The Rite of Spring: The Princess

The Rite of Spring: Fragment 3

The Princess
in which Aonan sets out to meet her betrothed, but is waylaid at the pass

(Skip Aonan's incredibly long and tedious pedigree)

I am Aonan, daughter and only surviving child of Aonach the Swift, eldest son of Arderiach the Strong, son and heir of Braeriach the Great, son and heir of Braert, son and heir of Braeriach the Young, who was called Braeriachain, eldest son of Braeriach the Virile, eldest son of Arderiach the Fierce, son and heir of Braeriach the Victorious, son and heir of Arderiach the Wise, all of these now named being in their turn Chieftain of the Rhiconaiach, except only Braeriachain, whose father survived him. Now the forefathers of Arderiach the Wise were also Chieftains of the Rhiconaiach, and them also I can name for twenty-six further generations.

Now my mother was Ceathrean, eldest daughter of Ceathre the Deep, eldest son of Ceathriach the Cunning, eldest son of Ceathriart of the Song, all these named being in their turn High Shaman of the Rhiconaiach; but Ceathriart of the Song was the son of Braeriach the Virile, whom I have named.

Now the mother of Aonach the Swift was Ladhan, eldest daughter of Ladhar the Wild, sole surviving son of Lada the Terrible, son and heir of Ladhar of the Three Swords, son and heir of Ladhard the Walker, eldest son of Lada the Dragon Killer, eldest son of Lada the Stout, who was also called the Bear, son of Ladhar the Slaughterer, eldest son of Lada of the Wind, all these named being bold warriors of the Rhiconaiach; and their fathers before them were also warriors of the Rhiconaiach, and them also I can name for a further seventeen generations.

Now the mother of Arderiach the Strong was Mheadhan, eldest daughter of Mheadonan the Wily, eldest son of Mheadonach of the Ambush, son and heir of Mheadonain of the Thousand Deaths, all these named being war leaders of the Blue Band of the Rhiconaiach, as is well known. But Mheadonain of the Thousand Deaths was son of Braeriach the Virile, whom I have named.

Now the mother of Braeriach the Great was Kintan, eldest daughter of Kintaich of the Spear, eldest son of Kintar the Mighty, son and heir of Kinrhiel the Fierce, son of Rhiel the Magnificent, eldest son of Rheiltar the Strong, eldest son of Rheiltar the Young, all these named being bold warriors of the Rhiconaiach; and their fathers before them were also warriors of the Rhiconaiach, and them also I can name for a further twenty-two generations.

Now the mother of Braert was Ladhan, eldest daughter of Lada the Stout, whom I have named.

Now the mother of Braeriachain was Gruadhan, daughter of Gruadh the Great, eldest son Gruadh the Fierce, eldest son of Gruadhard the Wild, all these named being Chieftains of the Rhiconicfhearchain, as is well known. And their fathers before them were also Chieftains of the Rhiconicfhearchain, and them also I can name for a further fourteen generations.

Now the mother of Braeriach the Virile was Ceathrean, daughter and only surviving child of Ceathriarch the Blind, eldest son of Ceathriarch the Far Sighted, eldest son of Ceathriart of the Bear; all these named being in their turn High Shaman of the Rhiconaiach; and their fathers before them were also High Shamans of the Rhiconaiach, and them also I can name for a further seventeen generations.

Now the mother of Arderiach the Fierce was Kiara, called by her people the Valiant, who was a leader among the debased Iachaorachaorusduadh (among whom women take part in war) whom Braeriach the Victorious captured in battle. To my shame, and due only to the vile practices of that people, her ancestry is not known.

Now the mother of Braeriach the Victorious was Gruadhan, eldest daughter of Gruadhard the Wild, whom I have named.

Know that I can also recite the ancestry of the mothers of my mothers, as is customary, and that their breeding is no less noble than that of my fathers.

Know also that I am betrothed to Gruath, eldest son of Gruath the Shield of the People, Chieftain of the Rhiconicfhearchain. He serves, as is customary for a young man of good family, with the Guard of the God Incarnate. This so-called God is not worshipped by the people of the Noble Blood, but by those peoples who dwell within the Rim. Nevertheless, our people have traditionally formed the Guard of the God, and our finest young warriors serve fourteen years at the City at Her Gates, bringing honour and wealth to the Clan. At the time that I am speaking of, I had seen twenty summers, and Gruath a'Gruath had been thirteen summers with the Guard, for he joined when I was five. It is in the way of custom that he would have returned at the end of that summer, and taken me into his tent and become my master.

Now it will be known to you that this spring, in the fourteenth year of his reign, My father Aonach the Swift was cut down in a base ambush by warriors of the vile Coiremhiconicfhearchaorusduadh, and my brother Arderiach beside him. Consequently, as my sister is dishonoured and may not be named, I am left to carry the line of the Rhiconaiach, and must be mastered at once to provide the Clan with a leader. For should I die or be dishonoured, the line will pass to my uncle Braert the Hasty, and it is felt that as he is not in full possession of his wisdom he would not lead well in time of war.

Therefore the council of elders begged leave to meet in my presence, and, asking permission to advise me, counselled that I must immediately go over the mountains into the Place, to be mastered by my betrothed and bring him back to lead the Clan. Four of my honour maidens were appointed to travel with me ensure that my dignity was maintained, and twenty of the fiercest warriors of the Red Band sent to escort us. It was agreed that we should send half of this escort back once we had reached the crest of the pass, for indeed the Clan has been in sore need of warriors these past months.

Taking a spare horse for each of us, for we had need to ride fast, we set out for the Gate of the Mountains. The first part of the journey passed very pleasantly. We rode for three days across the rolling grasslands of the steppe, fresh and green and studded with blossom in the early spring. Although our purpose was sombre, our party was gay, for we were all young, and, especially for the women among us, to be away from the restrictions of camp life felt wonderful. When we made camp in the evenings, we would sit around the fire and talk of the Great Place, and what we should see there. This was very exciting, for no woman of the Clan has been into the Place for many generations. We knew, of course, that it was a place of loose-living and debauchery, where women went about unvieled, and the most shocking practices were carried on.

Each day we rode swiftly. Ahead of us, the dark outer cliffs of the Rim towered ever higher, and in the morning of the fourth day we came into that great gash in the wall that is called the Gate of the Mountains. I had never been so close to the Rim before, and the vast bulk of the mountains awed me. We could see the mountain road climbing and twisting across the head of the steep valley in which we found ourselves. We rested in the bottom of the valley until late in the afternoon when the air was cooling, and then climbed to the first shelter - a large cavern, whose entrance had been walled over in ages past - which we reached somewhat after midnight. There we rested, and arose early to climb to the second shelter before the day warmed up. The views, in the early dawn light, were astounding. Behind us, the steppe spread out, vast and rolling. Out there, I thought, are all the camps of my people, and all the camps of all the enemies of my people, and yet the steppe is so great that I can see none of them, not so much as a smear of cookfire smoke.

Above us the stark black rocks of the mountains climbed, splashed here and there with white, which the warriors told me was ice. Certainly the wind felt cold enough. I had never contemplated being so cold, and wished then for such a coat as the merchants wear. At last the second shelter came in sight, perched on the very highest point of the pass. Beyond it, my escort told me, was the most dangerous stretch of the road - a long level spine of rock along which we must travel to reach the first of the hostels run by the people of the Place. On that ridge we would have no shelter, and so we must not cross it when the sun was up. Already the first rays were picking up the angular shapes of dragonwings among the pinnacles of rock above us.

However, just as we came up to the shelter, tired and perhaps a little unwary after our long climb, we were set upon. A band of Coiremhiconicfhear burst out of the little building, while another party leapt down from the rocks above. There was a confused and bloody skirmish, and in the melee we were driven down the defile past the shelter and out onto the ridge. There, we were able to regroup a moment while our enemies brought out their horses. We could all see that our position was untenable. There were too many of the enemy. Ten of my brave men had fallen in that first attack. To my great grief, my dear Rhiconan had also been slain. We quickly determined that of the surviving warriors, the six who were fittest should remain to delay our pursuers, while the rest would attempt to reach the hostel ahead.

Thus the six of us remaining set off across the ridge at the best speed our poor horses could make. After this my memory fails me. I have a clear recollection - as if it were a painting - of a huge dragon diving after us, flying so low that its head was actually below mine, and its great jet of flame was licking around the hocks of my horse. In that instant of memory I can see that at least Quinach and Ryvoan were still with me, but that Fheardhan's horse was beside me with its saddle empty, so that I conclude she had then been thrown, or taken by the dragons. The picture I have is that it was full daylight.

I also have a recollection of falling. This returns to me primarily in nightmares, so that I am uncertain whether it is a true memory.

The next thing I truly recall, I found myself lying quite alone and unclad under a thin blanket in a rude cave. I was in considerable discomfort. There was a most unpleasant rhythmic sensation in my head, my breathing was painful, and my right thigh - which I found tightly bandaged - ached abominably. Another bandage was so arranged as to prevent the movement of my left arm. I was certain from the circumstance of my nakedness that, if I was not already dishonoured, I would shortly be so, and at once resolved that I must defend my honour with my life.

After some little time, a savage figure came into the cave. I was a little relieved to see that this was not a Coiremhiconic. The figure was dressed in extraordinary garments of greyish thickly wadded cloth, marked here and there with scorching, and horribly stained. The bulk of this apparel gave him the appearance of someone much overweight. The upper garment had a hood, which when pulled over the head would have completely covered the face, leaving only small apertures for vision. However, this was presently pushed back, showing a head which seemed disproportionally small for the figure. The features were obscured by a thick, whitish substance which was smeared on the upper cheekbones, the ridge of the nose, and the brow. The features seemed poorly developed, and the face was beardless, leading me to conclude that the savage was at best little older than myself.

As he entered the cave, the savage bore a spear of quite gargantuan proportions, which he laid down along the far side. At his belt were hung a collection of large knives, variously curved or straight, heavy of fine. He came over to look at me. I shut my eyes and feigned unconsciousness. I felt a hand upon my brow, and subsequently upon my wrist, which was held for some moments. The odour given off by the savage - or at least by his garments - was atrocious. Then I heard the savage move away, and subsequently heard movements which I supposed must be by the little fire that was burning. I essayed a glance, and saw that the savage was indeed by the fire, preparing food, with his back to me. Several of the knives were lying upon the rock by his side.

I slipped out from under my covering and crept across to where he was squatting. I took up one of the knives, and attempted to slay the creature, but the garment that he wore was too thick and tough, and my blow too feeble, so that he was not injured. He rose swiftly, caught my wrist, and bore me backwards so that I fell, and he fell upon me. My injuries so protested this treatment that I was capable of no more physical defence. I concluded that my fate was immediately determined, and being thus despairing, cursed him in the name of the All-Seeing God for his assault upon my honour.

At this point, the savage replied in the Noble Tongue and with a very fair accent, that if I was an (expletive) Rhiconicfhear, I didn't have any honour, and as for my body, he would not defile himself by abusing it; and that, as he had better things to do than rescue ungrateful barbarians, I would do better to be silent and cease to irritate him. I confess I saw the force of this last advice, and was grateful to be allowed to rise and resume the shelter of the blanket. I was surprised at his apparently bitter regard for my people; I had previously assumed that our nobility was universally known and respected, but it appears that this is not the case.

While I was meditating upon this sad discovery, The savage brought me a bowl of excellent stew, which I consumed with appreciation; and then I slept.

I awoke in bright morning light to find myself alone. With some trepidation, I availed myself of the opportunity to relieve myself outwith the cave, wrapping the blanket about me to conceal my person from view. My savage companion returned before the middle of the morning however, and fed me an excellent breakfast. Then he fetched a flask of water and cleansed my face. I then discovered that he proposed to bathe the remainder of my person, and also to inspect my injuries. I was able to pursuade him that this would not be proper.

Shortly after this, I observed that he was sitting in the opening of the cave, sewing some dark cloth. I asked what he was doing. He replied that he was repairing my skirt. He said it had been ripped from hip to hem in my fall, and he supposed I would not want to wear it in such a state. I was much touched by this, despite the rough manner of it, and apologised in the most humble terms I was able for my misjudgement of the previous evening. He replied - I remember this quite clearly:

"Oh, I'm not doing this for you. That's my (expletive) bed you're lying in, and I want some sleep."

However, shortly after this, he brought over my skirt, bodice, blouse and boots. I thanked him for these, and added

"If you please, I should be grateful if you could also recover my veil for me". The savage looked at me in some surprise, and said

"why?". I said "Your pardon, but it is improper that a man should look upon my face". The savage seemed amused by this. He said,

"well, I've seen it now, so what does it matter?"

I explained that it caused me embarassment, at which he laughed again; but he quickly fetched the veil, which I was glad to resume. To my surprise, the savage then remained in the cave, tidying up about the fireplace. After a while, he said

"aren't you going to get up, then". I explained that it was impossible for me to do this in his presence. He laughed again, and said - but not unkindly -

"well, I've seen that too"; but he went out with apparent good grace.

I found that, owing to the injury to my shoulder, I was able to insert only my right arm into its sleeve in my blouse, and was unable to manage my bodice at all. However, I did as best I could, and trusted that the All-Seeing God would forgive my improper appearance. When I was dressed, the savage returned, removed his outer garments, and prepared himself for rest. Wearing only shirt and leggings, he was revealed as a very slight figure; his face, without the paint, was revealed to be softly pretty in a rather girlish way, which I supposed must have been a trial for him. His hair, which was worn long, was bound back in a tight club upon the nape of his neck. He looked suddenly small, and vulnerable, so that I was surprised to feel tenderness towards him.

Just before he prepared himself for bed, he advised me not to go outside the cave in daylight, because of the dragons. In any case, I was still feeling quite unwell, and disinclined to wander. I found myself sitting by the bed, contemplating my sleeping companion. I found him a curious mixture. He had clearly had no education in proper manners or behaviour, and seemed to find my modesty risible. His own manners were course and rough in the extreme. He had no lineage, or if he had, had no pride in it to recite it, naming himself only Linnain, which is 'the hunter'. Yet I found that he had a delicacy all of his own, and was curiously modest in his own deportment. I had been brought up to believe that men of other tribes were brutal and unbridled in their lusts, and that even a man of the Rhiconicfhearchaorusduadh could not be trusted alone with a woman, especially if he were allowed to see any part of her flesh. Yet I no longer felt that my honour was at risk from this savage, and this was a very comforting discovery.

Indeed, although we remained in that place for several days, and then spent a further twenty days together travelling through the mountains, from that point on our companionship was most amicable. Only one point of contention broke our amity; he insisted, against my very vocal protests, on regularly inspecting the wound in my thigh. He proposed also to examine my chest, in order to see how my ribs and collarbone were progressing, but this I could not permit. I must say that my thigh healed well under his treatment, whereas my chest continued to give me pain for a considerable time, so that I wished that I could find a healing-woman to attend it.

The first days in the cave are dreamlike in my memory, partly, I suppose, because of the experience I had so lately come through. I would spend most of the day sitting in the entrance of the cave, looking out on the high mountain valley. It had a certain stark grandeur. My companion would work through each night, and return exhausted each morning to sleep away the better part of the day. In the late afternoons he would arise, prepare a repast for us, and then join me in the cave mouth. He would sit quietly, repairing some implement or whittling a stick, and talk about the beauty he perceived in the scene.

He loved to watch the dragons hunting, spear sleek, serpent supple, shadow sliding silent over the shattered screes, wingtip almost brushing the steep mountainside. He would wait for the moment when the dragon would lazily trail a leg, and then grow intent, looking for the goat the dragon had seen. Often the dragon would flush its prey with a blast of flame. The goat would leap out of its hiding place under a rock, and bound away across the slope. The dragon arrows after, one long leg dangling, swinging forward, snatching - and then the dragon swings up hill, slowing, settling, wings fanning. And the goat is dead.

And truly it is beautiful to watch the elder children of the God at play, huge, swift, terrible. But for me the feeling was not unmixed. As I watched the great wings slice by, I was reminded not only of my recent mishap, but also -

After a successful raid the previous year, my father had gone to share the prize with the God, as is proper, and on that occasion for the first time I was permitted to accompany him. We went up to the place of offering in darkness, and staked out the God's share, before going up to the cave from which it is customary to complete the ceremony. As dawn approached, and old Ceathre sang the Rite of Calling Up, I saw them emerge out of the darkness, some slumped in despair, some straining at their bonds, one, a young woman, standing straight upright, facing us. Then the sun was up, and a long wait passed by as the air warmed. There was nothing to do but watch the offering. Then, at last, the dragons arrived to accept the God's share.

After that, for many weeks, I slept badly, and my dreams were much disturbed; and now, as I watched the dragons, each goat brought that young woman back before my eyes.

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