Fionn- Defence of Ráth Bládhma

by Brian O'Sullivan

  I see you up there through the mist.

  Do not be shy.

  Come share your glow.’

  Bodhmhall stifled a giggle, recognising the early morning ritual the warrior had conscientiously practised during their time together at Dún Baoiscne.

  ‘Does it ever answer you?’

  Startled, the big man spun around on the soles of his feet, the smooth movement all the more impressive for a man of his size. Bodhmhall focused her attention on the warrior’s face, doing her best to avert her eyes from the penis dangling low between his legs. When he saw her standing in the lis below, a broad smile spread across his features.

  ‘No,’ he answered. ‘And this morning it teases me, hanging up there in the clouds like a veiled glimpse of a virgin’s nipples!’

  Bodhmhall shivered and pulled her cloak more tightly about her. ‘It is cold, Fiacail. Does the chill air not chafe at your skin?’

  ‘Pah!’ He shook his head as though contemptuous of the possibility. ‘The chill clears the head. It gets the blood flowing. After last night’s drinking, this is a good thing.’

  In truth, his voice sounded hoarse to Bodhmhall’s ears, strained and rusty from the excesses of the previous night. The bandraoi was both surprised and impressed that he was not still abed and demonstrated such little sign of weariness.

  Fiacail retraced his steps along the rampart to the point where he’d first emerged from the haze. Draped across one of the pine pilings were a pair of leather breeches and a cotton tunic that Bodhmhall hadn’t noticed earlier. The warrior casually pulled them down and began to dress, clearly in no particular hurry. ‘It is good to greet the day with a blessing,’ he said. ‘The Great Sky Father opens his sack to release light and colour onto the world. It is only proper to show gratitude for such a gift.’

  Bodhmhall did not respond, casually averting her eyes as she waited for him to finish getting dressed.

  When he was finally clothed, the man from Seiscenn Uarbhaoil looked down to consider her with an inquisitive eye. ‘And you, Bodhmhall? As a bandraoi does the Great Goddess not answer your call?’

  She shook her head as she walked towards the rampart ladder and started up the worn wooden rungs. ‘You know she doesn’t.’

  ‘And yet she answers the entreaties of your fellow draoi.’

  ‘So they tell us.’

  ‘So they tell us,’ he conceded. He gave a sad smile and she knew that he was thinking of an old story from old times, an intimate moment shared in the days when they’d also shared a roof and a bed beneath it.

  Stepping onto the earthen rampart, she followed the sticky, mud-flattened surface around to the eastern section of the ráth. As he waited for her to join him, he peered towards the north, struggling to make out any detail through the hazy grey shroud. On a clear day, the position offered an excellent outlook over the valley’s most impressive natural features: the silver flow from the eastern heights, the white, ‘mare-tail’ cataracts of the melted snow streaming down the steep rock slopes on either side. Today, although none of this spectacle was visible, its absence did little to detract from his good humour.

  ‘I like it here, Bodhmhall ua Baoiscne. You have made a good home.’ He drew nearer to her and the abrupt physical closeness prompted an unanticipated shiver and unbidden, long-forgotten memories of arousal. Disconcerted, she bit down on her tongue to keep the sensations in check. Fortunately, the big man seemed unaware of the effect his proximity had provoked.

  ‘Many at Dún Baoiscne thought that you and your followers would be dead within a year. Some resent the fact that you are still alive.’

  She swallowed and cleared her throat but there was still a bit of a croak in her voice when she spoke. ‘They remember us then?’

  ‘They remember you. They just don’t speak of you.’

  ‘So nothing is forgiven.’

  He shrugged. ‘You should not concern yourself with the thoughts of ... stiff minds.’

  Bodhmhall felt a sudden surge of affection for the big warrior. Despite his faults – and they were many – Fiacail had been one of the few to offer support prior to her expulsion from Dún Baoiscne. Given their fractious relationship and their tortured separation he had been the last person anyone expected to step forward in her defence. And yet, he had surprised them all.

  ‘You are a good man, Fiacail mac Codhna.’

  He eyed her in surprise. ‘A good man? Easy, Cailleach. Did I not ruin your feast last night with talk of my monstrous member?’

  Bodhmhall chuckled. ‘Come now, man of Seiscenn Uarbhaoil. I know your intentions better than that. You deliberately introduced that topic to pop the boil of vitriol swelling up between Liath Luachra and Muirne Muncháem.’

  Fiacail neither confirmed nor denied the tribute. Instead he closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘Ah, Muirne of the Slender Neck. She truly is one like no other, is she not? It’s hard to imagine her as mother to an actual human child.’ He sighed. ‘How does she fare?’

  ‘She sleeps.’

  ‘And the child?’

  ‘A boy. He sleeps as well.’

  ‘At least we are briefly spared that wailing. What a noise! I have not heard such screeching since the field of battle! Truly he is his mother’s son.’

  ‘Perhaps he was simply upset at being pulled from a warm womb before he was good and ready.’

  ‘It’s happened to me,’ muttered Fiacail. ‘Never screeched like that, though.’

  Bodhmhall ignored him and turned away to look down over the valley. Faint rays of sunshine were finally starting to slice vague swathes through the wisps of mist and she could make out the blur of the individual cows that Cónán had just released from the ráth. Penned into the pastures beyond the ditch, they were chewing contentedly on the frost-coated grass. As instructed the previous evening, the boy had since left for the valley entrance, there to keep watch and provide warning for any sign of the fian. After the severe storm of the previous night and the murkiness to the morning, it was extremely unlikely that it would be abroad today but she was unwilling to take such assumptions for granted.

  ‘Is it true that you slept with Muirne?’

  The big man groaned aloud and held his palms outwards in a pleading gesture. ‘It was the past, Bodhmhall. What can I say? I was grieving the death knell of all that we had. I consoled myself in the arms of another. This has always been the way of things.’ Observing a distinct lack of sympathy in her reaction, he quickly added to his argument. ‘It was a mistake. It served to ease my pain at the time. That was all.’

  Bodhmhall closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had forgotten how swiftly conversations with Fiacail could switch from fond to infuriating. ‘You’re right,’ she conceded at last. ‘Such arguments are in the past. Let us put them behind us, Fiacail. We are friends now. Let us turn our thoughts to the future.’

  ‘I do turn my thoughts to the future. Why do you think I have come to Ráth Bládhma?’

  Bodhmhall observed him with curiosity. ‘I had understood you came to tell me of my brother.’

  ‘That is true. I know how much you loved him. I preferred that you hear such terrible report from a familiar face rather than the unkind lips of some heartless stranger.’

  ‘And I am grateful for that thoughtfulness. You travelled an immense distance, at great personal effort. You will always have my gratitude.’

  ‘There is another reason for my presence at Ráth Bládhma. A second reason.’

  Bodhmhall eyebrows tightened about her forehead as she assessed him with guarded equanimity. ‘And that is?’

  The big man shuffled awkwardly, shifted his weight from one foot to the other then back again. ‘Will you walk with me, Bodhmhall? It would be good to inspect your exterior defences now that the day begins to clear.’

  Puzzled, the bandraoi gave a silent nod of assent as she attempted to shrug off a foreboding sense of catastrophe. Procrastination from one such as Fiacail did not bode well for the nature of his news.


  Descending to the lis, they proceeded towards the gateway where Bearach’s form was silhouetted against the grey air on the upper rampart. They encountered Fiacail’s kinsmen below the stone structure, lounging groggily against their spears. Although clearly nursing painful hangovers, both men stiffened and straightened up as they approached.

  ‘Rest easy, brothers.’ Fiacail gestured for the men to relax. ‘Bodhmhall and I are going to examine the external defences. Take your ease. We will talk on my return.’

  The men nodded at their leader but Bodhmhall noted how both refused to meet her eyes. Fiacail must have noticed it too for he raised it as they strolled through the gateway and out onto the narrow causeway.

  ‘Take no notice of Tóla and Ultán. They’re good men. It is not their intention to be rude.’

  ‘No?’ Bodhmhall struggled to keep the scepticism from her voice.

  ‘They are cowed in the presence of the Cailleach Dubh. They do not know you as I do and have heard many wild stories of the infamous Ráth Bládhma where women direct and men obey.’

  The bandraoi snorted. Fiacail chuckled and they traversed the little causeway in silence.

  Circling around the ráth, they followed the ditch until they gained the lubgort to the east of the settlement. Bodhmhall halted to stare longingly at the vegetable beds then turned to find the Seiscenn Uarbhaoil man apparently absorbed in the assessment of the embankment parapet. ‘You have a gap up there,’ he informed her. ‘Looks like some pilings are missing.’

  ‘I know,’ she said, unable to keep the frost from her voice. ‘Now, do you intend to tell me of the second reason for your visit to Ráth Bládhma or are you intending to avoid the subject a little longer?’

  Fiacail turned to her with an expression of exasperation. ‘Gods, Bodhmhall. I’m not trying to avoid the subject. What I wish to discuss is not a topic that comes easily. I am attempting to assemble the right words.’

  ‘Don’t task yourself with garnishing the truth, Fiacail. Just tell me the nub of the matter.’

  The big warrior stared at her for a moment then shook his head in aggrieved resignation. ‘I should have known better than to try and embellish frank facts for you. The truth of the matter is ...’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The truth of the matter is that I have been thinking about the disasters that have befallen our people at Dún Baoiscne.’

  Bodhmhall nodded slowly, wondering where this was leading.

  ‘Disasters such as the recent raids, the poor harvests, the loss of our men at Gabhra -’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, I thought,’ He hesitated once more. ‘I thought that I might put myself forward.’

  Bodhmhall stared at him and shook her head in incomprehension.

  ‘Put myself forward as tánaiste,’ he clarified. ‘The next in line to lead Clann Baoiscne.’

  ‘Oh,’ Bodhmhall stared at him. After an awkward silence, she turned away and stared up at the trees on the eastern ridge in a belated attempt to conceal her consternation.

  ‘You consider me unworthy of the title.’ Fiacail’s voice was tight and when she turned back to face him again she could see that he was genuinely offended by her reaction. ‘And yet I am an eligible candidate. My line leads directly back to our ancestor, Baoiscne. I rule a wealthy holding at Seiscenn Uarbhaoil and can hold my own in combat against any three men.’

  Listening to the aggravated tirade, Bodhmhall found little that she would dispute. The tánaiste was chosen from among the heads of the righdamhna – literally, those eligible males of ‘kingly material’ –elected at a full assembly of the sept. With Cumhal’s death, that previously assigned position was now, once again, open for contention. Given that the single principle of eligibility was for the role to descend to the most worthy of the same male-line, Fiacail’s bloodline and personal standing meant he met that basic requirement easily.

  ‘You misunderstand me. I can think of few men more worthy.’

  Startled by this unexpected acknowledgement, Fiacail considered her with suspicion. ‘And yet I do not sense that I have your unequivocal support.’

  ‘That is not true. You have my support. I just don’t think the assembly, particularly the elders, will share my view. They will not support your candidacy.’ She halted for he was regarding her with a look of complete bafflement.

  ‘What are you saying, Bodhmhall? Have I not beaten off the cattle raids of Ua Broinn? Did I not overcome the champion of Ua Gerrad in single combat – their best man – in a matter of moments? I am the greatest warrior amongst the candidates and I tell you this: had I had been with your brother at Gabhra, we would not have been taken by surprise and we would not have lost seventeen men.’

  Bodhmhall flinched. It hurt to hear it put so bluntly but she had to recognise the truth of his words.

  ‘None of that is in doubt, Fiacail. But you forget an essential issue. Clann Baoiscne need neither a warrior nor a champion but a future leader to replace my father as leader when he dies. In the eyes of the elders you are a wanderer, a wastrel. Pleasant company, yes. Talented in war and strategy, there is no doubt. Nevertheless, you are also seen as a man outside the fold, a man with dubious associations to newer settlements such as Seiscenn Uarbhaoil. More importantly, everyone knows you as a man directed primarily by his cock. Do you think the people will allow themselves to be led by a tomcat who would sleep with their wives as soon as their backs are turned?’

  The warrior stared at her over the length of a prolonged silence. Finally, he released a vexed sigh. ‘You were ever unsubtle with your words, dear one.’

  ‘As you were ever unsubtle with your actions. It is not my intent to offend you, Fiacail, but you know it is my way to expose the frank heart of a matter. I do not weave soft untruths and if ...’

  ‘No, no.’ Fiacail wearily waved her protests away. ‘That is the reason for my direct query. Whatever may be said about your blunt response, I know at least that you will always tell me the straight of it.’

  He stared gloomily down the valley where the mist was slowly dispersing. ‘Perhaps it would strengthen my candidacy to have the daughter of Tréanmór, the current rí, standing by my side.’

  The bandraoi grimaced, an expression not lost on her love from another lifetime.

  ‘Oh, come, Bodhmhall. You know you are dear to me. Beneath that, admittedly stony, exterior, I suspect I am just as dear to you. We are a natural fit. You are the curving riverbank to my surging waters. You guide me, channel my force. You make me a better man.’

  Bodhmhall shook her head for everything that Fiacail was now proposing reflected the other, unspoken, reason she knew that he would never receive the vote he desired. To put it simply, he lacked the necessary duplicity or guile for politics. He was at heart, despite his many other, less endearing qualities, the most truly honest man she had ever known.

  ‘You forget recent history more easily than others, Fiacail. Events at Dún Baoiscne mean that any association with me would be to your, considerable, disadvantage. Besides -’ She brushed several loose strands of hair back from her face. ‘The truth of the matter is that I will not be by your side. The riverbed has long since shifted. If ever we were the natural fit then we are certainly so no longer. You made your choice many years ago. I have since made a choice of my own.’

  He sighed, scratched one cheek in exasperation.

  ‘Liath Luachra?’

  ‘Liath Luachra,’ she confirmed.

  Fiacail muttered something under his breath.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘I said that Liath Luachra is humourless. “The Grey One” suits her.’ His bushy eyebrows closed in and his jaw tightened as he struggled with her response. ‘She does not make you laugh as I did.’

  ‘She does not make me cry as you did.’

  Fiacail’s expression darkened but when he spoke again his voice had a flatness that she had never heard before.

  ‘She will never provide you with children. I kn
ow the prospect of children has been a yearning dear to your heart.’

  ‘There are things that are more important than children.’

  ‘Of course, but Liath Luachra lacks one of those as well.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about that, Fiacail.’ She threw her hands in the air. ‘Great Mother, give me strength!’

  The bandraoi turned and made to stamp away then caught herself.

  If anyone must stalk off, let it be Fiacail. He is on my land.’

  Infuriated, she rounded on the warrior. ‘It is true Liath Luachra can never offer me children. But there is one thing that she can, and does, offer. Something you never could, Fiacail. Faithfulness.’

  The big man rubbed a stubbled jaw with the palm of his hand.

  ‘Ah.’ He nodded slowly. ‘Faithfulness. Right.’

  As the bandraoi’s eyes flared, he raised one palm in a soothing gesture. ‘You let your anger twist you up, Bodhmhall. I’m making a joke. I’m fully aware fidelity and I have not been ... intimate. That is a fault I have regretted a thousand times since you left. Do you truly think I have learned nothing from that?’ He kicked at a low stone and sent it spinning off into the undergrowth. ‘Besides, I fear for your safety.’

  ‘My safety?’ Bodhmhall looked at him with bemusement at such an unexpected digression.

  ‘Something is not right with Liath Luachra. Her milk is ... unclean.’

  ‘Oh, please -’

  ‘Hear me out, Bodhmhall. I acknowledge Liath Luachra’s ... accomplishments. But, believe me when I say, she cannot be completely trusted. You have not seen her as I have seen her.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ The chill in her voice warned him that he was treading on precarious territory.

  Before responding, Fiacail crouched to pick up a fallen branch and used it to strike out wildly at a cluster of wintered thistle. As the withered heads went spinning onto the nearby pasture, he turned to her. ‘I mean that when we found her out in the Great Wild she had the fury on her. She is a berserker, Bodhmhall.’

  Bodhmhall quietly cleared her throat, taking the time to slow her pulse and symbolically swallow the rage that bubbled up inside. It took an effort to regain her earlier composure but when she spoke again, it was with a voice that was calm and surprisingly measured. ‘You have seen her fight. Did she seem to you to fight like a berserker?’