Chapter Twenty-Six
‘So,’ I asked, ‘what about that army of Brownies that is supposed to be coming to your rescue?’
‘It is not unusual for alder trees to misinterpret the actions of people in The Land,’ the Brownie said. ‘There is no approaching army.’
You couldn’t deny that this guy was smooth.
Dell drank a cup of willow tea with us but wasn’t interested in answering our questions. I offered them Brendan’s tent. I even volunteered to pitch it for them but they chose to sleep in the trees. Although the chances of being robbed or attacked were slim, now that our stalkers had become our escorts, the thought of sleeping while Brownies looked down didn’t fill us with enough security to abandon keeping watch. Tuan was knackered from his birdie-head trick so I offered to take the first shift.
I sat alone in front of the crackling fire and searched the trees to see if I could spot where Dell and his pal were sleeping. I couldn’t see anything. I remembered the first time I had been alone at night in The Land, keeping watch by a fire. I remembered how awesome the strange star-filled night sky had been. Now I just stared up and shivered. The black silhouettes of the leafless branches made the starry sky look cracked and broken. On my first trip to The Land everything was new and wonderful but now everything was just cold and miserable. What had changed – me or The Land? The obvious answer was The Land. Fergal wasn’t in it any more. Tir na Nog in my mind was the place where my cousin Fergal lived. His loss weighed on me like a stone yoke around my neck. Even if I was getting used to the weight of it, I always knew it was there.
And Dad wasn’t here. I knew this was the time in my life where I wanted to figure stuff out by myself but the idea of him not being out there somewhere, just as a safety net, unnerved me. A world without Dad – any world without Dad – just didn’t seem right. What if he doesn’t make it? I pushed that thought out of my mind.
I was glad Brendan was here. Not just because he got my Real World jokes but because it felt like he belonged here. But he wasn’t gonna stay long. As soon as Dad got better or come the next Samhain, he’d be out of here – back to his daughter and his crazy mother.
The most annoying thing was Turlow. I don’t care if Brendan and Araf like him – I just don’t want to like him. He gets in the way of me and Essa. There’s no law that says I have to like him. Can’t I just dislike someone regardless of whether they are likable or not?
‘You look to be a man deep in the midst moral dilemma,’ said a voice to my left. It was Turlow. ‘Can I be of assistance?’
‘Oh no,’ I laughed, ‘I don’t think this moral dilemma is one you can help me with. What are you doing awake?’
‘The thought of Brownies in the trees is not a restful one. Sleep eludes me.’
‘That I can understand,’ I agreed.
Considering that this particular Banshee was not my favourite person, one would be excused for thinking I was annoyed that he disturbed my solitude, but to be honest I was glad that someone broke my morose musings.
‘Actually, Turlow, there is something I have been meaning to ask you about.’
‘Yes?’ Turlow took a seat and I offered him a cup of tea made from the stuff that Queen Rhiannon had given me. He took a sip and raised his eyebrows in approval. ‘What would you like to know, Conor?’
‘You are The Turlow?’
‘You have been waiting to ask me that?’
‘No, I mean you are like the King of the Banshees – right?’
He frowned at that and took a sip of his tea, collecting his thoughts. ‘Actually, Conor, you were right the first time. I am not a king, I am The Turlow.’
‘OK, but you’re like the head Banshee?’ I pressed.
Turlow smiled at this and said, ‘I am tempted to repeat myself and say once again that I am The Turlow – for that title is all the definition that is needed by me or my clan – but yes, I suppose you could say I am the head Banshee.’
‘And do all Banshees acknowledge this?’
There had been a light-heartedness to our conversation up till then but it disappeared with that question. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I was wondering about the Banshees in the Reedlands. You may have heard from Essa that they attacked us and many suspect that they were responsible for the destruction of the Hall of Knowledge. Are they not your subjects?’
‘I have no subjects, Conor. Being a Turlow is much more like being a father than a ruler. As it has been since the beginning of time, a father who pushes too hard one day finds that his son chooses to listen no longer. I do not rule, I just am.’
He continued. ‘As for the Banshees in the Reedlands, I knew nothing about them or your attack until after your father regained Duir. This is very worrying for me. I have sent parties to find them – most have failed, while others have failed to return. The Reedlands is a treacherous place.’
‘But you must know where they came from?’
‘I have my suspicions.’
‘And they are?’
He started to answer me but then stopped himself and thought for a bit. ‘I have not been The Turlow long. During the time of my tenure my clan has been… uneasy. The cause of this uneasiness was your uncle.’
Now there was a surprise. 6; Cialtie has been known to have that effect,’ I said. ‘What did he do?’
‘Years ago he travelled to the Banshee shores. No dignitary of the House of Duir had been there in eons. My predecessor the Old Turlow greeted him as befitted a Prince of Oak. Cialtie stayed among us and befriended the younger members of the clan – including, I must admit, myself. He spoke of how lowly regarded the Banshee were in The Land and when no elders were around he spoke of a time when the Banshees would rule at his side.
‘When the Old Turlow heard of this, he accused Cialtie of creating unrest. The Old Turlow ordered him to leave. Cialtie, appalled that a Son of Duir should be treated so, left, but with him he took a small group who openly defied the Old Turlow.
‘When Cialtie attained the Oak Throne he came back to the Banshee shores. Although the Old Turlow did not like it, he welcomed him as one should the Head of the House of Duir, but when your uncle proclaimed that he wanted the new army of Duir to be made up entirely of Banshees, the Old Turlow said no. “Banshees defend the far shore, they are not mercenaries.” Cialtie countered that all of the shores of The Land are the shores of Duir. The Old Turlow put his foot down, but the temptation was too great. Cialtie offered gold and a good life in Castle Duir. Many of my people joined him. The embarrassment of their desertion caused the Old Turlow to sail out to sea in shame. That is the sad truth of how my tenure as The Turlow began.’
‘And what did you do?’
‘I kept my word to the Old Turlow. I did not meet with Cialtie but I also did not forbid any of my clan from joining his army. After all he did hold the Oak Rune. If the Chamber of Runes deemed him worthy, who was I to disagree? Of course, now, it is easy to see that the Old Turlow had been right. Cialtie did not deserve the throne and too much Banshee blood was needlessly spilled in his name. If I had known then what I know now…’ He shook his head. ‘That thinking is the path to madness.’
‘That still doesn’t explain the Reedland Banshees.’
‘The causes of war vary but the effects are almost always the same. One effect is that some men of war never tire of the fight. I suspect the Banshees who live in that unholy swamp are of that ilk. That is why I came to help Dahy. If I cannot find my renegades in the Reedlands, at least I can help defend the Hazellands from another attack.’
‘So why are you here and not there?’
‘Little did I suppose that when I came to the Hazellands that I would meet a royal woman as strong and fair
