Macc did not believe his eyes. Only the High King could sit on the throne in the feast hall in Temuir. To see Nuadu Necht sitting in it with Eterscel’s broadsword across his knees and the decorative bronze scabbard that had been Eterscel’s pride propped up against the side of the dais was almost more than his eyes would register. Nuadu’s silver hand was nonchalantly resting on the arm of the throne. His face was distorted by a rictus that, Macc supposed, he considered a smile. A warrior stood behind the throne with his hand resting on its raised back.
“Nuadu, where is Eterscel?” Dond asked.
“Ah, yes. The former High King passed away tragically while you were having fun in Ulster,” Nuadu said with a smile and a dismissive wave of his good hand.
Macc and Dond looked around at the men in the feast hall. Nuadu was surrounded by his own people, although some clan chieftains were in the hall. None of the allegedly late High King’s warriors seemed to be present. Macc instinctively moved his hand to the hilt of his sword, even though he knew to bare the blade would mean certain death. That did not matter. If Nuadu had usurped the throne of the Five Kingdoms, he would need to remove any legitimate heirs and their supporters, which included Macc and Dond.
Macc’s instinct was correct, an instinct born of self-preservation. Not that there were any legitimate heirs. Connery was the grandson of Eterscel and a bastard. He would not have a legitimate claim to the throne, but Nuadu would not see it like that. He would see Connery as the blood of the late High King and, therefore, a threat that needed to be removed.
Macc could see Dond looking at him in confusion. They had been out of Meath for only four days, and it seemed unreal to return to this half-man sitting in a chair that should be occupied by their High King. Such a tumultuous change in so short a time was unnerving for them both.
“By what right do you sit on the throne of the Five Kingdoms, Nuadu?” Dond asked. “That is the chair of the High King. For anyone else to sit there is punishable by death.”
“Ah, but I am the High King,” Nuadu said, his tone gloating as if he knew he had defeated the two best strategists on the island.
“How is it you can claim such?” Dond continued. “The last time I looked, you were short a hand. You cannot be a king of any description when you are missing a limb, let alone High King.”
“We held a Bull Feast, and I was chosen as Eterscel’s successor. The blood drinker saw a man with a silver hand who had been wronged by Conall Cernach, and that is me, I think?”
Dond Desa opened his mouth to react, but Macc gripped his wrist in warning. Whatever was going to happen in the feast hall, Macc’s intuition warned him against apprising Nuadu of what had occurred in Emain Macha. Nuadu’s tone implied his position was unassailable, but he did not know of Conall’s survival. Macc guessed it was best if that situation remained. Macc hoped Nuadu had outthought himself by believing Conall was dead and unable to refute the findings of the blood drinker. Most considered the ritual of the Bull Feast sacrosanct and its findings irrefutable. However, if there was contrary proof, that belief would be forced to change.
Macc had never been sure of the veracity of a Bull Feast. The diviner would drink the sacrificial bull’s blood and enter a trance. The druids claimed that what was dreamt during the trance and the proclamation of that vision could not be gainsaid. But if Conall was alive and able to contest Nuadu’s claims, the Bull Feast and the diviner’s proclamation could be uncovered as a sham.
“You are not physically whole, Nuadu. You know the rule of law regarding who can be a king, do you not?” Dond asked, continuing to fight what Macc considered a lost battle.
“Because the Bull Feast of the druids has proclaimed me High King, the other law is outdated.” Nuadu smiled and then tilted his head slightly before continuing. “So, you will address me as lord.”
“I will do what?” the old warrior seethed.
The king’s champion standing behind the throne moved towards the warriors, taking hold of his sword hilt. Macc sensed the rage building in his friend and tightened his grip on Dond’s wrist to prevent him from drawing his sword. The two men could deal with the champion, but Nuadu was surrounded by his own men. Attacking him now would be suicidal. They could unveil the evidence they had brought from Emain Macha when a better opportunity arose.
“This is not the time,” Macc hissed under his breath. “They outnumber us by twenty to one.”
Macc felt Dond’s muscles relax as he realized the wisdom of his words. They should live now and try to discover what had happened. One thing was certain, though: this pretender would pay for usurping the throne of the Five Kingdoms.
He will pay with his blood.
“Have you brought me much plunder and the head of Conall Cernach?” Nuadu asked.
“I cannot give you the Ulster champion’s head, lord. Conall Cernach fought long and bravely before I crushed his skull with my war hammer. My swing is mighty, and nothing of the head could be saved,” Dond said. Macc nodded.
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“You are disappointing me, Dond. I expected better.”
The proclaimed disappointment was evident in Nuadu’s face. Of course, he had wanted the head of a warlord trained by the druidess Dornoll as a trophy. More importantly, he needed the assurance that the only man who could disprove his claims of an unsanctioned raid on his homestead could no longer do so.
“You must tell me, at the very least, where I can find Buachalla’s bastard. I wish to give him the tragic news of his grandfather’s death in person.”
Macc knew they had to give Silver-Hand something, or they would not leave the feast hall. For all his skill as a warrior, he did not think the old warrior would have the subtlety to realize the nuance.
“Permit me to answer,’ he said.
Nuadu bowed his head in acquiescence, so Macc said, “He has gone to Indber Colptha to be with his mother.”
Nodding, Nuadu said over his shoulder, “Fandall, please send a messenger.”
Macc wanted to shake his head and tell the usurper he was not as clever as he thought. Cunning, maybe, but far from clever. Nuadu had claimed his champion, Fandall, had died during the raid on his homestead. True, he could have another champion called Fandall; it was just doubtful. But then, only Dond and Macc had been there, so perhaps that was what the usurper was relying on.
Nuadu looked at them with a glint of that cunning. Macc knew the self-proclaimed High King could order their deaths here in the feast hall, but to do so would arouse suspicion. He guessed Nuadu would not want to cause the chieftains to doubt him. Killing them openly would give those present reasons to look closer into his claim. Macc watched as Silver-Hand concluded that it would be neither necessary nor wise to kill them in the feast hall but better to spend a little silver and send knifemen in the night to do it quietly.
“The pair of you are dismissed, but do not leave Temuir. I might have need of you later.”
The warriors nodded perfunctorily and left the hall. It took only a few heartbeats to reach Dond Desa’s sons outside the palisade at Grainne’s Fort, where they were still tending the horses. As Macc and Dond reached them, Macc called Lee over.
“Get to horse as quick as you can. Ride to Buachalla’s homestead in Indber Colptha and tell Connery and Conall they must leave. Tell them to talk to no one but to meet me where we stayed when Connery’s grandfather and I were last on a hunt. Connery will know where that is. Ride like the wind.” Lee looked at his father for confirmation before running to do Macc’s bidding.
Dond watched Lee mount and ride away. After a short pause, he looked at Macc and asked, “What are we going to do? It will not take Nuadu long to discover that you have been less than honest with him.”
“It does not matter; he needs to kill us regardless. He just could not do it in the feast hall in front of the chieftains. That his champion has been resurrected will already be causing suspicion. I doubt he is willing to make that situation any worse.”
“I fear he will soon know Conall is alive, though,” Dond said.
Macc nodded. Conall Cernach, as the champion of the king of Ulster, was a known figure in Meath, as he was throughout the other kingdoms. He was a tall man, nearly as tall as Macc, and he carried a blood-red shield with white gold studs, Lámthapad, by which anyone who saw him would know him. He would have been seen riding with the returning raiding party. It would not be long before Nuadu discovered the lie. Macc also knew when the knifemen arrived at the homestead of Buachalla and found Connery was not there, the imposter would probably not wait for darkness before sending his killers after them.
“We must go to Druid Island and seek council from the druids,” he realized, voicing his thoughts for Dond to hear.
“Are the druids not here?” Dond asked.
“No, they returned to Ynys Môn when Eterscel ordered the raid. They were disgusted by it.”
“Why would the druids be disgusted by something the clans have been practicing since before the dawn of time?” Dond shook his head and laughed.
“The Elders were worried because Eterscel was quick to anger and even quicker to order a raid or an execution, and he would no longer take counsel,” Macc explained.
He looked at Dond. With all the cajoling on their ride through Ulster, Macc had remained firm and let nothing slip about the plans he had heard. Macc thought about Connery’s insight when Dond was about to execute Connavar’s champion. The boy had saved the champion of Meath from a serious error.
“That is how Nuadu worked his deception,” Dond put voice to Macc’s musings. “Because the High King overreacted and ordered me to exact reprisals. He left himself exposed.”
“Yes. Nuadu knew how Eterscel would react when he told him Connavar’s people were raiding in Leinster,” Macc said, realizing Nuadu’s plan was not elaborate. Still, he was clever enough to guess how the High King would react to an unsanctioned raid.
Nuadu had known that because of the Red Branch, Eterscel would send his best warriors and so would be vulnerable. That made Macc wonder again why there had been no Red Branch warriors in the settlement. It was too coincidental that the men who could best defend the King of Ulster were not in the hillfort. But not only were they not in the hillfort, they were nowhere near. Even returning to Temuir after the abortive raid, there had been no rumor of the Red Branch. It was as if the king of the dead had risen from the Otherworld and snatched them down to be his personal bodyguard.
“Sometime after we left for Emain Macha, Eterscel was killed, and it was made to look like an accident,” Macc mused.
“But you said the druids were gone. How could Nuadu hold a Bull Feast without the druids?”
“He has his tamed druid. My guess is that Bres performed the necessary rites and proclaimed Nuadu High King.”
Dond nodded, finally piecing together all that had happened. “I must apologize to Conall when I see him,” he said.
“That is not of much importance at this moment,” Macc once again voiced his thoughts. “We need to find out why there were no Red Branch warriors at Emain Macha. If Nuadu has influence over them, then we are in trouble.”
“You think we must leave?” Dond asked.
“Yes, I think we need to leave immediately. We must get out of Temuir before Nuadu thinks to tell his guards to prevent us.” Dond nodded and told Gar and Rogain to prepare the horses.
As they rode away from Grainne’s Fort, Macc looked over his shoulder. He could see Nuadu’s champion, Fandall, standing at the entrance to the feast hall, waving to get their attention. He turned to the front and dug his heels into the flanks of his mount.
“The race is on,” he called, feeling an exhilaration not unlike that during a charge into battle.