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bother you any longer."
"I can't ask him that. I'll look a fool!" the doorkeeper protested.
"I can prove my skills. Any one or all," Lugh assured him, trying to
look more confident than he felt.
"I don't believe it."
"It's not for you to believe it or not," Lugh said with authority.
"Carry my question to him. Let him decide."
The doorkeeper shrugged. "Well, there's nothing to be lost by asking, I
suppose." He pulled the door wider. "Come in
I
44
THE RIDERS OF THE SIDHE
THE MISSION
45
here and wring yourself out a bit," he said. But as Lugh moved forward,
the man held him a moment with his hand, adding gruffly: "You'd best
not be lyin' though, boy. You don't know what you've wandered into
here."
He turned around and tramped away from Lugh. The boy moved on into the
hall, closing the door behind him. The room now before him seemed at
first a welcome contrast with the dismal night outside.
The great hall of Tara was a glowing tapestry of sensations, woven of
sounds and smells, of colors and textures that drew their strands
around the cold and dripping lad.
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In size, it was much smaller than the bright, airy Sidhe of Manannan,
but it was still impressive. An outer wall of timbers formed the circle
around the central fire-pit. Wooden partitions fixed by bright copper
rivets divided the area around the outer walls into separate spaces
that opened into the main part of the hall. Between these rooms and the
fire's edge, low tables filled the open Boor, providing space for
hundreds of warriors to dine.
The inner timbers spaced around the fire-pit which supported the
thatched roof were thicker than a man and soared up nearly five times a
man's height. All the wood was red yew, faced with glowing bronze. The
timbers were carved from top to bottom with the sinuous line of the
artist's skill, with curiously distorted birds and beasts who
intertwined in play to form one complex, continuous design that both
bewildered and delighted the eye at once.
In the circling rooms were gathered the nobility of the fortress
chieftains, bards and druids feasting with their families and friends,
enjoying the activities in the central portion of the hall.
The place was alive with music and laughter. Jugglers and acrobats
moved amongst the crowd. Near the room's front musicians played,
filling the air with a fast, merry tune. Pipes and tiompan and harp
created their own tapestry of sound, the drummer tapping out a vigorous
rhythm on the skin, pipers and harper spinning their light air about
it, high and shining, like silver and gold threads woven into the
design.
Around the warrior's tables the men ate and drank, indulging in their
most loved sport, talk. Most of them were between the fire and the
door. Across the fire there was the
open space before the raised platform of the High-King's
table.
Here were gathered the most favored of the company. The group of men
and women about the long table were a bright spot of rich clothing and
ornaments, like a jewelled brooch on a cloak.
It was toward this group that the doorkeeper was making his way,
winding through the maze of tables. None of the gathering took notice
of his passing save for one. A weary, raggedly bearded face lifted its
dull-eyed stare from the table's top as the servant brushed by. He
watched with a vague, blurry curiosity as the doorkeeper approached the
royal dais, bowed low, and spoke to someone in the group.
A man seated in the midst of the others leaned forward to listen, then
craned his neck around to look toward Lugh. The others in the group did
the same. The isolated drinker turned too, wondering what was of such
interest.
The object of all these stares smiled back at them as amiably as he
could.
The man in the center of the company Lugh assumed it was King Bres
spoke to the doorkeeper, gestured toward Lugh, then sat back, smiling
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himself. All of them appeared to be smiling, and that cheered the boy a
bit. He waited expectantly as the servant turned and marched briskly
back to him.
"All right, lad. Bres will see you," the doorkeeper announced. "Go on
up there. But, be careful! Bres is not one to be taking chances with!"
Lugh straightened his rain-soaked cloak the best way he could, pushed
back the matted hair from his forehead, and strode down purposefully
toward the group. He tried not to look self-conscious under the staring
eyes.
As he neared them, he began to take in details of the individuals
there. What he saw drained away his bit of cheer.
They were tall and lean, and held themselves with self-conscious
haughtiness. Their features were bold, with strongly sculptured noses
and chins, but their expressions were coldly aloof, eyes sweeping
arrogantly over Lugh. He realized that their smiles held no welcome for
him, only pompous amusement at the sight of this bedraggled wanderer. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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