“I’ll just have to stop them spinning. I’m going to challenge you to trial by combat in front of the entire clan for the murder of Fiachra. I'll also tell them about your attempted murder of me, and the invasion of the Vikings which you instigated. Once they realise the truth, that Tiernan is blameless for Fiachra’s death five years ago, they will topple you.”
“What make you think they don’t know already?” he jeered.
“I can’t believe that of all of them! Certainly Parthalan and Fergus, aye, but not Ernin and Mahon, nor the other men I counted as my friends growing up at Skeard. Up until now you’ve been pretending to fight a just war, seeking revenge for Tiernan’s murder of my brother, your son. But once they find out it was you who killed him, then all of this will look like the insane cruelty it really is.”
“Brave words, my girl. But what makes you think I’ll let you out of that door alive. Or that anyone would believe you even if you did get someone to hear your sorry tale?” Uistean gloated as he took another menacing step towards Shive.
“Ernin, Mahon, you may show yourselves now. Take him prisoner, please.” She pointed at her father with a grimace of disgust.
Ernin and Mahon did indeed come out from behind the tapestry, and grabbed hold of Uistean, roughly dragging his arms behind his back as he struggled furiously.
He began to protest, but Shive hissed, “Save your lies for those who are prepared to listen to them. All three of us know the truth, so be silent.”
Ernin and Mahon marched down to the hall with Uistean and brought him in front of the assembled clan, all drinking together in the great hall after their supper. They proclaimed Shive’s challenge, which was to commence at noon the next day.
A huge outcry nearly raised the roof of the great stone hall following the stark announcement.
Mahon and Ernin hastened to assure the MacDermots that they had heard every word of Uistean’s confession with their own ears.
Then a new dispute broke out about who had the most right to revenge Fiachra’s death, since Shive was a mere woman.
Shive silenced them all hastily. “I'm not only a mere woman. I'm also Fiachra’s nearest kin. The right to exact justice is mine,” Shive insisted.
“But think, lass! You would have to kill your own father!” one of the men counselled.
“I know, I know. But it has to be me. For when I fight tomorrow, I'm also declaring my intention to become tanaist of this sept as my brother would have been had he lived,” Shive replied calmly.
Again, a loud clamor of voices arose in the great hall.
Some of the MacDermots, sufficiently outraged by what Uistean had done, supported Shive’s claim. Others pointed out that Parthalan was still the rightful tanaist.
“But Parthalan knew about the murder of Fiachra. That's the only reason why Uistean declared him tanaist,” Ernin and Mahon both argued to anyone who would listen. “Parthalan has no right to be tanist if he was an accomplice to the murder. Support Shive’s claim now, and let us avoid weakening the clan any further over this issue which has haunted our family for the past five years.”
At length, after the two brothers had reasoned with as many of the MacDermots as were willing to hear their case, one of the senior men, Uistean’s master at arms Bran, stated, “Very well. Let your two brothers be sent for, and the other clan members from Skeard and Trian. Our castle at Aille is too far away for any of them to arrive in time.
“Parthalan should be present to answer the charges. We need to make sure that all see that justice has been served tomorrow one way or the other.”
Shive rose from her seat and stood on the bench then. All eyes were upon her. She looked around the room in a very forthright manner, and demanded, “I would speak with you all about one other pressing matter. Did any of you know that Uistean hired Vikings to decimate the O’Hara lands? That Breachnach has been razed to the ground, and a second troop is on its way to Glenfarne to destroy it?”
Nearly every jaw in the room dropped at her announcement.
All were silent until Bran cleared his throat and said, “I knew, because Uistean asked me to be master of weapons. But I had no idea what they were to be used for.”
The hum of conversation again became deafening as Shive revealed, “I killed off one of the bands that destroyed Breachnach today. The other band is on its way to Glenfarne. Will you help me stop them before it’s too late? Will you come with me now, surprise them in the dark, and save those poor helpless villagers from a fate worse than death?”
“Aye, I will!” came one voice, and then another, and another spoke up after that until the hum of voices was almost deafening.
Shive heaved a sigh of relief. She gazed around the hall, and felt a huge surge of pride as well as sorrow. “We ride out in ten minutes. Thank you all for doing the right thing, though it may cost you your lives.”
Shive turned to her youngest cousin. “Mahon, I need you to stay here to keep an eye on Uistean, and make the preparations for the morning’s challenge.”
“But Shive, you’ve been fighting all day. You can’t ride and fight all night and then battle against your father in the morning! You’ll fail!”
She shook her head. “I won’t fail, because if I do, we're all dead, you, me, Ernin, Tiernan, and anyone else who gets in Uistean’s way. Trust me, I must do this my way.”
Ernin came over to the pair a few seconds later. “All the weapons and men are gathered. They only wait for you to lead them, Shive.”
“I’m coming now.” Shive nodded to Ernin. Then she clapped Mahon on the shoulder firmly. “Look after things for me. If I don’t come back, I trust you to do what's right. And tell Tiernan for me, well, just tell him.”
“If he doesn’t know by now that you love him, then he’s a fool,” Mahon declared softly as he hugged his lovely young cousin to him, perhaps for the last time.
Shive shook her head. “I’ve been the fool, Mahon. I should have swallowed my pride, and told him long ago that I loved him. Now it’s too late. He’ll never forgive me and our family for what’s happened. How can he?”
“But you’ve killed the first band of Vikings, and are about to go off to fight the second. And you’ve challenged Uistean to mortal combat. What more can you do to prove you love him, and that you're blameless in all this?”
She smiled up at his kind face sadly. “I know you’re trying to help, Mahon, but I just have to accept the fact that the events today have forfeited any chance of Tiernan and I ever being happy together. I must go. Take care.”
“And you!” Mahon called as she headed out the door.
Once Shive was in the saddle she gave her orders. “We’ll go through the woods and dismount. Then we can send scouts out to see what position they have taken up, and will decide from there how best to surprise them.”
The men rode on in silence through the cold dark night, ever on the alert for any sign of the invaders.
Shive was bone-tired and ached all over after the exertions of the day. She wanted nothing better than to lay down in her nice warm bed at home.
Home? Which one? Certainly Tiernan could never possibly want to see her again after all her father had done. Where would her home be now?
Shive knew she would only be accepted back at Castlegarren once her father was dead. But she had made up her mind to that already, hadn’t she? He had shown absolutely no sign of remorse for any of the heinous crimes he had committed. It was only the fact that he had been brought to account which had caused him any consternation.
If Shive had any doubts about her ability to fulfil the role of head of her clan, she knew that her experiences of running the finances of the O’Haras during the weeks she had been married stood her in good stead to become the tanaist. Yes, she could fight, but then so could so many others in the clan.
It was the trading, the intelligent bargaining, and self-sufficiency within the clan holdings that would make them great one more, and help her to fight off any attacks that might come in t
he future. She had good instincts, and was able to think quickly of a solution whenever she was presented with a difficult problem, which was more than could be said for her cousins Parthalan and Fergus.
And the high kingship? Her feelings on that matter had changed not a jot. Her cousin Ruairi was still the best man for the position. Shive knew in her heart that any attempt to seize the position on the part of Muireadach O’Rourke would mean disaster for them all. He had always tried to ally himself with Uistean against Tiernan’s family. That was not to say he wouldn’t try to move against the MacDermots if it suited his purposes.
Shive had only met Muireadach once, when he had brutally assaulted her. If her brother hadn’t come along to help her, the good Lord only knew what might have happened.
Shive had known then Muireadach’s intention had been to force her into marriage to him. What better bride could a potential high king have had than a young, malleable descendant of Brian Boru? And what better way for the MacDermots and O’Rourkes to ally themselves? Shive realised all this for the first time now, and it served to confirm that Muireadach was every bit as ruthless as her own father. Perhaps even more so, since he was far younger and thus more hungry for power. More so even than her dear cousin Ruairi.
Shive called two of her most trusted clansmen to her, and asked them to take messages to her Ruairi regarding all she had learnt. She felt it was only fair to warn him, for with the good weather would come the campaigning season. If her father had shown his hand today with the Viking mercenaries, she was certain that more trouble would soon follow.
“They can tell him if they find him, but I think he might still be in Limerick courting MacRannell’s daughter,” Ernin guessed.
“In that case, you two have gone several miles out of your way, and for that I’m sorry. You go there now, and then you can take the message around his various castles. See if you can find his sergeants at arms and warn them to be prepared.”
“Aye, we’ll do that. Good luck on the morrow, Shive. I’m sorry that it’s had to turn out like this, about your father I mean.”
“No sorrier than I,” Shive said with a shrug.
She said farewell and rode hard to catch up with the rest of the small band, who would soon be nearing the woods around Glenfarne, the village her father had told her was under threat.
Shive was glad she had studied Tiernan’s estate map so carefully, for she was certain that so long as they reached Glenfarne first and were organised, they could take the Vikings by surprise and defeat them.
No quarter if resistance was offered was the message passed down the line as the men dismounted and moved cautiously into the dark woods. Shive crouched low, and sword in hand, moved forward with the rest of the line to sweep the forest.
Suddenly Shive saw a small spark of light to her right, and knew they had found the invading force.
“Circle and surround the camp,” she whispered to the next man in the line.
She began to go around to the left with some of the others, tiptoeing in the soft pine needles underfoot. She knew sentries had been posted in the Viking camp. It was just a case of not bumping into them on the way, or allowing them a chance to raise the alarm.
Suddenly a huge man towered over her. Shive acted without thinking. He brought down his great war axe, which swished perilously close to her left shoulder. Shive stabbed him through the heart with her dagger, and jumped out of the way before the huge body landed on her and knocked her flat.
The man beside her grinned. “One down, a few hundred to go.”
Shive began to creep forward again. Up ahead she could hear the sound of steel clashing with steel. Another sentry had been found and killed, but at least the alarm had not been raised yet. One of the clansmen dispatched him quickly in the dark, and the line moved forward again.
At last they reached the small glade where the Vikings had chosen to spend the night. Shive’s men had their knives at their throats instantly.
A mountainous man, the largest Shive had ever seen, rose up from the center of the camp and began to shout the alarm. She could tell from his impressive jewelry, a great torc around his neck and two large silver armlets around his wrists, that he was the leader of the band. Indeed, he looked to be one of the most ferocious warriors she had ever laid eyes on.
Her voice was calm as she said, “There's little point in asking men with knives at their throats to fight. You can if you like, though it will get you nowhere. We've surrounded you, and will kill you all if you should be so foolish as to try to resist.”
The murderous-looking warrior shook back his mane of lush blonde hair, and scowled blackly. He demanded gruffly in broken Irish, “And who are you, puny one, to tell me what to do?”
“I am Shive, of the MacDermot clan. I am leader here. These men will cut you down at the merest sign of a fight.”
“You are not head of MacDermots, Uistean is,” the man said warily, sizing up his opponent with his sharp blue eyes, as pale as a wolf’s.
Shive shook her head. “I'm leader now. Uistean has been removed as head of the clan because of the murder of my brother, and the fact that he allowed two bands of Vikings to raid the territory of the O’Hara clan.”
“If the first raid was successful, what makes you think you can stop me and my band of troops?” the Viking laughed boldly.
“They were successful, true enough, if you consider killing innocent unarmed men, women and children successful. But they paid the price. They're all dead now. I hunted them down and killed them like the dogs they were.”
“I will make you eat those words!” the Viking raged, swinging his axe sideways to slice her stomach open from left to right.
But Shive had been ready for the attack, and parried it deftly with her sword. She saw now that the Vikings would not peacefully get into their boats and leave, no matter what she offered them.
“Strike men! Strike!” Shive called urgently. Soon the glade was filled with the cries of the wounded and dying on both sides.
Shive fought like a wildcat with the Viking leader, but his vast size and fury made him almost a dozen times stronger than she. She could see no advantage, no weak point in his fighting skills, and she was exhausted after her strenuous day. She felt herself being backed into the trunk of a tree, and was convinced she was about to be sliced in half when Ernin came up to protect her.
The Viking grabbed Ernin by the throat and shook him like a puppy, before bringing his axe up to cleave his skull in twain. Blood and brains splattered in a wave over Shive as she stood pinned to the tree trunk.
Shive let out an anguished cry, and her knees buckled. She felt the hot bile rise in her throat as she stared at the corpse of her beloved cousin. She also felt a new-found strength born out of her anger and grief. As the Viking bent down to grab her, she stabbed upwards through his throat, and twisted the sword with all her might. Then planting her foot on the corpse’s chest, she sliced the head off and stuck it on her swordpoint for all to see in the first glimmerings of the dawn.
“Your leader is dead! I have killed him! Put down your swords now, or we’ll kill every last one of you!”
The fighting eventually began to cease as men turned to look at Shive, covered in blood, glowing crimson as a ray of sunlight shone down on her from above. She looked like an avenging angel in red and black, and the Vikings knew she would do as she had said.
One of the more senior member of their group stepped forward. “We will go home peacefully. You have beaten us.”
She glared at him. “You will not be allowed to go home just yet. You will rebuild the village your comrades destroyed today. Take their weapons, all of you. They shall be returned when we let you have your ships back in say, two month’s time.”
The older man looked around him and then nodded. “I am Sitric. You have our word we will rebuild the village. But in return, will you treat us well?”
“You shall be treated as you deserve. If you work hard and cause no trouble, you shall be well t
reated. If you seek to pay us back for this,” she said, indicating the dead laying all around them, “then we will kill the rest of you.”
Sitric declared, “We will give no trouble. Give up your weapons, men, and in two months we shall go home.”
Shive shook hands with him, and ordered some of her own men to go to the village to get tools for burying the dead, and supplies for the wounded.
“What of the injured Vikings?” Bran, the sergeant at arms, asked.
“Give their men supplies for treating the wounded, and move them over to Breachnach, on the other side of Tiernan’s territory. I have given my word they shall not be harmed. But nor will we take the trouble to nurse them ourselves, not when we have so much else to do.
“As I said, ‘tis the campaign season soon. I have no doubt trouble will arrive before we know it. We will also have to consider making restitution to Tiernan for all my father’s incursions into his territory over the past five years. These Vikings with their huge muscles will go some way towards making a start in rebuilding the village they destroyed.
The Hart and the Harp Page 21
