BENDING THE BOYNE: A novel of ancient Ireland (34 page)

His own dying mattered little to him. The sky seemed closer with every season that passed. So long as he could tinker with his sky disk, he would be content living in a little stone hut. His gold trade sustained his people far away, his Starwatchers. He ensured they were spared the privation that befell other coasts. He had so far thwarted Elcmar from enslaving the Starwatchers. Owning no slaves himself, he lived comfortably in his own skin. Any notion of his happiness lay well out of reach, left behind.

As Cian dreamed that night, he saw rowers crossing the dark waters. The oars’ spray turned into the foamy white river in the sky. He saw Boann in the bright northern stars while the other stars wheeled around them. He dreamed of the boy at her side in the glittering heavens.

On the Starwatcher island, traders from the Continent arrived more frequently. The improving climate loosed a demand for gold and traders brought men who knew how to prospect. The ancient sea routes to Eire for exchange of stone beads and axes and astronomy now flowed with metals trade. On the Continent, a Starwatcher had become a force to be reckoned with, the favorite of powerful Taranis. This much Boann knew from recent arrivals on Eire who came to pay homage to Elcmar, even before the elegant woman stood before her in the great hall.

The foreign woman appeared without notice and with a contingent of robust guards who insisted she have an audience with Elcmar. Boann answered that Elcmar had gone riding. The woman indicated she would speak only in private; Boann dismissed the attending slaves and Invader sentries from the hall. One slave, she sent off to fetch Tadhg and Cermait.

Boann felt awe before the height and well-groomed looks of this woman, at her wide sea-green eyes and full lips. Thick brown hair with golden highlights flowed down her back. Jet earrings framed her perfect face and her pleasing form was adorned by a necklace of sparkling jet plaques and beads, over her sweeping tunic dyed purple-red. Glistening fur lined the woman’s skin cloak, spotless despite long travel. As she heard the words introducing this woman, Boann regretted her own lack of adornment, her plain tunic of dark undyed wool. Her hair was neat but as usual she had not bothered to stain her cheeks or lips.

“I present Enya, daughter of mighty Taranis, and the wife of Cian,” the woman’s guard announced.

A familiar deep longing filled Boann; her ears rang and she took to her tall-backed chair. She composed herself and with detachment indicated a chair for the woman Enya to be seated before her. Only then did Enya bring forward a man of average height and build but who limped noticeably on his left leg. He too wore fine but foreign garments. His determined steps evoked memories for Boann of valiant Sheela, and she took care to indicate a seat for him.

The woman Enya and the foreign man traded pleasantries with Boann. Tadhg and Cermait arrived, and sat near the stranger while Enya began to relate news from the Continent and more specifically, of Cian. Boann listened as Enya spoke, her words dispelling the tortured silence from Cian’s long absence. She touched the ocean-blue stone she still wore under her tunic.

Elcmar bounded into the hall after a time; a warrior must have gone looking for him. He appeared displeased to see that two Starwatcher men attended this audience. Boann knew Elcmar could not breach Invader rules of hospitality by countermanding her to send the Starwatchers away. He ignored them, and the foreign man.

Enya replied to his curt greeting with measured words. She resumed talking, her muscular guards staying close behind her chair, Elcmar saying little. After a time, she broached the hostage situation and mentioned the latest “levy” by Elcmar’s men. Enya did not retreat under Elcmar’s hard stare while she made several points to him about his situation with her father Taranis. “We trust this incident shall not be repeated in future,” she added.

He made no reply. Boann apprehended that under his mask, he had no response suitable for Taranis. How vulnerable, how self-deluded Elcmar had been while he tried to control Eire. She could almost feel sorry for him.

From the folds of her garment, Enya removed a soft pouch holding gold jewelry: a wide etched lunula and matching armlets. “These are tribute to you from Cian,” Enya said to Boann. She placed a net bag of gleaming nuggets on a small table beside Elcmar, inclining her head toward him. “From Cian.”

Elcmar leaped to his feet. “Gold! Cian trades in gold at the hall of Taranis!”

The two women rose, drew shoulder to shoulder, and faced him. Tadhg and Cermait stepped forward with Enya’s guards. Elcmar did not dare to seize the gold jewelry. He banged his fist splitting the tabletop, left the bag of nuggets where it fell, and swept out of the hall with eyes ablaze.

Boann picked up the bag of nuggets and put it on his chair. Then she saw to her guests.

They ate and drank well, and spoke freely. Enya’s guards replaced Invaders except one sentry whom Boann kept busy bringing food and drink, for she barred all the slaves save her Seafarer woman. After initial unease at being in the great hall, her Starwatcher guests relaxed over food and drink and heard Enya with great interest.

Enya described aspects of gold trading. “Starwatchers shall share openly in this trading now that Cian’s involvement is clear. He keeps little gold for himself. Cian has been providing seeds and goods to Eire through the lean years.” Boann gasped, and Enya pretended not to hear it. “He helped our allies on Cymru as well, and tribes farther north. As I indicated earlier, Elcmar built up debt for some time, a large debt that he could now erase by turning over the ship, its crew, and the gold.”

The stranger interjected, “He would do well to accept your father’s offer.”

Enya smiled. Boann did not know whether to laugh or cry at Elcmar’s predicament and that he should be cornered by this proud and beautiful woman, the daughter of Taranis and wife of Cian.

“We heard afterward, of others starving during the bad harvests. Cian has kept us alive through many suns,” said Tadhg, and Cermait agreed. They invited Enya to meet with the elders before she would depart, so that the Starwatchers might learn from her lips the amazing works of Cian on far shores.

“I carry a gift for the Dagda,” she remarked, and the three Starwatchers leaned forward eagerly but she told them no more about it while they dined. She turned to the stranger, who told them of far-ranging travels that brought him to the great Boyne in hopes his injured knee would have healing.

“The river Boyne might not be the best,” said Tadhg. “If it’s warm waters you want.”

The stranger appreciated the humor and said he would indeed try anything for his knee. “And I could not travel so far west and north without seeing your island of copper and gold, and your center of star knowledge,” he told them. “All the coastal peoples speak of your island. I had to see if it was real, and the Starwatchers.”

“Real enough for us,” said Tadhg, but Cermait jumped in.

“You haven’t traveled, how would you know. This might be the Otherworld!”

Time slipped by with their easy banter, and fascinating tales from the traveler, who came from a faraway tribe. Then the Starwatchers departed, saying they would meet again at the mounds.

For lack of suitable guest quarters, Boann put herself out of her bed for Enya’s rest, and had the slave pile furs over rushes outside of the sleeping chamber. Before Enya retired, the two women spoke in private inside the chamber.

Enya surprised Boann. “I see that your beauty and wisdom, of which Cian told me, have only increased over the suns.” With a faint smile she continued, “I wish to speak of some matters that concern only the two of us. I shall speak frankly and hope to put your mind at rest.

“Unknown to anyone, Cian and I live as we had prior to the marriage, that is to say, we never consummated our marriage.” Enya’s voice dropped and quavered. “Cian would come home, here to the Boyne, but he has had to remain at the Loire to appease my father. Cian suffered for you all this time, and for love of another I suffered also. That is what binds us, that and our deep friendship. We have no children, no heir. For that my father Taranis would kill us both—if he understood.”

“Please tell Cian that I carry him in my heart forever, shining and constant as the heavens above.” Boann suppressed tears.

“I hope you can forgive us. Cian remains devoted to his people, selfless. He did not set out to hurt anyone in this life, nor did I,” Enya said, her eyes welling with Boann’s. “And you have Aengus, your son. Now tell me more of fair Aengus, so that I can tell Cian all about him.”

They talked on, unhurried. At Enya’s request, Boann removed the ocean-blue pendant and put on the gold jewelry. She gave the pendant to Enya, who took it serenely and put it into a pouch in the folds of her garment, saying that she would return it to Cian.

While they were alone, Enya opened an exotic wood case and took out a large metal disk. Cian’s promise echoed the moment Boann saw his starwatching disk: you shall know this object when you see it. Gold stars shone against the upper surface. She held it until Enya put it away once more.

She resumed her role as hostess to this notable guest. “Brave daughter of Taranis, what may I obtain for you or do on your behalf?”

“Nothing, nothing at all. Though you did not know the truth of things, you showed impeccable hospitality to me. I share in whatever contentment I can give to you.

“And my journey on your island has been delightful, such gentle and charming people. I have seen and learned much to tell Cian, and my father. Tomorrow however, I must return with my guards to the southeast, to the dark-pooled river’s mouth. There my ship lies waiting. Let us see if the stolen ship and gold arrive to cross the waves with us.” She paused. “Cian does not like ocean voyages. Tell Elcmar that is why he sent the daughter of Taranis!”

Both women smiled, making light of the dangers each faced whether on the ocean’s swirling waters or along the silver Boyne.

That night Enya’s guards and the male guest slept huddled around the hearth in the great hall, and Boann kept her loyal slave woman sleeping at her side, but Elcmar and his warriors did not return to trouble them.

On the following morning, Boann rose to watch the sun rise. She stepped out onto flagstones; she had had those installed to stop muck coming into the hall on warriors’ footgear. Cian would hardly recognize the Boyne camp. He would see that the Invaders had put up more permanent buildings inside their enclosure. Their horses and livestock were now penned outside the banked palisade. The smelting, Boann had moved to a site near the cooking pits. She ordered the camp cleaned of debris and had areas re-sodded. Boann had managed to bring order inside the great hall, scrubbed now and having a dignity of sorts.

She thought of her frantic search long ago for her grooved antler pin, still lost to her. Much had been lost; lives lost or wasted, and for what exactly? That Cian chose to live an ascetic life brought her no consolation. She would not have begrudged him the satisfactions of the flesh; flesh was easy enough to satisfy. She could forgive the portion of happiness Enya said they shared as companions. With a pang, she thought of Enya’s ships waiting to the south, a voyage that could reunite her with Cian. The stranger would be staying on, then journeying to Cymru, he said, to its fabled bluestone quarries seeking a cure for his leg and metal ores for trade. From there he planned to travel south to the great stone circle. Boann wondered if she might take his place on the vessel that brought Enya. And if she did voyage to the Loire, if she could be reunited with Cian, then what? Certain death for all from Taranis, it appeared.

She stiffened her spine to hide misery. She would remain here at the Boyne, to see to it that Aengus came into his own, his birthright. Her people needed both Aengus and her.

Her people survived, thanks to Cian. They still had starwatching, she had seen to that. Though Cian would not be pleased by the stone circle Ith erected around the central mound. Invaders put up a circle of upright boulders, and enlarged that clearing to better observe who was coming and going. A wooden hut had been built close to the mound entrance, now sealed by a tall slab. The mound’s untended quartz bank slipped and tumbled over the kerbstones. Starwatchers observed the solstice elsewhere. That Invader stone circle appeared to be useless, it had no alignment with the skies. Within it, Ith and Bresal held ceremonies to sacrifice animals and divine the entrails. Around the west mound, Knowth, the Invaders erected a double circle of wooden posts and they held grisly ceremonies there as well.

Stay away from those mounds, her people quipped, or you’ll find yourself sacrificed. These open-air displays were the shaman Ith’s idea, an obvious ploy to borrow prestige from the mounds. Boann noted it all with contempt.