‘And you did nothing to provoke her?’
‘No. Well, OK yes, but she overreacted and what about Turd-low creeping around in the dark listening in on our conversations.’
‘It wasn’t dark, it was in that pea-soup fog, remember? And he told me that he was just sitting next to us doing some Banshee meditation and we disturbed him.’
‘And you believe him?’
‘Conor, I can see why you don’t like him but I hate to tell you this – he seems like a nice guy.’
‘Well, you thought I was a murderer, so forgive me if I don’t trust your judgement.’
Brendan just shrugged. He wasn’t looking for a fight and it made me realise I didn’t need another one either, so I changed the subject.
‘Speaking of difficult women, where is my aunt?’
‘She’s a gone out a-huntin.’
‘Hunting? My Aunt Nieve?’
‘She thought it was strange that we weren’t seeing any animals the closer we got to these Pinelands. So she nipped off to look for some. Ever since she mentioned it, I’ve noticed that I haven’t seen a lot of living things around here for a while. Have you?’
‘I haven’t been looking,’ I replied. ‘I’ve been too busy wooing Essa.’
‘Right, how’s that going?’
‘You know, Brendan, I liked you better when you were a mean cop. This sarcastic Brendan is annoying.’
‘Nieve doesn’t think I’m annoying. In fact this morning she said I was quite funny.’
‘You had a conversation with Nieve? I thought you were sared of her?’
‘Oh, I’m still plenty scared of her but you can’t deny that she is quite beautiful.’
‘Yes, I noticed that when I first saw her, but it went away.’
‘When you found out she was your aunt?’
‘No, when she tried to kill me. I find I lose that loving feeling with women that try to kill me.’
‘Didn’t Essa try to kill you?’
I didn’t have a good answer for that, so I ignored it.
Chapter Eighteen
The next couple of days were clear but icy cold. In the morning, frost covered our tents, which meant getting out of my cosy sleeping roll was almost impossible. Essa continued to set a pace bordering on the maniacal. In short, the entire trip was extremely not fun – but it seemed I was the only one who thought so. The princess and the Banshee lovebirds were as sickly as ever. Brendan and Nieve were getting along so well I could have sworn I heard my aunt actually giggle. That left me and Araf, and when he did talk, it was about the native flora or what a nice guy he thought Turlow was. I decided that my only course of action was to pout.
Either this group was a bunch of insensitive louts (which I am not discounting) or I wasn’t doing it right. A proper pout should influence the mood of the entire group making them all almost as miserable as the poutee but my travelling companions seemed to be un-bring-down-able. If I complained about the cold they would say, ‘Yes, but look at the blue skies.’ If I sighed heavily and went to bed immediately after dinner they would just say, ‘Good night.’ I figured they would notice if I went off my food but as soon as chow was placed in front of me – I ate it. You have to be really committed to call a hunger-strike pout.
Actually one person noticed my sulk – Turlow. He slipped in next to me and said, ‘You don’t seem to be enjoying our little jaunt, Master Faerie.’
‘I’m having a grand time,’ I answered without looking at him.
‘I don’t believe you. How can you not be in high spirits when you are in the company of Essa of Muhn? Oh, but you’re not really in her company that much, are you? Shame, I’m having a lovely time.’
‘You done?’ I asked.
‘Funny,’ he said as he kicked his horse and sped back to the front, ‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’
A couple of days later the mood of the group turned, but I suspect that it had a lot less to do with my pouting than it had to do with us reaching the edge of the Pinelands.
Like many of the lands in Tir na Nog, you know you’re in the Pinelands when you get there. It starts with rolling hills filled with – can you guess? – pine trees. Actually the trees are silver fir – ailm in the ancient language of Ogham. If you think that a hill filled with pine trees would give the place a nice Christmassy feel, you’d be wrong. These pines were scraggy and downright menacing. Like weird old men with long bedraggled beards who, if you talked to them, would probably say, ‘We don’t cotton onto strangers around here,’ and when you got back to your car your girlfriend would be missing. These trees grew high and hunched over like they wanted to block out as much light as possible. The ground between the trees was a spongy carpet of brown pine needles in which nothing grew.
The trail grew steeper and the pace slower. It was tiring. You would think that since I was on horseback it wouldn’t make any difference whether I was going uphill or down, but Acorn and I had a bond that made me feel some of his effort. All the good riders experienced the same thing, so I guess I was getting pretty good at this riding stuff. We also travelled slower ’cause none of us wanted to make too much noise in this place. If we could have gotten our horses to tiptoe, we would have.
After a couple of wordless hours inclining the Pinelands, Brendan rode up close to me and in a low voice said, ‘This is going to sound very cliched but I-’
‘You feel like someone is watching you?’ I interrupted.
He nodded.
‘Yeah, me too. I thought something was shadowing us over to the left but maybe it’s just these damn trees.’ I said ‘damn’ wordlessly so the trees couldn’t hear me.
We decided that we were better safe than sorry (or dead) so we kept watch. I looked right while Brendan tried to observe left. (Until our necks got sore and we traded sides.) The shapes that this forest made were so different than any nature we had seen before it really spooked us. We were like scared cub scouts by nightfall.
Essa built a tiny fire with the kindling from her pack. It was enough to make some tea and provided just enough light to pitch our tents by. No one complained because the person that did knew that they would have to be the one to ask one of the scary trees for wood. Brendan and I thought we should keep a watch and since we were the only ones that suggested it – we got to do it.
‘I’m going to go out on a limb and say, I don’t really like the Pinelands,’ I said.
‘I’m with you on that one, Mr O’Neil. Miserable, ain’t it?’ Brendan said, trying to warm his hands on the pathetic fire. ‘For the first time in a long while I’m glad my daughter isn’t with me.’
‘You don’t talk about her much.’
‘I think about her all of the time, that’s enough.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Ruby.’
‘Ruby, that’s a nice name.’
‘You think? I like it now, Ican’t imagine her having any other name but when my wife suggested it I thought it sounded like the name of the local good-time girl.’
‘It’s also the name of a precious gem.’
Brendan smiled a sad smile of a homesick man. ‘That’s my pet name for her – Gem.’
I wanted to ask him more about his family but it was too cold and too dark.
‘Screw this,’ I said, standing. ‘What is the point of keeping watch if it’s so dark that you can’t even see anything coming?’ I turned to the woods. ‘And I’m freezing my butt off.’
‘You going to bed?’ Brendan asked.
‘No, I’m gonna get some firewood.’
