In the Kingdom of All Tomorrows--Eirlandia, Book Three

by Stephen R. Lawhead

  At first no one stood, but then, slowly, Toráin rose to his feet. He nudged Aengus beside him, who also stood; after some hesitation, Liam joined them. Eoghan accepted this tally and asked, ‘And did any of you pay what was owed to Conor? If you did, raise your hands, please.’

  One by one, the standing lords raised their hands.

  ‘All of you paid? Finally, I will ask how this debt was discharged. Did you take the horses yourselves and deliver them to Conor? This would have been expected in the circumstances.’ At the wagging of heads, the chief druid said, ‘No? You did not deliver the animals. How then was payment made?’

  Eoghan pointed to Aengus, who muttered, ‘We gave grain and cattle instead, and Conor’s men came to collect it. That was the agreement.’

  ‘Conor’s men collected grain and livestock in settlement of the honour debt,’ intoned Eoghan. ‘Just as he collected the agreed-upon horses from Vainche.’ He turned to his fellow brehons. ‘I think we have heard enough to make a decision.’

  The brehons huddled together, conferred briefly, and, after a word or two, Brehon Brádoch announced, ‘There is no point in belabouring the matter any further. We find Lord Vainche’s claim of horse theft misrepresented and false. No further action or comment will be entertained by this council.’

  The chief druid confirmed the decision and, returning to his place, announced, ‘The accusations brought against Lord Conor are considered baseless and without merit and will be forgotten by everyone here. Now then, before proceeding any further, we will pause for a short while to refresh ourselves.’ He raised his hands to the assembly and said, ‘You will be summoned when the Airechtas resumes.’

  26

  Tara’s hall was filled to overflowing and spilling out into the yard when the Ard Airechtas continued just after midday—the ranks swelled by curious onlookers who had snuck in and now stood packed together like salted herring in a box. Eoghan, recognising the enormous interest in the proceedings, allowed them to stay so long as they remained quiet.

  When the last of the brehons had resumed their chairs near the hearth, Rónán, holding the rowan staff, announced that they would now consider the crime of treason that had been raised in regard to actions performed in a battle with the Scálda in the Auteini territory at the place called Mag Cró. ‘This council has heard the claim,’ said Rónán, ‘that Lord Vainche removed his warband in the midst of battle—a deed that ultimately resulted in the loss of life and lands.’ He looked around the room. ‘I will now call on Lord Vainche to answer this accusation.’ He turned to where the frowning monarch sat hunched and fretful. ‘Lord Vainche, will you rise?’

  With a show of laboured reluctance, Vainche climbed to his feet; the former swagger of an affronted nobleman was gone and in its place the demeanour of a cruelly abused victim.

  Grasping the staff offered by Rónán as if it was a branch offered to a drowning man, he launched into his account:

  ‘Word came to me that enemy ships had made landfall in the north and were ravaging our brave Dé Danann tribes in that region. Not a moment was to be wasted, so I raised the Brigantes warband at once and rode north—as any right-thinking warleader would do. Lending blades and blood to the defence of those ill-protected lands was my only thought and my sole consuming desire.

  ‘I will not try the patience of this assembly with an account of the many hardships and injuries we endured in the fierce battles that followed, but suffice to say that the Brigantes shouldered the duties of leadership, and under my command and that of my battlechief, our forces—combined with those of the lords here’—he made a deferential gesture toward the kings seated nearby—‘our forces were able to turn back this vicious enemy incursion. In short, we secured what I had every reason to believe would be a decisive victory.’

  Vainche paused to look around as if expecting praise and admiration for the selfless bravery shown on the battlefield. Eoghan, unmoved, said, ‘The Brigantes joined forces to help fight this latest incursion. Perhaps now you could tell us what happened during the battle in question.’ He gestured for him to continue.

  Vainche drew a breath and swallowed hard, as if gathering strength and will to face an unpleasant task. ‘As I was about to say, the Brigantes along with the considerable aid of our client tribe, the Darini—as well as Laigini, Cauci, and Concani—were able to secure the Auteini lands, subdue the enemy, and repel the Scálda invaders. No sooner had we done so, than an unrecognised warband led by Conor mac Ardan arrived on the battlefield. Why he and his men thought to involve themselves at this late time I cannot presume to guess—though I suspect it was an attempt to worm his way into an unearned repute among the lords.’

  He glanced across at Conor with a regretful, pitying look—as if it pained him to have to speak about such shameful behaviour. Turning back, he finished, saying, ‘Conor arrived and immediately attempted to assert himself as warleader—and this though he had yet to strike a single blow against the enemy. Naturally, this concerned me, but seeing that my warband had borne the brunt of battle and were much fatigued from the numerous attacks we had endured, I made the decision to remove my men from the field and allow fresh warriors to take their place.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘This innocent action has, I fear, been grossly misinterpreted and this alone is the reason I am summoned to be here today.’

  ‘Stinking lies,’ muttered Fergal. ‘The man is beyond all shame.’

  Eoghan, in consultation with the other druids, said, ‘I see that Brehon Eithne has a question she would like to ask.’

  Rising to her feet, Eithne stood and in a somewhat tremulous voice said, ‘You maintain that your warband had secured the battle and that you relinquished your place in order to allow the fianna of Tara to take part. Is this something warleaders generally do when engaged in battle?’

  Vainche looked down at his feet and shook his head. ‘Not generally, no.’

  ‘Then why did you do it?’ asked Eithne.

  Again, with an air of great reluctance, Vainche replied, ‘The truth, regrettable as it may be, is that this self-elevated lord and I have had many unhappy dealings in the past. I feared yet another troubling confrontation, so to avoid any needless conflict—much less injury or bloodshed—I did what was best for my men.’ He glanced around the room and added, ‘Looking to the welfare of my people is always my foremost concern—as anyone who knows me will tell you. Obviously, if I had known my motives would be twisted into a noose to hang me, I would never have given him the chance.’

  Brehon Eithne indicated that she had nothing further to ask, and sat down. Eoghan rose and took her place; he paced a moment in front of his chair, deep in thought. Every eye in the hall followed, watching the old man, who appeared to be marshalling the combined wisdom of his age and long experience to unleash a withering storm of reckoning. Yet, when he spoke his tone was that of a gentle grandfather coaxing a wayward child. ‘If I understand it, Lord Vainche, your claim is that Conor mac Ardan arrived at the place of battle after the fighting was largely concluded and that he proceeded to make such a threatening intrusion that you departed rather than risk an unnecessary and potentially harmful confrontation. Is that your contention?’

  Somewhat warily, Vainche nodded. ‘It is.’

  Eoghan paced some more and then raised his voice to the crowd looking on. ‘It is Lord Vainche’s assertion that the Brigantes warband under his command bore the weight of the battle at Mag Cró and, with the aid of other tribes, secured the defeat of the enemy. Further, he claims that the battle was in the main concluded when Conor and his fianna arrived and, recognising their presence as a potent source of conflict, he took the very sensible precaution of withdrawing from the battlefield lest trouble between their two warbands lead to violence and injury. It is Lord Vainche’s belief that this action has been misrepresented in the complaint against him.’

  The aged druid paused to gaze around the ring of chairs and ranks of silent onlookers. ‘This is the claim before us. Who can speak to the veracity o
f this claim?’

  A strained silence met Eoghan’s question. The onlookers looked to the lords, and the lords looked to one another, but no one made bold to answer.

  Vainche, his face darkening with anger and frustration, glanced around at Liam, urging him to speak. Liam gazed down, refusing to be drawn.

  The old brehon passed his gaze around the ring of noblemen and asked again if any would speak to verify Lord Vainche’s version of the events of that fateful day. When no one rose to confirm Vainche’s claims, he said, ‘Since no one is prepared to verify Vainche’s account, is there someone here who can disprove it?’ The brehon looked to the lords on their wool sacks. ‘Perhaps one of you would tell us your version of events as you saw them.’

  Those lords who had suffered loss and injury through Vainche’s betrayal rose as one and clamoured to be heard. But one voice was louder than the others. Eoghan pointed at him and Rónán stepped forward, handed him the rowan staff, and said, ‘What is your name, friend?’

  ‘I am Toráin mac Torbha, Lord of the Concani,’ he declared, his voice firm despite the nervous fidgeting of his hands. ‘I was there on the battlefield that day—both before the battle and after.’

  ‘Tell the brehons what you know,’ Rónán invited. ‘And if you could avoid speculation, that would be much appreciated.’

  ‘There was no fighting when I arrived,’ said Toráin. ‘The Dé Danann warhost was still forming up at the northeastern end of Mag Cró. Lord Aengus and his warband were already there, and Lord Laegaire and the Laigini warriors.’

  ‘I notice you did not mention Lord Vainche just now. Was he there also?’

  Toráin shook his head. ‘He arrived later—that is, sometime after me.’

  ‘It has been suggested that you and the lords you mention were waiting for the Brigantes to arrive before engaging the Scálda in battle. Is this so?’

  ‘Aye, we were all of us waiting for Vainche.’

  ‘Why would you be doing that? You came to engage the enemy, why did you wait?’

  ‘Lord Vainche had sent word that he was coming and that we were to wait for him to arrive.’

  ‘I see,’ replied Eoghan, stroking his beard. ‘Is that the usual way you engage the enemy?’

  ‘Nay, but we thought it would be no bad thing to have the aid of another warband or two in this battle. The Scálda numbers were greater than we expected. So we agreed to wait.’

  ‘You waited for the Brigantes warband and when they finally arrived the battle commenced, is that right?’

  ‘Aye,’ replied Toráin. ‘We formed the battle line and made a foray, but it failed because the Scálda war carts are very fast and difficult to attack on horseback. We had not faced them before and had no choice but to retreat.’

  ‘This first attack failed,’ Eoghan repeated. ‘What did you do then? Tell us everything you can remember.’

  ‘Ach, well, we broke off the attack as I say, and returned to our battle camp. That was when Lord Conor and the fianna arrived. They came to join the warhost and that was a great relief, I can tell you. So, then we made another foray, but that failed, too. The war carts—the chariots they use—are just too fast, and there were too many of them.’ Toráin shook his head at the memory. ‘We broke off the attack and retreated to make a better plan. It was in Conor’s mind to outflank the Scálda chariot line, get in behind them, and take them from the rear. So, that is what we did.’

  ‘In other words, you launched a third attack,’ said Eoghan with an encouraging nod. ‘How did you fare this time?’

  ‘We made the charge, as I say, and the Scálda met us in their war carts as we expected. Lord Aengus and myself, and Laegaire and Morann—we took the centre of the line, and Conor and the fianna took the right flank. Vainche and Liam formed up on the left flank as we had agreed. As soon as the enemy committed to the fight, those of us in the centre made a feint to draw the Scálda to follow. This was to allow the two outer flanks to get around behind the Scálda line, see. Then they would fight to the centre and split the Scálda attack from behind.’

  ‘And were these two separate flanks able to get around behind the enemy chariot line?’ asked the chief druid. ‘Did the battle plan succeed?’

  Toráin glanced at Vainche, then lowered his gaze and gave a slight shake of his head. ‘Nay, lord. The attack did not succeed.’

  One of the elder druids, Nolán, leaned forward in his chair and said, ‘As this is the heart of the matter before us, I would like to request confirmation.’ Eoghan nodded, allowing the question. Nolán half turned to address the lords. ‘Who among the chieftains on the field that day can confirm the truth of Lord Toráin’s assertion?’

  Morann, whose lands were overrun, was first to verify Toráin’s account. ‘The right flank did their part—that is, Conor and the fianna engaged the enemy as planned. But the Brigantes and Darini—that is, the left flank—quit the field. The attack collapsed, leaving the fianna alone to work in behind the enemy. This they did, but they could not break through the Scálda chariot line on their own. And the dog-eaters were quick to turn against them.’

  ‘You say that the left flank—that is, the warriors under Lord Vainche’s command—failed to fulfil their part of the battle plan as previously agreed and it is your opinion that this is why the plan failed,’ said Nolán, carefully rehearsing the gist of Morann’s account.

  Morann nodded, and Eoghan turned once more to Toráin and asked if he also thought the failure of the attack was owed to Vainche abandoning the fight.

  ‘I know right well it was,’ said Toráin, his voice taking on grit for the first time. ‘The Brigantes deserted us. It’s as simple as that. If not for Conor’s courage and battle wit, we all would be lining a bench in the Hag Queen’s hall.’

  ‘Yet, here you are. You survived.’

  ‘We survived—thanks to Conor,’ declared Toráin, ‘and no thanks to Vainche.’ The young lord cast a dark look across to Vainche, who sat motionless, staring straight ahead.

  The brehons, who had their heads together in quiet discussion, finished their debate and Eoghan asked, ‘Is there another question for Lord Toráin?’

  Brehon Brádoch rose to his feet and, in a slightly tremulous voice, asked, ‘I am curious to understand how it was you knew that Lord Vainche and his battle group deserted you during the fight. Someone in the midst of battle cannot always discern what may be happening elsewhere. Perhaps the Brigantes warband was prevented in some way from fulfilling their part of the plan. That could have happened, could it not?’

  ‘Aye,’ agreed the young lord, ‘that could have happened, I suppose. But it’s not what happened that day.’

  ‘How do you know? This is what I’m asking.’

  ‘I know because when we finally fought free of the dog-eaters, Vainche and his battle group were gone.’

  ‘Gone? Gone where?’

  ‘I don’t know. All I do know is that they were not on the battlefield. And I know this because Conor sent some of his men to look for them and find out what happened, and they could not find Lord Vainche or any of his warriors anywhere. I’m thinking they turned tail and rode for home.’

  ‘They might have been killed,’ suggested Brádoch. ‘You said many men were killed. Could that have happened?’

  ‘Aye,’ allowed Toráin, his brow creasing at the notion, ‘but since Vainche and his battlechief are sitting right here today, I think it’s safe to say that’s not what happened.’

  This also drew laughter from the onlookers, and even the brehons smiled. Brádoch merely shrugged and said, ‘My purpose was to point out that strange things can happen in the course of battle, and even those most intimately concerned cannot always know for certain what is taking place or why.’

  Eoghan paced around a little more, then addressed the druids. ‘Brádoch has raised a point worth considering. Does anyone else have a question or observation?’ No one came forward, so the old druid turned to those ranged behind Conor. ‘Who among you is able to confirm or de
ny the claims made by Lord Toráin just now? Perhaps someone who rode with Lord Vainche on that day?’ He scanned the ranks of warriors, lords, battlechiefs, and advisors. ‘Lord Liam, you rode with Vainche—maybe you could tell us what happened.’

  Liam, looking shaken and contrite, shook his head and silently looked away. Eamon saw his lord refuse the staff, hesitated as if weighing the matter in his mind, then stood and held out his hand to Rónán, who said, ‘Were you among those who rode with Vainche at Mag Cró?’

  Grasping the staff, Eamon replied, ‘As battlechief of the Darini warband, I was at the forefront of the fight that day.’

  ‘Tell us what you know.’

  ‘It is as Lord Toráin has said—all of it. Just as he said. Two forays failed. On the third foray, the battle line formed up and the Darini and Brigantes and some others took our place on the left wing according to the plan we’d made and agreed. The signal was given to ride out and the charge began. Our battle group looked to Vainche to give us the command.…’ He faltered, drew a shuddery breath, and, his knuckles white on the staff, said, ‘But that command was never given.’

  Eoghan, at his place before the druids, stopped pacing and regarded Liam with his keen dark eye. ‘Why is that?’ he asked. ‘Why was the agreed command never given?’

  ‘Why? That is what I have been asking myself ever since.’ Eamon lowered his head and in a sorrowful tone continued, ‘In truth, I cannot say, because I don’t know the why of it. All I know is that we sat there waiting for Vainche’s command as we watched our swordbrothers ride into battle.’

  ‘You waited,’ said Eoghan. ‘What happened then?’

  ‘The next thing I knew, here was Vainche and Gioll telling everyone we were quitting the battle and riding for home. And that is what we did.’

  ‘This must have caused you some distress—seeing the Dé Danann warhost riding into battle without you. Did either Vainche or Gioll offer a reason for this curious behaviour?’