Challenge of the clans (21 page)

"Only one," the giant said. "No one knew that he lived until a short time ago. He was hidden away in the glens of Slieve Bladhma by his mother, Muirne."

"Muirne?" repeated the chieftain.

The name struck him like a lightning bolt. In one bright flash the truth was clear to him. Relief and joy surged up in him and found its release in an outpouring of laughter.

He laughed long and loudly and with great gusto,

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Luachra watching him as if certain the chieftain had suddenly gone mad. Finally, with an effort, Nuadat controlled himself. He set himself stohdly before the champion of the MacMornas, his expression gravely set.

"I find your tale . . . interesting," he said very seriously, "but it means little to me. Theres no lad such as you describe now in my dun."

"What?" cried Luachra in astonishment. "But you said that you would help me!"

"If I could," Nuadat amended. "But I have no way of doing so. If this Finn was here, he's passed on."

"That can't be true," the giant protested. "In the village I met a warrior who—"

The chieftain cut him off* sharply. "The villagers are drunken fools. There's nothing here for you. Our talk is ended."

"You'll not be rid of me!" the champion roared. "Not until I've looked about this dun myself!"

Nuadat drew himself up stiffly. "Are you saying that I lie?" he asked in indignation. "I'll tolerate no more of your arrogance. I've answered your question. Now get out of my fortress or I will have my warriors remove you. Take my word back to your Goll MacMoma and your Conn. If they don't Hke it, let them come to Carraighe and ask me themselves!"

Luachra ached to tear apart this little chieftain and his dun, but he was no fool. He swallowed his anger, promising that he would slake his thirst for blood in a more sensible way.

"Someday, Mogh Nuadat, I hope to meet you again," he snarled, and retreated from the room.

"See that our large friend leaves Corca Dhuibhne," the chieftain told Doncha. "And have the warrior Finn brought here to me!"

Chapter Nineteen

LEAVETAKING

The golden piece moved forward. Finn eyed it, yawned, then moved one of his own pieces across the board to counter it. He looked up at Nuadat, who was bent forward, frowning as he concentrated on the game.

"My chieftain, it is very late," said Finn. It was, in fact, well past the middle of the night. All others in the keep had long since gone to bed, leaving the pair alone in the main hall.

"Quiet!" Nuadat commanded brusquely. "I'm considering a move."

Finn watched him, wondering again why he had been brought here. There had been no explanations, only that he had been requested to appear before the chieftain. And here he had stayed through the evening, playing game after game of fidhcell. It was a disquieting thing. And he had the feeling that, eventually, something was going to happen.

Nuadat lifted a piece, moved it forward, hesitated, moved it back, then flicked it over in a concession of defeat.

"You are good!" he said, shaking his head. "That's seven games youVe won. iVe never known an opponent more clever."

Finn remembered all those nights when Bodhmall had drummed strategies for the game into him.

"I had a good teacher," he said.

"Was it your father?" Nuadat casually inquired.

"No," Finn said careftiUy. "My father . . . died."

"My husband?" came the voice of Muirae. She now stood at the doorway of the hall. Her expression was anxious, her eyes flicking from Finn to the chieftain. "What is it? Why is this warrior here, and so

late?;;

"Come in, my wife!" Nuadat said heartily. "I was about to fetch you anyway." He rose and lifted an arm in welcome. "Come here and join us."

She crossed the room to his table. He pointed to the bench beside Finn.

"Sit here!" he told her.

She exchanged a worried, puzzled look with Finn, then sat down next to him. Nuadat stayed on his feet, beaming down at the pair.

"I kept Finn here so late because I wanted to talk to him, and to you, alone."

That had an ominous ring to it, but a broad grin continued to split his wide face. "Muime, iVe become most interested in the young man, that I have. I wanted to see him more closely. I was noticing his hair especially. Most amazing. Its color rivals even your own, and iVe never seen another that could come close."

He leaned forward suddenly, fixing a hard gaze on Finn. His voice took on a demanding tone. "Just who are you at all, lad?"

At first flustered by this direct question, Finn desperately fell back on the identity Caoilte had told him to use in such a circumstance.

"I—I am a son of the countryman of the Luigne of Meath, my chiefi:an," he said.

He cast a sidelong glance at his mother. She was trying to look calm, but the apprehension was clear in her drawn, pale face.

Nuadat noted it. He stood upright again and laughed. "Ah, please forgive me," he told them, all the brusqueness gone. "I didn't mean to be worrying you. My little game was cruel, maybe, but I had to repay you for the game youVe played on me." He looked at Finn. "You see, I know that you are the son my wife bore to Cumhal."

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"My husband!" Muime said in surprise. "You know, and it makes no difference to you?"

He moved around the table to stand beside her. He placed a wide, short hand upon her own slender one. His smile was tender as he looked at her, and it gave his squat, homely face its own attractiveness.

"My wife," he said gently, "I took you in not caring about your past. iVe sheltered you only because of my love for you. Nothing can change my feelings."

She lifted his hand and pressed her cheek to it. "Your understanding means very much to me," she told him with great relief.

"If Tm hurt in anything," he said, "it's in your not telhng the truth of this to me before."

"My only thought was for my son," she told him. "I could risk no one knowing of him. Do you understand?"

"I do," he said. "Although your secret almost cost him his life this time. But for my advisor, I would have given young Finn over to a warrior of the Fianna."

"The Fianna!" Finn echoed. "Was it a warrior of the Moma clan?"

"Their champion," Nuadat said. "A huge and bearlike fellow. Very determined to find you."

"I know him," Finn said darkly. "He has hunted me here from Ban try. The Clan na Moma will not rest until they have my head."

"You could stay here," his mother suggested in a hopeful way. "You would be protected in Corca Dhuibhne."

"No, Mother," Finn said with determination. "I'll not ask Mogh Nuadat to protect me, and I'll not bring any danger upon you. It's time for me to go on anyway. I've learned the warrior's skills. Now I've got to find my father's clan."

"You're a courageous lad," the chieftain told him with respect. "It's a dangerous way you've chosen, but one of great honor. I know of your father. He used the Fianna for the good of all Ireland, not just that of the bloody Conn. If you succeed, I'd wish to see you make it that way again!"

"I will try, my chieftain," Finn told him.

"Good. When you are ready to leave here, ask me for anything you'll need. And be careful. That giant is no fool. He's likely doubting the truth of my tale that you were gone from here. He could be waiting somewhere out there for you now."

At these warning words, Muirne's gaze grew fearful. "Are you certain that you have to go, my son?"

"I am," he said firmly. Then he smiled regretfully at her. "Though it will be hard to leave you so soon after finding you. It seems as if always leaving what I love is what Tm fated to do."

She leaned forward and hugged him close. "Ah, I vdsh I might have done this when you were small," she said. "But at least I have you now. Please, don't be lost to me. "

"Mother, when I regain my father's place, you'll be free of hiding forever," he told her fiercely. "We'll be together again, I promise that!"

"You could have stayed there," Finn told his two comrades as they urged their horses up the steep incline.

"What, be left behind in that place?" said the Little Nut. "Why, I'll be safer with you, even with all of j Ireland after you."

"And what about you, Caoilte?" Finn asked the dark warrior. "I've the fighting skills now. Your task is finished."

"So you say," the other replied brusquely. "You're a sapling still, not the great tree you think. I'm staying with you to see that you remain alive to reach your people. Then I'll be done with you. So no more talk of it."

"Well, you'll neither of you have an argument from me," he said, grinning. "I'd miss you both."

They reached the top of the Conair Pass and he looked back onto the peninsula for the last time. The fortress was only a tiny bit of gray marking a small point. Its grim keep and stolid walls had dwindled to i almost nothing against the glittering vastness of the sea j

beyond. Yet he could feel the eyes that must be looking up to him now, and he could feel the warm spirit wafting up to him like a caressing summer breeze.

"Good-bye, Mother," he murmured. Then he stoically turned and set his gaze ahead to the open, sweeping lands beyond the pass.

The road now slanted down along one side of a wide, smooth valley. Far below they could see the blue sheen of the sea on the north coast of the long peninsula. The horses could move with greater ease now, and the three riders urged them ahead faster, anxious to be away from Corca Dhuibhne soon.

From the rim of the valley's far side, watching eyes had noted their appearance in the pass. They had carefully scrutinized the trio, brightening with satisfaction as they noted the head of blond hair glowing like a silver flame in the sunlight.

"It is them!" said Luachra, turning to his companions. "I w^as right to wait. The boy was there, and now he's fool enough to come out again. One of you take word to Goll that he's been found again. The rest of us will follow these outlaws.'

He looked back toward the three horsemen, grinning savagely with the anticipation of his victory. "When the time is right, when we are certain he cannot escape, Finn MacCumhal will die. "

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Chapter Twenty

THE GIANT

"It's a land with its own magic, so it is,** said Cnu Deireoil. "Stay in it too long, and they say you may never be able to leave."

Finn cx)uld understand why such a tale might be true. The lands of Connacht that they had entered were indeed enchanting ones.

The country side seemed to him composed of marvelous vistas, landscapes of rolling hills thickly fringed with trees or silken smooth with coverings of lush grass. The shades of green were so many that he could not count them all, and shifted often, the bright sun gilding them, the soft mists shrouding them in a mysterious gray, the blanketing overcasts giving them a darker, brooding look. It was hke some enormous, billowing quilt sewn from cloths of varied and sensuous textures, so rich it could almost be felt enfolding him. Unlike the rugged seacoast, where the beauties stimulated, challenged, and awed, these lands comforted, like well-worn, famihar clothing or a friend's warm fire.

They had headed into the province of Connacht at the direction of Muime. Though this large territory took up the west and central portion of Ireland just north of Corca Dhuibhne, their journey there had required a long ride back toward the east. This was necessary, Finn's well-traveled companions explained to him, to skirt the wide section of a river called the Sionnan that thrust far inland like a barbed spearhead of the sea.

They careftilly avoided forts and villages, hving oflF

the land, much to the dismay of the Little Nut. After three days of riding they were able to turn north, making a wide circuit of the large town called Luminech. Above it, the river narrowed abruptly, becoming a deep blue shining band that curled in serpentine loops throu^ the countryside, and they were able to cross quite easily.

As they rode on north and west into the province, Finn noted that dwelling places seemed more numerous, and that the herds that grazed the meadowlands were larger, fatter, and more plentiful.

"Aye, it's some of the best grazing lands in Ireland weVe in now," Cnu Deireoil agreed. "Some say Connacht is the finest province, and those w^ho live here are certain of that. But there are a few in Ulster who might dispute such a claim, and with a sword at that!"

"Some of the most famous of the Firbolg warriors came fi-om Connacht," Caoilte mentioned with a touch of pride. "Fardia MacDamann was said to be one of the greatest champions Ireland has ever seen."

"I know^ of him," said Finn, recalhng one of Liath*s tales. "To keep a bond with his queen he was forced to fight his closest fi-iend, the Hound of Cuailnge, and was killed. It was a tragic story."

"He was just another fool to die that way," Caoilte replied derisively. "The only things a sensible warrior should be fighting for are to earn good wages and to keep himself alive."

"I don't agree," Finn told him with intensity. "Even being a great warrior can't give your life any worth. That's got to come fi*om your having something you're willing to fight for—not for payment, but only because it's important to you."

The Little Nut gave an elaborate yawn. 'That's ail very exciting," he said, "but I'll not be living much longer myself if we don't get a chance for some rest and food, beneath a roof How much farther is this place?"

"From w^hat Finn's mother told him, I'd say about two days more," Caoilte estimated.

"If you can find it," the harper added.

"I can get us close enough," Caoilte shot back. ''Would you care to try it yourself?"

"No arguing now," Finn said soothingly. "WeVe all tired of this travel."

"I'm tired of his constant complaining, is what I am!" the dark warrior exclaimed. "Every time he wants something, he toots his bloody whistle and expects us to hop about for him. I'd like to take that whistle and —"

"I'd like to see you try that!" Cnu Deireoil retorted, drawing his little body up to strike a challenging pose. 'The music's all that protects me from your insufferable arrogance!"

"Arrogance!" cried Caoilte. "Arrogance! YouVe a fine one to speak of that, you little—"

"Wait!" said Finn sharply, pointing ahead. "Look there!"

They had just topped a rise and ahead the road entered an area of woods. By the roadside at the woods' edge sat an elderly woman, bent forward, her face in her bony hands. She was weeping loudly, her thin body shaking with the sobs.

Finn rode up before her and reined in, sliding from his mount.

"Good woman," he asked gently, "what sorrow is it that's troubling you so?"