Ruby hit me in the shin with her stick. ‘Ask him.’
‘Ah … Master Pilib, I was wondering if I could have a pony.’
‘Certainly. Am I safe to assume that it is for this little lady?’
‘I’m not a lady, I’m a young girl.’
I looked down at Ruby, astonished. ‘You speak Ancient Gaelic?’
‘Grandma taught me some words.’
‘OK,’ I said turning back to Pilib. ‘Can we get this young girl a young-girl-sized pony?’
‘Right this way, Prince Conor.’
The stables were quite an operation here at Castle Duir. He led us past what must have been a hundred stalls and then outside to a paddock that contained four ponies.
‘Spirited or docile?’ Pilib asked.
I toyed with the idea of answering, ‘Super spirited.’ That would teach her a lesson for putting me through this but I had to remember that no matter how bossy she was – the kid was blind. ‘Docile please.’
Pilib placed his fingers in his mouth and emitted a series of whistles. The ponies looked up and then at each other as if saying, ‘Who, me?’ The smallest of the ponies slowly walked over to us. She was glossy black, just like Ruby’s sunglasses. I picked Ruby up and placed her feet on the bottom wooden rail of the corral so she could reach over. The stable master whistled again, this time quietly without the fingers in the mouth and then pointed to the young girl. The pony walked slowly up to Ruby as I guided her hand to the animal’s snout.
‘This is Feochadán,’ Pilib said.
I remembered a story my father used to tell me when I was young about a sheep that got covered with feochadán. As Ruby tentatively stroked her pony’s nose I said, ‘It means thistle.’
A huge smile crossed Ruby’s face. It was the first smile I had ever seen on that face and it changed her from a bossy tyrant to the young girl that she was. ‘Thistle, that’s a lovely name for a pony. Hello Thistle.’
That pony looked up and I could have sworn it recognised its new name. A stable hand showed up with a saddle.
‘Oh no, I’m not teaching her to ride.’
‘On the day a young girl receives her first pony,’ Pilib said, ‘surely she must ride it. I wouldn’t worry, Feochadán is very easy to ride. Shall I get Acorn for you, Your Highness?’
Acorn, I thought, I did so want to see Acorn and it was a beautiful spring day. Well, I could see no harm in having a quick wander around Castle Duir.
Ruby allowed herself to be hoisted onto Thistle without any of her usual I can do it myself fuss. Acorn was brought to me and even though he tried to hide it, I could tell he was pleased to see me. I mounted up and we left through the stable exit. True to Pilib’s word, Thistle was the calmest mount I had ever seen. Ruby showed no signs of being scared. She sat on her pony like she had been doing it all of her life.
Outside the castle walls the sun from a cloudless sky stopped the cool spring breeze from being too cold.
‘I would like to talk to a tree,’ Ruby said.
‘You want to talk to a tree?’
‘Yes, now. Father said I would have a big bedroom, a pony and I would get to talk to a tree. I’d like to talk to a tree now.’
‘Wouldn’t you like to just ride for a bit and save some of the other stuff for later?’
‘No.’
The best tree to have a conversation with is, of course, Mother Oak but Glen Duir is almost a day away at a hard ride. With Thistle it would probably take a month. Well, Duir doesn’t mean oak for nothing. Castle Duir was certainly surrounded by oaks – so I just started for the nearest treeline.
When I got to the edge of the oak forest I had some misgivings. These trees didn’t have the same welcoming feel that Mother Oak has – but then what tree does? I dismounted and walked up to a huge snarly barked oak and wrapped my arms around it. Instantly I knew I was in big trouble.
This was different from any tree I had ever communicated with. When I touched it I knew instantly that I wouldn’t be able to let go until it released me. The world disappeared. All of my senses were lost except for the touch of where I was held to the bark. This tree didn’t talk, it probed my mind. What it found it brought to the fore and what it found was stuff that I had buried for a reason.
I was in grade school and all of the kids were bullying Jimmy Murphy. Jimmy was overweight and crap at sports. I just stood there. I should have done something but I just stood there. I liked Jimmy but I just couldn’t be seen being his friend. Then the memory I had long tried to forget. He came to me for help and I pushed him over. Aw Jimmy, I’m so sorry.
Then my mind conjured up the image of a Banshee growing up with his family. I saw his entire life, right up to the moment when I stabbed him at the edge of the Reedlands. He was the first man I had ever killed. As my sword pierced his chest I could see everyone he had ever known and loved watching me with eyes filled with hate. I tried to protest, I tried to say that I didn’t mean to kill him. That he was trying to kill me. But the words wouldn’t come. My mind was not my own. I felt a pain rise in my chest.
That Banshee was replaced by another. This one I knew. This one I loved. I was lying on my sleeping roll the night before we snuck into Castle Duir. Don’t make me watch this, I tried to scream. I tried to pull away but my hands, like they were latched onto a high-voltage wire, wouldn’t let go. I remember that night. He came to talk to me but I was too tired and I sent him away, but as this memory progressed, instead of sending him away, I sat up and said, ‘What’s on your mind, cuz?’
He told me about his plans to kill Cialtie. I told him he was nuts and talked him out of it. After Cialtie was kicked out of Castle Duir – Fergal lived. We talked and drank. He met a lovely girl and I was his best man at the wedding. At the wedding reception he stood and tapped his wineglass with a spoon. He turned to me and said, ‘I’d like to propose a toast to the man who saved my life …’ The memories abruptly ran in reverse and then the scene in the camp played as it really happened. I fobbed Fergal off and then I watched as the next day Cialtie humiliated and killed him. Then I saw it again … and again … and again. The pain in my chest intensified. My head felt like it was going to explode. I watched again as the sword pierced his chest. I watched but this time the man who was wielding the sword – was me.
I screamed.
I was lost. Down so dark a well that I couldn’t see the top. The walls of the well weren’t made of stone or dirt, they were made of … me. I was lost deep in my own mind. Deeper even than after the shock of killing the Banshee at the edge of the Fililands. But it was safe down there. Up there was The Tree. The Tree that grew its roots into my memories and plucked out of them everything I had ever regretted and feared. I was safe down here. I had to shut down; I couldn’t let him into the brain cells that contained the faces of the scores of Banshees and Brownies I had killed during the battle of the Hall of Knowledge. I wouldn’t survive that. Protests, like I had no choice and We were at war, cut no mustard