Deirdre turned quickly to her husband, breathless with excitement. “Did you hear the man, Bran? He said he’s the Master of Horse at the castle! Imagine that! And the horse you shod—she belonged to the Princess Issylte, the king’s only child!” Branoc seemed to be barely listening as he took stock of the orders he had yet to fill, planning his afternoon and prioritizing his work.
Deirdre was insistent. “Bran! Are you listenin’? That gentleman, Lord Liam, he said that the princess had long blond hair and that she loved to ride. He said she was fourteen years old when she died four summers ago.”
At the mention of the princess’ long blond hair, Branoc turned to face her. Finally, she had his attention.
“That would make her eighteen now, wouldn’t it? The same age asÉglantine.” Deirdre sneered, fixing Branoc with a stark, determined gaze. “Isn’t that acoincidence, Bran? That Églantine shows up out of the blue at the very same time that the princess has a tragicaccident? They never found her body, you know? I do remember that. I remember how they were searching everywhere, but she had been thrown into the sea, and they never found a single trace of her.”
The pieces of a puzzle were falling in place. Deirdre scoffed, “I don’t remember you ever mentionin’ that you had a cousin inBretagne.I never heardMamietalk about a sister, either. And now, suddenly, at the very same time that the princess dies in a tragic accident, with no trace of her body ever found… Églantine arrives atMamie’scottage.”
She paused for her words to sink in, her face contorted with disdain. “She’s the same age, Bran. She loves horses, she’s a skilled rider, and she loves the forest. Just like the Emerald Princess did.”
Deirdre leaned forward to lock his eyes as she fit the final puzzle piece in place. With a sly grin, she smirked, “And—she haslong blond hair,justlike the princess, doesn’t she, Bran?”
****
Branoc dried his hands on his apron, trying not to reveal how fast his heart was pounding. How his wife’s words had rattled him. The sinister appearance on Dee’s face made his mouth run dry. She’d been acting peculiar lately—watching him constantly, pestering him about wanting a baby to the point of obsession. Although she’d wanted a child ever since their marriage five years ago, it seemed that now Dee was all the more desperate for him to make love to her, frantically craving his affection. Yet, the more she tried to entice him, the more she repulsed him. He could barely stand to be near her and recoiled from her touch. He thought of the beautiful blond nymph he watched nearly every day in the waterfall. She’d captured his heart. He longed for her with an ache so intense it suffocated him. He had to protect Églantine from his crazed, jealous wife. With the intense hatred that he saw blazing in her eyes just now, Branoc knew he had to think fast to deflect Dee’s suspicions.
His mind flashed through the events surrounding Églantine’s arrival.Mamiehad never told him the truth about the girl’s background, saying simply that she had needed protection and shelter. Now, Dee threatened Églantine’s safety. If she talked about her suspicions to customers and the other shopkeepers inthe village… Bran needed to reaffirm the story his grandmother had told everyone. Églantine was his distant cousin, who had come to Ireland to stay with her grandmother’s sister, her last surviving relative.
A knot clenched in his stomach as he realized that Dee had uncovered the truth. Églantine was indeed the Princess Issylte. It made perfect sense now. He had to protect her, the innocent victim of jealousy and hatred. He feigned indifference to his wife’s intense glare.
“That’s ridiculous, Dee!” he scoffed with a laugh. “Of course I remember Mamie talking about her sister! I never met Églantine before, because I was born here in Ireland, and she was born inBretagne. But, by the Goddess, she’s my cousin and that’s all there is to it. Now stop with your crazy accusations! I have work to do!”
He stormed off, pretending to be exasperated with her, watching out of the corner of his eye. She was not at all dissuaded by his words. She puttered about, shelving items in the shop and tidying up as she prepared to go to the house and fix dinner. But he caught her scornful stare. “Say what you will, Bran. But I know, as sure as I’m standin’ here right now, lookin’ at you, that oursweet little Églantine,” she spat with disgust, “is the king’s daughter Issylte, the Emerald Princess herself!”
In a desperate effort to distract Deirdre from her fixation with Églantine, Branoc tried to shower his wife with the attention she craved. He smiled at her frequently and kissed her cheek from time to time as he worked in his shop and crossed her path. He even forced himself to make love to her, hoping that his feigned interest would keep her occupied, deflect her attention, and protect Églantine.
Deirdre did seem to thrive on the newfound affection and did not mention again the visitor from the castle, the horse named Luna, or the tragic death of the Emerald Princess—untilMaiwenn and Issylte came into the blacksmith shop on their usual Saturday excursion.
****
When Issylte entered the shop with Maiwenn, she saw Deirdre bustling about, wiping off the countertop, tidying up. She andTatiegreeted Deirdre with kisses on the cheek and bright smiles. Dee seemed barely able to contain herself, as if she had exciting news to share.
“Mamie! Églantine! You’ll never guess who came into our shop just a few days ago! A fine gentleman by the name of Lord Liam, the Master of Horse in King Donnchadh’s castle! Can you imagine?”
At the mention of Liam’s name, Issylte’s knees buckled underneath her. She grabbed the countertop to steady herself as Maiwenn responded brightly. “The Master of Horse! My goodness, fancy that! Did he come here to purchase a weapon?”
Issylte sensed Deirdre’s scrutinizing gaze. Branoc’s wife smirked, seeming to watch Issylte’s reaction. “No,Mamie, he was here to have his horse reshod. A prettydappled gray marewhose name wasLuna.”
Issylte nearly choked—her beloved horse washere! In this very shop. With Liam!
The blacksmith’s wife continued, as if meting out the cruelty of her words and savoring their sweet effect. “Lord Liam, the Master of Horse, explained that the palfrey—Luna—had belonged to the king’s only child, his daughter the Princess Issylte.” Deirdre busied herself, wiping off the countertop, yet Issylte could feel her watchful stare as she struggled to keep her emotions in check. She cast her eyes to the ground, flustered, while Maiwenn did all the talking.
“How fortunate for you to have earned his business. I’m sure he paid handsomely for Bran’s fine work.”
Issylte adjusted the lacing on her boot, trying desperately to hide her dismay.
Deirdre continued, seemingly delighted at the effect the poison of her words was having on Issylte. “Yes, we are most grateful for his business. It seems that Lord Liam was on his way to deliver the horse Luna and some other palfreys from the royal stables to a buyer near the village when her horseshoe came loose. While Bran did the repairs, Lord Liam and I had avery nicechat.”
Issylte shot Maiwenn a pleading look, hoping to extricate her from Deirdre’s attack. Branoc was still occupied near his forge and could not rescue them.
“Lord Liam told me how the king had been terribly distraught after his daughter’s death. How he just could not part with the horse, for the princess had loved the mare so much. But now, with the king bed-ridden and ailing, the queen decided to sell Luna and the other palfreys. It seems the Morholt—her Black Knight—was needin’ onlywarhorsesfor his army.”
Bile rose in her throat. She had to escapenow.
Just as Issylte could bear no more, Branoc finally came over to greet them, wiping his hands and grinning at the sight of the visitors. “Mamie! Églantine!” he beamed, “how are you today?” As her husband kissed the two women, Deirdre gloated, “Bran, I was just tellin’Mamieand Églantine about Lord Liam, the Master of Horse at the castle who came in this week with the gray mare to be reshod.”
Branoc shot a worried glance at his grandmother and turned to stare at Issylte.
