Macc gazed into the vale at the squat form of Da Derga’s hostel. Smoke from the morning cooking fires wafted out through the central smoke hole high in the thatch. Horses tethered in the stables were visible from their vantage point, so they knew that guests were in the hostel, maybe hoping the invasion would not get this far into the mountains.
“Let it be strong enough,” Macc whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind.
Each kept their own council, but they could all see it was a defensible location. The hostel, a rectangular building with a heavily thatched roof, stood like a fortress against the backdrop of the rugged mountains. They could see the river Dothra, its clear waters reflecting the morning light, running through a culvert under the rear wall and through the open main gates at the front. Stables, storage sheds, and water vats were down the sides, forming part of the walls. Both sides of the hostel boasted three small doors giving access to the vats and sheds. Those who had availed of the hostel’s welcome knew that the common area was central to the building, with three little bridges across the small river at the same interval as the side doors. There were seven rooms on either side where guests could sleep.
“I will ride ahead,” Macc said, “and warn Da Derga that he must evacuate the hostel. Longas, come with me.” Conall looked at Connery for approval and then nodded to Macc and Longas to proceed.
As he rode down into the vale, Macc was a little nonplussed by the ease with which he had ceded control of the warband to the younger Conall. He supposed it had much to do with the other warrior’s solid credentials. Also, Macc could do without the stress caused by the current circumstances. He was a doer and not a planner. Had he been in control, he would have faced the reavers at the first ambush site and damn any consequences to the Land of Eternal Youth, Tír nÓg.
He told Longas to wait by the stable where they had tethered the horses and went in to talk to Da Derga.
“Da,” he said as he approached the redheaded giant behind his serving bench. The hosteler smiled his welcome and gripped Macc’s wrist in friendship. The two men had fought together before the times of peace brought by the laws of Connery.
“The High King is here. We are commandeering the hostel as a refuge until the Red Branch can relieve us.”
Da Derga nodded without speaking and then went to inform the handful of guests who had remained at the benches in the common room despite the invasion. The guests did not object to leaving. They could see the High King’s champion was in the hostel and knew Connery would be nearby. Most would guess that he was the target of the invaders.
Macc went through a side door and told Longas to return to Conall to inform him the riders could stable their horses.
“Refugees have been calling in all day,” Da said when Macc returned. “I have been waiting for a reason to close shop since I heard of the invasion. You think the reavers will come here?”
“We hope to avoid them, Da, but there is no guarantee.”
The redhead nodded and set about cleaning cups. “You should leave now,” Macc said.
“I will stay and defend my hostel if it is all the same to you.”
Macc nodded. He had known Da Derga would refuse to leave. Not only was he a giant of a man, he was also a tried and tested warrior. His company fighting the invaders was more than welcome.
“How would you set about defending this place?” Conall asked Da Derga a short time later. Conall, Macc, Connery, and Da Derga sat at one of the vacated benches.
“I designed it so there is only one real way in,” the hosteler paused to gather his thoughts. “There are six small doors, but they can be sealed and easily defended by one or two warriors. Were I in command, I would seal the main doors and five of the side doors, keeping one as an escape. If it is discovered, the unsealed door can be defended by a handful of men.”
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“What do you mean if it is discovered?” Macc asked.
“My guess is that unless the raiders see us use the door, they will never suspect it to be unsealed. They will expect us to seal ourselves in and wait for the Red Branch to arrive.”
Conall nodded. The logic seemed sound. Then he asked, “Do you have water and food stores inside the hostel?”
“No, because the vats and sheds are close to the side doors, I never saw the need.”
“We know that at least one hundred and fifty invaders are armed with bows, and there are probably many more. Going out for supplies will be too dangerous after the siege begins. I agree that we must seal the doors, but we need to get food and water inside first. We might be waiting for the Red Branch for a long time.”
Da Derga nodded.
“Macc, can you organize work parties?” Conall asked. Macc nodded. Accepting his menial role without question, he moved about the retinue resting at the hostel benches and issued orders before returning to where Connery and the others were sharing a cup of mead. Da Derga was laughing at some quip as Macc approached. There seemed to be a false camaraderie at the bench as if the men were nervous about the upcoming trial and trying to hide it with bluster.
“How did you lose them?” the hosteler asked after Macc sat down and poured himself a cup of mead.
“We set fires and posted sentries like we were settling at camp. Then, in the darkness away from the fires, we made bundles to create the impression of a sleeping warband—”
“That should not have worked, surely?” Da Derga interrupted.
“No, had they been vigilant, they would have seen through the ruse quickly, but we knew them to be unseasoned. We were relying on it.”
“How did you know?”
“They laid an ambush on The Great Road and could not keep still long enough to go undetected. Since then, they have been chasing us all over the Five Kingdoms. Practiced warriors would already be drinking to our demise and admiring our heads on sticks.”
A sudden commotion by the front doors of the hostel caused further discussion about the merits of the invaders to cease. They could hear the raised voice of a guard interspersed with the whining supplication of an old woman.
“What now?” Conall asked as he climbed wearily to his feet.
The others followed him out of the hostel gates. The men who were supposed to be carrying supplies into the hostel were standing around outside the main entrance, staring at an old hag who was being physically manhandled by one of the warriors guarding the gates. He was shouting at her to stop, and she was demanding to be let into the hostel.
“What is the meaning of this?” the High King demanded.
The man who was wrestling with the old woman seemed not to hear. “This hag is trying to gain access to the hostel, my lord,” the other gate guard responded.
“You cannot deny Old Niamh a place at table,” the woman screeched. “Da Derga has always shown Old Niamh hospitality and welcome.”
Macc looked at Da and raised his eyebrows in question. “It is true,” Da said. “Niamh eats here each day. She lives alone in a glade in the next vale.”
“Lady,” Connery said. “There is likely to be a battle here. It is no place for you.”
The woman turned and looked at the High King with recognition and loathing. Macc shivered. In that look, he saw the disdain of all the people of Ériu, not just the disdain of an old woman scratching an existence from the mountains.
“I care not for the vagaries of men and their vanity,” she hissed. “I will eat.”
Macc was about to tell Da Derga to take her into the hostel and feed her when the hiss of her voice seemed to grow and expand beyond recognition. He wasted no time grabbing the King around the waist and pulling him to the ground. A moment later, the hissing became a thudding, like a poorly played drum, before silence descended on the vale. Only seconds had passed when the silence was broken by curses and groans of agony. Macc lifted his head to see the warrior who had been wrestling with the old lady lying face down in the mud with several arrows in his back. He could see no sign of Niamh but knew she might be hidden under the dead warrior.
“Back. Back into the hostel,” Macc heard someone shouting.
He guessed it was Conall, but it could have been any of the men outside. Macc manhandled Connery through the doors. Glancing back, he saw three dead warriors. Others were dragging themselves to the gates or being dragged by the unwounded. He could also see arrows sticking out of the skins of water and bags of other supplies.
Waiting for the Red Branch is going to be thirsty work, he thought, as someone closed the gates and began to seal them.
***
Longas waited until the High King’s retinue were all safely back in the hostel before slowly lowering himself into the river Dothra. It was not deep, but he kept his body prone and his head just above the surface. He could hear the invaders cheering from the sides of the vale and guessed they were too full of their small victory to notice the head of one warrior in the water as he eased himself away from the hostel. He had volunteered his services to the High King so he could report events to his father when he returned to Emain Macha. He had no intention of dying in a lonely vale of the Chualann Mountains on behalf of a man who did not deserve to be High King of an ant hill, let alone of Ériu.