Prince of Hazel and Oak. John Lenahan
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Maeve had promised to reduce them to kindling. That would have been a hell of a trick. The two gates were over two storeys high and almost as wide. When closed they displayed a huge carving of an oak tree. On each leaf of the tree, inlaid in gold, were all the runes of the lands comprising Tir na Nog. The largest rune was the major Oak Rune; next to it was a carving of what was then hanging from my waist – the Lawnmower – the Sword of Duir. As the team of horses pulled open the gates, the depth of these monsters became apparent. The gates were as thick as I was tall. I promised myself that after I woke Dad up I would ask him where they came from.
A small battalion fronted by Spideog and Araf awaited us on the other side of the gates. As we approached they saluted and parted. Araf slipped in next to me.
‘Hey, Imp buddy, I didn’t know you were coming.’
‘A prince of the House of Duir must always travel with a bodyguard. It was one of your father’s first rules.’
‘Do you mean every time I leave home I’m stuck with you?’ I said with a smile. Araf didn’t answer me. He doesn’t usually answer straight questions. There’s no hope he’d answer a rhetorical one.
I promised myself I wouldn’t go on and on like I usually do about how beautiful The Land is, but I just gotta say that fall in The Land is awesome. I’m not using the word ‘awesome’ the way a mall-rat would describe a slush drink; when I say awesome I mean it. The scenery in the Forest of Duir actually inspired awe and not just with Brendan and me. Most of our troop rode with wide eyes and mouths open and the majority of them were probably over a thousand years old. I suspect you could never get tired of this scenery no matter how many times you had seen it.
If you were to hold your hands out in front of you palm up, like you were begging, one of these leaves would cover both of your hands completely. The major colour of the foliage was ‘inferno’ orange. The leaves were almost incandescent and gave off a glow in the sunlight that made all our complexions look like we had been caught in an explosion at a fake-tan factory. The reds and yellows and greens were there to provide dazzling counterpoint. Periodically you would see a bold tree that was solely in red or another just in yellow. The colours were everywhere, even underfoot, gently rustling under our horses’ hooves.
The air, scented with the perfume of fallen leaves, was cool and crisp – you felt like it could almost cut you – and it was crystal clear, like the way the world looks after you clean a pair of dirty sunglasses. I can honestly say I have never experienced a more invigorating morning. Sorry about the gushing – I promise I won’t mention spring.
We rode in silence letting our eyes and sighs do all the talking. About an hour before noon we entered Glen Duir and Mom dropped back to talk to me.
‘Oisin said Mother Oak was asking after you the last time he spoke to her. Would you like to stop for a quick chat?’
‘Yes please,’ I said as an involuntary smile took over my face. I kicked into a gallop with Araf close on my tail. I crested the hill and saw the old lady dressed in her fall best. Her leaves were mostly yellows and light browns like a comfortable patchwork quilt. I dismounted before Acorn came to a stop, ran up to her and wrapped my arms around her trunk.
‘Oh my,’ came that lovely voice in my head, ‘who is this in such a rush?’
‘It’s me, Mother Oak – Conor.’
‘Oh my, my, the Prince of Hazel and Oak; I have been worried about you.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘Oh, but your father is not,’ she said, reading my thoughts. ‘Climb up higher and tell me all about it.’
I climbed a bit and she brought branches in behind me to rest against. I told her about what had happened to Dad, and what Mom and Fand had done.
‘Oh, I had feared as much. I knew something was wrong with your father the last time he came to visit with me. But try not to worry yourself too much, my dear, your mother is a very clever witch. If anyone can find a cure it will be her.’
I knew that already but Mother Oak has a way of turning knowledge into belief. I hugged her again.
‘I have to go,’ I said, ‘the others are waiting for me.’
‘Take good care of yourself, Conor. Come and see me in the spring.’
‘I will.’ I started to leave and then added, ‘By the way your foliage looks beautiful.’
‘Do you really think so?’ she asked. ‘The fashion among the other trees these days just seems a bit gaudy to me.’
‘Well, I think you look elegant.’
I hugged her one more time and I know it sounds impossible for a tree but I think she blushed.
I walked over the knoll. It always takes me some time to clear my head after talking to a tree. I saw a small group standing around someone on the ground. As I got closer I saw it was Brendan unconscious on his back.
‘What happened?’ I asked the throng.
‘I don’t know,’ a guard said. ‘Ask him.’
Spideog crested the knoll with a bucket of water in his hand. Ignoring my questions, he poured the whole thing onto Brendan’s face. The detective popped up spluttering, tried to stand and then dropped back down holding his head.
‘Has someone hit me with a stick again?’ Brendan asked.
‘Did you hit him with a stick?’ I asked Spideog.
‘No,’ he said, ‘a rock.’
‘Why?’
‘I would like to have a word with you in private, if I may.’
Spideog and I walked out of earshot and he said, ‘Our friend Brendan was about to shoot a tree with an arrow. I was too far away to stop him so I threw a rock. It was either that or place an arrow in him.’
‘Thank you, Spideog; he didn’t know what he was doing.’
‘I have spent many a year in the Real World, Prince Conor, and I know how mortals treat trees but there are others here who might not be so understanding. Remember he is under your protection. Make sure he does not do it again.’
We walked back. Brendan was on his feet.
‘You have to stop your friends from hitting me in the head with sticks.’
‘It was a rock.’
‘OK,’ he said. ‘You have to stop your friends hitting me with sticks and rocks.’
‘You promised you would keep your hands in your pockets. What were you doing when Spideog threw the rock at you?’
‘Spideog hit me? What for?’
‘What were you doing?’
‘I got bored waiting for you so I notched an arrow and was about to do a bit of archery practice.’
‘And what were you aiming at?’
Brendan pointed to a young oak. His misfired arrow was about ten yards behind it.
‘Come with me,’ I said, grabbing him by the arm and leading him to Mother Oak.
‘Hug that tree,’ I demanded.
‘What?’
‘Hug that tree.’
‘I’m not going to hug a tree.’
‘Hug that tree or I will have you dragged back to Castle Duir in chains and you can stare at Frick and Frack for the next year.’
He looked at me and then tilted his head. ‘You mean it, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say my mother put you up to this.’
‘Hug!’
Brendan