John Lenahan - Prince of Hazel and Oak

‘I was going to make my way to the stables by myself but I didn’t want your mother to ju-jitsu me into a wall when she saw me. What did she say when you told her I was coming?’

‘Eh – I haven’t quite told her yet.’

‘Oh great.’

‘You see, my motto is it’s always easier to apologise than it is to ask permission.’

‘That’s a fine philosophy if it’s not you flying butt over noggin in the air.’

‘Fair point,’ I said. ‘I’ll protect you – just don’t touch her.’

‘The thought of you protecting me fills me with so much confidence,’ Brendan said sarcastically. ‘Don’t worry. My hands won’t go near your momma.’

As is usual for these crack-of-dawn riding parties, everyone was pretty much saddled up and ready to go by the time I arrived. Being a royal personage means that most people don’t give me any verbal grief for tardiness but that doesn’t stop the dirty looks.

Mom of course is the exception to that rule. She was just about to chew my head off for being late when she saw Brendan.

‘What is he doing here?’

‘Chill, Mom, he’s with me.’

‘I most certainly will not chill, whatever that means – I will not have him coming with us.’

I took a deep breath and said, ‘I am a prince of Duir and this man is under my protection. He travels with me.’

Mom and I stared into each other’s eyes. I had never stood up to my mother and I was pretty sure pulling a royal card on her wasn’t going to work. We glared at each other for about five seconds – the longest five seconds of my life – before she said, ‘Very well. Hurry up, you have made us late.’

When I started breathing again and my heart rate dropped down to a manageable rhythm, I was addressed by a Leprechaun I remembered from the ruined stables in the Hall of Knowledge.

‘Greetings, Lord Conor. It is good to see you again. When Lady Deirdre told me you needed your horse I was not sure which one she meant, so I saddled both.’

A stable-hand led out two sights for sore eyes. ‘Acorn! Cloud!’ I yelled. I didn’t know which one to hug first and I certainly didn’t want to insult one over the other. A woman scorned is trouble but a jealous horse can pitch you into a ravine. I patted both snouts simultaneously. Since Cloud is the easier ride, I suspected that she was the less sensitive of the two – I gave her to Brendan.

We rode through the courtyard past a small throng of bowers and wavers and up to the main oak gates of Duir. While reading to Dad during the previous few days, I had read that Maeve had promised to reduce them to kindling. That would have been a hell of a trick. The two gates were over two storeys high and almost as wide. When closed they displayed a huge carving of an oak tree. On each leaf of the tree, inlaid in gold, were all the runes of the lands comprising Tir na Nog. The largest rune was the major Oak Rune; next to it was a carving of what was then hanging from my waist – the Lawnmower – the Sword of Duir. As the team of horses pulled open the gates, the depth of these monsters became apparent. The gates were as thick as I was tall. I promised myself that after I woke Dad up I would ask him where they came from.

A small battalion fronted by Spideog and Araf awaited us on the other side of the gates. As we approached they saluted and parted. Araf slipped in next to me.

‘Hey, Imp buddy, I didn’t know you were coming.’

‘A prince of the House of Duir must always travel with a bodyguard. It was one of your father’s first rules.’

‘Do you mean every time I leave home I’m stuck with you?’ I said with a smile. Araf didn’t answer me. He doesn’t usually answer straight questions. There’s no hope he’d answer a rhetorical one.

I promised myself I wouldn’t go on and on like I usually do about how beautiful The Land is, but I just gotta say that fall in The Land is awesome. I’m not using the word ‘awesome’ the way a mall-rat would describe a slush drink; when I say awesome I mean it. The scenery in the Forest of Duir actually inspired awe and not just with Brendan and me. Most of our troop rode with wide eyes and mouths open and the majority of them were probably over a thousand years old. I suspect you could never get tired of this scenery no matter how many times you had seen it.

If you were to hold your hands out in front of you palm up, like you were begging, one of these leaves would cover both of your hands completely. The major colour of the foliage was ‘inferno’ orange. The leaves were almost incandescent and gave off a glow in the sunlight that made all our complexions look like we had been caught in an explosion at a fake-tan factory. The reds and yellows and greens were there to provide dazzling counterpoint. Periodically you would see a bold tree that was solely in red or another just in yellow. The colours were everywhere, even underfoot, gently rustling under our horses’ hooves.

The air, scented with the perfume of fallen leaves, was cool and crisp – you felt like it could almost cut you – and it was crystal clear, like the way the world looks after you clean a pair of dirty sunglasses. I can honestly say I have never experienced a more invigorating morning. Sorry about the gushing – I promise I won’t mention spring.

We rode in silence letting our eyes and sighs do all the talking. About an hour before noon we entered Glen Duir and Mom dropped back to talk to me.

‘Oisin said Mother Oak was asking after you the last time he spoke to her. Would you like to stop for a quick chat?’

‘Yes please,’ I said as an involuntary smile took over my face. I kicked into a gallop with Araf close on my tail. I crested the hill and saw the old lady dressed in her fall best. Her leaves were mostly yellows and light browns like a comfortable patchwork quilt. I dismounted before Acorn came to a stop, ran up to her and wrapped my arms around her trunk.

‘Oh my,’ came that lovely voice in my head, ‘who is this in such a rush?’

‘It’s me, Mother Oak – Conor.’

‘Oh my, my, the Prince of Hazel and Oak; I have been worried about you.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Oh, but your father is not,’ she said, reading my thoughts. ‘Climb up higher and tell me all about it.’

I climbed a bit and she brought branches in behind me to rest against. I told her about what had happened to Dad, and what Mom and Fand had done.

‘Oh, I had feared as much. I knew something was wrong with your father the last time he came to visit with me. But try not to worry yourself too much, my dear, your mother is a very clever witch. If anyone can find a cure it will be her.’

I knew that already but Mother Oak has a way of turning knowledge into belief. I hugged her again.

‘I have to go,’ I said, ‘the others are waiting for me.’

‘Take good care of yourself, Conor. Come and see me in the spring.’

‘I will.’ I started to leave and then added, ‘By the way your foliage looks beautiful.’

‘Do you really think so?’ she asked. ‘The fashion among the other trees these days just seems a bit gau#8217; me.’

‘Well, I think you look elegant.’

I hugged her one more time and I know it sounds impossible for a tree but I think she blushed.

I walked over the knoll. It always takes me some time to clear my head after talking to a tree. I saw a small group standing around someone on the ground. As I got closer I saw it was Brendan unconscious on his back.

‘What happened?’ I asked the throng.

‘I don’t know,’ a guard said. ‘Ask him.’

Spideog crested the knoll with a bucket of water in his hand. Ignoring my questions, he poured the whole thing onto Brendan’s face. The detective popped up spluttering, tried to stand and then dropped back down holding his head.