Lavarcam, who had come to her side, asked her why there was such
sweet low laughter upon her. Mayhap she knew; mayhap she guessed that
Darthool dreamed dreams of love, because her womanhood was now come,
and because of the old heroic tales she took so great a pleasure in,
and because of the vision that every woman has in her heart.
“I was thinking, Lavarcam,” she said.
“And what was that thought, Darthool?”
“It was this: that if there be anywhere a youth whose skin is white as
that whiteness there, and whose locks are as dark and glossy as the
plumage of that raven, and in whose cheek is a crimson as red as that
blood that is upon the snow, then of a surety him could I love, and
that gladly.”
For a moment Lavarcam said nought; then the power of Destiny moved her.
“There is one man who is more beautiful than all others I have ever
seen. He is young, and his hair is dark and glossy as that raven’s
wing, and in his cheek the ruddy flame is as that crimson blood, and
his skin is as white as any sunlit whiteness, or as thine own breast,
Darthool.”
“And what will be the name of that man, Lavarcam, and whence is he and
where, and what is his decree?”
“He is called Nathos, and is the son of Usna, who is a great lord in
Alba. But he is now in Emania, among the company of the king; and with
him are his brothers, both fair to see, and princes among men because
of their beauty and valour, yet neither so surpassing all men as
Nathos. They are called Ailne and Ardan.”[18]
That was a fatal saying of Lavarcam, for it sank into the mind of
Darthool as moonlight into dark water.
Day by day thereafter she thought of nothing but of meeting this proud
son of beauty; night by night she dreamed of Nathos and of his love.
At the last, Lavarcam was filled with fear, for she saw that her words
had awakened the flaming lion that lies hid in the heart. And truly it
was not long till Darthool spoke to her of her longing and deep desire,
and how that without Nathos she did not care to live.
For a time Lavarcam smiled; but when she saw that the king’s beautiful
ward was ever growing more and more wrought, her heart smote her.
One day, as she was returning from Emain Macha, she met a swineherd,
clad roughly in the fell of a deer, and with him were two men, rude,
dishevelled hillmen, bondagers to the Ultonians.
These, notwithstanding the law of Concobar, she took with her into the
forest, and bade them await at a well that was there, until they heard
the cry of a jay and the bark of a hill-fox, when they were to move
slowly on their way, but to speak to no one whom they might meet, and
above all to be silent after they left the shadow of the wood.
Having done this, she entered the lios, and asked Darthool to come
forth with her into the woods.
When they drew near to the well, Lavarcam moved aside to look for some
rare herb, as she said. Soon the cry of the jay and the bark of the
hill-fox were in the air.
“That is a strange thing,” Darthool said to her, when she was by her
side again; “for that cry of the jay was the cry it gives in April, at
the nesting time, and the bark of that hill-fox was the bark it gives
in the season of the rut, many months agone.”
“Hush,” said Lavarcam, “and look.”
They stood still, as they saw the swineherd and the two hillmen rise
from near the well, and move slowly across the glade.
“Who are these, Lavarcam?” asked Darthool, with wonder in her eyes.
“These are men, daughter of Felim.”
“They are younger than those I have seen from the outskirts of the
forest, but they are wild in dress and mien, and are not of high
degree, and my eyes have no pleasure in looking upon them.”
“Nevertheless,” answered Lavarcam, “these are the three sons of
Usna--Nathos and Ailne and Ardan.”
For a brief while Darthool looked upon them. Then she spoke.
“The truth flew past thy lips, Lavarcam. Yonder man whom ye name Nathos
has neither raven hair nor white skin, nor the comely red in his face;
and the two others are like the slaves I saw that day I beheld the
foster-brothers of Concobar driving back from battle, in a chariot
dragged by wild rough men in bondage. I remember the day, for it was
then that thou bade me know that death was the portion of any man who
sought me. That, too, I fear was no true word. Howsoever, as to these
men, they may go. And yet---- wait.”
And with that Darthool moved swiftly forward, and, coming upon the
three men by a by-path through the fern, confronted them.
They stood amazed at her exceeding great beauty. Nothing like it was in
the whole world; so, little wonder that these boors stood as though the
face of death was bare to them; for beauty is strange and terrible to
most men, and they are prone to stand in dread of it.
None spake. Darthool looked at each, a slow smile of mocking in her
lips, a blue flame of scorn in her eyes.
“Are ye the sons of Usna?”
They made no answer, but stared unwaveringly upon her, as do the dull
cattle in the fields.
“What brave courtesy!” she cried, mocking with her sweet voice, “how
swift in courtesy! Tell me, Nathos, son of Usna, is it the wont of thy
people in Alba to stand by agape when a woman speaks? Who is Usna, or
what? If he is a king, is he overlord of swineherds? If it is a place,
is it the rough bogs of the hills where sword-clad men do not go, but
only a poor folk clad rudely in skins?”
Still they answered nothing.
“Were ye whipt into silence when ye were young, ye that stand there
wordless as dogs? If indeed ye be the sons of Usna, then truly Concobar
MacNessa must be in sore want of men at Emain Macha!”
At that the swineherd could no longer hold to his bond.
“By thy great exceeding beauty I know that thou art no other than
Darthool, whom the king hides in this place. But do not mock us, who
would rather worship thee. We are no nobles, but a swineherd, and two
hillmen who are bondagers to Cairbre of the Three Duns.”
At that Darthool laughed gently.
“That I knew full well, swineherd, for all that I dwell here apart and
see none of my kind, save Maev my nurse and Aeifa my tutor and Lavarcam
the friend of the king. Those I have seen otherwise have been beheld a
great way off, from where I laid hid in the woods. But now, wilt thou
do one thing for me?”
“I will give thee my life.”
Darthool smiled into the man’s eyes, and what was only the swineherd
died, and a strong heroic soul arose in him.
“I would fain see Nathos, the eldest of the sons of Usna.”
“That is against the law of Concobar: and long is the arm and heavy the
hand of Concobar MacNessa the high king. But what is death to me, since
thou willest me to do this thing for thee, Darthool of the beautiful
eyes? Nay, I swear this thing: that rather would I die by torture, and
please thee, than live out my life and refuse thee of what thou art
fain. For thy beauty is upon me like the light of the moon at the full
on the dark moorland. I am thine.”
Darthool looked at the man. Suddenly she stooped and kissed him on the
wind-furrowed brow. Great fortune was his, and he was well repaid for
his death by blunt spear-shafts, when Concobar knew all. For what is
death, when a man has reached beyond the limit of his desire?
“Then go this night to Nathos, and tell him that I, Darthool, dream of
him by day and by night, and that if he is in anywise fain of me, let
him come to me to-morrow, an hour before the setting of the sun, at
this well.”
With that she turned and walked slowly back to where Lavarcam awaited
her. As they moved homeward through the wood, Lavarcam saw that the
dream in the eyes of Darthool had deepened. It was in vain then, or
later, that she sought to know what the fair, beautiful girl had said
to the swineherd. She feared, however, that Darthool no longer trusted
her because of the lie that she had told, and that mayhap the girl had
plotted somewhat with the swineherd.
All the morrow Lavarcam watched Darthool closely, but she seemed rapt
in vision, and cared neither to chase the fawns, nor to fish, nor even
to wander idly through the woods. No speech would she have with any
one, and said only that she wished to lie under the boughs of the
great oak in front of the lios, and sleep.
“How can that be, when there is snow upon the ground?” Lavarcam asked.
“Is there snow upon the ground?” answered Darthool dreamily. “Then I
will lie upon my deerskins, and Aeifa can play to me and sing me songs
till dusk.”
Hearing that, Lavarcam was glad, for now she could leave the lios with
a mind at rest.
So, in the wane of the day, she passed through the forest and came out
upon the great plain in front of Emain Macha, and went to seek the king
to take counsel with him.
Nevertheless, Lavarcam was sore wrought by Darthool, and would fain
have given her her heart’s desire. Piteous indeed had her plaints been.
With tears and reproaches and sweet beseechings nigh intolerable,
Darthool had begged her to bring Nathos to her, if for once only, so
that she might at least see him, and know what her heart’s desire was
like. Moreover, was it not a bitter thing for her to be kept there in
that lonely place, and neither to see nor converse with her own kind,
and to be kept away from all the joys of youth, and to pass from spring
to summer, and from summer to autumn, and from autumn to winter, yea
and from year to year, and be exiled there, to hear no young voices, no
young laughter? When she pleaded thus, Lavarcam was sorrowful indeed,
for she had the heart of a woman, and knew the beauty and the wonder
and the mystery of love.
Thinking of these things, her heart smote her as she fared towards
Emain Macha, and at the last she decided to say no word to the king as
to what she feared Darthool may have told the swineherd. Furthermore,
she muttered, what was death to her who had known all that life had to
give her? At the worst, Concobar could put death upon her. Had she not
lived and known love, and now was weary?
When she drew nigh to Emain Macha she saw three ravens and three
hoodie-crows and three kites arise from some carrion hidden in the long
grass that waved there.
When she came upon it, she saw that it was the body of the swineherd,
loose with the gaping wounds of blunt spear-shafts. In thus-wise she
knew that Concobar had in some way heard of what the man had done.
Yet she had no fear from that. The swineherd was still now. Neither
king nor raven, neither man nor hoodie-crow, neither spear-shaft nor
kite could now hurt him. It was better to be alive than to be dead, but
it was well to be dead.
So Lavarcam turned, and went over to the camp in Emain Macha where
the sons of Usna were. There she saw Nathos, and told him privily
that Darthool longed to see him, and that the forest was open to the
stealthy flight of the owl as well as to the soaring hawk.
Nathos was indeed fair to see, and looking upon him Lavarcam knew in
her heart that Darthool would love him, and he her. He listened, and
she saw his eyes deepen, and a flush come and go upon his face. For
sure there was a beating swift of his pulse in that hour.
Nevertheless, he could not come straightway, for Concobar knew that
the swineherd had spoken to him of Darthool, and it was for this, and
having seen and spoken with the girl, that the king had put the man to
death--though for that, added Nathos, little did the swineherd care,
for he died laughing and mocking, and, when he lay still, there was a
smile upon his face.
“And that was because Darthool had looked into his eyes, Nathos, son of
Usna.”
“Truly, he died well. I know a prince among men who also would die
gladly if Darthool would look into his eyes with love.”
“Then come soon and hunt the deer in the solitudes to the north of
the forest: and there, amid the woods, or in some glen, or on the
hill-slopes, surely thou shalt meet with Darthool--and yet none know of
it.”
So Lavarcam and Nathos made a bond between them, and parted.
Thereafter days passed. On the morrow of the seventh day Darthool was
wandering among the glades and thickets of the uplands far away from
the lios, rejoicing in her new freedom and hoping that one day her eyes
might look upon Nathos. She was dreaming her dream, when she started at
a strange sound, the like of which she had never heard.
That far-off baying of hounds she knew, for oftentimes of old Concobar
had ridden to the forest with his deerhounds: but that strange, wild,
blazoning sound---- Was it the voice of the flying creature the hounds
pursued?
Then the thought came to her that it was the hunting horn she had often
heard of in the songs and war-ballads which Lavarcam and Aeifa were
wont to sing to her.
But after that blast the horn no more tore the silence of the deep
woods, and the hounds were still: for Nathos had left the chase of
the deer and was now moving listless through the green glooms of the
forest. Night and day since Lavarcam and the swineherd had told him
of Darthool he had dreamed of the beautiful daughter of Felim the
Harper. Remembering the last chant of Cathba the Druid, he recalled how
Darthool had been named the Beauty of the World, and because he was
himself a poet and a dreamer the vision had become part of his life,
so that neither by night nor by day was there any hour wherein he did
not see in his mind the tall, white-robed figure of Darthool, and the
beauty of her eyes, and her face as the sweet wild face of a dream.
And so dreaming he stood at the edge of a glade, his swift eyes
watching a fawn dispart a thicket that was close by. Yet it was no fawn
as he thought: but rather was it as though a sudden flood of sunshine
burst forth in that place. For a woman came from the thicket more
beautiful than any dream he had ever dreamed. She was clad in a saffron
robe over white that was like the shining of the sun on foam of the
sea, and this was claspt with great bands of yellow gold, and over her
shoulders was the golden rippling flood of her hair, the sprays of
which lightened into delicate fire, and made a mist before him, in the
which he could see her eyes like two blue pools wherein purple shadows
dreamed.
So exceeding great was her beauty that Nathos did not think of her as
Darthool or as any mortal woman, but rather as a daughter of the elder
gods, or of that bright divine race of the Tuatha-De-Danann, whose
beauty surpassed that of human beings as the beauty of the primrose
bank that of the brown sod. He looked upon her amazed, and in a silent
worship. If she were indeed of the Dedannan folk, she might disappear
at any moment as a shadow goes, that now is here asleep upon the grass
and in the twinkling of an eye is among the things of oblivion.
At last speech rose to his lips.
“O fair and wonderful one, whom I see well art of the old sacred race
of the Tuatha-De-Danann, may I have word with thee? It may well be
that thou art no other than the wife of Midir himself, she who lives
in a fair shining grianan in the hollow of a hill, and lives upon the
beauty and fragrance of flowers.” Darthool looked at him, and her heart
beat. He was in truth fair to see: fairer even than him whom she had
imaged in her dreams, or him of whom Lavarcam had spoken.
“Speak. What wouldst thou?”
“I am faring idly through this lonely land, and I know not where I am.
Yonder, in the valley behind the oak-glade, is a high-walled rath. Is
it a place of the Shee, and so forbidden? or who dwells there, and
shall a spear or welcome greet me if I enter?”
“Indeed, thou mayst enter there, and a welcome awaits thee, O Nathos,
son of Usna.”
“Thou knowest my name, O fair one; then, indeed, thou art of the old
wondrous race, who know swifter than our thought, and whose sight is
further and deeper than our sight.”
“I am no queen, Nathos, nor am I of the Tuatha-De-Danann, but am a
woman as other women are. If I am beautiful in thine eyes, of that I
am right glad, for thou art fairer to me than any man I have seen or
dreamed of, and my pulse leaps when thine eyes look into mine. I am
Darthool, the daughter of Felim the Harper; yet am I no better than a
slave, for here am I bound to stay, and see no one save Lavarcam and
my two women, and here I shall die for loneliness and longing.”
Nathos heard her sweet low voice with delight, and it was with joy at
his heart he knew she was no strange Dedannan but a woman of his own
race, and that she was Darthool. Love rose suddenly within him like a
flame: a red flame was it that was in his heart, and a white flame in
his mind, and out of these two flames is wrought the love of love and
the passion of passion and the dream of dreams.
“Art thou, indeed, Darthool?” he whispered; “art thou that Darthool
of whom I have dreamed? Strange is the strangeness of this meeting, O
white daughter of Felim. For so great is thy beauty that I was fain to
believe I saw before me one of the queens of the Tuatha-De-Danann. But
is this thing true, that against thine own will Concobar the high king
keeps thee here like a trapped bird among these woods?”
“True it is, and more: for it is not even by Concobar’s will that I
roam the woodlands. He was fain that I should never leave the rath save
with Lavarcam, and that I should spend most of my days within the stone
walls of the dreary lios where he has doomed me to dwell.”
“Darthool, my heart is filled with a rising tide. That tide is love.
Thou hast not seen the sea: but there, when the tide flows, there is
nothing, there is no one, in all the world, which can say it nay. So
is my love for thee, that now rises; and, once thine, will be thine
evermore. Yet I would not put this upon thee; and if thy words and
looks come out of thy frank, sweet courtesy and open maidenly heart,
and mean no more than that thou carest for me as a brother, it is thy
brother I will be, Darthool, to serve thee and succour thee and love
thee evermore, and in that way only.”
For a brief while she looked at him. Then the noon-blue of her eyes
deepened, and a flush drifted through her face and waned into the
deeper red of her parted lips.
“Nathos,” she said in a low voice, which trembled as a reed in the
wind, “I, too, love. It is thee I love. If it be wrong for me, a
maiden, to speak thus, forgive me, for I have grown wilding here, and
am more akin to the fawns of the forest than to women kind of mine
own age or estate. But I love thee, Nathos: as of old, in the far-off
Dedannan days, Dectura the queen loved the Green Harper, and went
forth with him and was seen no more of her own people.”
“If thou indeed wilt have it so, Darthool, be thou my Dectura, and let
me be thy Green Harper. For beyond the reach of life or death is the
greatness of the love I feel for thee, even now in this first hour of
our meeting.”
“Thy words are in my heart, Nathos; and because that this is so, I
now put _geas_ upon thee. Let thy sword be as my sword, and be thou
to me as brother and friend and the holder of my leal love; and to
this end, lo! I throw this yellow thistle against thy cheek, to raise
a mark of shame there if thou dost not fulfil the bond, and there to
be seen of all men as a sign and witness of thy disgrace; yea, even
thus I put _geas_ upon thee, to succour me in my ill fate, to take me
unto thyself, to give thyself unto me, and to let us go forth together
heedless of Fate.”
Nathos looked at her with proud eyes.
“Of a surety, Darthool, there is no hero of the Red Branch who hath a
courage greater than thine, even though it may be that thou speakest
the more freely from knowing little of what may befall.”
“What can befall save death, and dost thou fear death, son of Usna?”
Nathos smiled out of grave eyes.
“If I feared death, Darthool, I would not now be speaking with thee
here. It is swift silence upon any who in this forbidden land speaks
with the daughter of Felim the Harper. Concobar MacNessa has the ears
of a hare and the eyes of a hawk and the swoop of an eagle. Dost thou
remember the swineherd to whom thou gavest word privily? Well, that
night he lay in the grass tended only by the raven and the wolf, for he
was done to death with blunt spear-shafts.”
“For that I have deep grief,” said Darthool, with tears drifting like a
rainy mist athwart the blue of her eyes.
“Nevertheless, he died with a smile, Darthool. Thou hadst looked into
his eyes and kissed him. Even so, and for less now, would I too die.”
“That thou shalt not do, Nathos;” and even as she spoke Darthool moved
forward and put her honeysweet lips against the mouth of Nathos, and
made his blood leap, and a flame come into his eyes, and a trembling
come into his limbs.
Then, as though with that kiss she had become as a wild rose, she stood
swaying lightly, her fair face delicately aflame. Nathos put his arms
about her, and kissed her on the brow and on the lips.
“That kiss on the brow is for service,” he said, “because from this
hour thou art my queen; and that kiss on the lips is for love, for from
this hour I shall love no woman save thee thyself, but shall be thine
and thine only in life or death.”
Nevertheless, though Nathos accepted the _geas_ put upon him by
Darthool, he was troubled at the thought of the anger of Concobar
the high king. It would be a swift and bitter death for him, and for
Darthool too it might be death or worse.
The thought in his mind swam into his eyes, and Darthool saw it. She
shrank from him, and stood hesitating and as though about to flee at
his first word of doubt. When he looked at her again his last fear went.
“Fair wonderful one, thou art as a fawn there in the fern where thou
standest; Darthool, do not doubt the truth of my words. I am thine to
love and to serve, and am under _geas_ to thee. But my thought was
this: if we two go hence and are waylaid, it will be death, and if we
go hence and are not waylaid forthwith, it will still be death; for
long is the arm, and heavy the hand, and tireless the quest of Concobar
MacNessa. And this, too: that if we cross the Moyle and go to Alba, it
may still be death; yea, though for a year or for a brood of years we
elude the undying wrath and vengeance of the king.”
“He will forget when once the bird is flown. Neither the bird nor the
wind leaves any track, so let our flight be as that of the bird and our
way be as that of the wind.”
“The king forgetteth not. If so be that we might escape him many years,
he will yet have his will of us in the end; and this though thou
wert old, Darthool, and wert no longer his desire, and though I were
outlawed and broken and no more in his sight than a wolf of the hills,
good to slay if come upon, but not worthy of chase.”
“Concobar is not a king in Alba?”
“No.”
“Then let us go to thine own land. He can do no more than send
emissaries after us, and with these thou canst deal swiftly, Nathos.”
At that, Nathos lightly laughed.
“Truly, I am seeing Concobar as a man sees his own shadow in the water.
He is a great king in Uladh, but he is no more in Alba than any hero
of the Red Branch. Come, Darthool; across the Moyle are the pine-green
shores of Alba. It is a fair, beautiful land. The sea-lochs reach far
among pine-clad hills, and green pastures are on the slopes of the
great mountains and around the shadowy, inland waters. The forests
are full of deer and wild birds, the rivers and lochs of fish, the
pastures of cattle and sheep and swift brown mares. Thou shalt have
milk to drink, and the red flesh of the salmon, and the brown flesh
of the deer, and the white flesh of the badger. Thou shalt lack for
nothing, who art my queen; and thou shalt have love till the sun grows
a lordlier fire and the stars leap in their slow dance from dusk to
dawn.”
“I will come,” Darthool whispered, with glad eyes.
“Only thou must not delay. Thy coming must be now. Thou must not even
enter the rath again. Otherwise it is never the waters of the Moyle
that we shall see, but only the red flame in the eyes of Concobar.”
Even while Nathos spoke his eyes grew hard, and his hands slipped to
the javelin he had by his side. While Darthool watched him in amaze,
he swung the iron-pointed shaft at a place where a bent bracken hung
listless in the air.
“Is it a wolf?” cried Darthool, in sudden affright.
“It is worse than a wolf,” answered Nathos; “for if thou wilt go to
that place thou wilt see either a slain man, or the form of a man, in
the grass beneath the bracken.”
Swiftly Darthool ran to the spot wherein the javelin had swung singing.
There was no one there, but, where the javelin still quivered slightly,
she saw the still warm shape of a crouching man, and discerned, by the
bending of the bracken, what course he must have twisted away.
Nathos followed and stood beside her. As he stooped to pluck the
javelin from the ground, he descried a wooden-hilted knife.
“It is as I thought,” he said gravely. “Concobar has set a spy upon me.
No Ultonian carries a knife such as this. It belongs to the hillmen of
the north-west, of whom a few years agone we made slaves. Mayhap one
of these men who were with the swineherd has been told to follow me
secretly wheresoever I go.”
Darthool turned and looked at Nathos with eyes filled with a new fear,
because of her love of him.
He took her hand in his.
“There is yet time, Darthool. Wilt thou go back to the rath, and stay
there till Concobar wills thee to be his wife?”