Only the Stones Survive: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

happened to mention Ierne, I realized what the gods intended. Your gods and mine,” he added hastily. “It was in my gift to tell your father what I knew of Ierne, but more than that; I was the perfect person to design these galleys for your people and supervise their construction.
    “You Gaelicians stake your honor on your hospitality. My people stake theirs on fulfilling obligations. Therefore, I can assure you these ships are as safe as any seagoing craft can be. There is no danger of running aground prematurely; you can sail close enough to have a good look. If you are satisfied with what you see, have your men lower the sail and row as far as the shallows, then wade ashore.”
    Éremón’s voice cracked like a whip. “Are you trying to tell me how to command my fleet?”
    Sakkar pressed his hands together and gave a slight bow, just enough to show respect but not enough to admit subjugation. “I would not be so presumptuous, great prince. You know how to proceed in these matters far better than I could.”
    Éremón was never sure if the Phoenician was mocking him or not. Sakkar’s aquiline features were like a closed box. Éremón’s brother Amergin was fond of him, though—which was enough reason to be suspicious of the former shipwright. Amergin was the chief bard of the Mílesians, but in Éremón’s opinion he was no judge of people. That was proved by the fact that Amergin never said anything unkind about anyone.
    Of all his brothers, Éremón found Amergin the most difficult to understand. Amergin was not only a bard—reciter of histories, keeper of genealogies—but a druid. Among Celtic tribes, the druids comprised the intellectual class, men and women whose abilities were of the mind rather than the arm. Their high prestige derived from the esoteric disciplines they practiced, sometimes in private and always beyond the comprehension of their less-gifted kin.
    As far as Éremón was concerned, Amergin was a riddle on two legs. He preferred people to be uncomplicated, like himself. Éremón said exactly what he thought without any druidic misdirection. If he disliked a man, he told him to his face, then cheerfully hit him in that face if a fight was offered. This did not apply to women, of course, but nothing simple applied to women.
    Éremón pulled his mind back from the dangerous subject of women. His wife Odba had been one of those who stayed behind when the fleet departed, but he could not be sure he had escaped her forever. Odba might have a touch of the druid herself, the way she could hear his most private thoughts. When he had first mooted the idea of taking Taya as a second wife, Odba had pounced on him like a cat on a rat, and there had been bitter war between them until the day he and the rest of the fleet set sail for Ierne.
    At least their sons had chosen to come with him, Éremón reminded himself. Moomneh and Legneh were old enough to realize they could not expect any inheritance without their father.
    Three of Éremón’s brothers, Donn and Ír and Éber Finn, were the proud possessors of obedient wives who had joined them on the voyage without complaint—or at least without any complaint that Éremón knew about. Éber Finn even had three wives and an impressive swarm of children crowding the deck of his galley. They seemed to be as happy together as a litter of puppies. How, Éremón often wondered, did Éber enforce such domestic harmony?
    And what did a young woman like Taya see in a man like Amergin?
    Éremón was almost as tall as Amergin. Among the Mílesian princes only yellow-haired Ír of the Long Legs was taller, but Ír was no competition. His mental instability put him in a class apart. Éremón believed himself to be the most handsome of the brothers. In his opinion, Donn and Colptha were as plain as mud. Neither looked impressive; they could be anybody.
    Only Éremón and Éber Finn had inherited the ruddy coloring and heroic torso of their father. Strangers sometimes