Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [69]
It was early afternoon when Deirdre announced that instead of remaining for the king’s feast, she wanted to go home to Dubh Linn.
Rather to her surprise, nobody raised any objection. The High King, informed of her wish by her father, sent her his blessing and a ring of gold. Soon afterwards, Larine came to let her know that he would visit Dubh Linn soon and that two chariots were ready at their disposal. Her brothers, she was well aware, would have liked to stay for the feast, but their father had made them be silent. She knew she must go now. She could not remain at Tara any longer.
Yet strangely, during the killing of Conall, it was neither grief nor horror that she had felt. She had known what it would look like. Hadn’t she seen the culling of the animals at Samhain all her life?
No, the emotion she had felt was entirely different.
It was anger.
She had started to feel it almost as soon as Larine had left her the day before. She was alone. Conall had gone and would remain with the druids until the ceremony. She understood their strength, and the king’s, and the terrible power of the gods. But with a simple instinct she knew something else: no matter how it was explained, he had deserted her. And as she brooded about it during the night, it came to her again and again: all that time on the island, and even after Larine’s visit, he could still have escaped. He had given his word, of course. The king and the gods themselves had demanded it. But he could have escaped. Conall would never have considered such a thing; her father would have told her not to be foolish. But they could have fled together across the sea. He had had the chance. And he had not taken it. He chose the gods, she thought. He chose death, over me. That was all she knew. In her mind she cursed him, and the druids, and even the gods themselves. And so she watched his death with bitterness and anger. It protected her, for a while, from the pain.
It was just before they left that afternoon that she had an unexpected encounter.
She was standing alone by one of the chariots when she saw the queen coming in her direction. Thinking she had better avoid her, Deirdre looked for a means of escape; but the older woman had seen her and was coming straight towards her. So Deirdre stood her ground and hoped for the best. To her surprise, as the queen came close, she gave her a nod that did not seem unfriendly.
“It’s a sad day for you, Deirdre, daughter of Fergus. I’m sorry for your trouble.” Her eyes stared at Deirdre without any malice. Deirdre wondered what to reply. It was the queen after all. She must show respect. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
“It’s not your good wishes I’m wanting,” she said bitterly. It was no way to speak to a queen, but she didn’t care. What else had she to lose?
“You’re still angry with me,” the queen remarked, quite calmly. Deirdre couldn’t believe it.
“Didn’t you tell me you were going to kill me?” she burst out.
“It is true,” the queen agreed, then added, “but that was long ago.”
“By the gods,” cried Deirdre, “you’re a strange woman.” But the older woman seemed to accept this, too.
“He made a noble death, at least,” she said. “You can be proud of him.”
Deirdre only had to bow her head or mumble something polite, but her anger was on her now and she couldn’t help herself.
“Proud of a dead man,” she cried. “A lot of use to me, sitting all alone in Dubh Linn.”
“He had no choice, you know.”
“He could have chosen,” she said furiously. “He did choose. But it was not myself and his child he chose, now was it?”
She had gone too far this time, and she knew it. She was insulting the High Kingship, the druids, Tara itself. Half defiant, half afraid, she waited for the queen’s wrath to fall.
For a moment or two the queen was silent. Her head was bowed, as though she was deep in thought. Then, without looking up, she spoke.
“Did you not know about men, Deirdre? They always let us down.”
Then she walked away.
IV
On the day of the midwinter solstice in her father’s rath at Dubh Linn, looking over the