The Sword and the Stallion

  For a while, in the exhilaration of battle, Corum was barely aware of the Fhoi Myore mist he breathed, but slowly he realized that his throat and lungs felt as if ice formed solidly in them and his movements were becoming more sluggish, as were the movements of his horse. And desperately he shouted his battle-cry:

  "I am Corum! I am Cremm Croich of the Mound! I am Llaw Ereint, the Silver Hand! Tremble, lackeys of the Fhoi Myore, for the Mabden heroes have returned to the Earth! Tremble, for we are the Enemies of Winter!"

  And the sword called Traitor flashed and brought cold death to a snapping dog, while elsewhere Goffanon sung a dirge-like song as he whirled his axe with one hand in a circle of deadly metal, and Jhary-a-Conel, the black and white cat clinging to his shoulder, a blade in each hand, struck about him, screaming something which seemed more like a scream of fear than a battle-song.

  Now they were closing in from all sides and Corum heard the fearful creaking of the Fhoi Myore battle-carts and knew that Balahr and Goim and the others must be close by and that once the Fhoi Myore found them they would be doomed, but now, too, he could see the shadowy outlines of the first great stone circle of Craig Don—huge, rough-cut pillars which were topped by stone slabs almost as long as those which supported them. And seeing the great Place of Power so close gave Corum the extra strength to force his horse through the green-faced Pine Warriors who rode at him, to hack this way and that with Traitor and draw sap-like blood which filled the air with the cloying stink of the pine-tree. He saw Goffanon, beset by a pack of white hounds, go down on one knee, his black head thrown back, his deep voice roaring his defiance, and he burst into the pack, slicing at a throat here, a belly there, giving Goffanon time to rise and stumble into the sanctuary of the first circle and stand panting with his broad back against a granite pillar. , Then Corum himself had reached the circle and was safe and within seconds Ilbrec and Jhary had joined them and they all stood there, grinning at one another, unable to believe that they still lived.

  And from beyond the stone circle they heard Prince Gaynor shouting:

  "Now we have them all! They will starve as the others starve!"

  But the booming miserable voices of the Fhoi Myore seemed to contain a note of concern, and the howling of the Hounds of Kerenos had an uncertain quality to it, and the Ghoolegh and the Pine Warriors who clustered on the outskirts peered at the four comrades with wary respect, and Corum called back to his old enemy, his brother in destiny:

  "Now the Mabden will rally and drive you away forever, Gaynor!"

  And Gaynor's voice was amused.' 'Are you sure they will rally to you, Corum? After you turned against them? I think, my friend, that you will find them reluctant even to speak to you, for all that they are near-dead and you are their only hope ..."

  ' 'I know of Calatin's trick and what he did to destroy the Mabden morale. I will explain this to Amergin."

  Gaynor made no further reply in words, but his laughter cut deeper into Corum's spirit than could the sharpest of retorts.

  Slowly the four heroes made their way through the archways of the stone circles, passing wounded men and dead men, and mad men, and weeping men, and men who stared unseeingly into space, until at last they came to the central circle where a few tents had been erected and a few fires flickered and men in broken armor, in torn furs, crouched shivering beside their tattered battle banners and waited for death.

  Amergin, slender, frail, very proud, stood beside the stone altar of Craig Don where once he had lain after Corum had rescued him from Caer Llud. Amergin had a gloved hand resting upon that altar now as he looked up and recognized the four. His face was grim, but he did not speak. Then another figure emerged from behind the High King—a woman whose red hair fell to below her shoulders. There was a crown on her head and she was clad in heavy chain mail from throat to ankle, a heavy, bronze-buckled belt around her waist, a fur cloak on her back. And her eyes burned green and fierce as she looked with contempt upon Corum. It was Medhbh.

  Corum made a movement toward her, murmuring: "Medhbh, I have brought ..."

  But her voice was colder than Fhoi Myore mist as she drew herself up, her hand upon the golden pommel of her sword, and said:

  "Fiachadh is dead. It is Queen Medhbh now. I am Queen Medhbh and I lead the Tuha-na-Cremm Croich. Under our High King, Amergin, I lead all the Mabden, those who are not already slain as a result of your monstrous treachery."

  "I did not betray you," said Corum simply. "You were tricked by Calatin."

  "We saw you, Corum ..." began Amergin gently.

  "You saw a changeling—you saw a Karach created by Calatin for the very purpose of making you think me a traitor."

  "It is true, Amergin," said Ilbrec. "We all saw the Karach, on Ynys Scaith."

  Amergin raised his hand to his temple. It was plain that even that movement cost him dear. He sighed.' 'Then we must have a trial, ‘' he said, "for that is the Mabden way."

  "A trial?" Medhbh smiled. "At this time?" She turned her back on Corum. ‘ 'He has proven himself guilty. Now he tells incredible lies; he thinks we are so dazed by defeat that we will believe them.''

  ' 'We fight for our beliefs, Queen Medhbh,' ‘ said Amergin, ‘ 'just as much as we fight for our lives. We must continue to conduct our affairs according to those beliefs. If we do not, then we have no justification for living. Let us question these people fairly and listen to their answers before we judge them innocent or guilty."

  Medhbh shrugged her beautiful shoulders. And Corum knew agony then. He knew that he loved Medhbh more than he had ever loved her before.

  "We shall find Corum guilty," she said. "And it will be my pleasure to deliver the sentence."

  THE SECOND CHAPTER

  THE YELLOW STALLION

  There was hardly a man or woman there who could stand unaided. Gaunt, frozen, half-starved faces looked upon Corum and, for all that they were familiar faces, he saw no sympathy in them; all judged him a turncoat and blamed him for the huge losses they had sustained at Caer Llud. And beyond the seventh circle of stones, the outer circle, the unnatural mist swirled and the bleak voices of the Fhoi Myore boomed and echoed and the Hounds of Kerenos maintained a constant howling. And Corum's trial began.

  "Perhaps I was mistaken in seeking allies on Ynys Scaith," commenced Corum, "and thus I am guilty of poor judgement. But of all else, I am innocent."

  Morkyan of the Two Smiles, who had only been slightly wounded at Caer Llud, drew his dark brows together and fingered his moustache. His scar was white against his swarthy skin. "We saw you," said Morkyan. "We saw you riding side by side with Prince Gaynor, with the Wizard Calatin, with that other traitor Goffanon— all riding together, leading the Pine Warriors, the Ghoolegh, the Hounds of Kerenos against us. I saw you cut down Grynion Ox-rider and one of the sisters, Cahleen, daughter of Milgan the White, and I heard that you were directly responsible for the death, also, of Phadrac-at-the-Crag-at-Lyth, that you lured him to his death when he thought you still fought for us . . ."

  Hisak, nicknamed Sunthief, who had helped Goffanon forge Corum's sword, growled from where he sat with his back against the altar, his left leg in splints, "I saw you kill many of our people, Corum. We all saw you."

  "And I say that it was not me whom you saw," Corum insisted. "We came to help. We have been on Ynys Scaith all this time— under a glamor which made us think a few hours had passed when really months had passed ..."

  Medhbh's laughter was harsh. "A folk tale! We cannot believe such childish lies!"

  Corum said to Hisak Sunthief: "Hisak, do you remember the sword that the one supposed to be me carried? Was it this sword?"

  And he drew forth his moon-colored blade and strange, pale light pulsed from it.

  "Was it this sword, Hisak?"

  And Hisak shook his head. "Of course it was not. I should have recognized that sword. Was I not present at the ceremony?"

  ' 'You were. And if I had a sword of such power, would I have not used it in battle?"

 
"Probably ..." admitted Hisak.

  "And look!" Corum held up his silver hand. "What is that metal?"

  "It is silver, of course."

  "Aye! Silver! And did this other—this Karach—did it have a hand of silver . .. ?"

  "I recall now," said Amergin, frowning, "that the hand did not seem to be exactly silver. More some kind of mock silver ..."

  "Because silver is deadly to the changeling!" said Ilbrec. "All know that!"

  "This is merely a complicated deception," said Medhbh, but she was no longer so sure in her accusations.

  ' 'But where, then, is this changeling now?" said Morkyan of the Two Smiles. ' 'Why does one vanish and another appear? If we saw both together we could be more easily convinced."

  "The Karach's master is dead," said Corum. "Goffanon slew him. The Karach took Calatin into the sea. It was the last we saw of both. We have already fought this changeling, you see."

  Corum looked from weary face to weary face and he saw that the expressions were changing. Most were at least prepared to listen to him now.

  "And why did you all return," said Medhbh, pushing back her long red hair, "when you knew that the position was hopeless here?"

  "What could we gain by aiding you? Is that what you mean?" said Jhary-a-Conel.

  Hisak pointed a finger at Jhary. "I saw you riding with Calatin, also. Ilbrec is the only one here who was not evidently in league with our enemies."

  "We returned," said Corum, "because we had achieved the object of our quest to Ynys Scaith and brought you aid."

  "Aid?" Amergin looked hard at Corum. "Of the kind we discussed."

  'Of exactly that kind.'' Corum indicated the black and white cat and the bronze and gold casket. "Here it is . . ."

  "It does not take the form I expected," said Amergin.

  ‘ 'And there is this ..." Ilbrec was dragging something from one of his panniers. ‘ 'Doubtless brought in some ship wrecked upon the shores of Ynys Scaith. I recognized it at once." And he displayed the cracked, ancient saddle he had found on the beach.

  Amergin sighed with surprise and stretched his hands towards the saddle.' 'I know it. It is the last of our treasures to remain unlocated, save for the Collar and the Cauldron, which still reside in Caer Llud."

  "Aye," said Ilbrec, "and doubtless you know the prophecy attached to this saddle?"

  "I do not recall any definite prophecy," Amergin said. "I was always puzzled as to why such an evidently useless old saddle was included in our treasures."

  "It is Laegaire's saddle," said Ilbrec. "Laegaire was my uncle. He died in the last of the Nine Fights. He was half-mortal, you'll recall. . ."

  "And he rode the Yellow Stallion," said Amergin, "which could only be ridden by one who was pure in spirit and who fought in a just cause. So that is why this saddle has been preserved with our other treasures."

  ' 'That is why. But I do not mention all this merely in order to pass the time. I know how to call the Yellow Stallion. And thus I might have the means of proving to you that Corum does not lie. Let me call the Stallion, then let Corum try to ride the beast. If it accepts him, then you will know that he is pure in spirit and that he fights in a just cause—your cause."

  Amergin looked at his companions. "This seems fair," said the High King.

  Only Medhbh was reluctant to accept Amergin's judgement.' 'It could be a sorcerous trick," she said.

  ''I will know if it is,'' said Amergin.' 'I am Amergin. Forget not that, Queen Medhbh."

  And she accepted her High King's rebuke and turned away.

  "Let a space be cleared near the altar," said Ilbrec, carrying the saddle carefully to the great stone slab and placing it thereon.

  They stood away from the altar, on the fringes of the first circle of monoliths, and they watched as Ilbrec turned his golden head toward the cold sky and spread his huge arms so that what little light there was gleamed on his red gold bracelets, and Corum was suddenly impressed anew of the power emanating from this noble, barbaric god, the son of Manannan. And Ilbrec began to chant:

  In all nine great fights did Laegaire struggle.

  Small though he was, his bravery was huge. No Sidhi fought better and none more cunningly

  For the Mabden cause.

  Laegaire was his name, of undying honor, Famous for his humility, he rode the Yellow Steed,

  And led the charge at Slieve Gullion, Though few warriors then remained.

  The day was won, but Goim 's javelin had found him, And Laegaire lay in warm, wet crimson,

  His head upon his saddle, dying a warrior’s death, While his yellow horse wept.

  Few were left to hear it when Laegaire named his heir,

  Calling to the oak and alder as witness, Saying that he had owned nothing but life and his steed;

  His life he gave willingly to the Mabden.

  To the Yellow Stallion Laegaire granted freedom,

  Making only one condition on him: If again Old Night threatened, he must return

  And a pure Champion serve in the Mabden cause.

  So, dying, Laegaire told his witnesses to take his saddle,

  A reminder of his noble oath, Saying that he who could sit in it would prove true,

  That the Yellow Stallion would know him.

  In summer fields the Stallion grazes,

  Awaiting Laegaire's heir; Now in Laegaire's name we call him;

  To charge again upon Old Night.

  And now Ilbrec sank upon his knees before the altar on which the old, cracked saddle stood, and his last words were uttered in what was almost an exhausted sigh.

  Save from the noises in the distance, the boomings and the bowlings, there was silence. None moved. Ilbrec remained where he was, his head lowered. They waited.

  And then there came a new sound from somewhere, but none could tell from which direction, whether from above them or below, but it was the unmistakable sound of a horse's hooves galloping closer. This way and that they looked, but nowhere could they see the horse, yet still it came closer until it seemed to be within the stone circle. They heard a snorting, a high, proud whinnying, the stamping of metal shod hooves on frozen ground.

  Then suddenly Ilbrec lifted his head and laughed.

  And a yellow horse stood there on the other side of the altar, an ugly horse which yet had nobility in its bearing and a look of warm intelligence in its marigold-colored eyes. Its breath poured from its flared nostrils and it tossed its mane and it looked expectantly at Ilbrec, who got slowly from his knees and picked the saddle up in his two huge hands and placed it gently upon the back of the Yellow Stallion, and patted the beast's neck, and spoke to it lovingly, mentioning Laegaire's name frequently.

  Ilbrec turned, gesturing toward Corum:

  "Now, Corum, try to mount the horse. If he accepts you it will prove to all that you can be no betrayer of the Mabden."

  Hesitantly, Corum stepped forward. At first the Yellow Stallion snorted and backed away, flattening its ears against its head, studying Corum with those intelligent eyes.

  Corum put a hand upon the pommel of the saddle and the Yellow Stallion turned its head to inspect him, sniffing him. Corum climbed carefully into the saddle and the Yellow Stallion lowered its long head to the ground and unconcernedly began to nose about in the snow for grass. It had accepted him.

  So now the Mabden cheered him, calling him Cremm Croich, Llaw Ereint, and the Hero of the Silver Hand, their Champion. And Medhbh, who was now Queen Medhbh, came forward with tears in her eyes, stretching out her soft hand to Corum but saying nothing. And Corum took her hand, bent his head and kissed her hand with his lips.

  "And now we must consult," said Goffanon, his voice brisk. ' 'What are we to do against the Fhoi Myore?" He stood beneath one of the arches, resting his hand upon the haft of his axe, and he stared beyond the stone circles of Craig Don into a mist which appeared to be thickening.

  Sactric, in the form of the black and white cat, spoke in a quiet, dry tone. "Ideally, I would gather, it would suit you
if the Fhoi Myore were where you are now and you were elsewhere ..."

  Amergin nodded. "That is assuming that the Fhoi Myore have real reason to avoid Craig Don. If it is merely a superstition, then we are lost."

  Sactric said: "I do not think it merely superstition, Amergin. I, too, understand the power of Craig Don. I must consider how best I can help you, but I must have your assurance that you, in mm, will help me if I am successful on your behalf."

  ‘ 'Once I have the Collar of Power again,'' said the Archdruid,' T can help you. Of that I am certain."

  "Very well, you have made the bargain." Sactric seemed satisfied.

  "Aye," said Goffanon grimly from where he stood, "we have made the bargain."

  Corum looked enquiringly at his friend, but the Sidhi dwarf would say no more.

  Medhbh whispered in Corum's ear as he dismounted: "I thought I would not be able to do this, but now I know that I was mistaken, there is a charm I have which will help you, of that I have been assured."

  "A charm?"

  She said:' 'Give me that hand of silver for a little while. I have the means to make it stronger than it is."

  He smiled. "But Medhbh, I need no extra strength ..."

  ' 'You will need every thing anyone can give in the coming struggle," she insisted.

  ' 'Where did you get this charm?'' To humor her he began to take out the little pins which secured the hand to his wrist stump.' 'From an old wise woman?"

  She evaded answering him. "It will work," she said. "I have been promised that."