***
Finally, the time for serious discussion was upon them. Bodhmhall pushed her wooden platter to one side, brushed greasy lips with the back of her hand and waited for the talk to subside about her. The individual conversations did not take long to peter out. All eyes had been on her throughout the meal, awaiting such a signal to indicate that the social part of the evening was over.
Fiacail flicked a glance to his two kinsmen who, wordlessly, rose to their feet. Escorted by Aodhán and Conchenn, they quietly left the roundhouse.
When the others had departed, Bodhmhall raised her eyes and considered each of the four remaining individuals in turn. ‘We should speak of Muirne,’ she said.
No-one spoke but the tension was evident in the body language of those gathered around the fire. Muirne Muncháem’s bearing, in particular, was tense and stiff as she awaited the decision of her hosts.
Bodhmhall turned to the Flower of Almhu.
‘I will not insult you by softening the reality with honeyed words, Muirne. I have sought the counsel of my advisors. Both recommend that you be cast from Ráth Bládhma at first light.’
Muirne blanched but, to her credit, accepted the news with no other evidence of the despair she must surely have been feeling. Dropping her eyes to the ground, she nodded with stoic dignity. ‘Of course. If that is the desire of Muinntir Bládhma, I will leave at first light.’
‘You misunderstand me. That was the opinion of my advisors. It was not my final decision.’
Startled, Muirne raised her head to stare at her host with an expression that was equal parts hope and wariness. ‘You do not share the opinion of your advisors?’
‘In all honesty, I felt their advice sound. They recommend that which is clearly in the best interests of Ráth Bládhma. But -’ She picked up a wooden spoon and absently tapped it against her knee while the others watched on. ‘There are other factors to be considered. Duties of hospitality, family ties ...’
Her voice trailed off momentarily as she stared at Muirne’s swollen belly.
‘The future of Clann Baoiscne may lie within your womb and although I’ve given the matter consideration I’m unable to see a clear path through the thorns you plant before us.’ She grew silent for a moment, as though planning her next words. ‘I have decided that I will require further wisdom, I will seek imbas to identify the path that best suits our purpose. Until then, you may remain at Ráth Bládhma.’
Even as she spoke, Bodhmhall was surreptitiously assessing the faces about her. Muirne was pale but clearly relieved. Cairbre, calm and patient as always, simply awaited his mistress’s lead. Fiacail mac Codhna, conversely, had a great grin plastered across his features. The warrior had remained uncharacteristically restrained throughout the evening’s activities. Although he bore neither party any particular ill will, neither was he averse to stirring up a situation and then sitting back to enjoy the fruits of his devilment. For some reason, Fiacail often derived enjoyment or diversion from such situations. For the moment, fortunately, he seemed content to merely observe.
Liath Luachra as ever, appeared impassive. While Bodhmhall spoke, she remained resignedly silent, staring straight ahead into the fire as though preoccupied with some great internal deliberations of her own. Bodhmhall had informed her of her decision in advance, of course, but it couldn’t have been pleasant hearing it when the source of such enmity was sitting directly across the fire from her.
Muirne’s response, therefore, was particularly ill-judged.
‘I thank the Gods that they have granted you the sense to meet your family duties.’
Bodhmhall saw the Grey One stiffen, the bread half-raised to her mouth, frozen in place. ‘Family duties,’ she spat. ‘Do you not understand, foul-smelling flower! Your actions bring the wrath of Clann Morna upon us.’
‘Clann Morna does not know I have come here.’
‘Clann Morna may not know but they must strongly suspect it,’ spat Liath Luachra. ‘A fian beats the forests of the Great Wild searching for you.’
A fian!’ Muirne stared at her with wide eyes.’
‘Two fian, in fact,’ pressed Liath Luachra. ‘And as if that weren’t trouble enough, you and your unborn whelp have also attracted the interest of a Tainted One.’
‘A Tainted One!’
‘Yes. A seeker who now searches our land for you and your child.’
This further revelation prompted a shocked silence from their visitors. Fiacail looked as though he’d been struck across the face. Muirne looked back at them with a haunted expression. Her jaw began to quiver and for the first time since arriving at Ráth Bládhma, she revealed what she truly was; a terrified young mother.
This involuntary lapse did not last, however. Conscious of the fragility she’d inadvertently exposed, the Flower of Almhu clamped her jaw shut, grasped about clumsily on the floor behind her then pulled a bulky satchel forward. As the others watched on in curiosity, she plunged her hand inside and withdrew a wolf pelt which she defiantly flung on the ground beside the fire.
‘This creature attempted to eat us: me and my baby. I swear to you all that anyone who seeks to harm my child will suffer a similar fate.’
There was a momentary silence as the others considered the pelt. The skin was rough and had been poorly skinned but from the size of it the animal had obviously been no cub.
‘What did you do?’ asked Liath Luachra at last. ‘Lash it to death with your tongue?’
Muirne stiffened and her face grew red and ugly. For a moment it looked as though she might launch herself, belly and all, across the fire at the woman warrior.
Bodhmhall made a calming gesture. ‘We do not need to -’
‘That’s what I like about you, Liath Luachra,’ said Muirne, ignoring her. ‘Many women lie awake at night dreaming of a cock between their legs but you, you lie awake dreaming that you’re hung like a stud bull.’
There was a stunned silence in the wake of Muirne’s outburst.
Oh Gods, no!
In despair, Bodhmhall watched the flash of life-light between the two women, their internal flames blazing up as though someone had tossed oil on a bonfire. Muirne’s was radiating a frightening yellow intensity that all but obscured the lower glow of her unborn child. Liath Luachra’s, meanwhile was repeatedly expanding and contracting, red flecks growing brighter and brighter. Bodhmhall stared at them in alarm, feeling the situation spinning wildly out of her control.
‘I’m hung like a bull,’ said Fiacail.
The company was momentarily distracted as all eyes turned to stare at the broad-shouldered warrior. Fiacail, apparently oblivious to the consternation he’d provoked, was working to remove a sliver of meat from between his teeth with the point of a sharp knife. Putting the weapon to one side he looked around at his silent audience.
‘What? Do you want me to whip it out and show you?’
‘No!’
The startled chorus from the females was probably the first time all present had ever been in unanimous agreement. Fiacail, however, was unimpressed by their reaction. ‘You don’t need to act all high and mighty. At least two of you know this claim for fact.’
There was another startled silence as the three women looked at one another. Liath Luachra suddenly released a bark of amusement.
‘Gods, Muirne! Oh, that is beautiful! You and Fiacail were slapping buttock skin!’
Bodhmhall stared in consternation from one visitor to the other.
‘What? Is this true?’
Their visitor did her best to appear nonplussed but was visibly flustered by the unanticipated disclosure. ‘Don’t worry yourself, cousin. That was a long time ago. After your separation from Fiacail.’
Observing that her words had in no way placated the bristling bandraoi, the Flower of Almhu opted for an alternative approach.
‘And I assure you, it took place before my marriage to Cumhal.’
‘I wonder if my brother would have been so willing to wed had he known he was sipp
ing such a well-tasted wine.’
Muirne’s face clouded.
‘Your brother was no stranger to midnight visits. In Dún Baoiscne he had his share of –’
‘I’m aware of Cumhal’s activities but he had, at least, the integrity to declare as much before the marriage. You, Muirne Muncháem, were presented to Clann Baoiscne as the unsullied blossom that would unite our two families.’
‘I think -’ said Fiacail. ‘You mean the unplucked Flower’. With this he erupted into a howl of uproarious laughter.
Muirne, furious, staggered to her feet, her face flushed and angry. For a moment she looked as though she was about to bellow at Fiacail but then, to everyone surprise, she stopped and looked down at her feet. Bodhmhall followed her eyes downwards to where a small puddle was spreading across the floor.
‘This council is concluded,’ she said hurriedly. ‘Please leave now.’
‘Are you joking?’ demanded Fiacail, completely unaware of what had just taken place. ‘Things are just starting to get interesting and if you think -’ His eyes fell on the puddle at Muirne’s feet. ‘Oh, look! Muirne’s so angry she’s pissed herself.’
‘Get out!’ roared Bodhmhall. ‘Now, you fool! Muirne’s waters have broken.’
The warrior stared at her in astonishment, transferred his gaze to the ashen-faced Muirne and then down to the growing puddle. His jaw dropped.
‘Out,’ snapped Bodhmhall. ‘Now!’
Without further argument, Fiacail scrambled to his feet and scuttled from the roundhouse, Cairbre hot on his heels.
Bodhmhall turned to where Liath Luachra was standing, observing the flurry of activity about her with her habitual calm. The bandraoi regarded her uncertainly. ‘You wish to stay and help?’
‘I would sooner poke a stick up my ass and erect myself as totem,’ said Liath Luachra, backing away, both palms held defensively outwards. With this she turned and left the roundhouse.
Taking a deep breath, the bandraoi turned her attention back to their visitor who was now backed up against the central pole, holding her stomach and staring down at it in dismay. When she finally noticed Bodhmhall standing before her, she gritted her teeth.
‘Enjoy your moment, Cailleach Dubh. It must give you great pleasure to see me humiliated so.’
‘Not really.’ Bodhmhall pressed a hand against the other woman’s belly then felt it from several different positions. ‘This will be a hard birth,’ she concluded.
Muirne grimaced against the pain and when it had passed she gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Hard life, hard birth. There will be pain and then there will be none.’
And with that, the Gift suddenly manifested itself again.
It had been so long since she’d experienced a true vision that Bodhmhall wasn’t quite sure what was happening at first. The walls of the roundhouse just seemed to recede then faded completely to black. The fire pit remained and Muirne Muncháem remained but Conchenn had disappeared. She tried to speak but no words came out. Slowly, remarkably slowly, the flames in the fire-pit appeared to subside but even as the light disappeared it was replaced by another light blazing out from Muirne’s womb.
And then it was gone.
‘... are you doing?’
‘What?’ Dazed, Bodhmhall stared at the red-faced Muirne.
‘What are you doing? Why are you looking at me like that?’
Bodhmhall continued to stare blankly. Then the realisation hit her. ‘It’s the child, isn’t it? Cumhal’s child. They don’t care about you. It’s the infant they seek, the fian and that ‘Tainted One’.
‘What are you talking about?’ Muirne glared in furious incomprehension. Bodhmhall shook her head with an embittered laugh. So stupid! The evidence had been there before her all this time but, preoccupied by other issues, her heart had not allowed her eyes to see it.
‘Muirne Muncháem,’ she said. ‘You ask for your freedom and for your life.’
‘You know that is why I’m here, Bodhmhall! Tréanmór and your family are in a position of weakness after the battle at Cnucha. It was only a matter of time before sufficient pressure was applied, before they were forced to offer me to Clann Morna.’
‘And you also wish the life and freedom of your son.’
The Flower of Almhu groaned and gritted her teeth again. ‘Of course I do.’
Bodhmhall frowned. ‘There is something different about your son, Muirne. His inner flame flares like none I’ve ever seen before. All I can tell for sure is that there will be a high price associated with this birth, a price to give him life and a price to save him. I need to know if you are willing to accept this price.’
‘There is always a price.’
‘This is a price you may not wish to pay.’
The Flower of Almhu returned her stare. ‘Will it save my son?’
Bodhmhall nodded.
‘Then,’ she said decisively. ‘I will pay.’
Other Books by Brian O’Sullivan
See Brian’s blog and website at irishimbasbooks.com for contact details and updates on new and upcoming titles.
[The Fionn mac Cumhal Series – Book 1]
Ireland: 154 A.D. A time of strife and treachery. Political ambition and inter-tribal conflict has set the country on edge, testing established alliances.
In the secluded valley of Glenn Ceoch, disgraced druidess Bodhmall and her lover Liath Luachra have avoided the bloodshed for many years. Now, the arrival of a pregnant refugee threatens the peace they have created.
Following Clann Baoiscne’s defeat at the battle of Gabhra, Clann Morna are on her trail, a mysterious war party roams the lands and a treacherous magician haunts Glenn Ceoch, intent on murder. The odds are overwhelming and death stalks from ever side
Based on the ancient Fenian Cycle texts, the Fionn mac Cumhal Series tells the pulse-pounding tale of the birth and adventures of Ireland’s greatest hero, Fionn mac Cumhal.
[irishimbasbooks.com]
[The Fionn mac Cumhal Series – Book 2]
Ireland: 198 A.D. Six years have passed since the brutal attack on the community of Ráth Bládhma. The isolated valley of Glenn Ceoch is at peace once more but those who survived still bear the scars of that struggle.
Now, new dangers threaten the settlement.
Troubling signs of strangers have been discovered in the surrounding wilderness. Disgraced druid Bodhmhall fears a fresh attempt to abduct her talented nephew. A summons from the fortress of Dún Baoiscne sets them on a perilous traverse of the Great Wild where enemies, old and new, await them.
And Muirne has returned to reclaim her son.
Come what may, there will be blood.
Based on the ancient Fenian Cycle texts, the Fionn mac Cumhal Series recounts the fascinating and pulse-pounding tale of the birth and adventures of Ireland’s greatest hero, Fionn mac Cumhal.
Beara: Dark Legends
[The Beara Trilogy – Book 1]
Nobody knows much about reclusive historian Muiris (Mos) O’Súilleabháin except that he doesn’t share his secrets freely.
Mos, however, has a “sixth sense for history, a unique talent for finding lost things”.
Reluctantly lured from his seclusion, Mos is hired to locate the final resting place of legendary Irish hero, Fionn mac Cumhal. Confronted by a thousand year old mystery, the distractions of a beguiling circus performer and a lethal competitor, Mos must draw on his knowledge of Gaelic lore to defy his enemies and survive his own family history in Beara.
Beara: Dark Legends is the first in a trilogy of unforgettable Irish thrillers. Propulsive, atmospheric and darkly humorous, Beara: Dark Legends introduces an Irish hero like you’ve never seen before. Nothing you thought you knew about Ireland will ever be the same again.
[irishimbasbooks.com]
The Irish Muse and Other Stories
This intriguing collection of stories puts an original twist on foreign and familiar territory. Merging the passion and wit of Irish storytelling with the down-to-earth flavour of ot
her international locations around the world, these stories include:
a ringmaster’s daughter who is too implausible to be true — despite all the evidence to the contrary
an ageing nightclub gigolo in one last desperate bid to best a younger rival
an Irish consultant whose uncomplicated affair with a public service colleague proves anything but
an Irish career woman in London stalked by a mysterious figure from her past
a sleep-deprived translator struggling to make sense of bizarre events in a French city.
[irishimbasbooks.com]
Fionn: The Stalking Silence Page 16
