Chapter 2

Deirdre's Lullaby

"Princess! My lady, please, come over here!"

A red shadow was running in the snow that covered the ground of the gardens of Eurwen. The white mantle of cold crunched under her feet and echoed in the stillness of the air. The swift shadow stopped at the sound of her nanny's voice, breathless. Locks of golden hair peeked out from the hood of her red cloak, and the penetrating brisk colored her cheeks scarlet. She wanted to run again, chase the snowflakes carried by the wind of December. But the night was slowly falling upon the realm, and soon, the moon would rise in the veil of the night.

"Please, little lady, let's go back inside. You don't want the wolves to eat you, do you?"

Emma raised her head and an expression of childish disdain appeared on her face. "They can come if they want to. I'm not afraid of them. Father taught me how to fight."

"Sure he did princess," the nanny answered with a smile, "but a five-year-old lady is not strong enough to deal with wolves, trust me."

"Have you ever seen one of them, Mary?"

The old woman stared at nothing and shook her head after a few seconds. "More than I would've wanted. Now come, a warm bath is waiting for you."

The princess nodded and, after a quick look towards the Enchanted forest, she ran towards her governess. She could play outside whenever she'd like. She was the princess of Elanoriah after all. The wolves had better brace themselves, for the impetuous red shadow was fearless.

"Be careful, Mary! It's hot!"

"I'm sorry my lady, but if you didn't move that much, it'd be easier for both of us!"

Emma was sitting in a wooden bath, her arms crossed. She hated baths. It was such a waste of time. But she had to admit, after the cold of the gardens, this hot water was a blessing. Her governess Mary gently poured the water on her head as another servant rubbed her hair with walnut tree leaves (1).

"Mary?" Emma asked while playing with the water.

"Yes ,my lady?" her governess answered.

"Why am I so mean?"

Mary froze and after a few seconds, she put the pitcher down. This was unexpected. "'Mean' my lady? Why on earth would you think that?"

The little girl focused on the water unwillingly resting in the palm of her hand as if the world depended on its stillness. "I thought about the wolves..." she began, unsure. "I... T think I wouldn't mind killing them. I'm sure I could do it in a heartbeat. And last summer I tore the wings of twelve butterflies. Mother doesn't know about it. But I'm sure she would be really upset."

The governess felt her heart racing. She knew that eventually, the little princess would have to know the truth about this hole in her chest. It would answer a lot of questions. She was not a wicked child, she was sweet and lively and she knew how to distinguish Good from Evil. But she didn't feel anything. She didn't know about compassion, sadness or true joy.

"You are not mean, princess," Mary assured with softness.

"Then why do I do these horrible, horrible things? I'm sure I would do it all over again. I'm a demon. Carys told me those stories, evil imps who rip hearts off because they enjoy it."

The governess sighed and closed her eyes. Carys did not know how to hold her tongue. "Did you enjoy it when you tore the wings of the butterflies?"

The princess pondered a moment, and then shook her head. "No, I did not."

"Then you are not mean my dear."

"But why do I do such things?" Emma asked as her eyebrows narrowed.

"I..." The words seemed to be trapped between Mary's teeth and her tongue. They did not want to come out and clutched to the inside of her mouth. "You're a child," she finally conceded.

"But why..."

"Get out of the bath sweetheart, the water is not warm anymore, you're going to catch a cold." The governess took the young lady in her arms and wrapped a thick towel around her. She rubbed her down and started to comb her hair. "I saw Evil once," she said after a few minutes of silence.

"You did?" Emma asked with surprise.

"Yes. In the eyes of a wolf. One of them slaughtered my family. I saw everything, I was sitting on the roof of our house. But I fell to the ground, right in front of him. He looked at me with his yellow eyes... I saw death in them. Mine."

"But he didn't kill you."

"He did worse child. But you're too young to hear this story. Just know that Evil exists, and you are not cast in the same mould as this wolf of yore, I promise."

Emma smiled at her nanny. She hadn't answered her questions. She felt as confused as she was before she asked them. This emptiness inside of her... She did not know how to explain it. She felt somewhat... different. Different from Ruby for example, Mary's grandaughter. She was so cheerful and kind. She was her friend. And though... Often, at night, when everybody thought she was asleep, she pondered upon her feelings. If anything happened to Ruby... She would not care. She would not cry. She had already cried, when she had fallen off from that apple tree six moons ago. She had broken her leg. But when the rabbit she had taken in had died, she had not shed a single tear. If this did not mean she was Evil... Then what was wrong with her?

"Emma, come to bed, I've got something for you!"

It was now time for the little elf to fall into Morpheus's arms. Snow-White was sitting on the big four-poster walnut bed with lavander curtains, waiting for her daughter to slip under the sheets. The little princess jumped onto the mattress and got underneath the ermine blanket.

"What do you have for me mother?" she asked with a suspicious look.

Snow-White smiled and held out a small round mahogany box, on which a swan was drawn.

"What is this?" Emma inquired.

"t's called a music box. I asked Marco to make this one for you."

"A music box? But how could a box make music?"

The Queen smiled. "Magic honey. The wood is enchanted. Marco had a fairy blow her singing into the box. Now open it."

The princess frowned and she opened the box, cautiously. A feminine figurine was spinning, her hand resting on the head of a beautiful white swan. The music that escaped from this precious and curious object was very soothing... and familiar.

"Mother, what is this melody?" Emma asked, confused.

"You remember?" answered her mother, surprised. "I used to sing this song to you when you were a baby. I sang it to you the day you were born."

"It's in Gaelic, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is. Gaelic is the language of our ancestors, the language of magic. The first spells were all written in Gaelic because it enhances their powers. You'll learn it, one day."

"When will that be ?"

"Soon, sweetheart, soon. I gave this to you so you'll always remember me, your father and your childhood. You must never let go of the child in you Emma. Childhood is dreaming. And dreaming is hope."

Emma listened carefully to her mother, trying to make sense out of what she was hearing. She knew she would have to grow up eventually. She didn't want to. Being an adult seemed boring. The responsibilities, the feasts, the speeches... Once an adult she would be closer to becoming the Queen of Elanoriah, and she didn't want this. All she wanted was eating waffles and run in the snow. And going to the Enchanted Forest, needless to say. She dreamt about adventure, seeing beyond the horizon. And for now, this horizon was the crown and a husband. A husband. She did not see the point in marrying a prince, she did not understand why princesses had to fall in love. And what was this, "falling in love"? Do you fall to the ground? Adults are weird creatures. Emma was sure even the leprechauns were smarter and more logical.

"I chose the story of Deirdre (3) tonight, do you want to hear it?" her mother said, an old book on her knees.

"What is it about?"

"Love."

Obviously. Emma sighed. Apparently, she could not escape this thing that love was. What made it so special? Her mother opened the leather-covered book. Her fingers flew from page to page, turning the yellowish leaves with tenderness. Suddenly, she stopped at a page more worn out than the others.

"Once there was a chieftain," her mother began, "Fedlimid MacDaill. Prior to her daughter's birth, Cathbad the Druid foretold her future. He said that she would be the most beautiful woman in Ireland, with golden tresses and lovely green eyes. Because of this, she would be marked for certain death and ruin would befall the land. Conchobar mac Nessa, the King, decided that she would become his wife when she became of age. He took her from her family and held her in seclusion at the home of Leabharcham, a wise old woman who raised her. Despite the best attempts of Leabharcham to influence Conchobar not to marry her, he was more determined than ever. However, prior to her wedding to Conchobar, Deirdre met a young warrior called Naoise..."

Snow-White kept reading as Emma was listening with attention, her head resting on her knees.

"Naoise and his brothers were killed by Éogan mac Durthachtand, and Deirdre was forced to marry Conchobar. Then Deirdre said this lament: "Fair one, loved one, flower of beauty; beloved upright and strong; beloved noble and modest warrior. Fair one, blue-eyed, beloved of thy wife; lovely to me at the trysting-place came thy clear voice through the woods of Ireland. I cannot eat or smile henceforth. Break not to-day, my heart: soon enough shall I lie within my grave. Strong are the waves of sorrow, but stronger is sorrow's self, Connachar." She jumped into Naoise' grave and lay down by Naoise, and she was dead by his side. The king ordered the body to be raised from out the grave and to be buried on the other side of the loch. It was done as the king bade, and the pit closed. Thereupon a fir shoot grew out of the grave of Deirdre and a fir shoot from the grave of Naoise, and the two shoots united in a knot above the loch. The king ordered the shoots to be cut down, and this was done twice, until, at the third time, the wife whom the king had married caused him to stop this work of evil and his vengeance on the remains of the dead."

The queen stared at the last lines of the tale for a few seconds, a sad smile on her red lips. The silence was broken by a skeptical little princess.

"But, mother, why did Deirdre do that?"

"Because she loved Naoise too much honey. She couldn't bear the thought of living without him," her mother answered.

"But... what is love mother?"

Snow-White took in a deep breath. She knew that her little girl would not understand. How could she? She was unable to feel anything, let alone love. "It is... it is a tender or passionate affection you feel towards another person," she said.

"How does it feel like?"

"It's like... getting lost into somebody else. You live for the person you love, you would do anything for them. It makes your life brighter."

Emma looked up at her mother and bit her lower lip. She tried to understand the bond that linked Deirdre to Naoise, her mother to her father. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not imagine it. She felt like it was out of reach. She just hoped that Deirdre had found peace in death. Because from what she had understood, love did more bad than good.