‘After defeating a Tainted One?’ His look was sceptical. ‘Bodhmhall, I would spare you the pain but you cannot count on their return.’ Ignoring her obvious resentment, he pressed his argument. ‘Even if they do come back, that would give you a total of three warriors against fifty. You have heard the fate of the Ráth Dearg woman.’ He paused to regard her anxiously. ‘It would be a painful and demeaning death for those women who remain here.’
The bandraoi fidgeted nervously with the polished black stone pendent that hung from a leather cord about her neck. A present from Liath Luachra on their departure from Dún Baoiscne, it was her single piece of jewellery and her most cherished possession. ‘What, then, is your counsel?’
‘I would have you flee. Cairbre tells me there is another secret route out of the valley to the east and that, although dangerous, it can be traversed with caution.’
‘I do not wish to go to Seiscenn Uarbhaoil with you, Fiacail.’
The warrior stiffened. ‘That thrust cuts deep, Cailleach.’
‘It was not intended as a thrust, Fiacail. You know I am one to speak plainly.’
Fiacail remained uncharacteristically silent. Bodhmhall waited as the silence stretched on, wondering if she should say something. She was relieved when he suddenly responded again.
‘If you do not want to come to Seiscenn Uarbhaoil with me, then at least travel to some other refuge where you can hide until it is safe to return. This is a good settlement but it is not worth your life.’
‘And where would we go?’
Fiacail looked at her in surprise.
‘There is no refuge to be found in the Great Wild,’ she insisted. ‘The nearest place of safety is back in Clann Baoiscne territory.’
‘And what of it? You are the daughter of Tréanmór. There are plenty in Clann Baoiscne who would welcome you in. You have much to offer.’
‘That’s true. Some would probably take me in. And possibly Liath Luachra because of her reputation with the sword. But what about my nephew, Cairbre, Conchenn and their sons? And then, there is the responsibility of sanctuary we owe to Muirne and now to Cathal’s family as well.’
‘That responsibility does not extend to your own death, dear one.’
‘Don’t feign such ruthlessness, Fiacail. You have seen those Ráth Dearg children. They are on their last legs. It’s a miracle Cathal got them here across that distance without losing any of them.’
‘Yes. He is a tough old thorn, I’ll give him that.’
‘If we move those children now, before they’ve had a chance to rest, it’s likely that many of them will die. Here, at least, we have food and shelter if we can defend the ráth.’
Fiacail reacted furiously, tightening his grip on the axe then swinging it in a tight arc. ‘You cannot ask me and my men to stay and fight, Bodhmhall.’
‘I have not asked you to stay.’
‘Not with words but with silences.’
‘What?’
‘You do not ask me to stay yet you dangle the bloody consequences of my departure in the air between us.’ He gave an irritated growl. ‘And then, of course, there are the physical silences.’
‘The physical silences?’ Bodhmhall stared at him in confusion.
‘When I am near you I sense veiled possibilities, airy prospects without the anchor of firm commitments. It is not your fault but it ... Gaaaah!’
He suddenly slammed the axe into the nearest piling, embedding the metal head deep into the wood. The blow was so violent that the long haft quivered for several moments. Fiacail cursed and grasped it with both hands but it took several strong pulls before he finally wrenched the weapon loose. Bodhmhall looked on, too shaken and too perplexed to speak. When she finally found her voice she was relieved to hear it had a steadiness she did not feel.
‘I regret you feel such unintended enticements.’ She moistened lips that suddenly felt dry and cracked. ‘It’s true I have placed silent burdens on you. It was my hope that, as my friend, you would offer help without condition.’
‘Bodhmhall, I want to be your friend. I want to be loyal and honourable and to offer you help without condition. Alas, my bod wants something substantially more ... fundamental. When I am near, when I smell the scent of your skin, desire billows out the crotch of my leggings.’ He stared at her in desperation. ‘Woman, I have not had sex for weeks!’
She gaped at him for a moment then gave a nervous laugh. ‘Well, milk the bull, Fiacail! We must all relieve ourselves when strained with desire that needs sating.’
A small smile cracked the corner of his lips. ‘It is a lonely sport, Cailleach. Much improved with company.’
‘Ask Muirne, then. By all accounts she is not unfamiliar with the dimensions of your needs.’
This time it was the warrior who laughed. ‘Even I am not so desperate that I would poke an ill-tempered bear.’ He shook his head then, conceding the ludicrousness of the situation. ‘Very well, dear one. I will take the matter in hand, as it were. When my needs are slaked and my thoughts free from desire, I am sure that I can be your friend.’ He breathed in and then exhaled long and hard. ‘Gods, it is good to have such intentions out in the open.’
The bandraoi rested an arm upon his shoulder. ‘You are a true friend, Fiacail and my gratitude to you is sincere but can I call on you then to remain for a further two days? To help defend the ráth until the children have rested, until -’. She hesitated. ‘Until Cónán, Liath Luachra and Aodhán return. I ask this boon as friend and clan. I regret I can offer nothing more than gratitude and the friendship of my heart in return.’
‘Not the friendship of your thighs?’
‘Not the friendship of my thighs.’
The Seiscenn Uarbhaoil man chuckled. ‘A shame. Very well, Cailleach Dubh. As your friend I will remain for another two days but you cut the timing fine. You will need a headstart on the fian if you wish to escape them. The children will slow you down.’
‘I understand that. Nevertheless, I must give Liath Luachra the grace of two days to return if she is alive.’
‘That is fair. I do, however, counter with another offer.’
‘Yes?’
‘If Liath Luachra does not return within two days, you will accompany me to Seiscenn Uarbhaoil. Your people are also welcome. I will protect all those to whom you currently offer sanctuary.’
Bodhmhall was silent for a very long time. Even as she worked through the offer and its ramifications in her head, she had the strangest sensation of the wooded ridges on either side of the ráth crowding in more tightly about them. Her head began to spin. ‘I will make my decision at the end of the second day. When Liath Luachra returns.’
Fiacail laughed. ‘You drive a hard bargain Bodhmhall ua Baoiscne. You may not have your father’s looks but, by the Gods, you have his obstinacy. And his teeth.’
‘Given the relations between my father and I, that may be a careless compliment. But I accept it in the manner it is offered.’ She leaned back against the pilings, suddenly drained from the effort of the conversation. ‘Are things between us settled to your satisfaction, Fiacail? I would have some time on my own.’
‘As, apparently, must I. But no. There is still the matter of the scouts.’
The bandraoi’s shoulders sagged. She had completely forgotten about the scouts.
‘I think that, at the very least, we should deprive the fian of whatever information they’ve gathered. Don’t you?’ He leaned his axe against the stone rampart. ‘I am of course familiar with your dislike at being called on to use your abilities but given the ...’ He trailed off for Bodhmhall was already peering out over the pilings, drawing on her Gift. She looked about the valley for a long time and the concentration must have taken a heavy toll for when she allowed herself to relax again, her face was drawn and worn.
‘It’s still bright,’ she said. ‘And the valley teems with life-light but, possibly, there’s someone in the woods below the northern ridge. Over th-’
She made to raise
her hand and point but Fiacail promptly slapped it down. Outraged by his rudeness, she glared at him but he quickly moved to calm her. ‘Let us not alert them,’ he suggested in a quiet voice. ‘To the fact that we know they are here.’
She nodded tersely, struggling to stifle her temper. ‘I believe they are below the northern ridge. But I cannot be certain.’
Fiacail shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter, I suppose. Tóla will follow them and identify where they set camp tonight, in any case.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because that is what I instructed him to do.’
She looked at him blankly.
‘Forgive me for not conferring with you but you were asleep. I felt the precaution would be ... prudent.’
Bodhmhall watched him as he leaned out from the gateway into the lis, the lingering resentment from the imagined slight competing with grudging admiration.
You were right, Cairbre. He does have a unique mind and thinks several steps ahead.
Unaware of her scrutiny, Fiacail bellowed; ‘Ultán!
A moment later, his kinsman appeared from inside the lean-to and stared up at his leader.
‘Ultán, we go visiting tonight. Prepare your best blades.’
The dark-haired warrior nodded without expression and returned inside. Fiacail turned to fix the bandraoi with a look that retained no trace of his earlier arousal. ‘You can rest easy, Bodhmhall. Tóla will continue to watch the entrance to the valley to make sure there are no further surprises. Bearach can keep adequate watch from inside the ráth but I suggest you keep your stock within and the door barricaded tonight.’ He glanced up at the sky. ‘Night will not be long in falling and Tóla will return with the dark. I will leave you now. There are many things to do. And one thing, at least, I am obliged to do on my own.’
***
It was mid-day when Muirne Muncháem finally regained consciousness. Preparing a remedy for one of the younger Ráth Dearg children, Bodhmhall saw her visitor stir, sit up, yawn and stare drowsily about the roundhouse. She watched with some amusement as Muirne’s eyes fell on the Ráth Dearg refugees. Blinking in surprise, the Flower of Almhu stared uncomprehendingly at the unfamiliar children. Unconsciously, her left hand reached down to touch her baby as though reassuring herself that he was still there with her and hadn’t suddenly grown up overnight.
Staggering off the sleeping platform, she stumbled forwards on unsteady feet. Bodhmhall sighed and rose to intercept her. Muirne was clearly aware that something very much out of the ordinary had occurred. She would be in a foul mood and it was beholden on a good host to protect her guests from the subsequent conflict.
Guiding the confused young woman to one side, she sat her down and offered her some fresh water as she explained what she had done. As anticipated, Muirne did not take the news well. Outraged that the bandraoi had dared to drug her, she was even more furious at the length of time she’d been kept unconscious. Fortunately, her grogginess undermined her anger and her outrage was further distracted by the urgent need to empty her bowels after two days of inactivity.
Bodhmhall watched her scurry through the doorway. The rush of air though the temporary gap behind her was cold but sweet. The cramped interior was already smelling strongly of body odor and damp, as though a pack of wet dogs had taken up residence. Having spent several days in the Great Wild, the children seemed loath to leave the security and warmth of the dwelling. Some of the older ones, seven or eight years of age, stayed close to Gnathad, the fair haired woman, and held her close. Two of the younger children were stretched on their stomachs by the fire pit when she entered, playing quietly with makeshift toy animals that Cairbre had created from pine cones and twigs. In some respects, thought Bodhmhall, they were the lucky ones. Too young to fully understand what had happened to their homestead or to recall much of the suffering endured during their travels to Ráth Bládhma, they would not be haunted by the experience.
Unlike Cumann.
Bodhmhall regarded the dark haired Ráth Dearg woman sadly. She was seated at the edge of the second sleeping platform, staring into space and rocking slowly back and forth as she keened quietly to herself. So far she had not responded to any of their efforts at communication and seemed oblivious to their presence.
Later that afternoon, Bodhmhall helped Conchenn prepare a thin soup of pork bones and watercress. Although it lacked substance, the potage was tasty and immediately devoured by the children, prompting fresh concerns for the bandraoi. The population of the settlement had more than doubled and despite the ráth’s access to dairy products and blood cake they wouldn’t be long in eating through the remaining food reserves with such numbers.
When she’d finished feeding the children, the bandraoi examined her guests and treated their physical wounds. With the exception of Cathal’s toes, these were relatively minor and she was confident that even the old warrior’s feet could be healed with sufficient rest and care. Although not a healer by inclination, the Gift permitted her to assess the characteristic sickly hue that wounds took on when they became sore and tainted. From experience and experimentation, she had worked out that treating certain wounds with specific herbs and ointments had the ability to reduce and eventually extinguish these hues, thereby contributing to the patient’s successful recovery.
As she ground up the ingredients needed to make a poultice for Cathal’s feet, some instinct made her look over to where Muirne Muncháem was sitting, observing her with an indecipherable expression. On returning to the roundhouse, Muirne had quickly reestablished her dominance over the larger sleeping platform, defending any intrusion with an aggression that equaled the most territorial of beasts. At the time, Bodhmhall had been surprised that she’d not returned to their argument, something that the bandraoi was happy to forestall.
She sighed and put her pestle aside, preparing herself for another interminable conflict. ‘What is it, Muirne? What poisons trouble your world now?’
‘I misjudged you, Bodhmhall. I was wrong about you.’
She looked at the younger woman in surprise. Despite her earlier indignation, Muirne looked unusually calm, sitting quietly with the babe sucking greedily at her breast. It was a picture quite at odds with the combative personality Bodhmhall was accustomed to contending with.
‘What do you mean?’
‘As I said, I think I have misjudged you. Cumhal always insisted that you were uncommonly kind but I never truly believed him. And yet, when you did not need to, you took me in.’
‘I took him in,’ she nodded at the babe. ‘My nephew. You were merely the vessel.’
The Flower of Almhu shrugged, the insult bouncing off her like a sword blade off a metal studded shield. ‘Nevertheless, you offered sanctuary when many others would have turned their door to my face.’
Bodhmhall regarded her warily, unsure where the Almhu woman was trying to lead the conversation. A sudden peal of laughter from the fire-pit drew her gaze to where one of the little girls was lying on her back, convulsed with laughter. She smiled unconsciously at the welcome break to the otherwise dreary interior. Turning back to Muirne, she stiffened when she saw that she too was looking at the child, an open and benevolent smile on her lips.
Muirne, in her turn, was a little unsettled when she turned back to find the bandraoi observing her but she carelessly brushed her discomfort aside. ‘And then there are these people from Ráth Dearg,’ she continued, taking up from where she had stopped. ‘I’ve watched you for some time and seen how you personally tend to strangers in your home. You display a generosity of spirit I’m unaccustomed to experiencing at first hand. At first, I assumed this was a pretense, an act on your part. Now, I’m convinced that it is genuine.’
Bodhmhall stared at her. ‘Why would you possibly think I would play false in my efforts to help these people?’
‘It’s what I would do. I usually make a point of working to earn the goodwill of those in my company in case I should have need to call on their assistance sometime in
the future.’
‘If goodwill is not sincere, then it is surely impossible to sustain. Besides, I do not recall you working hard to earn my goodwill at Dún Baoiscne.’
‘At Dún Baoiscne, I had no need of you. I had Cumhal. Besides, you were a potential rival.’
‘And now?’
‘And now? Clann Baoiscne is in the descent. We find ourselves in a similar situation. There is no time and no need for such rivalry between us.’
Bodhmhall exhaled long and slow. ‘You truly are a twisted branch, Muirne.’
‘I am the product of my upbringing. You cannot judge me for acting as I have been brought up to act. At Almhu there are no other offspring, no sons to bear arms or to defend the family name. I am sole heir to my parents’ wealth,’ Muirne continued. ‘As a woman, I have no training in martial combat. Instead I am obliged to rely on those weapons that I can wield to best effect: my looks, my intelligence and my political skills.’
‘Which you wielded well on my brother.’
‘It’s true. I did use them to charm him but it was a good match, linking our family to yours. From a political perspective at least.’ She grew quiet. ‘You may not believe me, Bodhmhall, but I truly liked your brother. And I admired him. He was a good man, a kind husband. His death leaves a scar on my heart.’
For just a moment the Flower of Almhu’s eyes moistened, a reaction she countered in a bustle of activity. Raising the baby onto her shoulder, she patted him on the back in an attempt to burp him as Conchenn had shown her, despite the fact that he did not require it. The baby seemed to share in this belief for he immediately started to wail and she was obliged to set him back on the nipple.
‘You and I, Bodhmhall. We are not that different. Were you not raised in similar circumstances, an instrument for your parents’ great designs? You were, at least, fortunate enough to escape the fate planned for you.’
Bodhmhall considered her old adversary, wryly amused by the situation. It seemed unnatural but they appeared to be having a civil conversation, a genuine sharing of opinions and histories if not of confidences.
Fionn- Defence of Ráth Bládhma Page 20
