Read The Silver Stag of Bunratty Online
Authors: Eithne Massey
The Silver Stag of Bunratty (8 page)
t was deep night in Bunratty. Tuan was woken from sleep by Cliar shaking his shoulder. The moon shone through the window, a half-moon as bright as day.
‘Come with me,’ she said. ‘Dame Anna and Prior Outlaw want to see us. Maude and Matthieu are already on the way to the tower.’
‘What is it about? Why do they want to see us?’
Cliar shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I only know we all have to go there. Perhaps she wants to ask us about the stag.’
They made their way across the bailey and up the narrow staircase to the tower. The door swung open before them and they saw that the tower room was ablaze with light, moonlight and firelight mingling. Dame Anna and Outlaw were seated at the long table, and Maude and Matthieu were
there with them. Matthieu was leaning his head on his folded arms, looking as sleepy as Tuan felt, but Maude’s face was lit up with excitement.
‘Welcome, children,’ said Dame Anna. ‘Welcome – and well done all of you. You saved the stag today and Tradree is in your debt. It seems that between the four of you, you can do great things. And great things may well be asked of you. For terrible times are coming upon us if Sir Richard does not listen to the advice of those who can see a little way into the future.’
‘But first,’ she turned to Maude and Matthieu, ‘I know you have been wanting to ask Prior Roger something.’
Maude nodded and said, her words tripping over each other in her impatience: ‘Prior Roger, have the Hospitallers heard any word from the east? Any word of my father who was fighting with them?’
Prior Roger shook his head. ‘I am sorry that I cannot bring you any better news, little one. There is word that the battles in the east have not been going well, with many of our soldiers captured. But there has been no word of Sir Bertram. Have patience; there are brothers coming from Italy to Kilmainham soon, with letters for us from further east. Perhaps they will have more news.’
Maude nodded, swallowing the lump that seemed to have
lodged in her throat. She would not cry. She could not show Matthieu that she too was frightened, that she too sometimes doubted if their father was still alive. He had to be, she thought, he had to come and save them from a life lived in this place, depending on the kindness of people who had no kindness in them.
Now, to her relief, Tuan changed the subject, asking Prior Roger, ‘Excuse me, Prior, how do you and Dame Anna know one another?’
Outlaw laughed. ‘I have known Dame Anna a long time, ever since I was a child at Knockainy, our house to the south of here. She could even be called my nurse. And I am related by marriage to her, distantly, through the Outlaws of Kilkenny. Your cousin, Dame Alice Kyteler, sends her greetings, Dame Anna.’
Dame Anna snorted. ‘I will have no truck with my cousin Alice since she took to using her skills in the service of dark ways. She does not walk in the light anymore, and uses her powers to harm and hurt rather than help.’
There was a silence for a moment, as the children looked at Dame Anna expectantly. She sighed. ‘Alice Kyteler is a woman who has special powers, some might say powers like mine – or like yours, Cliar. She has the power to heal, and she knows about herbs and potions, how they can be
used to cure and how they can be used to harm. But she has used those powers badly. I foresee dark times ahead for her, if she does not change her ways. Outlaw, I do not know why you give her succour. Her ways are not yours, as you well know. And her ways may well end in disaster for those who keep her company.’
‘That may be so, but she is still kin, and I have my loyalties. And I think, my Lady, that I am not one of the weak,’ said Outlaw. They smiled at one another. ‘But, look you, we need to speak of Sir Richard and what goes on here in the west rather than in the Pale.’
‘I am afraid of what will happen if Sir Richard goes to fight the Irish,’ said Dame Anna.
Prior Roger glanced at Tuan and said quietly: ‘Are you sure it is good to be talking about such things in front of the Irish child? May he not want to see Sir Richard destroyed?’
As Outlaw’s eyes met his, Tuan felt as if the Prior was trying to see into his very soul.
But Dame Anna smiled and said, ‘Tuan, what say you?’
Tuan took a breath. ‘I do not want to see Bunratty and its people hurt. I have no love for Sir Richard, but he has treated me justly, and while I am his guest I would not betray him.’
‘Well said, child,’ said Prior Roger. ‘Honestly and
honourably put.’ He smiled at Tuan.
‘Very well,’ he continued, ‘I came here to Sir Richard to try to get him to come with me to parley with the clans of the south. It seems to me that we have the chance to be peacemakers between those who contest the Lordship of the O’Briens. But Sir Richard will not listen. He is afraid of looking weak, and he thinks to parley rather than to fight is a sign of weakness. I too can fight, but I would rather have this kingdom at peace. God knows, we have seen enough battles these past few years.’
Dame Anna nodded. ‘There, I am with you. But perhaps I can see things more clearly if I look to the future.’
‘Then perhaps you can warn him,’ said Prior Roger. ‘Maybe he will listen to you.’
‘That is unlikely,’ said Dame Anna. ‘But already I have seen terrible things if Sir Richard goes to war. I have seen red blood flowing and the white towers of Bunratty destroyed in red flames.’ She stood up and stared straight ahead as if she was in a trance. ‘Red and white and black shall be Bunratty. I saw weeping and cursing and ships on the Shannon fleeing away from this place. Tell Sir Richard this. Warn him, Outlaw.’
The children stared, shocked.
Outlaw sighed. ‘I will try, but his mood at the moment is
impossible. You must talk to him, Dame Anna, for he listens to no-one but the Lady Johanna at the moment, and she loves me not at all – she sees me as an upstart, because my family is not as noble as hers. She does not even like my name, though it is many generations since my family acquired it! I myself will go first to the south to see what is happening at Knockainy.’
Tuan tried to block his ears. He didn’t want to hear Outlaw’s plan. He didn’t want to help Sir Richard. Yet, if Sir Richard was defeated, the lives of Tuan’s friends would be at risk. It had been so simple before he came to Bunratty: the foreigners – Norman and English – were the bad ones and the Irish the good ones. Now, it was different because of Maude and Matthieu and Cliar, and even people like Margaret, just ordinary people trying to get on with their lives. It was all very confusing.
But now Prior Outlaw was talking to him directly.
‘Tuan, I will meet with your father and his clan. I have had dealings with them these past months, and we trust each other. If you ever need to get back to your people, you must come to me. Do not try to go east through the woods alone. That part of the country is crawling with soldiers, and worse. I know ways that you can go to get home safely, if you are under my protection. Will you promise me that?’
Tuan nodded, a little reluctantly. He knew he would never leave Bunratty unless he was fetched by his people. It was a point of honour.
‘Good,’ said Outlaw. ‘And as you are the only one here who knows about river craft and has travelled alone in the countryside of Thomond, you must be the one to listen to my directions. If you, any of you, need to come to me for help, you must seek me in Knockainy. It too is a journey that holds dangers, and do not undertake it unless you have no other choice. The Priory is four or five days’ travel, through pastureland and forest. There are wild parts of the woods that are not safe, and you must go carefully. You must find the Maigue River and follow it. The first river branching off that is the Camog; pass that by, and go on until you come to where the Morningstar branches off. Follow this until you can see the hills of Lough Gur to the north. After that you must head east, by land, and soon you will see Knockainy, Áine’s Hill, which is no more than four miles to the west of Hospital. That’s where we knights live.’
Tuan hoped that somebody else was listening to the directions Outlaw was giving them, for what reason would he ever have to go to Knockainy?
‘Excuse me, Prior,’ said Maude. ‘But why is Sir Richard
fighting Turlough O’Brien now? It’s so hard to keep up with what’s happening …’
‘That is because the alliances change all the time. Sir Richard and his father, Sir Thomas, are alike in that. You know the story of Sir Thomas? How he hanged a visiting Irish prince, his comrade in the wars, from the walls of Bunratty?’
‘That was Brian Rua,’ said Cliar. ‘No wonder he spends his time lamenting.’
Outlaw looked at her, then continued. ‘What you have to remember is that the wars in Thomond are not just among the English and the Irish, but between different factions within the English and Irish people themselves. And loyalties can change overnight; for example, Sir Richard has always been an enemy of the De Burghs, but now Sir Richard wants to make an alliance with them so he can take on Murtagh O’Brien, who is the greatest threat to the English lords.’ He sighed, realising that he had succeeded in doing nothing but totally confusing the children, with the possible exception of Maude, who was listening intently.
‘All you really need to know is that Sir Richard is never still and that he loves battle. He has been making wars from the time he was a child when he saw his father killed when Turlough O’Brien besieged Bunratty. What you do need to
understand is that you must keep each other safe, as you saved the Silver Stag today. If the four of you keep together you will be able to do great things. This is why Dame Anna and I called you here tonight. But now I must leave, for the dawn is coming. Come down with me to the stables to see me off.’
‘Yes,’ said Dame Anna. ‘All of you go, but Cliar, stay here. I have need of you, for I feel that we may require a store of medicines before this day is over.’
In the stables, Tuan petted Outlaw’s beautiful horse as the Prior spoke urgently to Sir Richard, who had come to see his guest off. But the Lord of Bunratty did not even bother to answer the Prior, nor did he wait to watch Outlaw leave. Instead he turned away suddenly and made his way towards the north west tower, a frown on his face.
Prior Roger shrugged as he watched him go, then turned to Tuan and smiled.
‘He’s a wonderful beast, my Astrea, is he not?’ said Prior Roger. ‘He is of the Irish Hobby breed, horses so light and quick they are fit gifts for a king. If you come to see the Hospitaller house you will see many such. And you are welcome in any Hospitaller house, all of you,’ he said. ‘Dublin or Knockainy or wherever you should wish to come. May God preserve you all from harm in the times
that are coming upon us.’
And then he was gone, with his servants riding around him. They watched him go, a tall figure on his great white horse, dressed in full armour to protect him on the road ahead.
eft in the tower with Dame Anna, Cliar worked hard and said nothing. Usually she enjoyed being with Dame Anna, for as they worked the woman would explain the uses and properties of the various herbs they put into the potions they made. This morning, however, Dame Anna was silent and serious, and worked very quickly, not speaking a word other than brief commands to Cliar.
There was a knock at the door, and with hardly a pause, Sir Richard entered the tower room. He was alone, and his face was red – Cliar could not be sure if it was from anger or from the exertion of climbing the stairs.
Dame Anna looked at him, her eyebrows raised.
‘And to what to I owe the’– she paused, as if considering
what word to use – ‘pleasure of a visit from your Lordship?’ she asked.
Sir Richard grunted. ‘I take it I can visit any part of my own castle should I feel the desire? No particular reason.’
Dame Anna said nothing, just stood there, a bowl in her hands and her eyebrows still raised.
‘Very well then, woman,’ said Sir Richard. ‘I want you to scry for me.’ He noticed Cliar. ‘And get that girl out of the room. This is serious business and we want no reports of what happens filtering down to the kitchens.’
‘This girl will tell no-one in the kitchens what happens in this chamber, and I will need her to assist me. I am not as young as I used to be, Sir Richard.’
Sir Richard snorted. ‘You look no different than you did years ago when this castle was built and you first came here. Indeed, I think you were never young.’
‘Oh indeed I was, and indeed I am different now,’ said Dame Anna. ‘But let the girl stay. She is learning my craft. When I am no longer here you will need someone else to look to the future for you. If you outlast me, that is.’
‘Very well, then, but let us get on with it. I have much to do.’
‘First you must relax. Cliar, fetch his lordship a cup of the rosemary tisane we made last week. And sit yourself
down, Sir Richard, while I prepare the scrying bowl.’
Dame Anna went about the preparations Cliar had seen many times before: instructing her to close the shutters so that the room was darkened except for the fire in its centre; laying herbs on the flames so that the room was filled with heavy, strange-smelling smoke; pouring the water from jug to basin and setting it in front of the fire so that the flames were reflected in it.
When Sir Richard had drunk the mixture Cliar had given him, and finally stopped twitching, he sat heavily slumped on the bench, his eyes hazy. His voice, when he spoke, had slowed down from his usual quick, barbed tones.
‘What is it you wish to know?’ asked Dame Anna.
‘The outcome of the wars with the O’Briens.’
‘And which clan of the O’Briens would that be, now? I have heard you have changed allegiance again. Do you ever keep your word?’
Now it was Cliar’s turn to hold her breath. Anyone saying such a thing to Sir Richard under normal circumstances was risking their freedom, if not their life. But his lordship, under the influence of the potion and the scented flames, merely shook his head and smiled rather foolishly.
‘Not unless I have to,’ he muttered. ‘Or it suits me. Now,
tell me what you see of the fighting; how goes it to the north?’
There was a silence while Dame Anna stood gazing into the flame-filled water. Cliar watched too, fascinated by the way the fire was reflected in the silver bowl. As she watched she felt as if she too were seeing something in the water. Figures moved, faces came and went. Then she was no longer looking into the bowl; instead, the bowl had become a world she had entered. There were men in Irish dress that she did not recognise, meeting, talking together, clasping hands as if in agreement. She saw Sir Richard riding out on a bright morning, his army behind him, heading north towards the stony desert lands of the Burren. They rode for a long time through the great rock-covered landscape, where no grass grew, where no trees sheltered the rider from the wind coming in from the vast ocean, where there was no place to hide from an enemy.
She cried out. Now they were back in grasslands, and there was a grey stone church and a huddle of houses, and a river and some trees. But Sir Richard had been wounded. He was covered in blood and staggering towards the river. He fell down face forwards into the water. In the background there were Irish soldiers, laughing in triumph. Someone came up behind him; she saw a raised
axe and then found that she was being shaken by Sir Richard, who was cursing her.
‘Why the devil did you call out like that and bring Dame Anna out of her trance? Curse you, child! And you’ – he let Cliar drop and turned to Dame Anna – ‘did you get a chance to see anything?’
‘Aye, I saw what the child saw and what her made call out. I saw disaster for your troops and for yourself if you attack Dysert O’Dea.’
Sir Richard’s face went white. ‘How did you know that that was my plan? Did one of your accursed birds bring you news?’
‘I saw the abbey and the land around. I saw the river and I saw the plain. Forget Dysert O’Dea, it will only bring ruin and death upon you, Sir Richard. Think of your lady wife and your child and the safety of those who are in the castle. Try to make peace with the Irish, for it is time for these wars to end. Have you and your family not broken enough vows and seen enough men and women die?’
Sir Richard sprang towards Dame Anna and for a moment Cliar thought he was going to take her by the throat. But instead he swept the basin aside and the water spilled onto the floor, flowing towards the fire. Then he turned and strode angrily from the room, slamming the door
so hard behind him that the frame shuddered. Cliar looked at Dame Anna, who did not seem in the least bit discomposed.
‘Run, child, and get a cloth to wipe up the water,’ she instructed.
Cliar nodded wordlessly, aware that there was no point in asking Dame Anna questions when she decided she did not want to say anything. When she came back to mop up the spilt water, she noticed that, while it hissed and spat at the edge of the fire, it showed no sign of dousing it.
She looked at Dame Anna and the lady looked back at her, smiling slightly.
‘It would take more than a fit of temper from Sir Richard to douse those flames,’ she said. ‘I told him what I saw and I can do no more if he refuses to listen.’ She sighed. ‘There may be more flames in Bunratty than he has bargained for.’
‘But there is something else that concerns me,’ she continued. ‘I saw something else in the flames. Sir Richard plans to send a messenger within the next few days to tell Outlaw to meet him at Dysert. This must not happen, Cliar. Outlaw, at least, will listen to me. I must get a message to him to tell him not to go.’
‘Will you send him one of your pigeons?’ asked Cliar.
Dame Anna smiled. ‘I may … But even that is a risk. We
cannot catch up with him on the road, for Outlaw rides exceedingly fast. Go now, child, Margaret will be waiting for you to help her in the kitchens. But first take this.’ She went to one of the shelves and unflasked a vial, measuring some drops carefully into a cup. ‘Drink this. You must have a clear head, and you will be feeling strange after coming out of the trance.’
Cliar nodded. She did feel sick, and her head felt dizzy and throbbing. But even after she took the drink and her head cleared, she could not get the picture of Sir Richard out of her mind: he was falling, bloody and bent and cursing his fate.