Conall watched as Taidle Ulad swung down, hitched his horse, and started up the hill. As he passed through the palisade gates, the druid saw Conall and called a greeting.

“How is it, Taidle, that you look less old each time I see you? Were you born old and grow younger each day?” the warrior asked the druid with a smirk, knowing full well the name was an honorary another had carried until the Briton lopped off his head after the battle of Glencree six years before. Until recently, the man now known as Taidle Ulad had been called Bréanainn and had grown up in Emain Macha. Conall remembered battering him with his camán and joking about how he would end up on the council instead of becoming a warrior, the dream of every young Ulsterman.

“Yes, Conall, very funny.”

“And still no beard. How will you ever become a true graybeard if you cannot grow one?” Conall laughed.

“I have a beard,” Taidle said.

“What, that wispy white thing on your chin? It is a stretch to call that a beard. It looks like something you stole from a badger’s arse.”

“You know, warrior, I will not deign to respond to your petty attempts to goad me. I will remain aloof, as always.”

“I knew you were a loof, Taidle,” Conall seemed besotted with his humor. “But be wary of telling everyone; they will drum you out of the Elder Council,” the stress on the elder, causing Conall to laugh again.

“That also is supposed to be funny, I think?” Taidle asked with a frown.

“In all seriousness, Taidle, why are you here in Emain Macha?” Conall asked.

The druid’s place was in Temuir, where he would counsel the High King as soon as they crowned him. In the absence of a High King, his function was to continue the administration of the kingdom of Meath. With the turmoil of the years since Connery’s death, Conall suspected the druid should be fully occupied in that role.

“There has been a proposal for High King. I was sent to Emain Macha to prepare the boy for his kingship.”

“Ah yes, the boy, Lugaid. And do you and the council think he will make a good High King?”

“What do we know, Conall? Only time will answer such a question.”

“But you must have talked about it?”

“You know as well as I that I cannot discuss the council’s inner workings with a mere warrior,” Taidle sighed. “Will you never stop trying to be one step ahead of the herd?”

Conall did not take offense at the reference to his being a mere warrior or, indeed, to his place among the cattle. Neither was meant offensively. “Never. A warrior stays alive by being one step ahead.”

“I must speak to the king, Conall. Do you know where I can find him?”

***

Taidle Ulad did not miss the look of disgust that briefly crossed Conall’s face. They are still not over their differences, he thought. Something must be done before it takes its head and is unstoppable. I will inform the council.

It came as no surprise to him. Although he was a young man, he knew the king had tried to have Conall slain during his attempt to wrest power from High King Eterscel. Everyone in the Five Kingdoms knew of it. The council frequently debated what they should have done in its aftermath if anything. The younger members of the druidic order felt they needed self-determination for any society to succeed. The Elder Council was less sure. Something had invariably gone wrong whenever the people were left to their own devices.

“As far as I know, he is in the feast hall, trying to get under the skirts of the Jute.”

“Ah, yes, Dervla. Is she as beautiful as they say?”

“What would I know, druid? I could not tell a beautiful woman from a sow’s arse. She has flaxen hair and blue eyes. Her teats would not look out of place on a milk cow. Does that make her beautiful? You tell me.”

“Now, now, Conall, just because you have no interest in the fairer sex does not mean you cannot tell perfection when you see it.”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I suppose she might be considered a beauty for those who have time for that sort of thing.”

“Ha, it is not a question of time, Conall,” the druid said as he walked away.

He found the king on his dais in the feast hall. Mac Nessa seemed distracted, not paying any attention to the company. Just as Conall had said, the king’s attention was all for the flaxen-haired Scandinavian, standing slightly apart from the court women, who had their backs to her. He was surprised by the apparent hostility between them. It was as though the women of Emain Macha felt threatened by the beauty of the visitor. Rumor said she had come to court seeking the hand of the young Setanta, The Hound. Seemingly, the women of Ulster would fight for the privilege of being wed to the king’s favorite, but the attention of the foreign woman was not welcome. Not many believed that he was a demigod, but they all thought he had the physique of one. The animosity was not eased by her beauty, either.

“Sire,” Taidle said when he arrived before the dais.

“Taidle, what brings you here?” Kathvar asked on behalf of the king, which caused Taidle to frown.

His business was with the king and not another member of the council. Not that Kathvar spent much time on Ynys Môn. He spent his time bent over Mac Nessa’s chair, whispering in his ear. Dornoll had been specific. Taidle was not to allow Kathvar to take control of the proceedings.

“Sire, the council sent me to school Lugaid and act as his counselor,” he said, looking directly at the king.

Mac Nessa turned away from staring at Dervla as Taidle finished speaking. The druid could see he had said something to upset the king but was unsure what it might be. Surely not the information that he would be responsible for training Lugaid? The druid of Temuir was responsible for preparing the proposed High King for his role. Dornoll told Taidle it had always been so.

“Who decided that you would school the boy?” the king asked with quiet menace.

“I do not understand you, sire. The druid of Temuir has always schooled the heir presumptive.”

“I do not believe that to be true, boy, but putting that aside, this time, the heir presumptive is my son, and I want Kathvar to school him.”

“Your son, sire? I thought it had been recently discovered Lugaid was born of incest and is the get of one of the brothers Findemna?”

The druid watched the tide of understanding wash over the king’s face. His clever scheme to take control of the throne had turned on him. He could not claim control over Lugaid’s training, and the realization punctured his ego like a pig’s bladder ball with a lance.

“My mistake, Taidle. I am yet to get used to realizing the boy is not my son.”

Taidle nodded and laughed within. Dornoll had said the king would have no recourse but to accept Taidle and allow him to train Lugaid. He had made a mistake by disowning the boy. Had he kept his head, he could have ruled the Five Kingdoms.

“Where is he, sire?”

“Kathvar?”

“These days, he spends most of his time with Cú Chulainn in the training field. You would be best to look there.”

The druid of Temuir nodded and left the hall. He was surprised the surrender of the king had not been more fraught. The council was convinced Mac Nessa had engineered the proposal of his son because he thought he would be able to control the boy and run the Five Kingdoms from the comfort of his hillfort in Emain Macha. It was not unknown that the king of Ulster craved the high kingship. He had been maneuvering for the crown since before the reign of Connery.

As Kathvar had predicted, Taidle found Lugaid on the practice field with Cú Chulainn. There were two archery butts at the far end of the field, and Cú Chulainn was instructing the younger man in the use of the bow. Taidle crossed his arms and watched as Lugaid loosed a bundle of arrows. The druid clapped his hands and smiled. The smile died almost as quickly as it had appeared. He could only describe the look from the warrior beside Lugaid as chilling.

“You are?” he asked.

“Taidle Ulaid. I am the druid of Temuir. The council sent me to school Lugaid in preparation for his kingship.”

“See, Taidle, I have hit the three out of four times,” Lugaid boasted with his chest heaved out, unaware of the tension between the two men.

“This is all very well, Lugaid, but I am not a good judge of martial skill. My role in all this is as your counselor.”

“So, what then do you counsel, druid?” Cú Chulainn spat with obvious disdain. “The boy’s father told him that he is a bastard born of incest, and the kings and queens of the Five Kingdoms are trying to use him as a piece in their stupid games. Not to mention the council.”

Taidle looked at the warrior and wished he had had the sense to bring Conall with him. But then, he had not expected such hostility from the boy’s foster father. He was glad the boy had a protector simultaneously, as he was nervous about being the object of that man’s scrutiny.

He cleared his throat and said, “Were I Lugaid, I would strive for patience. I grant that he has become a piece in the power struggles of the Five Kingdoms, but with a little time, the ripples in that pond will smooth over, and he will have power.”

“I do not want power, Taidle,” Lugaid said plainly before untying a new bundle and returning to his archery.

“Why not?” Taidle asked. “Much good can come of power in the right hands.”

“But his are not the right hands, druid. He has no feel for politics nor skill.”

“That is why I am here, Setanta. My task is to provide him with the skills he would need to be a strong ruler.”

“And when is the bull feast?”

“Three months hence.”

“You think you can teach him in three months how to rule the Five Kingdoms,” Cú Chulainn scoffed. “Good luck, druid. This I have to see.”