Edith Pattou - Hero's Song

"Yes," Collun replied without looking at Brie. His lips felt dry.

"Here. Sit." Talisen gently nudged Collun into a chair. "Bring him something. Quickly!" he hissed at Quince, who had followed Collun into the room. The servingman nodded and went out. Talisen sat on the arm of the chair and tried to rub some heat into Collun's hands.

Collun sat still. His mother was dead, and his father's words hung before his eyes: "It is no more a concern of mine." Goban was dismissing Collun from his life as if he were a worn horseshoe. Collun had long known his father had little love for him, but to be swept aside so finally, so unexpectedly, caught him like a blow to the stomach. He had no home now. Nowhere to return to. And still he could not cry.

Quince returned with a flagon of thick amber liquid that burned Collun's throat as it went down. The paroxysm of coughing that followed brought his thoughts into focus. They were due to leave soon for Lord Bricriu's dun, and he still had to finish making the herb possets Quince had requested for Fial. He rose to his feet, feeling strangely calm. "Please do not speak of this to anyone," he said, voice flat, and then left the room.

As he crushed the leaves of the wood avens plant and sifted them into a bowl of broth from the dun's kitchen, Collun could hear voices through the open door.

"Why did you react so to the news of Emer's death?" asked Talisen. "You turned pale as a cloud."

There was no answer for a moment, then Brie spoke. "It must have reminded me of my own mother's death." Her voice was without expression. "Why has Collun never spoken the name of his mother before this?"

"She wished it so," Talisen replied. "I do not know why." There was another pause. "I thought you were only a babe when your mother died," Talisen went on, his voice speculative.

"Losing a mother is hard no matter what your age."

"Yes," responded Talisen. "Perhaps I am the lucky one. As far as I can remember, I never had a mother to lose."

Then Quince entered Fial's room. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the sound of the voices.

"Can I help?"

Collun shook his head. While Quince built up the fire, Collun crossed to Fial's bedside and looked down at his aunt. Her breathing was more regular, but still she did not awaken. He suppressed an urge to reach down and shake her by her thin shoulders. Collun was sure she knew the truth behind all the secrets Emer had kept hidden. He gazed at her half-expectantly, but the sick woman did not stir, and with a sigh, Collun returned to his work.

By midday they were ready to depart. The queen generously provided them with horses from the royal stables.

Collun had decided he would not speak to the queen about Emer now. But if he should ever return to Temair he would go to her at once and tell her everything. Now that his mother was dead, Collun could not believe she meant him to continue this silence. But first he must find Nessa—and Crann, too. His mother had told him to go to Crann when she died.

As they set out, Collun introduced Brie, still in her boy's raiment, to Prince Gwynedd and Lord Bricriu.

Bricriu looked closely at Brie. "Your face is familiar to me, Breo-Saight."

"I do not believe we have met before, m'lord," she replied.

"No, but. ." His gaze dropped to the bow that Brie wore slung over her shoulder. A look of recognition came across Bricriu's face. "I know that bow! Unless I am much mistaken, I knew your father. Was he not Conall, the great champion of Eirren?"

Gwynedd, who rode nearby, peered at Brie. "Yes! I see the resemblance myself. But," he added in a puzzled tone, "Conall did not have a son."

Brie kept her lips tightly closed and motioned with her reins as if to move away from them. Collun saw that her cheeks were flushed.

Bricriu moved his horse up, blocking Brie's. "If you are not Conall's son, then how did you come by his bow? There cannot be two bows bearing the design of a Sun Bear." Bricriu's voice turned soft. "Unless you were one of his murderers?"

Brie drew up her reins and twisted in her saddle, facing Bricriu. Her eyes were blazing and her hand flew to the dagger she wore at her waist.

"No. I thought not," Bricriu responded with a conciliatory smile. "Indeed, I can see your father in your eyes, especially when the battle light comes upon them. You are Conall's daughter, are you not?"

Brie's mouth opened slightly, then she quickly clamped it shut.

Talisen laughed from behind. "Your disguise wears thinner and thinner every day, Brie."

Prince Gwynedd urged his horse up next to Brie's. "You are Conall's daughter? Well met, Breo-Saight!" he said warmly. "I was a great admirer of your father. He was almost an uncle to me. How is it that he never brought you to Temair?"

"He did, several times, when I was very young. After that I chose not to accompany him. I grew up wearing breeches and running wild," she explained. "I would not have fit in at court."

Gwynedd gave an engaging laugh. "I know. For myself, I would much rather be off hunting or journeying than wasting time on dancing and feasting and acting polite all day. But tell me, Brie—may I call you Brie?" She nodded. "Are the arrows you carry of your own design? And what kind of feather do you favor?"

As the prince and Brie launched into a lively discussion of bow and arrow construction and design, Collun felt the stirrings of an emotion he could not name. Something about the self-assured prince and the sound of his voice affected Collun the same way as the noise of iron scraping iron. He felt ill-humored and awkward on top of the large horse. Grimly he reminded himself that it was an honor to be accompanied by the prince of Eirren.

The companions journeyed well into the night to reach Bricriu's dun, and they were hungry and tired when they arrived. They were provided with rooms and baths, after which Bricriu bade them join him for a late meal before retiring.

Just as they were sitting down to dinner, a servingman bent to whisper in Bricriu's ear. A troubled expression came across the nobleman's face.

"Prince Gwynedd, I'm afraid a message has just arrived for you from Temair. It appears that the queen wishes you to return immediately. No reason was given, only the message that it is urgent."

"A messenger just arrived?"

"Yes. And both the poor man and his horse are dead with exhaustion. I hope there has not been bad news from the border."

"I shall leave at once." The prince rose to his feet.

"Of course, if you wish it. But do you not think you ought to wait until the morning? You are weary from the long ride..."

"No. If my mother thinks it urgent, then I must go. Collun," Gwynedd said, turning to him, "I am sorry to leave, but I hope we will meet again. Good luck to you." And he gave Collun's hand a last crushing grip. Then he bade the others farewell. Collun thought the prince's smile lingered longest on Brie.

Lord Bricriu called for food and drink. They were in a small room with a fire crackling in the large stone fireplace, seated on rust-colored cushions around a low round table. Lanterns of red glass gave the room a dim orange glow. The food was savory and elegantly prepared, and it was served by a throng of attentive servingmen who all wore rust-colored hooded cloaks and white gloves.

Though he was clearly concerned about the abrupt departure of the prince, Lord Bricriu was a charming host. He, Talisen, and Silien did most of the talking. Collun was still numb from the news he had received in Temair, and Brie was characteristically silent.

After some worried speculation about the queen's urgent message for Gwynedd, the conversation gradually shifted to the heated exchange of the night before about Cuillean.

"I regret my part in it," Bricriu said. "I should not have repeated the rumor I heard. My own feeling is that, though a body has not been found, Cuillean must be dead. He would not stay away so long, not with our country on the verge of war.