Yseult: A Tale of Love in the Age of King Arthur Read Online Free Page A

tossed the books, and the ogham staffs bobbed at the surface as they headed slowly downstream. The Bible followed a short way until the pages absorbed too much water, and it began to sink below the surface.
    "Fetch the books back," the king said to Aneirin and Ciaran. The young men stripped quickly and waded into the stream. The hazelwood staffs were still clearly visible, and Aneirin had soon retrieved the druid book, but Ciaran had to dive beneath the surface. When he finally located the Bible and returned to the shore, his blond hair was dark with water and the book he carried covered in mud, the ink running off the pages.
    "Which book contains the truth now?" Lóegaire asked the two wise men.
    Lucet was smiling, knowing himself the victor, but Patraic stood straight, his face expressionless. "Not that one," Patraic said in his musical voice, pointing at the ogham staffs. The markings carved into the sides were still clearly legible.
    "More so than that one," Lucet said, pointing in turn to the dripping parchment.
    "We can all see that the truth that endures is in the book of the druids," Lóegaire declared, and his Gael audience cheered, the few Christians among them hardly noticeable. With one stroke, he had made them forget Boinda's song and reestablished his own authority. Yseult was glad that his triumph had been at Patraic's expense, but at the same time she knew that while Patraic acted from the courage of conviction, Lóegaire's actions were prompted by little more than ambition.
    Patraic came forward and retrieved his book from the High King. He drew himself to his full height, towering half a head above Lóegaire.
    "I do not accept your judgment," he said, raising his ruined book above his head. "The words of this book will survive long after every ogham staff is gone. Soon your writing will die out, your books will be forgotten, and even your words will all but vanish."
    A hush fell over the crowd, more profound than the one Boinda's poem had created earlier.
    Lóegaire's voice trembled with anger. "I have put up with your sacrilege too long. You are no longer welcome in the house of druids, and the gates of Tara will be closed to you."
    "I spoke no satire against you, Ard Ri," Patraic said more mildly. "I do but speak a prophecy."
    "A prophecy spoken in revenge."
    "That makes it no less true."
    "Go, now!"
    Patraic nodded and turned away, but Yseult the Wise didn't see him leave. Instead, she saw a vision of the fire that had been haunting her for years, saw for the first time what the fire was made of.
    It was a bonfire of ogham staffs — the knowledge of her people going up in flames.

Chapter 2
     

    I arise today
    Through the strength of heaven:
    Light of sun,
    Radiance of moon,
    Splendor of fire,
    Speed of lightning,
    Swiftness of wind,
    Depth of sea,
    Stability of earth,
    Firmness of rock.

    "St. Patrick's Breastplate"

    Young Yseult longed to get off her horse. She had begged to come along on the trip to Connachta, but so many hours in the saddle were exhausting, especially given the unseasonable warmth of the last few days. Only a month had passed since Beltaine, but the weather was as hot as at Lugnasad, the festival of high summer. On the journey, many of the rivers they had forded were high with snow melt. Her tunic clung to her, damp with sweat between and beneath her breasts, and the leather saddle chafed the insides of her thighs through the material of the breeches she wore for riding. The young warrior Gamal had entertained her on much of the long ride, but today it was even too hot for flirtation.
    They had stopped at a number of raths held by local kings on the journey, but they never stayed more than a day, and everyone in the party was tired from traveling nearly the breadth of Eriu. The High King's negotiations with the Bretain kingdoms of Dumnonia and Venedotia were going well, and a marriage between his daughter Eithne and the Dumnonian king Marcus Cunomorus was being arranged to seal the