Cobhlaith shoots a sharp look at Thorun, while hiding a small smile.
"Lead on, oh brave warrior! Try not to drown us all.
"I prefer not to await Judgment Day and the coming of Our Savior lying in a peat bog. "
DAY 6
They leave the monastery, heading inland to avoid the coast, preferring to face the bogs rather than to risk a meeting with King Nial's allies in Buncrana. Moving through the undergrowth is long and tedious. Trudging through shallow bogs is painfully slow. And swimming through deep bogs is frustrating and exhausting.
Luckily, they avoid the quicksand and other dangers, and reach the relative safety of the northern shore of Lake Turk by nightfall.
If all goes well and the weather continues to be clement, they should reach Culdaff on the morrow.
DAY 7
Another fine day. Going North from the lake, they navigate the wetlands, travelling through the Shees – a series of hills and mounds that are rumoured to be the homes of fairies – until they reach the Bocan Stone Circle – another symbol of long-forgotten powers.
Culdaff is around the bend, a mere mile away...
Sister Cobhlaith brightens as she smells the tang of salt air.
"We must nearly be at Culdaff. St Buadan built a monastery here, in the time of St Patrick. What holy ground we have been traversing. I understand that his relics are here as well."
Daire also perks up.
"A holy legacy and no bog, this is a huge improvement!"
"I fear our welcome here may not be as warm as it was at St. Mora's monastery in Fahan.
"I suggest we pause for a few moments and decide how we might seek out young Conchobar without arousing too much interest. Or even see if Paidraic has found shelter here.
"I and Aoife can certainly seek hospitality at the monastery, but you fellows are not so easy to explain away."
"We also have the problem that I'm the only one Padraic really knows. He's more likely to approach me than anyone else." Aoife pointed out with a shrug. "As for the fellows... two could be seen as main guard though Daire is more difficult to explain."
"Daire! You and Aoife could put on a performance!
"We need a way to make Aoife visible without making her vulnerable. If she's 'helping' you, she'd have a chance to be seen in the crowd without being obvious about it.
"Then Paidric could approach her without anyone paying any attention."
"Perform?!" Aoife almost croaked out. "Do I look like a dancer to you?Or a singer? I'm a cook Sister, not a singer. I wasn't taught to do any of that, I can't even read!"
"Fah, you don't need to read to do any of that. We're talking about a small play, with you saying lines that let Daire make jokes.
"You would just need to learn those lines.
"And then afterwards, you could pass through the crowd accepting donations. Daire could provide some songs and stories to augment the playlet for a full performance.
"Paidric or Conchobar would be able to approach you without any fuss.
"Meanwhile, I could keep your armor and sword, and Thorun and Ruadhán could be my 'guards' "
Daire lights up.
"A tale of Saint Brendan the Navigator on the seas, meeting a native of the western isles? Or another, the content hardly matters!"
Saturday, May 7, 1166
A church bell rings in the distance, warning the villagers of Culdaff of the arrival of strangers. Soon, a group of riders turns the bend. The warriors are armed and look leery. Surely, they will offer hospitality as is right, and invite their guests into their hall. But they approach suspiciously and seem none too pleased. For a moment, they eye the newcomers warily.
”Welcome to Culdaff,” one of the riders speaks coldly. ”Are you riding through or will you be spending the night?”
Sister Cobhlaith moves forward and smiles.
"I am Sister Cobhlaith.
"Tomorrow is the Sabbath. I was hoping we could hear mass and meet our holy obligations here without traveling further this evening. Surely St. Buadan's would shelter us?"
'Oh this is going to go well...'
While the Sister spoke Aoife shifted so as she look the riders over. Getting a feel of the air and more importantly seeing how well armed the group before them actually was.
"As the good Sister says, we could do with prayer in a proper church come the morrow."
"Aye. Warm food and a warm bed." Thorun says, trying to not be too threatening.
The riders study the newcomers a moment longer and then, somewhat reassured by Daire's good nature and Thorun's assurance, seem to agree to escort them to the monastery. "Come," the leader among the warriors snaps.
These men are preparing for war, Aoife thinks to herself.
They pass near an ancient court cairn. From atop the hill, they can now see the beach and the bay, and the village near the mouth of the river. St-Buadan's stands just to the south of the settlement, facing the centuries-old Cloncha cross.
As they ride down the path, it becomes plain to see that something is happening. A good number of warriors have gathered – more than would seem usual. Suddenly, a loud roar echoes from the mass of kern: "Ruadhan Ó'Brolacháin, you foul-smelling war dog!"
Fearing the worst, Ruadhan turns to see a red-faced, rotund man in fine clothes shuffling towards him, grinning. It takes him a moment to recognize the fellow...
The Temple of Deen. I wonder what remnants of the Old Religion are still followed here?
Cobhlaith turns as she hears the hail for Ruadhan.
I hope this is a good sign, that Ruadhan knows someone who knows what's going on here. Perhaps he can have a few drinks and find out whether Paidric has arrived and what's going on with Conchobar.
Daire nods appreciatively as the men allow the group through.
Daire thinks quickly of anyone else he might not have considered whom the folk of Culdaff might be readying to fight against.
A broad grin spreading across his face, Ruadhán grabs the man's left arm in the clasp of warriors who trust each other, before slapping him on the belly to emphasise his point. "Muircheartach, by all the saints. You're still alive then! And doing well by the looks of things, I am a little jealous if I am honest. What is up here? It feels like a war footing "
Noting the man's fine clothes, Cobhlaith searches her memory for who this might be
As the rotund man approaches, Daire scans the assembly, hoping to find a friend among the gathered warriors. But he is far from home and from the southern kingdoms, and he sees only strangers. This isn’t the first time that he has had to rely and wits and charm alone, he reminds himself.
When Ruadhan greets the man by name, under the circumstances, Cobhlaith is able to guess the man’s identity: this is Muircheartach O'Dwyorma, son of Ladhmann, King of An Breadhach.
Muircheartach seems genuinely pleased to see his old friend and takes the jest in stride. ”The years have been good to me. I have two boys now, and two wives! Come. Let me feed you – and your friends, of course!”
Without waiting for an answer, he grabs Ruadhan and leads him into the village. The dour riders who first greeted the newcomers relent and allow them to proceed.
”Conchobar MacLochalin, the son of Murtagh, has returned. The kings of Inishowen have come together to defend is rights against his uncle who has usurped his throne,” Muircheartach explains as the old friends make their way. ”I am surprised to find you here, but I am ever so pleased! Have the O’Neil decided to support Conchobar’s claim against Nial? Will the Ó'Brolacháin join our cause?”
Ruadhan pales. He realizes that war may be inevitable and that his children may be in grave danger if he cannot ensure their safety somehow. His lands are a distance from Inishowen, but what if the O’Neil get involved? And what if Conchobar reclaims his kingdom? Will he seek then to conquer the lands now claimed by the O’Neil – his lands? Old Biddy's prophecy makes sense now more than ever...
Aoife stood there arms crossed while she watched to two old warriors reunite. 'Some how I feel this will bite us in the ass...' Aoife thought to herself as she shifted her weight.
Though through it all Aoife remained quiet as a mouse. She had learned it seemed, at least a little, to play her role well while around others. Yet even then she kept her ears open and gave a small inner smile when she heard how happy this man was about Conchobar's return. Maybe if they where lucky getting to Conchobar would be easier than they thought.
Daire looks around the room, and dawning realisation falls upon him.
He whispers towards Coblaith, but judged so that Aoife and Thorun can just about also hear.
"Someone here knows where Conchobar is."
Sister Cobhlaith moves closer to Daire and murmurs "I'm not sure knowing where he is solves the problem. What young man would walk away from all this?"
She makes a small gesture that encompasses the men, the horses, the preparations for restoring the throne to Conchobar.
Daire looks about and whispers back.
"Aye, a tough proposition. And convincing him would be tricky. But we may not need to convince him, aye?"
Ruadhán waves the others along with him and introduces them properly"Two boys and two wives, you must be a very busy man! I am afraid I don't know about the O'Neil or even the Ó'Brolachain, we parted ways a little while back and I have been off doing my own thing and making my own choices. And that has led me to be following in the young lad's footsteps and i would dearly love to speak with him.
As to this, be careful old friend, I fear this may be just a little too early and you are at risk of slaughter, the boy is still too young.and his uncle is strong and tested.
Cobhlaith scans the room, looking for expressions of anger, annoyance, and other ill will.
"He'll be fine!" Muircheartach exclaims with assurance. "You were not much older than he is now when you first rushed into battle," he reminds his old friend.
He leads them all into the great hall where countless warriors have already gathered. Inside, it is hot and loud. Old hounds recall past battles and young pups steel themselves for what is to come. Young and old, they all seem happy and eager to fight as they eat and drink their fill.
"Make some room!" Muircheartach barks and his warriors clear the table for him and his guests. Slave girls serve warm bread, tender meat and fresh fish, and then quickly escape back to the kitchen for fear of being caught by wandering hands.
Aoife notices the curious and lustful stares of the men in the hall. Even Cobhlaith in her nun's robes attracts more than a few inappropriate looks.
"You'll get your chance to speak to the boy soon enough," Muircheartach assures Ruadhan. "In the meantime, perhaps introduce me to your companions?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Aoife, though still quiet, glares at each warrior that feels they are bold enough to meet her eyes and even more harshly at those she catches glancing at Sister Cobhlaith. She may not be a fan of the faith but that was just wrong!
The aura around Aoife seemed to work with her as well. It was her first line of defense as she glared down those who looked to Cobhlaith, giving off the message 'Touch me, I dare you'.
Although he'd like to claim he was a better man than that, Thorun is one of the pairs of wandering eyes. Although he has gotten better at hiding it in his age.
Daire is not staring at Aoife or Cobhlaith, but he does throw appraising glances at the slave girls. After all, slaves are often ignored, but sometimes to the peril of those who ignore them.
Although Sister Cobhlaith is familiar with the men's behavior, it still makes her uncomfortable when she is on the receiving end.
She shoots a grateful glance at Aoife's fierce look.
Glad she's on my side.
Facing Aoife's steely gaze, the warriors either look down or look away, embarrassed and intimidated. In the corner, a young slave girl smiles, pleased to see the old dogs and the young pups cowering.
Ruadhan never has the occasion to properly introduce his companions as Conchobar MacLochlain soon enters the hall. Applauded by the warriors of Inishowen, the young man walks with his head high. Ably playing his part, he greets nobles and notables, and then notices Thorun and Ruadhan, along with the others.
"Thorun! Ruadhan! I am so pleased to see you here! With you at my side, I will assuredly defeat my uncle!" Conchobar exclaims and all the warriors cheer. He offers Aoife only a complicit look – any more would be inappropriate.
Daire thinks as the boy approaches:
We found him, and living too. Soon, the hard part.
Aoife, who had taken a spot behind Sister Cobhlaith for her safety... and possibly the chance to punch someone, caught Conchobar's eye when he offered her a look. But the one she gave in return was one of worry and disappointment more commonly found on a parent's face. While their look was only a moment and easily passed off as him just registering the fact she was there, Aoife sighed softly and shook her head.
Before her stood a boy, playing the role of a man, whom she had swore to protect. While her time with the brothers was short she had come to care for them and after Ruadhán's word about her being a good mother... Well she felt they where the closest she'd ever have to children of her own. Now they stood upon the unknown... And with her in no true position to save Conchobar if something went wrong. Biting her cheek till she tasted her own blood was the best way for Aoife to keep herself silent. It had been easier before, but now when he was so close it was more difficult than ever.
As the other men avert their eyes Thorun snorts a laugh. Aye, best to remember that women have teeth and they can get you where it hurts with 'em.
"Oi, yer well! Damn good to see you!" Normally Thorun would life up Conchobar in a massive bear hug, but he's in front of his warriors so instead he gives him a hearty handshake. "How the hell you been?"
No stranger to the intrigues of her uncle's court, Coblaith eyes the man-child.
So this is the stripling we've come to take home. I wonder if any among these men are secretly loyal to his uncle? Traitors can easily hide amongst kin, and some clansmen feel themselves loyal to a higher king.
Glancing around the room, she looks for anyone who might not share in the general festive air.
I wonder which of these tuatha would switch sides again?
"I have been well. Honestly, I don't think that I would have made it here if Padraic hadn't accompanied me – albeit against his will as I didn't give him much of a choice!" young Conchobar answers happily. "I would have hoped to find him with you, but I understand that Fintan relies on him. In any case, I am happy that you are all here!"
While the young man answers Thorun, Cobhlaith scans the room. While she cannot fathom which of the petty kingdoms could be swayed to betray Conchobar, she does see some who do not care to share in the festivities. One man, in particular, draws her eye. The fellow – an older warrior who bears the scars of experience – spies upon young Conchobar with... determination?
Sister Cobhlaith leans close to Aoife and whispers, "Keep an eye on that old guy over by the wall. The bald one with the scar down the left side of his face. Something's not quite right there."
Aoife gave a nod to Sister Cobhlaith before she actually began looking for the man, but she didn't want him to catch on. If this man really was a threat to Conchobar, Aoife would not let him leave.
Daire stands ready, seemingly relaxed, to assist should one be bold enough to assail his companions or Conchobhar.
"That's Sitric O'Maolfabhail," Ruadhan whispers. "He's dangerous."
Seeing himself spied upon, Sitric turns away and whispers a few words to the grim-looking warriors at his side. They glance in the direction of young Conchobar and his guests and then scatter. Clearly, something is going on...
"You've no idea..." Aoife whispered back before she took off her cloak and shoved it into Cobhlaith's hands leaning in close and whispering in her ear. "You take this cloak and you keep Conchobar close to you. If something happens like I feel it is going to you get him out this cloak will help hide you both."
With that Aoife stepped away from Cobhlaith turned and looked right at Sitric before glancing around to see just how many there might be around them before returning her gaze to him, her hand tapped at the hilt of her dagger waiting for a reason to throw it.
Only a few months ago, Aodh O'Maolfabhail, then king of Carraig Bhrachai, was treacherously killed by Muireartach Mac Lochlainn, then High King and now dead. The death of Aodh O'Maolfabhail allowed clan Ferguson to claim the kingdom of Carraig Bhrachai.
Aodh O Maolfabhail was Sitric's brother
Sister Cobhlaith bundles the cloak into her arms and moves a tiny bit closer to Conchobar without looking at Aoife.
I hope he has enough sense to recognize when his life is endangered
Only a few months ago, Aodh O'Maolfabhail, then king of Carraig Bhrachai, was treacherously killed by Muireartach Mac Lochlainn, then High King and now dead. The death of Aodh O'Maolfabhail allowed clan Ferguson to claim the kingdom of Carraig Bhrachai.
Aodh O Maolfabhail was Sitric's brother.
Some of the scattering warriors congregate with others in the hall. Others make their way near the great wooden doors.
Daire whispers to the others, with urgency in his tone.
"They want blood for *Aodh* O'Maolfabhail. Ready your weapons and prepare to get Conchobar out of here."
He would not be the first child brutally murdered during a feast just to make a point. Sister Cobhlaith's words, spoken only days ago, now have the ring of prophecy as the heroes of Largay prepare for the worst, unsure who will strike at young Conchobar, and how.
Near the half-open door to the hall, and archer suddenly stands, bow in hand. Only Thorun sees the traitorous attack, but it is too late.
The arrow strikes true, and Conchobar only whimpers before falling to the ground.