CHAPTER VIII
They stood on the slope of a hill in a rounded and rolling country looking down on Emain Macha. The evening was advanced, and the late sunlight, all a glimmer of gold, was shining tenderly on the city, so that the mighty ten-acre palace of Conachúr shone back again as though it also were a sun. The great bronze doors, polished like mirrors, were blazing in red lakes of flame, the glass windows of the women’s sunny rooms were like blinding pools of gold, and the roofs, painted in broad reaches of red and green and orange, glowed and sparkled in the mellow evening.
“It is good to look on that again,” said Naoise in a low voice.
“I had almost forgotten it,” said Ainnle.
But Ardan squatted in the grass and stared and stared with his soul in his eyes.
“You have not seen the city for seven years!” said Buinne.
Naoise drew Deirdre to him.
“Are you not contented now, my heart?”
“Our wanderings are ended,” he continued tenderly. “We are outlaws no more, and that long vagabondage is done with. You will sleep at last in a bed,” he smiled.
“Oh, my dear!” she breathed.
“We are home again,” he said, and his heart filled suddenly so that he could not tell if it were really joy that stayed his tongue and blinded his eyes, or if the grief of seven long years had risen within him like a wintry tide.
But Deirdre was not happy. She saw Ainnle’s contained joy, and the ecstasy in Ardan’s eyes.
“Alas, my darlings!” she said.
“You still think,” said Naoise, “that the king of such a land can act towards us like a traitor?”
“I shall give you a sign,” she replied mournfully and gently. “If Conachúr lodges us this night in his own house we are safe.”
“He has sent for us of his own royal will,” said Ainnle, “and he will lodge us, as is proper, in the Royal Branch.”
“Poor trusting gentlemen!” said Deirdre. “Conachúr could not live again in the house where you three had lodged. He will send us to the Red Branch.”
“And if he does?” said Naoise.
“I,” Ardan cried, “am going to put a new edge on my sword if he does. There is a good edge on it already,” he explained, “but I am going to put edges all over it.”
“If we are sent to the Red Branch,” said Ainnle, “I shall let you give my blade a rub too.”
“I call on Iollann and Buinne for protection,” Ardan cried indignantly. “That man makes me work for him like a horse,” he complained.
Naoise turned to the two sons of Fergus.
“If we are sent to the Red Branch what will you do?”
“We will go there with you,” said Buinne.
“The king’s house is always filled with guests,” Iollann said. “He cannot know just when we should arrive, and he may have no place for us at a moment’s notice.”
“There is nothing Conachúr does not know,” said Deirdre. “Borach will have sent a runner to tell of our arrival, and his own spies will have told the king in what place we camped each night, and at what hour we marched again in the morning. He knows now that we are here, and if he sends us to the Red Branch we are lost.”
“I am as full of curiosity as an old woman,” Naoise laughed. “Let us go on and find out everything that is going to happen.”
In a short time they were among the streets and booths around Emain Macha, but the twilight had descended and the passers-by did not recognize the six travellers.
“Yonder is the Speckled Branch, the Armoury,” said Ainnle. “The Boy Troop will be going to bed shortly. You remember those nights, Naoise, and all the chattering?”
“And the climbing out of windows by a cord,” said Ardan. “And the scrambling back again while the comrades above threw all the world at the guards who were trying to stick spears in us as we shinned up.”
“There is the Red Branch,” said Naoise.
“Is it truly full of dead men’s heads?” Deirdre chattered through frozen lips.
“There is generally a head or two,” he answered carelessly, “Connachtmen mostly.”
“Very hairy, beardy, toothy kinds of heads,” said Ardan. “I remember them, and they used to get hairier and beardier and toothier every second day. At last,” he explained to Deirdre, “there wouldn’t be any head at all, no face at all, only a mat of hair as long as a woman’s, and it in knots, and a shiny grin among the knots.”
“You are all wrong,” said Ainnle. “A dead man’s hair grows lank and long like a drink of water.”
“Pooh!” said Ardan. “You remember everything! You are the great man of the world! The wind knots them and twists them and wobbles them all in and out like a doormat.”
“Yonder is Conachúr’s house, the Royal Branch,” said Naoise.
“We will give a good thundering knock at the door and make them jump,” said Ainnle gleefully.
“I’ll give it a kick,” said Ardan.
Naoise did give a thundering knock.
The door opened and a guard appeared.
“Who asks admission at this hour?” he demanded.
“The sons of Uisneac.”
The guard stared.
“Come in, nobles, and sit for a moment while I seek instructions.”
“Let a message be sent to the king,” said Buinne, “that the protection of Fergus mac Roy and those he protects have arrived as he ordered.”
The chamberlain came, Scel, son of Barnene.
“The household have retired,” he said. “But the king sends his regrets and courtesies, and has instructed that his noble guests are to be lodged in the Red Branch for this night. A guard will escort you there.” He motioned to the captain of the guard, who ranged his men.
“Don’t forget about the edges you promised to do for me,” said Ardan to his brother.
“No wriggling, young lazy-bones,” Ainnle retorted. “You shall do your work and be respectful to your betters also.”
“Is not that man a tyrant?” said Ardan.He turned to the captain of the guard. “Hold me away from him, good sir,” he implored.
“I am at your orders, gentlemen,” said the smiling captain.