John Lenahan - Prince of Hazel and Oak

‘You don’t have to justify anything. I just think it’s strange that you went all bridal so soon after my departure.’

‘Let me get this straight – you think that my getting engaged is because I couldn’t have you?’

‘Well, I wouldn’t put it like that but…’

‘Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,’ she hissed. ‘You are the most arrogant, pop-headed imbecile I have ever met.’

‘Pop-headed?’

‘Do you have anything else to discuss?’

‘Yeah, what does pop-headed mean?’

She made that exasperated Essa noise that she frequently makes just before she pummels you. ‘You are dismissed,’ she said.

Now I wasn’t really into continuing this stupid argument, or getting pummelled for that matter, but I was not about to be sent away like a lackey. Thinking about it, I wouldn’t even be that rude to a lackey – and I don’t even know what a lackey is.

‘Dismissed! You are dismissing me? Oh thank you, Your Royal Highness, for the privilege of your company. If there is anything else your Sire-ship requires don’t hesitate to order your Turd-low to sneak in and overhear it.’

I pulled the reins on Acorn and let Her Ladyship pull ahead. Turlow passed me on the left and said, ‘That did not sound very good.’

I spotted a glimpse of a smirk on his face as he caught up with his fiancee.

Araf came abreast. ‘That didn’t sound very good,’ he said.

Araf it seemed had learned how to make unnecessary comments. I have only myself to blame ’cause I think he learned that from me. I let him go by and dropped into step with Brendan.

‘That didn’t sound very good,’ Brendan said.

‘That seems to be the consensus. Could you really hear us all the way back here?’

‘Let’s just say if you two ever get married, I don’t want to live next door.’

‘Don’t worry, there is not much chance of that.’

‘Conor, can I give you a piece of constructive advice?’

‘Go ahead,’ I sighed.

‘Stop being such a jerk.’

‘That’s constructive advice?’ I asked.

‘Well maybe not – but it is advice.’

‘So I’m the jerk? What about her? She was the one that tore my head off.’

‘And you did nothing to provoke her?’

‘No. Well, OK yes, but she overreacted and what about Turd-low creeping around in the dark listening in on our conversations.’

‘It wasn’t dark, it was in that pea-soup fog, remember? And he told me that he was just sitting next to us doing some Banshee meditation and we disturbed him.’

‘And you believe him?’

‘Conor, I can see why you don’t like him but I hate to tell you this – he seems like a nice guy.’

‘Well, you thought I was a murderer, so forgive me if I don’t trust your judgement.’

Brendan just shrugged. He wasn’t looking for a fight and it made me realise I didn’t need another one either, so I changed the subject.

‘Speaking of difficult women, where is my aunt?’

‘She’s a gone out a-huntin.’

‘Hunting? My Aunt Nieve?’

‘She thought it was strange that we weren’t seeing any animals the closer we got to these Pinelands. So she nipped off to look for some. Ever since she mentioned it, I’ve noticed that I haven’t seen a lot of living things around here for a while. Have you?’

‘I haven’t been looking,’ I replied. ‘I’ve been too busy wooing Essa.’

‘Right, how’s that going?’

‘You know, Brendan, I liked you better when you were a mean cop. This sarcastic Brendan is annoying.’

‘Nieve doesn’t think I’m annoying. In fact this morning she said I was quite funny.’

‘You had a conversation with Nieve? I thought you were sared of her?’

‘Oh, I’m still plenty scared of her but you can’t deny that she is quite beautiful.’

‘Yes, I noticed that when I first saw her, but it went away.’

‘When you found out she was your aunt?’

‘No, when she tried to kill me. I find I lose that loving feeling with women that try to kill me.’

‘Didn’t Essa try to kill you?’

I didn’t have a good answer for that, so I ignored it.

The next couple of days were clear but icy cold. In the morning, frost covered our tents, which meant getting out of my cosy sleeping roll was almost impossible. Essa continued to set a pace bordering on the maniacal. In short, the entire trip was extremely not fun – but it seemed I was the only one who thought so. The princess and the Banshee lovebirds were as sickly as ever. Brendan and Nieve were getting along so well I could have sworn I heard my aunt actually giggle. That left me and Araf, and when he did talk, it was about the native flora or what a nice guy he thought Turlow was. I decided that my only course of action was to pout.

Either this group was a bunch of insensitive louts (which I am not discounting) or I wasn’t doing it right. A proper pout should influence the mood of the entire group making them all almost as miserable as the poutee but my travelling companions seemed to be un-bring-down-able. If I complained about the cold they would say, ‘Yes, but look at the blue skies.’ If I sighed heavily and went to bed immediately after dinner they would just say, ‘Good night.’ I figured they would notice if I went off my food but as soon as chow was placed in front of me – I ate it. You have to be really committed to call a hunger-strike pout.

Actually one person noticed my sulk – Turlow. He slipped in next to me and said, ‘You don’t seem to be enjoying our little jaunt, Master Faerie.’

‘I’m having a grand time,’ I answered without looking at him.

‘I don’t believe you. How can you not be in high spirits when you are in the company of Essa of Muhn? Oh, but you’re not really in her company that much, are you? Shame, I’m having a lovely time.’

‘You done?’ I asked.

‘Funny,’ he said as he kicked his horse and sped back to the front, ‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’

A couple of days later the mood of the group turned, but I suspect that it had a lot less to do with my pouting than it had to do with us reaching the edge of the Pinelands.

Like many of the lands in Tir na Nog, you know you’re in the Pinelands when you get there. It starts with rolling hills filled with – can you guess? – pine trees. Actually the trees are silver fir – ailm in the ancient language of Ogham. If you think that a hill filled with pine trees would give the place a nice Christmassy feel, you’d be wrong. These pines were scraggy and downright menacing. Like weird old men with long bedraggled beards who, if you talked to them, would probably say, ‘We don’t cotton onto strangers around here,’ and when you got back to your car your girlfriend would be missing. These trees grew high and hunched over like they wanted to block out as much light as possible. The ground between the trees was a spongy carpet of brown pine needles in which nothing grew.

The trail grew steeper and the pace slower. It was tiring. You would think that since I was on horseback it wouldn’t make any difference whether I was going uphill or down, but Acorn and I had a bond that made me feel some of his effort. All the good riders experienced the same thing, so I guess I was getting pretty good at this riding stuff. We also travelled slower ’cause none of us wanted to make too much noise in this place. If we could have gotten our horses to tiptoe, we would have.

After a couple of wordless hours inclining the Pinelands, Brendan rode up close to me and in a low voice said, ‘This is going to sound very cliched but I-’

‘You feel like someone is watching you?’ I interrupted.