The gait of the horses was slow. The druid wasn’t like someone with a pressing need to be somewhere. He was lost in his thoughts. Fedelm guessed it was the fight with Genonn that was making him so. Before Cú Chulainn had broken it up, they raised their voices, and everyone in the dún was staring at them.
I hope Genonn is alright, Fedelm thought. She didn’t know Kathvar’s eldest well, but she wouldn’t wish him ill. The little she knew showed him to be gentle and caring, the opposite of Cú in many ways. He doesn’t deserve such treatment.
She turned to look at the troop of warriors chatting among themselves. All except Bradán, riding immediately behind, chewing on a twig stuck in the corner of his mouth. Turning forward, she could feel the intensity of his stare on the back of her neck. There was no way to misconstrue the warrior’s feelings. Having a young and inexperienced suitor was not something she felt like dealing with. She was still smarting from Cú’s rejection, his choosing Emer over her, and needed a bumbling would-be lover like she needed her mare to throw a shoe.
Why do young men always time it so badly? Under normal circumstances, I would find him attractive. Older men like Genonn are less clumsy, she thought and then frowned at the sentiment. Beside her, Kathvar was deep in thought, occasionally tugging on his beard. He’d been quiet since Dún Dealgan. She still didn’t understand the cause of the argument. When Cú intervened, she feared blood would be spilled. The young man could be as rigid as an old fishwife with her smoking recipe. But this time, he’d been right. A funeral was not the place for a family spat, whatever the cause. She wondered if she might try to prise some information out of Kathvar. The fight must have upset him. Before this ride, she would have thought the druid was immune to paternal feelings. Now, she wasn’t so sure. And then she remembered what Genonn said to her when they carried Fergus and the cairn stones up the rise outside the settlement. Ailill did not order Fergus’ death.
She was about to ask Kathvar what Genonn meant when they rounded a bend in Slíghe Dala, and she caught sight of the settlement. She drew in a sharp breath, as she always did when seeing the immense ráth atop the ramparts and the tall watchtower behind the gate. Dún Ailinne. Royal seat of Leinster. Although not visible from where they were, she knew the road dove under the gatehouse, presenting a formidable obstacle to any would-be besiegers. Despite being mesmerized by the fortress atop its hill, she found her voice to ask, “What did he mean when he said Ailill didn’t order Fergus murdered?”
“Who would that be?”
“Genonn. He said Ailill didn’t order Fergus killed.”
Kathvar hesitated.
She listened to the dripping leaves on the side of the road to give him a chance to get his thoughts in order. The rain had passed. The smell of damp lingered in the loam, the horse tackle, even in Fedelm’s cowl. She sighed. After the stench of armies, the scents were welcome. The druid surprised her when he asked why she was in the Five Kingdoms instead of Caer Leb.
You dragged me away from my studies so I could keep an eye on Cú and scare the Queen’s armies with prophecies. She felt like saying, Nonsense to sway the superstitious, but said, “You asked me to come.”
Why did Cú take me beside the Bóand and then go back to Emer? a thought from nowhere. She shook her head.
“That is not my meaning. You were meant to return to Ynys Môn and continue your studies with Biróg. Why did you stay?”
Fedelm glowered at the druid. He dragged her away from her studies when he needed her, only to want her gone when his need was no more.
Typical man. Or perhaps, typical druid. “I counted Fergus as a friend. I could not return to my studies without first paying my respects.”
“And why did you come with me? Why did you leave Dún Dealgan when I asked?”
She told Kathvar she didn’t know why, all the while thinking, I needed to get away from Cú and Emer acting like new lovers.
Hesitating again, it was Kathvar’s turn to gaze at the warriors riding behind. His brow was furrowed, no doubt distracted by how Genonn and he came close to blows during what should have been a solemn ceremony. Fedelm found the enmity between father and sons confusing. Imrinn was young and, from what she could see, treated well. Genonn was not young and often hinted at being badly treated. Hinted that something had happened in Ráth Droma. Never more than hints, which was frustrating. And now Imrinn had also rebelled against his father. Before the battle, he was nothing but dutiful, following his studies and accepting Kathvar’s advice. The evening after, he suddenly sided with Genonn, condemning the druidic way and arguing against the injustice of the Elder Council. Blaming their father as Genonn had done. Kathvar felt betrayed, though she doubted he would admit it to anyone, least of all his sons. And certainly not to her.
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“Why do you think we are riding to Dún Ailinne?” he finally asked, turning to look at her with that all-knowing air he used. He eased the reins slightly, giving his gelding a little freedom, which was welcomed with a snort and a toss of the head and waited. Fedelm respected Kathvar’s restraint. Had always respected it. It was the main reason she accepted his request to ride with him.
Not the main reason, she amended. One of the reasons.
“We need to gather nominations for High King from the kings. Beltaine is approaching, and there is to be an election. We need a sovereign. We have been without for too long.”
Fedelm waited for a reaction, which did not come. She was training to be a seeress; reading people was a key to those studies. I still have some work remaining, she smiled to herself.
“Yes. All true. But why Dún Ailinne? Mesgegra is disgraced after Gáirech, as is Mac Dedad. So why do we seek nominations from Leinster and Munster?”
“With Mac Nessa also in disgrace, we need to provide balance to the process. Despite not being disgraced, Ailill doesn’t want the crown, and Connacht will try to place a puppet on the throne.”
“Good. Exactly so. But who do you think is keen to pull the strings of this puppet? Do you think it is that sot Ailill?”
“I met with him before the battle. He plays at being a sot. He is a clever man. I think he has more control over his court than reputation suggests.”
“You might be right, Fedelm, but there is one who does not see it.”
Thinking about what Kathvar was implying, Fedelm shook her head. The rumors of who ruled in Connacht were commonplace. After Mac Nessa ordered the execution of Mane Honey-Tongued, Medb stopped concealing her control from the kingdoms. Rightly so, in Fedelm’s opinion. The Queen was stronger. Ailill took Mane’s death hard and turned to mead. Medb turned to vengeance. The difference between them was evident to all.
“Queen Medb does not accept it,” she said.
“No, she does not. Remind me, why did you meet with Ailill before the battle?”
“I was trying to convince him not to fight. My task, as set by you, was to stop the folly.” Fedelm smiled, trying to lessen the reprimand. She might admire his restraint but did not appreciate his talking down to her.
“And do you think his harp was in tune–”
“He didn’t want the battle. He told me he would talk to her,” she interrupted. “He knows we’re about to lose everything to the Romans.”
“And the battle took place anyway. Ailill’s talking to Medb failed. However, it is not the King’s fault Medb is stronger.” She nodded her agreement.
Kathvar gazed into the forest and explained how Medb was determined to have her battle. How she believed her own tales of her mighty army. How she believed her pups would defeat the Red Branch despite the warnings from battle-hardened warriors, like Fergus and Conall, that setting inexperienced warriors against the Red Branch would be doomed to failure.
“But Conall trained them,” Fedelm said, surprise in her tone.
“He had little to work with and did the best he could. Ultimately, he failed, which Medb understood to be a betrayal. And Fergus told her the armies of the south would fail, which she also took as a betrayal.”
“Are you telling me Medb ordered Fergus murdered?”
“Medb is a vindictive woman unwilling to accept her part in those failures. Do you think she is incapable of ordering Fergus killed?”
“I don’t doubt it.” Fedelm said. “She’s capable of anything. And since you have raised the topic, there is his other betrayal.”
“Other betrayal?”
“During the battle, Fergus broke the lines and had Mac Nessa at his mercy. In her mind, he should have killed the King and attacked the Red Branch from the rear; instead, he let Mac Nessa go and withdrew.”
“Exactly my point, Fedelm. As far as Medb is concerned, those actions were a betrayal. She ordered his execution.”
“But who would perform such a monstrous act for her?”
“Longas.”
“Why do you think it was Longas?” she asked, unsure if the druid was making a jest. He did not appear to be, with his eyes fixed straight ahead at the hill and its tower and his mind somewhere Fedelm could only guess at.
“I had my suspicions and confronted him with them. Rather than deny it, he boasted. Laughed.”
Fedelm shook her head in disbelief. She’d always taken Longas for a buffoon. More interested in drinking and whoring than in the intrigues of the kingdoms’ politics.
“How do you know it to be true?” she asked. “Perhaps Longas lied.”
“I will admit it is a thought I’ve had. However, whenever it crossed my mind, I reminded myself of his gloating look when he told me. He was full of his achievement. I also remember the near panic when I first confronted him with it. Genonn was in no doubt about the man’s guilt.”
Is that pride I hear? she wondered before drawing rein and staring at the druid, suddenly realizing his knowledge put him at risk. “You’re in danger too. Longas can’t allow you to live, knowing the Queen ordered Fergus murdered, and he wielded the spear.”
“You think this guard is for show, perhaps?”
“I did,” Fedelm admitted. She had decided the druid needed a show of ostentation in his advancing years. A way to reaffirm his youth and power, a trait she’d noticed in more than one man of a certain age.
“I suspect I am high on both their lists. I will keep this guard with me until I can resolve the issue of a High King and then concentrate on ways to thwart Medb and Longas. She is proving to be quite an enemy,” he smiled.
“You sound as though you admire her.”
“Oh, I do, Fedelm. She is a wily adversary and deserves respect. Come, let us talk to Mesgegra and see if he has any nominations.” With that, Kathvar goaded his mount to a trot, hurrying the last stretch to the closed gates of the Royal Seat of Leinster.