Two days later, the brothers were sitting around a fire in the sand dunes above the strand at Bend Etair. After Fandall agreed to act as their strategist, Lee sent messages to the disenchanted sons of the chieftains of Ériu. Despite his promises to Fandall, he’d been unsure how the youths would react. Sitting in front of the fire, he could not believe his eyes. One hundred and fifty or more youths were gathered, all thirsting for the glory High King Connery’s laws had denied them.

Connery the Great, The Peaceful King? Connery the Weak, the Boring King, would be more accurate, Lee thought, looking at the men whispering around the fires.

“What should we do now, Lee?” Rogain asked.

Lee glanced around at the men and wondered what Fandall would do if he were on the knoll, instead of at a hostel in the harbor settlement, thinking his presence would not be required on the beach. “I do not know, Rogain; maybe we should get them to swear an oath of allegiance?”

“Yes, that sounds like the right thing,” Gar said. “Get them to swear by the sisters, Badb, Morrigan, and Macha, that they will fight and die for glory.”

***

Lee gazed at his brothers sitting on their mounts, watching with glee as the settlement burned. The other youths in the warband were raping the women and digging up the silver. The mood was one of jubilance. This is what the young men of the warband had missed by being born too late. They had been born when the law was about to change, their chances of glory removed forever. They had been born when the hard exterior of the kingdoms of Ériu withered to be replaced by the soft underbelly. None of them had felt the thrill of battle before Lee and his brothers came forward to show them the thrill of war. It didn’t matter that the dead around the settlement were old men and women armed with hoes or rusty swords.

The thrill would be the same if they were Red Branch. Take the warrior.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Lee looked over at Fandall and marveled at the change. His shield boss was almost glittering, his scabbard was repaired, and his chin was shining, bereft of whiskers. A flagon of mead was always close to hand, but what did it matter, so long as he did not collapse unconscious during a battle?

There’s a long way yet to travel, but it’s a start.

Lee watched a villager stumbling towards them. The old man carried a gash on his head, which, although superficial, was bleeding profusely. He came with his hands raised in supplication. Lee supposed, by his look, that he was a settlement elder. Gar swung down from his saddle and laughed as he killed the man before sawing at his neck to take the head, yet another trophy to add to his growing collection.

“What did I tell you, Fandall?” Lee asked. “Riches, glory, and heads.”

The older warrior looked at him as if he had walked into the feast hall at Temuir dragging a dead dog. Fandall was meant to be enjoying the Destruction of the settlements in Connacht but kept complaining that it was not what Lee promised. Fandall was expecting one more glorious battle, culminating in a chance to go to Donn’s mound as a hero instead of a craven who fled his post, allowing his king to be murdered in his sleep. Lee frowned when the warrior turned his horse and rode away without a word.

“What is wrong with him?” Gar asked with a grin while cleaning his sword on the tunic of the dead elder.

“Who knows, there is no pleasing some. I should have left the old goat on Ynys Môn, ready to sell himself to the highest bidder in some darkened space between the blockhouses.”

Fandall was a drunken shell of his former self. Still, Lee was not so naïve as to think they could succeed without a seasoned fighter to protect them from making mistakes born of inexperience. He turned his horse and rode to catch up with him.

When he reached the warrior, Lee asked, “What is the matter? You seem upset.”

“This is not what you promised, mac Desa. We are supposed to be hunting for glory.”

“Yes, I know what I promised. You must be patient. Becoming a thorn in Connery’s hide is important to create that final battle. This...’ he hesitated, nodding at the burning village, “Is just so we are noticed. We will get to Crúachain soon enough, where there will be glory for all.”

“But when, Lee? When will we go to Crúachain?”

“We go there next.” Lee nodded as though he was agreeing with himself. “My foster brother will be forced to react, and then there will be that glorious battle you crave so strongly.”