The King was sitting on his throne in the feast hall of Emain Macha, awaiting the day’s court. It was apparent to Kathvar that Mac Nessa was in another of his mischievous moods, and he hoped the Tuatha Dé Danann would come to the petitioners’ assistance on this day. The druid was standing behind the King’s chair in his customary place—the place where it was most convenient to lean over and whisper in the King’s ear. He did not think there would be much call for those whispers today.
“There are two petitions this morning, sire. There is a dispute between farmers over land boundaries, and a warrior is petitioning for the hand of one of the ladies of the court.”
“Which one?”
“Deirdre, sire.”
“I do not recall a Deirdre.
“You brought her to court when she was very young. She showed promise—possible marriage material, with blond locks and sky-blue eyes. But close to becoming a woman, she lost her looks to a skin rash and was not developing any breasts, so you lost interest. She has been acting for other ladies in court since.”
“Ah, yes. I remember now. Can we deal with the warrior first? I assume it will be a simple matter. He is an Ulsterman, I hope?”
“Yes, sire, he is a Red Branch warrior named Naoise.”
Mac Nessa nodded.
“Send in Naoise,” the druid called.
A few moments later, a tall warrior strode up the central aisle and stood before the dais, fidgeting with his cloak. Mac Nessa could see he was trying to repin the brooch on his shoulder as if he felt the cloak was not sitting correctly. The arrival of their peer piqued the interest of the chieftains and warriors in the feast hall. They all knew Naoise by reputation and knew he was a fair and honest warrior. What business he might have with the King was making them curious. They had stopped their usual gossiping to listen to the petition.
The King stared at Naoise impatiently while he waited for the warrior to make his request. The fidgeting was beginning to annoy him, and he was about to chastise the warrior when Naoise stopped twitching his cloak and looked up at the King steadfastly. His expression gave Mac Nessa pause because he expected a homely man forced to take other men’s leavings. The warrior standing before him was tall, broad, square-jawed, and held the pommel of his sword with a grip so firm that his knuckles were white. His skin was pale to the verge of translucence, and his hair was as black as a raven’s feathers.
“Well, man?” the King asked.
“I am sorry, sire; I know you are busy.”
“Not so busy as it happens. What is this about?”
Mac Nessa was enjoying the moment. Although physically strong, the warrior found presenting his petition a little daunting. He intended to ask his King for a favor, and his nervousness was evident to those in the feast hall.
“I am sorry, sire—”
“Yes, you said that already,” the King interrupted. “What do you want?”
“I would like to take Deirdre for my wife,” the warrior blurted before he could think better of it and run from the feast hall.
“What has that to do with me, Naoise, is it?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Surely your own chieftain should be giving you permission to marry?”
“Deirdre is a lady of your court, sire. Only you can permit me to marry her.”
“Deirdre, a lady of my court. I know no Deirdre.” Kathvar leaned over the chair and whispered in the King’s ear. “What, that homely girl? Why would anyone want to marry a girl who looks like a sow’s arse?”
“Homely. Who says she is homely?” In his enthusiasm to extol the virtues of his love, the warrior overlooked the insult, “Oh, no, sire, Deirdre is the most beautiful woman in the Five Kingdoms.”
“Really. From what I remember of Deirdre, no man could want to marry her. She is short with a spotty face and a flat chest.”
“She was, sire, I grant you. I have known her since she came to court, but she has flowered. She has golden locks and blue eyes. She is tall and lithe despite her full chest. She is the most beautiful woman in the Five Kingdoms.”
“Are you calling me a liar, or addled perhaps?”
“No, sire. Of course not.”
“It sounds to me like you are calling me a liar.”
“I promise you, sire. I would not dream of it. We can settle this easily. You could call her to the court and see for yourself.”
The King looked over his shoulder and winked at Kathvar. “What do you think, druid? Shall we call her to the court?”
The druid shrugged. “We have time, sire if it takes your fancy.”
“Call the lady Deirdre,” the King shouted to the door guards.
It only took a few seconds before Deirdre walked into the feast hall. She had evidently been waiting outside for the guards to call her. As she walked up the aisle towards the dais, the King and the druid drew in a sharp breath. Naoise had not lied when he said Deirdre had flowered into a beauty. If anything, his description of her was understated.
The moment he laid eyes on her, the King knew he would have her in his bed. It did not matter what the consequences were; he would not pass up the opportunity to have the woman grunting beneath him. Naoise was tall and strong and would swat the King aside like so much chaff, but he would have to go through Conall to do so. The King looked to his right, assuring himself his bodyguard was there. Conall looked bored but concentrated. He was not staring at the girl like most men in the feast hall.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Come, Deirdre, stand before me,” Mac Nessa said. “Well, you are a pretty one, just as Naoise proclaimed. You have my apologies, Naoise. Deirdre’s presence has proved me wrong.”
“Thank you, sire.”
“You may marry her. Which man would not want to marry her?”
“Thank you, sire,” they both said, turning to kiss, beaming their happiness.
“You are dismissed, and I wish you joy.”
The young couple turned and began to walk up the aisle when the King called, “Oh, Naoise, lest I forget.”
“Sire?” the warrior asked, turning back to look at the King.
“You have not forgotten the rights of First Night, I am sure?”
The effect of the King’s words was dramatic—from a calm morning of listening to inane petitions to a pre-battle stress was immediate. Conall grasped the hilt of his sword and took a step towards Naoise, who had turned to stare at the King.
“What did you say,” and after a pause, “sire?”
“I will be exercising the right of First Night. Inform Kathvar of the date of your wedding well in advance. My days are generally full, and we must be sure I have the time.”
Naoise took hold of his hilt and stepped towards the dais. Deirdre grabbed his arm and hissed, “No, Naoise, Conall will kill you.”
“Listen to Deirdre, Naoise. I would not want to harm you, but I am oathbound to protect the King. If you draw your sword, I will kill you.”
Naoise looked away from Connavar and seemed to see Conall for the first time. “You would defend that?”
“Have a care, warrior. You are upset, but do not give the king reason to order your death.”
“Listen to my protector, Naoise, and scurry along before I lose my temper. Be sure to give Kathvar the date. The court is adjourned,” the King said before standing and leaving the feast hall with Kathvar hard on his heels.
***
“Come, Naoise,” Deirdre said, pulling on his arm to get him away from the hall. She kept pulling until they were under the forest’s eaves and away from prying eyes. Naoise had not come without objection. Deirdre had been forced to pull him. She could tell he wanted nothing more than to run after the King and cut off his manhood as a demonstration.
Finally, she sat him down in the druid’s glade and took his head in her hands. “It is his right, Naoise.”
“No king or lord has demanded First Night for as long as I can remember, Deirdre. That fool has overstepped the mark. He cannot expect you to go to his bed on our wedding night.”
“What choice is there? If I do not go, he will just send Conall, and he will kill you. Do not think for one minute that guilt or shame would prevent him. Conall is the King’s man, through and through.”
“Fergus says not.”
“Fergus is a fool if he thinks Conall will do anything but his king’s bidding.”
Naoise nodded and looked down at the grass. He did not want his girl defiled by the likes of Mac Nessa. He was not even a real man, fat, gone to seed, getting other men to fight his battles. Naoise could not believe he had backed him for High King. If he could demand First Night from a warrior’s woman, Naoise could not even imagine what other atrocities he would be capable of. The reason for Medb’s dislike of Mac Nessa, which everyone knew about but no one openly discussed, suddenly became apparent to Naoise. Mac Nessa would not make a good High King, and Medb was right to oppose him at every turn.
That insight, though, did not help.
What could he do to keep his pride and Deirdre’s virtue? Deirdre thought he could do nothing, and at face value, that was correct. But he knew there was another possibility. They could marry in secret.
“We could elope,” he said, testing Deirdre’s reaction.
He could see in her eyes she had been hoping he would suggest it. She could not. She would never dream of asking her man to relinquish his oath of fealty or abandon his brothers in arms.
“You would consider that for me, Naoise?”
“Yes. For you, Deirdre, I would face the hordes of the Fomorians with a smile and an unburdened heart.”
“It would mean exile. Connavar would never forgive us for disobeying him. Nowhere in the Five Kingdoms would be safe from his wrath.”
“It is no matter, Deirdre. I would gladly become an exile to keep you out of that madman’s clutches.”
“What shall we do?”
“We must go to Medb. She does not love our King, and I know she will help us.”
“We would not be safe in Crúachain.”
“No, but Medb will know the best course of action. She will help us, Deirdre, I am sure of it.”
***
The next day, Naoise and Deirdre sat at the main table in the feast hall at Crúachain. Medb was there, but Ailill was not.
“You say he demanded First Night?”
“Yes, majesty.”
“The right of First Night has not been practiced for years. Only that fool could be so crass.”
“What can we do?” Deirdre pleaded.
“Fear not, my dear. I have just the solution. You could hide in the Five Kingdoms, but he would find you. Mac Nessa is a vindictive man who will not rest if you cross him. As you plan, you must marry in secret. Then you can go to Scathach on the Isle of Shadows. She will protect you for a price. Do you have means?”
Naoise nodded.
“That is settled then. Marry here tomorrow and leave immediately for the Isle of Shadows. Connavar will not be able to touch you there.”