“Has anyone seen Lugaid?” Setanta asked of the company in the feast hall. It was the morning of the bull feast and he could not find his foster son anywhere. The boy was not in his roundhouse or the roundhouse of his mother. He was beginning to think the boy had kept his promise and run off with his lute.
“The last I saw, he was sitting with his back to the Mound of Hostages, snoring like a charging boar,” a warrior called Cathasach said with a chuckle.
“Is he drunk?”
“Hard to say. He is certainly sleeping something off,” Cathasach responded. The warriors within hearing chuckled and shook their heads. It would not be a great surprise to them if he was drunk. Who would not be on the eve of their coronation?
Not running, but drinking, then, Setanta thought. I hope he is able to stand during the ceremony.
“I would thank you all not to laugh at your future, High King,” he said with a frown. The chuckles stopped abruptly. Satisfied that they were suitably chastised, Setanta left the feast hall in search of his wayward charge.
When he reached the mound and saw Lugaid, Setanta shook his head. He knew that his foster son would prefer to remain apart from what the people of the Five Kingdoms held important. He was not cut out to be a High King, but who could gainsay the wishes of the Assembly of Kings? Only the druids perhaps, but they, too, supported the choice of Lugaid. The druids had spoken. The kings and chieftains represented the people and the people had spoken. The die had been cast and the boy would have to knuckle under and accept the result.
He kicked the sole of Lugaid’s foot.
“Wha”, wha”, what?” the boy mumbled in his sleep before opening his eyes, “Oh, Cú Chulainn, it is you,” he said through a yawn.
“Who else would be kicking you on the day of your coronation, dolt? Have you been drinking?”
“No, I was watching the moon and fell asleep.”
“Well, the blood drinker has spoken. We must go to the bull ring and hear the nominations and objections of the kings and chieftains.”
“What did the blood drinker say?”
“That a boy with a man both father and uncle was to be the next High King.”
“It is true then, Clothra lay with her brothers.”
“You cannot know that, Lugaid. The rite of the bull feast is a game to appease the people. The blood drinker said what the council told him to say. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Mm.” Setanta could see the skepticism in his foster son’s face. “Why did the king say it, if it is not true?”
“That I do not know. He must have his reasons.”
“Mother says it was pettiness because she refused to be manipulated.”
“There you are then. The problem is solved.”
“I do not want to do this, Cú Chulainn. I am not cut of the right cloth for high kingship.”
“Taidle has trained you.”
“I am not ready for it.”
“Taidle says you are as ready as you will ever be.”
“Exactly. I will never be ready.”
Setanta sighed. He did not like playing the games that seemed integral to the ruling classes of Ériu, but Taidle had told him what to say when this moment arose. He had been in no doubt that it would come. He knew the boy was not ready or willing to take on the responsibility that his election entailed.
“Dervla would deign to look at you, were you the High King of the Five Kingdoms.”
“Dervla?”
“The council have decided that she is to be your wife when you are the High King.”
“Dervla is to be my wife?”
“When you are High King.”
“She will be the queen?”
“Yes, Dervla would welcome the idea of being the queen.”
“You think?”
“No, Lugaid, I do not think. I know it to be so. What woman would not want to be queen over all the lands?”
“But Dervla is so beautiful. She could have any king. She could have a king who is strong and able to lead his people.”
“A king rules a kingdom. The High King rules all five kingdoms.”
“But the kings are ready and able to rule their kingdoms. They are properly trained.”
“As are you, boy. You just need to accept it as true.”
***
The chieftains of the Five Kingdoms were nervous. They were standing around the elevated edges of the bull ring of Temuir looking down at Lugaid standing with Taidle Ulad in the bowl. The heir presumptive was looking up at them with a face that spoke openly of his nervousness.
He did well to be nervous.
Their future High King should not be the get of an incestuous relationship between a sister and her brothers. But putting that aside, he should not be quaking in the bull ring like a weakling. He needed to show them his strength and self-confidence. Even the previous High King had shown strength in the bull ring and he had turned out to be the weakest High King the Five Kingdoms had ever known. Not surprisingly, he too had been the get of incest. They knew that those born within a blood bond were the spawn of the Fomorians. Nothing good ever came from them.
“The blood drinker has spoken,” Taidle said. “The High King is he who has a father who is also an uncle. I will now hear from those in favor of Lugaid before I hear objections.”
The chieftains fidgeted nervously, scuffing their feet in the turf of the ring. It was not the boy’s obvious unsuitability making them nervous. They were nervous because Cú Chulainn was standing beside them with his fearsome war hammer strapped across his back and a look of confusion on his face. The chieftains had welcomed the news when it was announced that Cú Chulainn would be the protector of the boy. They had looked on at the fanaticism with which the warrior had assumed the role and nodded their approval. Now, though, that fanaticism was a direct threat to their wellbeing. They would not speak on behalf of the boy, but none of them dared to raise objections either.
“Does no one have anything to say?” Taidle tried again.
“Where are the kings?” Cú Chulainn asked.
Taidle shrugged. The presence of the kings or lack of it, did not interest the druid. “We are gathered here to hear arguments for and against Lugaid for High King. That can be done without the kings.”
Setanta looked around at the nervousness of the men. He did not understand their reticence. Only a few days before these same men had been clamouring to have Lugaid made High King. The kings were absent, and the chieftains wanted to be absent. Even Lugaid wanted to be absent. He realized that the rites were turning into a circus.
“What no one. I will hear objections…,”
“Wait, Taidle, I will speak,” Setanta interrupted. “I look at you chieftains here, now, a few days after you were screaming in favor of Lugaid for High King and you seem much less sure. What has happened in these few days to make you change your minds?”
The chieftains looked at their feet and said nothing. Setanta looked around at the gathered leaders of the Five Kingdoms and wondered again that the kings were not present. He was not surprised about Ailill. Now that he had put paid to Medb’s attempts at manipulation, he expected they would remain apart from the politics of the Five Kingdoms. But for Mac Nessa, Mesgegra, and Dáire to be missing was not something he would expect. They each had an interest in Lugaid assuming the throne.
The news of his origins came after his nomination, Setanta suddenly realized. And these men are here because they were ordered to be here. “You think the boy’s lineage is an issue?” he asked.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
“Nothing good comes from incest,” someone in the crowd called.
“The blood drinker has spoken,” Taidle reiterated.
“And look what happened last time we had a High King born of incest.”
“Years of peace and prosperity?” Setanta asked.
“Which ended in an invasion and a bloodbath.”
“Let us think for a moment about the claim of the king of Ulster. You are convinced that Mac Nessa speaks truly about his wife? Clothra has denied it.”
“Clothra would deny it,” another chieftain called from the crowd.
“You all believe a king known as The Deceiver, over the sweet woman, Clothra? Your gullibility surprises me. Kathvar, where is the king of Ulster? I would hear his version of events.”
“Mac Nessa needed to return to Emain Macha because of an urgent matter. He left me as his voice.”
“And what does Ulster say about Lugaid for High King?”
“Ulster has nothing to say. It is for the chieftains to accept or reject him.”
“And the chieftains seem to have lost their collective voice. What say we go and ask the Stone of Destiny directly?”
The ruling class of Ériu nodded, mumbling their acquiescence. It had become a question of anything to get the warrior with a hammer out of the way, so they could go to the hostel and drink themselves into a stupor.
“Lead on,” Kathvar said. Setanta could not be sure, but he thought he saw a glint of something in the druid’s eyes, as though he had been successfully manipulated.
Taidle took Lugaid by the arm and led him from the bull ring to the Stone of Destiny. Setanta looked at the phallic projection and wondered at a nation who relied on an imitation cock calling out for the ratification of a new High King.
Setanta stared at the back of Taidle’s head, hidden by its cowl. Despite the gray weave, he could see the druid’s head was high, whereas Lugaid was hanging his in dejection. In that moment, he wondered if pressing the crown onto Lugaid’s head was the right decision. He remembered the boy in the forest, confronted with a wild boar, with pig-headedness to match the animal’s? Pig-headedness that almost cost both their lives. The hanging head now and the pig-headedness then did not seem fitting traits for a High King.
“Place your hand on the stone,” Taidle said as the chieftains gathered around forming a ragged circle of onlookers. Lugaid looked at Setanta who nodded encouragement. He lifted his hand and tentatively placed it on the side of the stone, level with his chest. Nothing happened.
“Place it on the top,” Taidle said.
Lugaid took his hand from the stone and hesitated. Setanta saw him look at his spread palm, as though he was trying to decide what he had felt. Was it an inert power? Something elemental or Chthonic? He thought not. He thought all Lugaid could feel in the stone was a deep-seated cold, which some might describe as elemental, but for Setanta it was simply the cold of ages.
The boy placed his hand on the top once more and waited for the screech.
Nothing happened.
“Is your palm touching the surface?” Taidle asked. Those who knew him could hear the nerves creeping into his voice. Something was not going to plan.
“Yes, my hand is evenly spread.”
“Wait a minute longer,” Taidle pleaded, sweat now beading his forehead.
“It is useless,” Kathvar said.
“Just a minute more.”
“Enough,” Lugaid said, snatching away his hand.
“What is happening here?” Setanta asked with a low menace.
“Your foster son is not the High King. The stone held its peace. If he were the High King, it would have spoken.”
Kathvar was gloating and all within hearing knew it. They resigned themselves to another search and another wait for a High King, but not Setanta, who let loose a primeval roar, causing the chieftains to back away with raised hands. When he pulled the hammer from his back, they were sure he was going to start swinging and killing without compunction.
But he did not.
He took three paces towards the Stone of Destiny, leapt into the air and brought the hammer down onto the same point where Lugaid had pressed his hand. The crack that echoed through the settlement made the chieftains cover their ears and turn away momentarily. When they turned back, they saw the stone lying in two pieces.
A silence descended over the Fort of Kings. The silence was complete. Even the animals seemed to have stopped all life because of the destruction of an artefact of the Tuatha Dé Danann. No one thought the stone could be so easily sundered. If it was of the Gods, surely it would take more than the hammer of a warrior to split it? And then they each remembered the claims of the king of Ulster that Cú Chulainn’s father was of the Tuatha Dé Danann. For the first time, they wondered if it were true.
“That is what I think of the Stone of Destiny,” Setanta shouted, waving the war hammer above his head.
The kings and chieftains remained still. They were completely subdued. It was obvious to Setanta, Mac Nessa had decided to prevent the coronation of Lugaid, when it became apparent the boy would not be the puppet both the king and Kathvar had wanted.
“The ceremony is negated,” Kathvar said with a smile.
“It is of no consequence,” Lugaid said. “I did not want to reign, anyway.”
“That is as maybe, Lugaid, but you shall reign. From now the stone will never again be used as part of the rites. It is flawed,” Setanta said.
“Who gave you the power to decide the rites of kingmaking?” Kathvar hissed.
“I am the son of Lugh. I speak for the Tuatha Dé Danann.”
The chieftains standing around the stone nodded in silent agreement. Many had been the men of the Five Kingdoms who saw the claims of Mac Nessa as nothing more than a game. They no longer doubted. Cú Chulainn had split the Stone of Destiny with a single blow of his hammer.
“I will speak to you in private, druid,” Setanta continued.
“You are in no position to make demands on me, Setanta. I am a senior member of the Elder Council and I am not subject to the whims of mere warriors.”
“You call me a mere warrior, Kathvar, but I know what you are. You would soil your robes just as much as the next man if I were to split your skull with my hammer.”
“The druids are protected. You would suffer the afterlife of the damned just to prove how you are beyond the control of the elders?”
Setanta laughed. He could see in Kathvar’s sweating face and darting eyes that he did not trust in the power of the council to save him.
“I would tell you of a story I was told by Conall when I was still very young. It was a story about a druid who was able to do something with his voice so that he could make it sound as though it was coming from otherwhere.
“Let us find somewhere private to finish this talk,” Kathvar said. A red tinge was crawling up from where his robes ended, and his neck began. It gave Setanta a momentary flush of satisfaction before he remembered where they were and what had just happened.
They walked to the druid’s glade before they resumed their discussion.
“The laws of the Five Kingdoms are plain. If the stone does not speak then the nominee cannot be High King. It cannot be flouted, not even by you, Hound,” Kathvar said as soon as they were alone in the glade.
The look the warrior turned on him made the druid back down, something that he had never done. It was taboo to harm anyone in the order of druids, but Kathvar could see death staring out from the gray of the warrior’s eyes. In that instant the graybeard knew Cú Chulainn did not care about the laws and taboos of the Five Kingdoms. He was a law unto himself and the kings and chieftains of Ériu should quake at his arrival.
“From this day forth, Lugaid is High King. The blood drinker spoke, and the son of Lugh split the stone for failing in its calling. That is the way of it, Kathvar. Can I trust you to inform the council?”
***
“You promised me as a wife to Lugaid, Setanta. Have you lost your senses?” Dervla asked from the hides massed on top of the bed where they had just made love. “I am not yours to give.”
“It was the only way to get him to do his duty.”
“But he is a boy. You expect me to allow a beardless youth between my legs?”
“It would not be the first time, Dervla,” he chuckled.
“You dare?” Dervla cried, pushing herself up from the bed and taking a swing at his laughing face. He grabbed her wrist as she tried to slap some sense into him, still laughing. Dervla fell back into the hides, dragging him with her.
“You might have been beardless, but you were not a boy. If I recall correctly, you had just killed five men.”
“Three. Two escaped.”
“Five, three, what does it matter? But that is a different story. What were you thinking, promising me to a boy?”
“He might be a boy, but he is a good boy. He can sing and tell stories with the best. He has a good heart.”
“But he is just a child. He has been following me around of late like he is a puppy and I have a big bone.”
“It is also the wish of the council.”
“Gods take your council, Setanta. They are not my council. I do not have to abide by their laws.”
“That is not quite true, Dervla. When you pay court to the king of Ulster, you must abide by his rules.”
“But I am not paying court. I am just biding my time until it is safe to return to Jutland.”
“Why did you come to my bed, Dervla?” he asked.
“Because I love you?”
“Maybe you do, in some small way, but you know as well as I, that you came to my bed because you wanted to discourage the advances of a certain king.”
Dervla shrugged, pretending disinterest in the turn the topic of conversation seemed to have taken. Setanta was not wrong, it was Mac Nessa who had driven her into his bed, but he was wrong about her love. She had loved him from the moment he saved her from the spears of the wildlings.
“It is true, I did not welcome those advances, Setanta, but that is not the reason.”
“If you became the queen,” he said, “Mac Nessa would not trouble you again. He would not dare.”
“With you as my lover he will not trouble me again. He would not dare.”
Setanta could not fault Dervla’s logic. While she was in his bed, none of the warriors of Emain Macha would try to lift her skirts, despite all of them wanting to. Mac Nessa was a hard taskmaster and a difficult ruler to please, but he was not a stupid man. He would not knowingly anger his hound. No one with any sense would.
“But what if we are discovered, or I am slain in battle? Either would throw you open to his ministrations.”
“I will take my chances with those events, Setanta.”
“But, did you never dream of being a queen? The boy needs a strong queen behind him. I can think of no stronger woman.”
“Only a woman, am I?”
“Lady then.”
“A lady of the court, and do not forget that.”
“I thought you were biding your time?”
“I am. That does not mean I am not of the court, just not following the court’s rules.”
“If you were queen, you could make the rules.”
“I suppose when you say it like that, Setanta, it has a ring to it. I will think on it. Now, let us get back to the more important reason for my being here.”