Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [45]
As he had contemplated the terrible fact that she could never be his, Conall had experienced a new and intense emotion. It was as if his doubts had never been. Deirdre. He could hardly take his eyes from her. All the rest of that evening, whenever she was in the hall, he had found himself watching her every gesture. She, for her part, had never looked at him. How could she? Although once, when he had been turning away, he thought he had caught sight of her glancing in his direction. Would she still try to meet him at dawn? Probably not. What could they say? He was not sure. But even after he had left the banquet, the sense of her presence had stayed with him, like a shadow.
And then, behind the stone, he heard a faint sound, and a shadow came and sank to rest against the other side so that, had he wished, he could have reached his hand across to touch it; and next the shadow started softly weeping, before, in a voice he recognised, it murmured: “she will kill me.” And then, realising who it was, and trying not to startle her, he whispered, “Deirdre.”
It was not long before he was holding her in his arms. Soon she had told him about her interview with the queen.
“Tell me, Conall, what I should do,” she cried. “How can I run, and where would I be running to, with the king looking for me, and myself all alone in the world?” Then, tearfully, “Is she really meaning to kill me? Tell me it is not true.”
But Conall was silent. For he knew the queen.
So for some time they remained there, she trembling in his arms, while he, afraid for her, too, considered the impossibilities of his own life. Until at last he came to a decision. And as soon as he had made it, he felt a huge new warmth in his heart and a sense of exultation that seemed to him to fill his world with a visionary light. At last, he thought with relief, at last, he knew what he must do.
“We’ll run together,” he said then, “if need be, to the end of the world.”
Finbarr waited nervously, while Fergus hesitated.
“Well?” The High King fixed the man from Dubh Linn with an unyielding stare.
The answer to the first question—Did he know anything of his daughter’s plan to run away?—had been easy. He did not. Indeed, Fergus had been horrified, and the fact was obvious. But did he know that Conall was courting Deirdre? He decided honesty was the best policy.
“It would have been a fine thing for me,” he confessed, “but it was hard to tell if he was serious. He never came for her,” he explained.
They were all turning to Finbarr now: the king, the queen, the two chiefs who had been summoned to the banqueting hall that morning. So Finbarr did the only sensible thing. He told them what he knew of Conall’s feelings, and how he himself had arranged for Deirdre to encounter Conall at the feast the day before. Bowing his head respectfully to the king—and trying not to look at the queen—he added: “I had no knowledge, then, of your interest in her.” To his relief, the king accepted this with a brief nod.
“It’s clearly with Conall the girl’s run away,” the king concluded.
Nobody spoke. Given the insult to his pride and authority, Finbarr considered, you had to admire the king’s calmness. But the king was also looking thoughtful. “I am wondering,” he said quietly, “if there may have been some other reason that caused them to run away.” They all looked at each other. Nobody knew. The queen’s face was impassive. Then she cut in.
“What about that bull?”
“Ah. The bull.” The king glanced around. “Finbarr shall fetch it.” He gave Finbarr a cold look. “Be sure you succeed,” he added.
Finbarr again bowed his head. The message was clear. The king accepted that he was not directly to blame and was even giving him a chance to distinguish himself. But if he failed to bring the king what he needed, he could expect an end to all favours.
“And the