4 
4 NOW THE FOLK of Caer Mahlod carried their High King Amergin joyfully back to their fortress city and many danced as they moved through the moonlit forest and there were broad grins upon the faces of Goffanon and Ilbrec, who was mounted on his black horse Splendid Mane.
And only Corum’s brow was clouded, for he had heard words from Oak Woman which were less than cheering, and he lagged behind and was late in entering the king’s hall.
Their own good spirits clouding their vision, none of the others saw that Corum did not smile, and they slapped him upon his shoulders and they toasted him and they honoured him as much as they honoured their own High King.
And the feasting began, and the drinking, and the singing to the sound of the Mabden harps.
So Corum, seated beside Medhbh on one side and King Mannach on the other, drank a considerable amount of sweet mead and tried to drive the memory of the harp from his mind.
He saw King Mannach lean across to where Goffanon was seated next to Ilbrec (who was manfully showing no discomfort as he sat cramped and cross-legged beside the bench) and ask: “How knew you the incantation which raised the Oak Woman, Sir Goffanon?”
“I knew no special incantation,” said Goffanon, lifting a cauldron of mead from his lips and setting it upon the table. “I trusted to my hidden memories and the memories of my people. I hardly heard the words of the song myself. They came almost unbidden from my lips. I relied upon this to reach both the Oak Woman and Amergin’s spirit where it drifted. It was Amergin himself who gave me the word which in turn produced that music which, in its turn, began the transformation.”
“Dagdagh,” said Medhbh, unaware that Corum shuddered at the sound. “An old word. A name, perhaps?”
“A title, also. A word of many meanings.”
“A Sidhi name?”
“I think not—though it is associated with the Sidhi. The Dagdagh led the Sidhi into battle on more than one occasion. I am young, you see, as the Sidhi measure age, and I took part in only two of the nine historic fights against the Fhoi Myore and by that time the name of Dagdagh was no longer spoken. I know not why, save that there was a hint that Dagdagh had betrayed our cause.”
“Betrayed it? Not this night, surely?”
“No,” said Goffanon, his brow darkening a trifle. “Not this night.” And he raised the cauldron to his lips and took a thoughtful swig.
Jhary-a-Conel left his seat and came to stand behind Corum. “Why so pensive, old friend?”
Corum was grateful that Jhary had noticed his mood and at the same time did not wish to spoil Jhary’s celebration. He smiled as best he could and shook his head: “Weariness, I suppose. I’ve slept little of late.”
“That harp,” continued Medhbh and Corum wished that she would stop. “I recall hearing a similar harp.” She turned to Corum. “At Castle Owyn when we rode there once.”
“Aye,” he murmured. “At Castle Owyn.”
“A mysterious harp,” said King Mannach, “but I for one am grateful to it and would hear its music again if it brings us such gifts as the restoration of our High King,” and he raised his mead-horn to toast Amergin who sat smiling and calm, but drinking little, at the head of the table.
“Now we shall mass,” said King Mannach, “all the folk of the Mabden who remain. We shall build a great army and we shall ride against the Fhoi Myore. And this time we shall leave none alive!”
“Brave words,” said Ilbrec, “but we need more than courage. We need weapons such as my sword Retaliator. We need cunning—aye, and caution where it suits our cause.”
“You speak wisely, Sir Sidhi,” said Amergin. “You echo my own thoughts.” His old and yet youthful face was full of good humour as if he were not troubled one bit by the great problem of the Fhoi Myore. He wore a robe, now, of loose yellow samite bordered with designs of blue and red, and his hair was braided and lay upon his back.
“With Amergin to counsel us and Corum to lead us into war,” said King Mannach, “I believe that I am not foolish to show some optimism.” He smiled at Corum. “We grow stronger. Not long since our lives seemed lost and our race destroyed, but now…”
“Now,” said Corum finishing a whole horn of mead and wiping his lips upon the back of his silver hand, “now we celebrate great victories.” Unable to control himself he rose from the bench, stepped over it, and strode from the hall.
He walked into the night, through the streets of Caer Mahlod—streets which were filled with merrymakers, with music and with laughter—and he went through the gate and over the turf towards where the distant sea boomed.
And at last he stood alone upon the brink of the chasm which separated him from the ruins of his old home, Castle Erorn, which this folk called Castle Owyn and thought a formation of natural rock.
In the moonlight the ruins glowed and Corum wished that he could fly across the gulf and enter Castle Erorn and find a gateway back to his own world. There he had been lonely, but that was not the loneliness he felt now. Now he had a sense of complete desolation.
And then he saw a face staring back at him from out of the broken windows of the castle. It was a handsome face, a face with a skin of gold; a mocking face.
Corum called hoarsely: “Dagdagh! Is it Dagdagh?”
And he heard laughter which became the music of a harp.
Corum drew his sword. Below him the sea foamed and leapt on the rocks at the foot of the cliff. He prepared to leap the gulf, to seek the youth with the skin of gold, to demand why the youth plagued him so. He poised himself, caring not if he fell and died.
And then he felt a soft, strong hand upon his shoulder. He tried to shake it free, still crying: “Dagdagh! Let me be!”
Medhbh’s voice said close to his ear, “Dagdagh is our friend, Corum. Dagdagh saved our High King.”
Corum turned towards her and saw her troubled eyes staring into his single eye.
“Put away your sword,” she said. “There is no-one there.”
“Did you not hear the music of his harp?”
“I heard the wind making music in the crannies of Castle Owyn. That is what I heard.”
“You did not see his face, his mocking face?”
“I saw a cloud move across the moon,” she said. “Come back now, Corum, to our celebrations.”
And he sheathed his sword and he sighed and he let her lead him back to Caer Mahlod.