The Traveller's Path

Chapter 4

They travelled to Dún Add by boat down the River Add as the fenland around the fortress was difficult to traverse by foot or horse, especially in the spring. The river wound its way right to the Dál Riatan stronghold, making it the better method of travel. After a couple of hours on the river, the rocky outcrop upon which the fortress was located was close enough for Nona to see details.

It was impressive. Four levels of stone walls snaked around it in a spiral, concluding in an enclosure at the very top. Smoke rose from the small walled settlement at the bottom of the outcrop, and from the buildings at the top, also hidden behind a stone wall. With the surrounding fens on the landward side and the sea loch on the other, it would be difficult to conquer.

At the base of the fortress, a small wooden pier jutted out into the river, and they fastened their boats there. A pathway led to the base of the hill where two armed guards stood by a wooden gate built into the stone walls that enclosed the bottom of the fortress. They had sent word of their coming, so the guards were prepared to greet them.

“Hail, lords of Gwynedd and Bernicia,” one of them said. “Our king, Ferchar mac Connaid, brings greetings, so he does, and asks that ye join him in the hall.” He gestured at the other guard. “Cellach will lead the way.”

They followed Cellach through the gates and began climbing up the path that snaked to the summit, intersecting through the walls. Seagulls and other ocean birds wheeled above, their cries loud and piercing.

It was not an easy path. The steep pitch and the rocky boulders they had to navigate around meant she needed Conaire’s help more than once to continue. The wind snatched at her skirts and played with her head covering, and her hair came out from under it under its assault. Dark clouds scudded towards them from the west, blowing in over the sea loch.

The path ended with a narrow passageway hewn through massive boulders that led to an imposing gate. Strong stone walls stretched out from either side of the gate, from the top of which a blue and white banner flapped in the sea breeze, displaying an embroidered golden boar. A wooden platform running along the top of the inside of the walls gave the guards a bird’s-eye view of any who approached the fortress.

Dún Add was imposing from the outside, and once they passed through the gate, the impression of strength and wealth only increased. To the right of the gate, a handful of buildings clustered against the massive wall. To the left, a larger building that Nona recognized as a metalworker’s workshop snuggled up against the corner of the wall, which continued on past it towards the highest part of the outcrop. A cookhouse leaned against the wall further towards the top.

At the very top, the hall of the kings of Dál Riata perched like an eagle overlooking its domain. The Dál Riatan boar fluttered on a banner on a pole fixed over its massive carved doors. In front of the hall, just off to the right, a platform of raised rock marked the site where the Dál Riatan kings pledged their oaths to God and their people. Nona had heard it said that St. Columba himself was present when the great Dál Riatan king, Áedán mac Gabráin, took the crown in this very place. A footprint carved in the rock was where a newly crowned king placed his foot and swore allegiance to the land and its people.

The legend said the hero Fionn mac Cumhaill had left the rocky footprint behind while leaping away from his enemies. Fionn was not only a hero to the humans but to the Fey as well. In Fey tales, he was a king of the Seelie Fey of the North who had a strong Gifting of Glamour and Speaking.

Dál Riata’s reputation as a powerful kingdom had been tarnished under the hapless Domnall Brecc. But as Nona looked around the prosperous fortress, she sensed they were biding their time before showing their might again.

To the right of the gate they had just entered, steps led up to the platform that ran along the length of the wall at the top. Conaire gestured to the steps. “Come,” he said. He led the way up and the rest followed, eager to see the view.

They were not disappointed. A vast expanse met their eyes. To the east, the River Add wound its way through the fenlands, called the Moine Móhr in the Dál Riatan tongue. Mountains rose beyond the trees that edged the Móhr. To the west, the waters of the sea loch tossed in the stiffening wind. An impressive number of ships rode at anchor in the loch, a reminder of Dál Riata"s sea-faring strength. Far above, her father’s falcon screeched as he soared above them, catching the updrafts from the sea breeze that blew against them. She took in a deep breath of the brisk salty air and allowed her Fey power to enhance her senses.

Immediately the weight of time pressed on her, a sense of the generations of people who had lived here with their struggles, griefs, and joys. Their fierce pride and confident security in the fortress’ strength and in its people flooded through her. The rugged land expected much of those who lived here. But it rewarded them for their efforts and gave them beauty as a bulwark against the harshness of life.

She closed her eyes, revelling in the tingle of power as it swept through her before letting it go. She opened her eyes to see Conaire looking at her, but he turned away to speak to her father. But not before she had seen a brief spark in his eyes, the same spark of desire that lit them at night when they were alone. She ducked her head, hiding her heated cheeks.

“Come,” the guard said, gesturing at the hall. “Our king awaits ye, so he does.”

Even as he spoke, the threatened rain fell. They hurried down from the platform and across the grassy expanse to get to the welcome shelter of the hall.

Two large fires blazed inside, and a couple of smaller ones lined the walls. Tapestries, shields, spears, and other weapons and finery hung from the walls. Expertly carved designs swirled over the posts which held up the roof. Gold, bronze, and silver glittered from the tapestries and weapons. Nona had hardly seen such abundance, not even in Bernicia’s hall. A wealthy kingdom, indeed. No wonder Oswy wanted a share of its wealth.

The hall was full. They wound their way through the crowd to where Ferchar mac Connaid sat on a raised platform at the end of the hall, surrounded by his trusted war band. Curious gazes followed them, but on the whole, the people seemed friendly enough.

As they approached, Ferchar stood, a faint smile on his face. Dál Riata’s king was tall and bulky, wearing a blue tunic edged with silver that strained at the front to encompass his stomach. His small black eyes almost disappeared into deep-set eye sockets, and black hair poked up from under the thin gold band he wore that marked him as king.

He reminded Nona of the boar that she had seen on the banner: large and hairy—and noting the cunning that flashed in his eyes as his gaze raked over them, dangerous.

She spotted Grith, Ferchar’s Fey counsellor, right away. Even without the tingle of Fey power that swept over her when she saw him, his large, wide-set eyes and spiky grey hair showed why others called him Ulchabhán, the Owl. A slight narrowing of his eyes was the only sign that he recognized the Fey among their group.

The guard stopped in front of the king. “My Lord King Ferchar, I give ye Albanwyr ap Bledri of Gwynedd, and Celyn ap Wynn of Bebbanburg. They come with the Lord Conaire mac Alpin.”

The king spread his arms. “I bid you welcome, my lords.” Ferchar’s voice was high and thin, in stark contrast to his form.

“Thank you, my lord,” Albanwyr said, inclining his head in respect. “My lord king, Cadwallon, bids me to bring you greetings on his behalf.”

Celyn bowed his head as Ferchar turned his gaze to him. “And I bring the same from my lord king, Oswy of Bernicia, foster-son of Dál Riata.”

Celyn spoke the tongue of the Dál Riatans better than Nona, who, although she had some knowledge of it, still stumbled over her words. Celyn had spent some time with the monks on the holy isle of Hii after he left his brother’s side and had gained fluency in the tongue. But his words still held traces of his homeland. It was no mistaking that he did not hail from Bernicia.

As Ferchar noted. His eyes narrowed. “Ah. Tales ha’ reached us of this Celyn ap Wynn who forsook Gwynedd to take root in Bebbanburg’s hall.”

Celyn stiffened, but before he could speak, Albanwyr smiled. “Ah, my lord, as to that, Celyn and I are kin, and a more worthy man I do not know. I am proud to stand with him, no matter the differences in our loyalties.”

Conaire stepped up beside Celyn. “My Lord King Ferchar, the Lord Albanwyr and the Lord Celyn ha’ both come to Dál Riata to celebrate my wedding to the Lady Nona, daughter of Lord Albanwyr.” His smile didn"t reach his eyes. Conaire was as disturbed as she was by Ferchar’s discourtesy. “I ha’ come with them to present to ye Lady Nona of Gwynedd, my wife.”

He gestured at her, and Nona sank down in a curtsey. “My lord king.”

Ferchar’s gaze swept over her, and he turned to Conaire. “A fortunate match indeed, Lord Conaire. Our ties with Gwynedd serve us well, so they do. Rise, my lady. Ye are welcome here.” His gaze shifted back to Celyn and barked a short laugh. “Ach, dinna fret, Lord Celyn. Everyone who comes in friendship is welcome in Dún Add. I am eager to hear your news about Oswy of Bernicia, so I am. And I will have words for ye to take back to Bebbanburg as well.”

Although Ferchar’s mouth stretched in a smile, Nona heard menace under those words. Judging by Conaire’s expression, so did he.

But Celyn ignored the subtle threat. “As to that, Oswy will be glad to know how ye fare as king.”

Ferchar snorted. “Indeed, I am sure he will.”

“My lord king, we await your word on the feasting. All is ready,” the Owl said, interjecting.

Ferchar held his gaze on Celyn a moment longer, then turned to his counsellor. “Aye, of course. ’Tis time! Let us be friends at the table, together.” He waved at the hall. “Come, my lords. Join me at the feast.”

Nona followed Conaire, her stomach twisting in knots. There were undercurrents in this hall that could drown them all if they were not careful.