Emerald Magic_ Great Tales of Irish Fantasy - Andrew M. Greeley [135]
In my heart, I felt empty.
Then I saw the Lady, riding along the shore on her grey mare. I saw her reach into her bodice, and the white gleam of her arm beneath her sleeve as she threw the ball of thread.
It flew in an arc through the air, unspooling as it went. And one end she held in her hand, and the other came loose at the end, flutter ing down over the curragh. There was the flash of sunlight upon Máel Dúin’s golden hair as he stood and reached out to catch the thread.
Once he had caught it, he could not let it go.
Winding the thread into a ball, the Lady drew it taut. The curragh turned its nose for our shore, and Máel Dúin stood like a statue in the prow as the Lady wound and wound, the silken thread taut above the waves, drawing them ashore. Then she took the end from Máel Dúin’s hand and tucked the ball of thread into her bodice.
I do not know what words were spoken between them, only that the Lady turned her grey mare and rode to the dún, and Máel Dúin and his men followed behind her. So it was that they returned, and though my heart was full, I did not know whether I was happy or saddened.
All of us knew what had passed that day, but we did not speak of it, nor did we speak of it that night. Máel Dúin sat at the Lady’s side, and he seemed content to be there, like a man who had won a reprieve. And Diurán played the harp and sang love songs as though he had never sung anything else and words of grief and vengeance and war had never passed his lips.
But he would not meet my eyes, and I knew they would try again.
In the morning, I went to the stable where my Lady was making ready to ride forth on her grey mare, and I touched the hem of her robe.
“Lady,” I said to her, “perhaps you should not go.”
The Lady smiled at me. “What, Cébha? Would you have me be idle? I have a duty to the folk of the isle.”
And so she went forth and inside the dún Máel Dúin shook off his torpor like a dog shaking water from its coat and led his men to the beached curragh, and I watched them from the ramparts once more. So I was watching as they drew away from the shore and the green swell of the waves widened between us; but then the Lady came riding, and I knew she had not been fooled. Once more she drew the ball of thread from her bodice and threw it, and Máel Dúin caught the end, and it stuck fast to his hand. And this time, his men drew their swords and hacked at the thread, but it did not break, no matter how sharp their blades. So it was that the Lady drew the curragh ashore.
When it was done, she turned her grey mare and rode slowly back to the dún, and Máel Dúin and his men followed.
That night in the hall, Máel Dúin’s men grumbled and said among themselves that there was no enchantment upon the thread and that Máel Dúin clung fast to it on purpose, for he did not wish to leave the Lady’s side. But Diurán did not join them in their complaints, only sang and played his harp, and this night I felt his gaze upon me.When the Lady and Máel Dúin left the hall, he laid down the harp.
“Cébha,” he said to me, “little songbird, I do not think you did me a kindness when you cut my hair. It was a greater offering than you made claim.”
At that I was ashamed, and did not answer.
Diurán heaved a sigh, and it was such a sigh as held a world of sorrow. “Cébha,my Cébha! For your sloe eyes and sweet lips, I would be content to stay. And you know me, lass, I am one who would be content to honor your Lady. But the world beyond your shores is changing, and Máel Dúin is not hers to keep.”
“Do you serve your master the druid or the monks of Duncloone in this?” I asked