The
Fortress of the Black Pool was the largest structure Meg had ever
seen.
She
had seen it before, back when it was just the glowering grim walls
perched at the cliff on the end of the headland, but now it also had
a large ring fort blocking the neck of the headland, and it was a
bigger ring fort than Meg had ever seen, far larger than her own
village. It had three earthen walls, not one; it had a wall of
sharpened stakes atop each ring; it had stakes in the ditches between
the walls.
It
had the lowing of many cattle inside.
And
it had a gate.
Meg
marched up to the gate and picked up a big rock, and banged the rock
on the bronze band running across it, making an awful racket of
ringing.
"Come
out and face me, you Queen!" shouted Meg. But she could barely
hear herself shout, for the sound of cattle beyond the gate bleating
and braying in panic drowned out everything else. Which was, to be
fair, a far easier way to get anyone's attention than shouting. She
made the bronze ring again, and again.
A
couple heads appeared above the wall near the gate, belonging to a
couple warriors. They shouted something, but it was also lost in the
midst of the din. So they gestured for Meg to clear off. One of them
gestured in a very rude manner.
But
Meg did not clear off. She was satisfied with what she had done, and
she was going to wait right there at the gate until the queen came
out to ask what was going on.
But
the guards were not interested in letting that happen. They drew
their bows and prepared to shoot her.
Meg
was tired of waiting. She ripped the gate off its hinges.
And
in that moment she realized that she had been very foolish this
entire time, because she had not only caused the cattle inside the
fort to panic, she had given them all a sudden opening, so their
panic had the chance to become a stampede. Thousands on thousands of
cattle there were in the ring fort, they were desperately seeking any direction to flee, and now that herd was heading straight for the first gap they saw, with Meg in the way.
And what could she do? Try to dance between them? Ride on their
backs? Jump across their backs like a dog herding sheep? But she was
too heavy for any of those options. Retreat? Oh no no. Not a step
back would she take, not now.
Especially
since that would put her within an easier range of bowshot for the
guards.
So,
she took one of the doors, and planted one end in the earth, and
crouched beneath the other end, shielding herself both from incoming
arrows and from the cattle heading straight for her.
The cattle flowed up and over the door, and away out over the land
beyond the fort, and though below the door Meg could hear and feel
the pounding of many hooves, she did not falter, but held on until
the last cow was away. Then she stood up and tossed the door aside
with a crash.
"Oh
well done," said a voice from a long way away.
There
at the far end of the fort stood the queen, in her best cloak and
golden circlet, flanked by two warriors whose heads and shoulders
were clad in shining steel.
"Spare
me the sarcasm," shouted Meg.
The
Queen shook her head, and made her way toward Meg, warriors in tow.
Meg stood there and let her come, for she had done what she came here
to do, and gotten the Queen to come out and face her.
The
queen and her warriors stood before Meg. "Please," said the
queen. "I offer no sarcasm, my old friend, no rancor. You have
done yet another heroic deed. Annoying, to be sure, frustrating, even
infuriating. But well done nonetheless. I only wish you had done it
for my sake, instead of for the sake of some other lord. Tell me, who
do you fight for now?"
Meg
blinked, and looked to the south, where the harbor sat on the shore
of the Black Pool. She realized with a start that she had quite
forgotten about seeking passage across the sea. "Perhaps for
myself," said Meg. "Perhaps to satisfy my fury. Perhaps for
the sake of all the people whose cattle you stole."
The
queen looked surprised. "You were telling the truth, then? You
seek no more glory in battle?"
"No
more," said Meg.
"And
yet you do this to my gate," said the queen, "and cause me
and my household injury thereby, and do justice without considering
consequences. Do you know if any of those cattle will go back to the
people who owned them?"
Meg
shook her head.
"And
it may be that others with warriors of their own steal them,"
said the queen, "which is just what I was trying to prevent in
the first place. Well, perhaps if you can find all those cattle
quickly enough, and return them to me, I might forgive you instead of
banishing you from my realm."
"Didn't
think to stay here anyway," said Meg.
"Oh
for heaven's sake," said the voice of the little man behind her.
"I'll round them up and send them back and we can all pretend
this never happened, alright? Meg's too busy looking for Deirdre to
bother with some stupid little impossible hero's quest."
The
queen looked puzzled. "Deirdre is missing?"
"She's
gone," said Meg. "Below."
Both
of the warriors flanking the queen cried aloud in grief.
"And
you would seek her," said the queen. "What is this, then?
Did you come here hoping to end your life on the point of a spear,
and follow Deirdre down?"
"Maybe,"
said Meg.
"She
just wanted passage across the sea," said the little man.
"That's all. It looks like you stole all the ships as well."
"First
of all," said the queen, "I do not need an emissary of the
Fairy King's court to tell me what to do – "
"I'm
not from that old fool's court," said the little man.
"
– Secondly, I merely impose a tax on the services of the
ships…wait, whose court do you belong to then?"
The
little man produced his harp, as if from nowhere, and said, "Whatever
court will hear my songs, for the evening."
The Queen looked fearful. "You?"
"Me,"
said the little man.
The Queen harrumphed. "You would sing ill of me if I refuse Meg her
passage across the sea?"
"Perhaps,"
said the little man. "But, we can compromise. For I would have
Meg earn her passage, not be handed it by you or me…and I am always
seeking brave deeds to sing of. So. Tell me. Where is your hound?"
The
queen turned to the fort up the headland, and whistled sharply. From
the top of the wall came an answering howl.
"He
didn't want to come down and help with the cattle?" said Meg.
"I
keep him contained," said the queen. "Can't have my best
warrior just running off again like you did, now can I?"
Down
the headland was a tall man running, a tall man with long black hair
flying wild in the wind, his body bare of armor. As he skidded to a
halt in front of the queen, Meg could see a look in his eyes that
spoke of needing no armor, only a might that no foe would face.
Meg
herself opted for armor as a matter of course, but that was when she
hadn't been thinking of following Deirdre downward. These days she
could see the appeal in going boldly bare, heedless of the spear's
bite, maybe even welcoming it.
"So
this is what's become of young Áed?" said Meg. "Stuck in a
cage like a war hound, only let loose to charge the enemy?"
The
man turned to Meg with pure contempt. "At least I'm doing
something worthwhile. What are you doing? Milking cows?"
"I
wish I was," said Meg. "I wish everyone was. Ah, but our
queen here decided she'd rather do it all herself. Your arms will get
sore, my queen."
"I
am tempted," growled the queen, "to make you do all the
milking yourself. Tell you what. You win a wrestle against my Hound
here and I will let you leave my kingdom and sail across the sea. You
lose, you have to round up all the cattle, bring them back here, and
milk them all yourself every morning."
"Deal,"
said Meg. She spat in her hand, then offered it to the queen.
"Just
like old times?" said the queen.
"Before
you were Queen," said Meg. "Back when I bothered to speak
your name."
The
queen looked pained, for a moment, then composed herself. She spat in
her hand and shook Meg's. "Deal."
…
Whatever
reason the queen chose to keep the Hound contained, Meg could not
know. He was tough, that was true, and though she strove with all her
might to force him a step backward, to get him off his feet, to twist
him around at all, he would not budge. Then again, neither would Meg,
not when her love was on the line. The two were like mighty stags
locking antlers.
"I
hardly understand why you're doing this," growled the Hound.
"Why fight so hard against me, just for passage over the sea?
Are you scared of rounding up cattle? Is that it?"
"Just
trying to find Deirdre," whispered Meg.
"She
ran away from you then?" said the Hound.
"Áed,"
whispered Meg, "you are already getting close to the line you
should not cross."
"I
can cross any line I like," said the Hound, "for I can slay
any man I wish."
"But
not me," whispered Meg, "Apparently. What, did you find
some kind of prophecy with a nasty hidden loophole? Is that why
you're struggling?"
"Struggling,"
said the Hound. "Ah, no. No. I'm holding back."
At
this, the man's face changed, for one eye grew much larger and one
eye grew much smaller. His shoulders changed, for they grew taller
around his neck, and his limbs grew wider around the bone. He
grinned, and his teeth were all pointed as a dog's.
Meg
began to feel her strength slowly failing against her opponent's.
"Pity,"
said the Hound. "You will lose after all, and waste your days
milking cows, and never find Deirdre again. But if she left you,
maybe she didn't like you anyway."
"Áed,"
said Meg, "you really have no idea what you're talking about."
"Enlighten
me," said the Hound.
"She's
gone to the underworld."
"Oh."
The Hound chuckled. "Well then, you hardly need to look for her
after all, if you know just where she's gone! All you need to do is
take out your knife and – "
"And
that's the line you shouldn't cross," said Meg. She let go of
his shoulders, grabbed one of his arms, and swung him over her head,
slamming him into the ground. Then she slammed him in to the ground
the other way. Then she slammed him back the first way. Then she
grabbed his feet and spun in a circle, swinging him around around
around and around, until finally she let go.
The
Hound crashed through the first earthen wall, then the second, then
the third.
Meg
caught her breath, then marched over to the line of holes and shouted
through them, "You can gather the cattle yourself, Áed."
"Oh
for heaven's sake," said the little man, "I already said
I'd do it." He sped off through the ruined gate.
"What
I get for trying to get a grip on things," said the queen. "Come
on then."
She
led Meg down to the ships.
…
And
soon Meg was sitting in a Curragh with a few other passengers – a
young man, a little girl, and a stout woman. There was also the
skipper, a gruff man who was plying the oars as he maneuvered the
boat out the inlet and into the sea.
As
the man rowed, nobody had much to say, save for the skipper himself.
"So," he said, "Big lady in the back there is the
famous warrior Meg, is that right?"
"Don't
know what you mean," said Meg.
"It
is you," said the young man. "I heard about what happened
to Deirdre. That was a real shame."
"Hey,"
said the skipper, "if you know where she's gone, you can follow
her pretty easily."
Meg
grabbed the skipper and tossed him back the way they had come,
sending him skipping over the water all the way past the harbor to
the edge of the Black Pool. Then she grabbed the oars and started to
row furiously, and soon enough the land was out of sight.