Eirwen awoke with a start in the
cold, realising that she must have fallen asleep despite struggling against it
for hours, as the fire had dwindled, and the temperature had fallen sharply in
this poorly-built and draughty thatch. DunSandaél her prison, had been built
atop a small hill in the lowest part of this broad valley and it caught all the
wind which was funnelled down it. When it was freezing and windy, icy lances would penetrate the gaps in this poor thatch
to prick her exposed skin and the temperature in it would plummet, especially
if the fire was unattended, as it had been last night. The last thing she could
remember was her breath pluming through the iron bars and watching entranced,
as her breath magically transformed into trembling droplets of water on the
cold metal, which then grew opaque almost immediately, before twinkling into
crystals of ice before her tired eyes.
With her fingers in her mouth and
shivering now in spite of the extra blanket, she heard footsteps approaching
down the corridor, the timbers creaking as they always did and her heartbeat
and breathing accelerated alarmingly. ‘Was this the rescue?’ She thought, her
breath pluming into the frigid atmosphere. Sitting up now and not even feeling
the icy bite of the iron at her ankles she frowned, as those heavily booted
footsteps were not the gossamer ‘tap-tap’ of her co-conspirator’s little feet,
and their bold approach was unnerving. Eirwen watched with wide eyes, as three
guards sauntered in and began to unlock her cage.
Fear spurted in Eirwen then, as this
was no rescue and she was man-handled out of the cage, her freezing iron
manacles a sudden savage reminder of her captivity.
“What’s going on? Where are you
taking me?” She asked her captors politely and got a stinging, back-handed slap
in answer.
“Shut your hole!” Was spat in her
face and they grabbed an arm each, and she was hauled out and along the
passageway with her face glowing and her bare, manacled feet dragging on the
filthy timbers. With her painful chains clinking as coldly as the blood in her
veins, Eirwen was carried under the split-tree rafters and to a big oak door,
where she was suddenly terrified and not just for herself and her baby, but for
Rèdan. Tonight’s escape plan must have been discovered somehow
and her spirits tumbled.
This solid and riveted oak door led
outside and she was dragged out through it and into the open space of the
central enclosure and it was snowing heavily. Her terror built with every step
of her captors as for some unknown reason, she was now sure her time had come
in this life. Between the long, thatched barracks and on across the paddock
they marched through the downpour of snow, the burly and malodorous guards
carrying her between them and heading toward the stables. Her fears began to
fade, as it soon became clear that she hadn’t been summoned before the Witch
and that she was actually being moved for some reason.
The iron shackles were removed and
replaced with rope alternatives and this alone was such a blessing, it lifted
her spirits. A thick woollen mantle was fastened around her shoulders and she
was offered a skin of water and a decent looking horse. To her added relief,
Eirwen was allowed to ride it properly in the saddle, lifting her spirits even
more as it would be far less of a burden on her and her child. Still in the
dark about the forestalled escape plan, Eirwen was faced with an evening ride
somewhere and regardless of the blizzard, she relished the cold fresh air, the
stars above her and this glorious, enervating feeling of freedom. Looking up,
she let the falling snow patter on her face and they were large and heavy
flakes, which soon melted and washed the grime from her cheeks. Taking two big
mouthfuls of the fluid of life from the skin and shaking out her filthy and
knotted hair for the first time in many days, Eirwen felt alive for the first
time in weeks.
As she and her two guards rode slowly
out through the gatehouse and between the tall watch towers, they joined a
number of bedraggled looking white-dusted riders on the road. These were
mounted on donkeys and an ox-drawn cart, this loaded with goods and covered by
a great sheet of waxed double-linen, upon which the silent snow was mounding
slowly but inexorably. Eirwen’s heart did a flip and her spirit soared, as she
spotted Rèdan on one of these donkeys and it seemed for now at least,
their subterfuge remained undiscovered. She daren’t look at the girl and Rèdan studiously ignored her and so they set off in the
white-out, to the soft plodding footsteps of the horses and donkeys, over the
low and muted rumbling of the solid cart wheels in the snow.
The snow had abated over an hour ago
but by the slow arc of the moon above them, Eirwen had calculated they had
travelled slowly west for around four hours when they came across the lake and
its floating fortress. As this little caravan made its way down the pass
between two wooded hills, it was clear that this crannog fortress was to be her
new place of incarceration. Eirwen studied it well, along with the lake, its
attendant village and both approaches as they trundled down the hill.
The two spearmen came to attention
before the outer gates, which clearly guarded the incongruously long timber
pier. This fortified causeway stretched all the way out to the circular
palisaded fortress, with its impressive entrance barred by two massive gates.
The round and thatched stronghold seemed to float on the surface of this broad
lake, which was calm and unruffled this night. The sacred surface was as still
as a mirror and the countless stars above were reflected upon it in their
brilliance, and Eirwen took a moment to appreciate the unfamiliar lake’s
stunning beauty as her horse ambled toward it.
No more than an hour had passed since
her arrival and Eirwen looked around at her new surroundings with a measure of
hope, as although the cold iron manacles were once again biting her wrists and
ankles, there was no adjoining chain and they had been fastened with her hands
in front of her. The biggest blessing was that there was no slave cage in this much smaller thatch,
which had become her new prison. She still didn’t have a clue if the escape
plan now lay in ruins, until Rèdan had brought her some food and
this time it was proper food, not discarded and chewed scraps. Whilst the Witch
was away apparently the mice would play, and this small, lake-bound fortress
had a more relaxed atmosphere in her absence which they took full advantage of,
as no-one knew how long it would be until her next dreaded and startling visit.
Rèdan informed Eirwen that she had been
brought here, as it was much closer to the coast and the location where the
royal-trade will be acted out. She may need to be displayed whole and healthy,
to get Ederus to land and commit to the fake trade and his own ambush, the site
for this occasion being only an hour away on horseback. The little angel had
brought a big piece of honeycomb wrapped in a dock leaf and the vital nutrition
offered by this liquid gold, could make all the difference to her unborn baby.
Her eyes shone with gratitude as she thanked the girl, gorging on the honey and
slurping the nectar from the big dock leaf which she would keep once it had been
licked clean, as it was good for pain relief.
Seeking out every glorious morsel of
honey on the knobbly leaf and with her mouth reacting painfully to the
sweetness, she listened to her little saviour. In Rèdan’s cheerful opinion the escape was still on, as it had to
be! Neither wanted to be here when the Witch arrived as she surely soon would,
as this fortress lay near her ancient temple and it was where she was most in
control, away from the tribe’s Capital. The little undercover Princess
seemed comforted by the more unperturbed attitude of this stronghold’s guards
and warriors in the Witch’s absence and she told Eirwen that she had friends
and a family member in the small adjacent lakeside community. Unfortunately,
things changed around here in an instant when the Witch arrived completely
unannounced, as was her custom and so any time they might have was a completely
unknown measure. Rèdan went on to inform her with a
scowl, that the chosen substitute for her escape had to be left behind when
they were packed-off here, and now they would have to find another girl of
similar build, who looks enough like Eirwen and with long auburn hair for the
rescue attempt to go ahead once more.
This came as quite a shock to Eirwen,
as she hadn’t dreamt that someone else would have to take her place in this
appalling captivity, so that she could be free. Rèdan assured her that the girl had
been quite prepared, indeed honoured to have been able to help free a Princess
in such a way, especially one expecting a baby and possibly a future King, but
it was now academic as she hadn’t been included in this group of servants and
slaves.
Finding a replacement with long
auburn hair wouldn’t have posed Rèdan any difficulty ordinarily and
didn’t seem like much of a challenge here in Hibernia on the face of it, but
time could be horribly short. She would
know more later tonight after visiting her friends in the village and she had
promised to return with news and more food.
Rèdan had exited the crannog fortress
sometime later and traversed the long timber causeway through the outer gates
without challenge, as she was a known visitor to the tiny nearby village,
supported by the fresh water fish in this spring-fed lake and the flax growing
around the marshy fringes to the west. The little servant slipped away under
the stars and vanished into the lanes and back alleys like a lake-born local.
With the golden moon above still in
the same quadrant, Rèdan reappeared and trotted back
alongside the shore of the familiar lake and as she neared the edge of the
forest heading back for the torch-lit causeway, a strong arm sprang from the
undergrowth and captured her. A huge and
horribly powerful hand was suddenly pressed over her entire face, stifling her
terrified scream and she was hauled backwards into the blackness of the forest
by an unseen giant. Her heart leapt in her chest, as she was sure the
‘horned-one’ had come for her and that her days on this earth were done.
Suddenly the huge hand was partly removed, restoring her vision and several ghosts
appeared through the trees and she had to focus to keep them in her view.
Chillingly, they seemed elusive to the eye and hard to pin-down in some strange
way, as they flitted from one trunk to the next in a blink. In moments, she was
faced with a group of enormous, iron-faced warriors and incredibly, there were
a few infamous, almost mythical legends among them.
Rèdan had heard of Galedon’s Gadwyr –
who hadn’t, and there were a number of those colossal, barrel-chested and
blue-swirled men squatting here before her and her legs trembled at the sight
of them. The glimmering warriors with their screaming blue cat tattoos however
unnerved her in a way she couldn’t explain, and she thought the name ghost-warrior apt, as they seemed
ethereal somehow and they terrified her to her very soul.
One of these mountainous and ghostly
men leaned over her then and she couldn’t help it but let out a gasp and a
spurt of urine, which ran scalding hot down her cold and trembling legs. The
ghost-warrior looked down and smiled, causing her terror to escalate sharply as
he suddenly looked even more terrifying, but Rèdan was far from slow-witted and in a
flash, she knew these men’s intentions and their reason for being here.
“Flaithan Eirwen!” She blurted and
was rewarded with more smiles from these ghostly giants but perhaps they were a
little less terrifying now. The harsh planes on the faces of these warriors
relaxed then and a younger, very serious man pushed his way forward, crouching
to face her. Although he had a great healed scar across his forehead and in
spite of her fear she thought him incredibly handsome, and he had the most
lovely, sparkling eyes. In another intuitive flash, her own eyes opened wide.
“Prince Cadwy!” She breathed and Cadwy smiled, his big shoulders dropping, as
the tension clearly fell from them.
Rèdan, the bedraggled waif of a
servant-slave proceeded to introduce herself to the Prince and his men amid the
undergrowth and in the most formal and courtly way, causing a great many more
smiles to erupt from them, at her natural charm and obvious upbringing. Rèdan went on to delight these men further with her real
identity and her undercover mission here, also with her sharp mind, her obvious
courage and her knowledge of Eirwen’s predicament, claiming friendship and so
much more. Their faces turned to stone with the horror of the little girl’s
words, as they conveyed the real truth behind the proposed trade and what the
Black Witch who controlled this territory had in store for their Princess, her
baby and this little spy’s royal Aunt. They had become alarmed at the news of
Conair Mór’s continued existence, even more so at the news of his
greater goal and the planned massed ambush and annihilation of Ederus and his Gŵyrd.
They had all become quickly refocused
when Rèdan had outlined her grandfather’s rescue plan and many heads
were bent in quiet discussion around the diminutive figure in the dark
undergrowth, now completely committed to the same bold plan. Thanking all their Gods that they had one
homing pigeon left, they took their time composing the space-restricted
message, as so much now depended on it.
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