Mac Nessa pulled back in his bed. He was sure his time had come, because a demon from the underworld stood before him dripping blood and staring at him with gray eyes. Somehow, the eyes seemed familiar and the king wondered if they belonged to one of those he had wronged, returned from the underworld to exact vengeance.

When the apparition spoke to him, he realized it was Cú Chulainn. “What you asked of me. I will do it.”

“Cú Chulainn, is that you? What has happened?”

“I will lead the Red Branch.”

“Yes, of course. I cannot think of a better man as captain of the Red Branch, but what has happened?”

“They are dead.”

“Who are dead?”

“Lugaid and Dervla are dead.”

“What do you mean, Lugaid and Dervla are dead?”

“They are dead. I have buried them in their roundhouse and made it into a funeral pyre.”

Mac Nessa shook his head. He was not sure what the warrior was trying to tell him. How could Lugaid and Dervla be dead? The young warrior was covered in gore. No part of his body was free of the mess. Did he kill them? The king recalled hearing screams, but he had thought it to be the revellers getting carried away. Now he wondered.

“But how did they die, Hound?”

Cú Chulainn shrugged and turned on his heal to leave the king in a state of utter confusion.

“Guards! Guards!” the king called, but there was no response from his door. He was about to climb out of his bed and go out into the settlement to see what had happened when Kathvar walked in.

“Your guards are dead, sire. He killed them on his way in.”

“Who killed them?”

“The Hound. They tried to prevent him gaining access. It only took one refusal for him to split their skulls with that hammer he is always carrying.”

“What is happening?”

“The Hound lost control. He killed most of the women in the settlement.”

“He killed the women?”

“Yes. All those he could find, he killed.”

“But why, Kathvar?”

“Medb proposed the women hold a contest of desirability after the men fell asleep. Something to keep them occupied, she said. I think she knew what would happen.”

“What happened?”

“Dervla won. The other women tore her apart in their jealousy.”

“But where were the warriors?”

“In the feast hall, sleeping off a massive drunk. They drank themselves into a stupor within a couple of hours of the feast beginning. As you knew they would,” the druid said. Mac Nessa always left any feast because he could not abide men sleeping all around him, unable to hold their mead.

He looked at Kathvar where he was standing beside the bed, still shaking at the memory of Cú Chulainn standing before him with the gore of so many women covering him like a demonic gown, like a man who had risen from the dead after a bloody battle had savaged him from head to toe. Only his eyes had been visible.

“Why did you not stop it?” Mac Nessa asked.

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“I was hiding. I did not want my head crushed with a war hammer.”

“But all the women?”

“Most of the women. Some would have escaped, while others were not even present. As soon as their men fell into a stupor, many of the wives left the feast.”

“How many died?”

“At a guess, I would say one hundred and forty or fifty. We will not know until the husbands come reporting their wives missing.”

“What are we to do, Kathvar? The warriors will rebel when they hear what has happened.”

“I disagree. I think as soon as the warriors learn what their women did to Dervla, they will side with Cú Chulainn. Especially because it is Cú Chulainn.”

“How so?”

“I do not think there is a warrior in the Five Kingdoms who would dare to stand against The Hound of Ulster, unless it is Conall Cernach and he has defected to Connacht.”

***

What Kathvar predicted happened the following day. As the warriors began to regain their consciousness the druid ordered them to remain in the feast hall and await the arrival of the king. As soon as they were all awake, he sent a messenger. The king arrived a few minutes later.

“Warriors of Ulster. There has been a grave turn of events to this Winter Solstice,” the king hesitated and looked at Kathvar.

He had wanted the druid to give the warriors the news, but Kathvar had refused. He said that such news given by other than the king would not be well received. In truth, the druid did not think that being the bearer of such news would be beneficial to the messenger’s health. He had predicted that the warriors would accept events, but he was not willing to wager his life on that prediction.

“The women at the feast lost their reason and brutally murdered the wife of the High King, Dervla.”

The warriors began to look around at each other and then at who was present in the feast hall. Not many of the wives would be there the morning after a feast, but there would be some. On this morning, there were none.

The warriors began to clamor at once. “Where are the women?”, “What have you done to the women?”, “Where is my wife?”

Kathvar looked over the crowd of men with sore heads and began to think he had made the right decision in telling the king he had to stand on the dais and give them the news. He was thinking of backing out of the feast hall when the noise began to die down. The druid looked as the crowd of warriors parted and Cú Chulainn walked through.

He had the war hammer on his shoulder, besmirched with gore and blood.

The warrior had still not washed. The blood was now a caked mask that highlighted the grayness of his eyes. Kathvar had always found it hard to describe those eyes, but not anymore. They were death. One look from them could kill a man where he stood. Cú Chulainn looked at the warriors as he walked towards the dais and each one he looked at dropped their head and held their tongue.

When he reached the dais, Cú Chulainn turned to face the hall without acknowledging the king or the druid. “Your women brutally murdered the wife of the High King. The sentence was death. The sentence has been carried out. If any of you wish to dispute the sentence, you will find me in my roundhouse,” saying which, he left.

The silence had a physical presence in the feast hall. No one spoke. No one coughed or passed wind. The silence echoed for several minutes before the warriors dispersed leaving Mac Nessa and Kathvar alone on the dais.

“What do you think?” the king asked the druid.

“You can now claim the throne in the name of salvation. The Elder Council will no longer oppose you. There is no one else. The son of Lugaid is too young. Conall and Fergus have gone to Connacht. Cú Chulainn is as mad as a spring hare.”

“That is not what I meant, Kathvar. I meant what do you think about having the Red Branch under the orders of a berserker?”

“I do not think I understand.”

“The Hound told me that he will assume command of the Red Branch, as I requested when Conall defected.”

“I think you have misunderstood in your turn, sire. The actions I saw yesterday were systematic, ruthless, controlled beyond belief. They were the actions of a born killer, not of a berserker.”

***

Medb looked around the table at the warriors. Fergus, Conall, and Longas, perhaps the best fighters in the Five Kingdoms except for Cú Chulainn. But he was one and they were three.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Ailill asked.

“Yes, husband, I am sure. There is nothing now standing in Mac Nessa’s way. He will be able to take the throne and start his games. The Five Kingdoms will suffer and maybe not even survive. There is an imminent invasion. Do not think the Romans will allow Ériu to remain at liberty when they have made vassals of all the other tribes. They will not.”

The warriors nodded their agreement. Ailill did not. He knew a united Ériu was the way to prevent an invasion. Going to war among themselves was not a good course of action.

“You know I disagree, but then you always did,” Ailill said, before rising from the table and leaving the hall.

“So,” Medb said, as soon as Ailill was gone. “How are we going to provoke a war with Ulster?”