of the other, right hand to right, left hand to left, their wrists crossed. The priest then bound them together with ribbon, over the top of one wrist, under and around the other. When it was done, he stepped back and nodded to the king’s daughter, to recite the Brehon vows of wedlock. Magaith gazed into Sygtryg’s eyes as she said, “You possess me not, for I belong solely unto myself and shall forever more. But as we both wish it, I offer you that which is mine to give, my heart and my body and my possessions.” The priest nodded to the knight and he said to Magaith, “You command me not, for I be a free and noble man and shall be forever more. But I shall serve you in all the ways you need and do the best I be able to keep you content. I give you my heart and my body and all my possessions.” “It is my pledge to you, that you shall solely be the one I reach for in the night and it be your eyes into which I smile in the morning.” Magaith took pause, her lips trembling and then she said, “I vow to you the first bite from my bowl and the first drink from my cup. I give to you my life and my passage to the otherworld, each equally in your care. This be my wed vow to you.” “I shall be the shield for your back and you shall be my shield.” Sygtryg smiled at her. “I shall not slight you as I am firm, you shall not slight me. I shall honor you above all others as you shall honor me. When we dispute, we shall do so solely concealed and tell no strangers our cause of sorrow. This be my wed vow to you.” They turned to the priest. He proclaimed, “These promises you make by all the elements and by sun and moon, fire and water, day and night, land and sea.” The priest paused and looked at both of them
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in turn, as he continued, “With these Brehon wed vows you pledge to be equal, each to the other. If one finds the burden heavy, the other will take it up. If one does not honor the other, their own honor shall be lost until amends be made. If you fail to keep the wed vows you pledge today, all the elements shall put an end to you. So be it.” They looked again into each other’s eyes, both saying, “We shall keep the Brehon wed vows we pledge to the other. We shall keep the promises we make by all the elements and by sun and moon, fire and water, day and night, land and sea. So be it.” The priest took the ribbon from their wrists. Sygtryg leaned down and kissed her, his lips soft on hers. The knights, noblemen and women, balladeers and musicians sent up a cheer. The couple made their way into the gathering and received in turn, good wishes from those present. All the while, they held tight to each other, smiling brightly and glancing at each other with shared affection. Soon, it was time for the wed vow celebration and Sygtryg led Magaith to the high table, laid with silver goblets and bowls. When his wife was seated on a bench, he took his place beside her. They raised their goblets together, looking into each other’s eyes with a joyous light and with arms entwined, drank as one. Sygtryg set his goblet down, leaned to her and whispered, “You did spell me, wife.” And smiling, Magaith replied, “My husband, I did not.” “You did spell me with a great and steadfast affection for evermore.” He kissed her deeply and then said, “I be of utmost contentment.” She answered softly, “I be most pleased in my husband.” It was then, the knights, noblemen and women of Munster took their places at the high table in the great hall. There was a great noise of chatter and gaiety as platters of fowl and game were set atop the tables. Servants poured mead or beer into goblets as musicians regaled them with tunes. Singing broke out at the tables as balladeers began their songs. After a time, the King of Munster stood up and asked for quiet.
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When all were hushed, he said, “I be most content in this wed vow between my fair daughter, Magaith and my loyal knight, Sygtryg. And I look forward to many sons from their union. But should I go to the otherworld before a boy first-born to my daughter and her husband be of age, I deem Sygtryg shall take up my crown as king.” There was much cheering and shouting at this, Sygtryg was well known to Munster clan as knight protector to Magaith and was a fierce warrior in battle and challenge. He would be a most worthy clansman for the crown until his first-born son be grown to manhood. Magaith felt as though her chest might burst with joy. It came to her then, if Harrold had not devised his dark plot to have her, then she might still be with Borda. Inwardly, she shivered. And if Sygtryg had run off with her when she asked, he would not be fondly looked upon by her father and clan. He had shown himself to be stalwart through all events and did not put blame upon her for his shape change spell. No matter her words to Sygtryg that she might not ever be his wife and then her return to Borda, he remained certain of his deep affection for her. On the brink of losing her, he allowed her to come to her own truth and see it from end to end in her own way, whether he saw it the same or not. She came to full understanding then, with his pardon for her foolish judgements, he would ever love her. “Sygtryg, I wish to speak of my great affection for you.” He looked into her eyes. “If you so desire, I should be most happy.” “You be stalwart through events and when not, did forgive me. In all, you did allow my own full truth.” A light smile played upon his lips. “Imagael led me to see with my spirit.” His voice was soft but potent. “If I might go back to past events, not ever would I wish you to be of sorrow or suffering because of me.” “It is for always, I shall know of your deep affection for me.” “Most wonderous wife, shall we retire?” He reached for her hand and led her from the hall to her chamber.
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Once in the room, she let his arms slide around her and draw her close. She tilted her head so he could kiss her, savoring the warmth and love from his lips. Then, he lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the mattress, laying her down with care. His head lowered to hers. She whispered against his lips, “I feel we be not alone.” He lifted his head and glanced about the room. Then he stood up and went to the draperies, swinging them with his hands but found no one hiding. There was nowhere else to look, he could see under tables and benches from where he stood. “Magaith, I can find no one here.” She sat up on the bed. “Perhaps, someone is cloaked.” “How is it, we discover them?” “I can reach out with my thoughts.” And she sat with her eyes shut, quite still. After a time, Sygtryg came to her side. “Are you able to see?” She shook her head side to side, her brows knotted. “There be strange thoughts. I cannot make them out.” “What will you have me do?” “Let us go from here and find another place.” He helped her up and they went into the great hall, through the throng of revelers remaining at the celebration and out into the yard. The stars were out and a crescent moon hung unclouded. Magaith looked up at the heavens. “The stars did not change.” “I know now, I would change them to keep you.” He leaned his head on her veil as he put his arm around her shoulders. Some knights tumbled out of the north transept door and shouted their wishes to them, laughing and falling on each other. “Let us go from here,” Sygtryg said. “I know a place where we be in peace.” Magaith led him to the king’s stables, down to the last stall. “I had a mattress brought for sleeping near you.”
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They stood in the stall doorway as Magaith wondered if he suffered from his time as a horse. She took pause and let her husband judge if he wished to be there or not. He wrinkled his nose. “It has the smell of dung.” “At first, then the smell seems to fade.” She smiled to herself. He took her in his arms, resting his head on hers. “I shall never know how you kept strong and did not give up when I be so changed. I shall be ever obliged to you.” “You did give me pardon for my foolish deeds. It is I, ever obliged to you.” “We be obliged in each other,” he said, his voice rough. She lifted her head and he pressed his mouth hard upon hers, his breaths coming in moans and gasps. The lusty sounds, his lips against hers, his smell of sunshine and heaven, his arms around her, she was lost to him. He took the clasp from her hair and let the veil fall to the straw. With gentle hands, he set her on the mattress and kneeling in front of her, slipped the shoes from her feet. She watched him bend over her, his long hair falling over his shoulders and felt a tug at her heart. Reaching for him, she drew the knight down to her. Scamper. Scurry, scurry. She sat up. “There be a small beast in here.” Sygtryg cocked his head to listen. Scurry, scurry. “It be a rodent in the straw. I shall get a candle and seek it out.” Magaith went with him to the yard and waited by the stables as he disappeared into the fortress. Shortly, he came out with a lit candle, his hand protecting the flame. They went back to the last stall and Magaith held the candle as Sygtryg moved the straw about with his sword. “I have found it,” he called out and brought his sword down. He reached for the tail that he might toss the mouse into the yard, when the small beast began to grow and change. They stepped back and watched as the mouse became a man with white hair and beard lying in a pool of blood.
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“Harrold is gone to the otherworld by my sword! Alas, Torgaad shall be most displeased with me.” “We did not know he be changed to a mouse.” She put her arm about his waist. “Torgaad will know you did not intend this.” They went from the stables, arms about each other and into the pale moonlight. She murmured to him, “We shall be quite alone in my chamber, now.” He lowered his mouth to hers. “Long have I wished for this. You as my wife and I as your husband.” His lips were tender and then his breathing became loud. She drew back and held out her hand. “Come.” His eyes were dark and his grasp firm. They walked across the empty courtyard, through the transept and great hall to her chamber. At the draperies, he picked her up in his arms. As he tossed them aside and they entered her chamber, he said softly. “Bride, behold our wedding bed.” He kneeled and laid her on the mattress. As his hand slipped over her shoulder, she thrilled at the gentle caress. He lowered his head, brushing his lips softly over hers as he pulled down her tunic, baring her chest. His was mouth upon her, kissing the slope of her breasts. When she wriggled and moaned, he placed his mouth over a puckered nipple and suckled. Pure pleasure shot through her and the heat in her belly burned hot. She nestled against his groin, he was hard. He drew in a harsh breath and lifted his body over her, yanking his tunic over his head. His body was taut, lean, smooth and she ran her hands down his chest to his belly until she found his hardness. It was velvety, long and thick. Her fingers caressed the length of him as a flame licked deep inside her. He moaned and his hands pressed her breasts, his fingers at her nipples. The flame became a roaring fire; he looked into her eyes and sat her up. “My beautiful wife. My dearest love. I desire you so.”
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He tugged at her tunic and when she was free of it, she put her arms out for him. He laid beside her, setting her leg over his back and held her as he stroked her breasts and belly. His fingers grazed her nipples; she shivered and thrust her chest to him. He eased her on her back and holding her breasts together, set his mouth over her nipples, suckling at her. She raised her arms over her head and took the pleasure to feed her fire. His mouth licked at her as he placed his hand over her wet mound. She gasped with joy. He entered her and pulled her close, staying still inside her as they kissed until the ache in her belly made her moan against his mouth. He looked into her eyes and began thrusting. Then his lips came upon hers with great force and his arms went tighter about her, his hand on her hind side, pulling her against him. His mouth, his hands, his body were on her and her hips moved with him. He released her mouth, groaning. She arched up as he cupped her breasts and sucked at her nipples. He lifted his head and as she met his eyes, sparks went through her body, tingling to the tips of her toes. He cried out her name and held her as he shivered. Against his neck she whispered, “I be content in you, husband.” Sygtryg looked upon her. “My beloved, you give me all I wish for, to hear your voice and see your sweet face always.” His eyes were dark and steady. “And hold you near as this for evermore.” He set his warm lips upon hers, his hand caressing her cheek and she let go her heart, to the magic of his love.
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Epilogue A dark web be spun until it snare but the King’s daughter be not Quean. She did pluck apart the vile weave, Harrold’s blackened heart concoct. Then all was suffering and sorrow, til she wed the brave and stalwart knight. This be so and further I see as the waters of life reveal to me. There be daughters and sons delivered, when the knight be known as King. The years shall pass in Munster with peace upon the land. In such a great contentment, the days will flow and blend. As love doth know no bounds, nor shall it find an end.
I make this written in the eighth month Tinne, so it is in the year 997. Torgaad of Kincora, Record Master, Hedge Wizard of Munster, Eire.
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Author’s Note One day, in a flash of illumination, I penned the visions of Torgaad as they are in the Prologue. Then I began to develop the characters in the poem by researching Ireland at the time of the novel, 1000 AD. I discovered that Brehon law was pervasive, though the Christian missionaries from hundreds of years earlier were beginning to influence the medieval populace. I came to admire the Brehon principles, devised many centuries before the era of this book. Brehon law was a constructive form of regulation, including societal status and matrimony, penalties for wrongdoing and the rights of women. Much of this was gained from the work by P.W. Joyce, A Smaller Social History of Ancient Ireland, Dublin: M.H. Gill & Son, Ltd. 1908. Although little is truly known of the Druids, I was able to find references to them in myth and legend. I delved into herbs and trees as they were known to the ancient priests of Erin and used the names of the months as they were in that place and time. While attempting to remain as true to history as possible, I created a world of witches and wizards, earthdrakes and talking ravens, according to my imagination. The King’s Daughter is a work of fantasy based on the luscious myth and glorious chronicles of Ireland. Although altered somewhat, the wed vows in this book are taken from the traditional Gaelic vows of long ago. This would not have been possible without the translation by Morgan Llywellyn in her book Finn Mac Cool, New York: Tor Books, 1994. I acknowledge many historical facts were invaluable to create my tale but this translation in particular, was significant in the joining of Magaith and Sygtryg in everlasting love.
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About the Author To learn more about MC Halliday, please visit http://members.shaw.ca/mchalliday. Please, feel free to send an email to MC at
[email protected].
Princess Flian finds herself the unwilling object of desire of three royals. Is the one she wants a villain—or a hero?
The Trouble With Kings © 2008 Sherwood Smith Waking up in a strange place, Flian Elandersi at first doesn’t know who she is. One wicked prince tells her she is secretly engaged to an even more wicked king who wants to marry her right away. But before that happens, yet another wicked prince crashes through a window on horseback to sweep her off her feet. Memory returns, and Flian realizes that all any of them seem to want is her considerable wealth, not her pleasant-but-ordinary self. She longs to escape the barrackslike, military atmosphere and return to civilization and her musical studies. Flian endures another abduction, this time in the middle of a poetry reading. Who is the villain? Prince Garian Herlester—languid, elegant, sarcastic? Prince Jaim—he of the dashing horsemanship? Or King Jason Szinzar, whose ambiguous warning might be a threat? Flian decides it’s time to throw off civilization and take action. The problem with action is that duels of wit turn into duels of steel—and love can’t be grabbed and galloped away.
Enjoy the following excerpt for The Trouble With Kings: When I opened my eyes again, the pale light of day outlined the dangling vines. Rain hissed in sheets just behind. Jason was not going to go away if I ignored him. He lay against a great rock, his left hand clasped below his right armpit. A sluggish ooze of blood seeped between his fingers. What remained of his shirt on that side was stained, a great, frightening stain. More stain darkened the ground under him. The rest of him was filthy with mud and moss. I shut my eyes again, this time against an almost overwhelming surge of nausea. When I had that under control, I looked down at myself. My gown was a sodden, mud-smeared mess, ripped beyond repair.
I looked up at Jason. “You’re bleeding to death.” “Most likely.” I could barely hear him. “I can’t look at that.” My voice came out sounding accusing. His eyes flicked toward the stream and beyond, and though he said nothing, the glance was clear: so leave. “I wouldn’t get ten paces in that storm.” His voice was barely audible above the rush of the stream. “Then suffer.” I saw the briefest narrowing of humor in his eyes. The ridiculousness of the situation overcame the sense of danger, making everything more unreal. “Well,” I said. “Do you want some help?” One shoulder lifted in a slight shrug, as if to say: what can you do? Good question. I looked about for something to staunch that horrible ooze. He had nothing, I had nothing. My gown was fragile and filthy—but my lace collar wasn’t. I found the catches, and shook it free of the gown. I moved to the edge of the overhang and held the lace out until the rain had pounded it clean of mud. Then I folded the heavy lace into a pad. Wishing myself a kingdom away, I examined the blood-soaked wad of cloth pressed between his fingers and his side. His hair had come untied, black locks straggling down into the gore. I shuddered. My own hair had come undone, lying in a sodden mass down my back and on the mud and moss-covered stone ground. “You’re a fool,” he murmured. “You should be making your way downstream.” “I don’t know where I am,” I said, as if that explained everything. “Move your hand.” “Why?” The Why did not mean Why move my hand? but Why are you doing what you’re doing? How did I know? I just, well, knew. “I may loathe and despise you,” I said as emphatically as I could despite my shaky, squeaking voice. “But I loathe my conscience worse. I’ll leave as soon as I know I did what I could.”
He hadn’t moved his hand, so I reached down and tried reluctantly to pry loose one of his fingers. His hand jerked in resisting—which was his undoing. A spasm of pain tightened his features. His hand went slack and his eyes closed. Gone off in a faint, I thought, triumphant. See how you like it. I put his hand on his middle, flicked his hair out of the way, and pressed the lace over the long gash, wondering how to keep it there. His chest was bare where his shirt had ripped, and in the blood smears on his flesh lay a long silver chain. My eyes followed it, saw whatever was on its end was caught in his armpit. As I tugged, it came free, but the object on the end was red and sticky. I dropped it, turned away and gagged dryly for a short but thoroughly nasty time. When that passed off, I leaned back against the rock and fought to get my breathing under control. Since Jason was still in a faint, I pulled up an edge of his shirt and poked the thing on the chain down his other side. Then I resumed my search for something to bind the lace over the wound, but he stirred, and his left hand came up again and pressed against his side, prisoning the lace there. I moved away to watch the rain until the waves of nausea passed. When I turned, Jason said, “Ambush.” And he’d been taken by surprise, I thought, remembering the battle gear he’d worn the day of the abduction. He’d been ready for trouble that day. The chain mail and battle tunic were probably burning back there with the carriage and the rest of his luggage. “Where are we?” I asked. “Border between Drath and Ralanor Veleth.” Almost to his homeland. “Who did it? Garian’s people? Or yours?” I added snidely. “Enterprising independents, I believe,” he whispered. “Of the sort my brother runs.” “Who were they after? Me—or you?” “Not sure. You were hidden by baggage.” He gave a brief, pained half-smile. “So if they come back, what?” “Won’t come back. Dead. All of ’em.”
“But if they have friends who come seeking them?” “You tell ’em. Who you are. You’ll be. Safe enough.” “Another ransom? Is that going to frame the rest of my life?” I asked the rocky ceiling. Seeing no answer, I faced Jason. “The fire?” “Campfire. Most likely. Wind was coming up when they attacked. I used a stick from the fire. When my sword wouldn’t come free of one of ’em.” “Ugh.” “Sent Markham for backup,” he went on. “Didn’t know about the fire.” “Markham?” “Liegeman.” “How long have we been on the road?” Another brief half-smile. “Couple days. Had quite a run. Your brother. Was commendably fast this time.” “But not fast enough, obviously. Well, at least when I get home Spaquel will be discredited for good.” “Talk himself out of it.” I sighed and braced myself to look at the lace again. There was white in it. So the bleeding was slowing. Time to go away. I got to my feet, paused when I saw the gleam of a jewel not far from Jason. I bent. My fingers closed around the hilt of a long bladed knife. I said to Jason, “You lost my gems. This is a fair trade.” “Didn’t lose ’em. Sold ’em. Get over the border faster.” Belatedly I realized he meant bribes. To my own people. Anger surged through me. I glared at him, the knife gripped in my fingers. The smile was obvious now. “Go ahead. This is the only chance you’ll ever get.”
A not-ready-for-Disney fairy tale.
A Spell for Susannah © 2008 Jody Wallace Princess Susannah’s discovery that she can work fairy magic unlocks the door to a delicious secret: Beneath the castle where she and her twelve sisters live, there’s an enchanted palace that has an edge over the Middle Kingdoms. It’s chock full of princes who just love to dance. In a world where the nobility have been fairy-cursed to bear no more male children, it’s a secret they enjoy to the fullest. But without male heirs, the human lands are on the verge of anarchy. The King and Queen hire Jon Tom, a detective, to find out where their daughters are disappearing to every night. Susannah finds herself wanting to tell Jon Tom all her secrets—and give him her heart. But if Susannah's secrets go public, her parents won’t be happy. Worse, the fairies won't be happy. And the enchanted princes will be in danger.
Enjoy the following excerpt for A Spell for Susannah: As soon as her escort left, a husky voice on the other side of the balcony spoke. “Bravo, milady. I’m impressed with the way you handled that rabbit boy.” Every nerve in her skin prickled. Mysterious whispering, no body—must be that sneaky Prince John. Had he been here all this time? Susannah resisted the urge to raise her hands into a defensive stance. “Where are you? How long have you been watching me?” “All night. You certainly made up for your lack of dances the night we met.” “I told you I came here to dance.” Susannah tossed back her dark ringlets, suddenly conscious she was wearing one of her old red shifts and not a newer, more flattering one. The voice spoke again, much closer to her. “Then you should dance with me.” She felt a touch on her bare arm. She edged away. “Prince Siselwade will be back any moment.” “You’ll be lucky if Prince Sissy comes back at all.”
Susannah stifled a laugh. “That isn’t true. He’s been an excellent companion.” “Some escort—leaving you out on a dark balcony at the mercy of any passing prince.” “At your mercy, you mean? I think not.” “I could be upon you before you knew what was coming,” whispered a warm voice in her ear, but when she reached to fend him off, he wasn’t there. “I had little trouble with you last time, as I recall.” Susannah flattened herself against the balcony railing so he couldn’t approach her from behind. The cold marble chilled her lower back through the silk of her garment. “I wish to interview you.” “Your pulse races at the base of your neck.” A quick finger stroked her collarbone. “Is that not fright?” “No.” She turned her face away from a touch upon her cheek. “Are you frightened to be alone with me?” “You don’t frighten me.” “Then what do you feel?” Susannah crossed her arms over her chest. If the prince was going to use his invisibility as an excuse to fondle her, she wasn’t going to make it easy. She’d come here to interview him, not flirt with him. “Fatigue, of course. From all that dancing.” A leg brushed her calf. “We can go to the Divan Room, where you may rest in comfort.” “My prince will look for me here,” she protested, even though the thought of sinking into a cushioned sofa was tempting. Perhaps Prince John would rub her feet, as the other princes sometimes did. And perhaps not. “He’s already forgotten which balcony he left you on.” Susannah glanced through the elegant glass doors into the ballroom just as Siselwade wandered past, a silver chalice in his hand. Light from the chandeliers that graced the ceiling of the ballroom poured through the doors in a perfect yellow square, but she stood to the left, in shadow. “I’ve no wish to row myself across the lake again tonight, sir. I should remind him where I am, unless you’ll man the oars yourself?” She smiled sweetly.
“Alas, I’m not allowed,” the prince replied. Susannah scooted along the balcony toward the light to call for Siselwade. A strong arm held her back. From the position of the arm and the hand at the back of her neck, from the warmth in the air, Prince John must be standing right…in front…of her. Susannah closed her eyes, and every nerve along her body tingled with awareness. When one relies upon sight, the other senses fade. Now she could feel the outline of the man, inches from her body. Now she could smell his scent, a peppery tang, with fruit on his breath. “Ah, Susannah.” A pair of warm lips feathered along her brow. “Don’t call him. Stay with me.” His cheek pressed against hers, and the hand clasping her neck threaded into her thick, heavy hair. “I didn’t tell you my name,” she whispered. “I’ve been meaning to ask you—” The tentative touch of his mouth upon hers cut her off mid-sentence. He rubbed softly against her lips, once, twice and lingered the third time with a moist pressure. When his tongue parted her lips, she tasted apples. How long they stood on the balcony, with their mouths and tongues touching, with his palm cradling the back of her head, she didn’t know, but it was long enough for her heartbeat to quicken and her nipples to tighten, long enough for her to fantasize about further indiscretions. She stroked his velvety face. His hair was silky, with locks across his forehead. Prince John took her hand and halted her tentative exploration. “Princess,” he said, his voice even huskier, “let me take you somewhere more comfortable. We’ll fetch wine and fruit and talk.” “Talk,” she said. She opened her eyes and saw nothing. A flood of cold air rushed along her front, restoring her sanity. “Yes, I wanted to talk.” “Then we shall.” She hadn’t conversed with men one-on-one much in her life until recently. Jon Tom talked to her. He listened as well. The princes, on the other hand, did not. “The princes never want to talk,” she said.
“I’m not like—” “The other princes, I know. You told me last time. Or do you remember?” “I remember every moment I’ve ever seen you, in detail. I love to watch when you don’t know I’m there.” His quiet intensity jolted her. She crossed her arms over her chest again to hide her taut nipples. “How…disturbing.” He chuckled. “We should definitely talk.” “What do you want to know?” “I want to know how you came to find me, my dove. How you came to find the enchanted land and all the princes in it. What drives you to return, night after night.” His questions had a familiar tang. They reminded her of the questions she herself had asked the princes, back when she thought she could get a reply. They were not, however, questions she cared to answer. And it was late. “The night is half-gone already. We must return to our own castle by a certain hour.” “Tell me other things about you. How do you spend your days in the land above?” “You know about the land above?” she asked, intrigued. For a moment he didn’t respond. Then he said, “I know it exists but little else. My memories were erased by this damned curse.” “Why do you think you’re different from the other princes?” “Perhaps in my other life, my life before the enchantment, I was a truly wicked man.” He traced a fingertip down her forearm and ended at the back of her hand. “Fairies don’t have the same concept of wickedness as humans. Their motives cannot always be comprehended.” Such as, why would the fairies have trapped all these men here in the land beneath? And why would they allow the Female Curse to ruin the Middle Kingdoms, which supplied most of their gold? The prince took Susannah’s hand and squeezed it gently. She stared into the emptiness as the press of his lips warmed her knuckles. “Come,” he murmured. “Why do you resist? You’ve nothing to fear from me.”
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