8. The Lay and the Land #3
Task done, he sipped water from the foot of the hill, then retreated to the sheep gate.
Rian opened the gate for him. "Nothing truly magic came with the animals," Tuathal said.
"The red and white cows had a little ...
Something, but what I cannot tell. Not a curse or true spell on them, that I do know.
The sheep, other cattle, all normal now. "
"Good. I do not want to see cattle acting like dogs ever again unless a wise one or allav is working." The warrior made a sign with his left hand, warding away ill fortune and magic. "Magic without a cause ..." He gave Tuathal a worried look.
All magic had a cause. Whether men could learn that cause was another tale. "I understand. Some things are better as tales than as seeing."
"Aye that."
The sun had passed the peak of the sky and begun his race toward the western sea before Fiachta's messenger returned.
The young man went straight to the king.
Tuathal waited to be called, if Fiachta needed or wanted him.
Instead he tended his knives and other tools, and watched the land from atop the hill of the pasture.
Fish-eating eagles soared on the wind, sharp-winged and yellow eyed.
Cloaked crows passed toward the east, intent on business for once.
He heard the brown-streaked forest singer calling from a thicket, rise and fall of notes like a clarsach tested for tune.
A flat tail croaked his displeasure from a taller tree, perhaps out of jealousy.
The wind ruffled the grass on the hill and the leafy trees along the river, such as they were.
Someone had cleared the river valley of most trees, leaving willow and always-green yellow wood behind.
Had there been floods to scour the valley?
The few bushes seemed to lean downstream, and the remaining trees all had roots that withstood water storms, bending instead of tearing away.
Away to the west he spied cleared fields, red-brown earth turned up and ready for seed, or planted but late to show green.
A swirl of wind from the south tugged at his plaid and hair before blowing past. The water grasses bowed and swayed, the land grasses only a little slower.
The dark green of the water grass and softer green of the land grass pleased the eye, healthy and ready for grazing or using.
Different shades of verdure graced the trees, some flipping to silver in the wind as they shivered.
Brown trunks and silver-white, smooth and wrinkled or shaggy, all had their purpose and uses and meanings, even if he did not know them.
Even stinging nettles could be turned into cloth, or eaten, and strengthened a man's water if it had grown weak through illness.
Where were the farmers, the shepherds, goose herds, and others?
This land should be covered in cattle and sheep.
He peered toward the fields and the hills beyond, searching for signs of activity, smoke, motion of people and beasts.
Nothing. No one had warred, the sea raiders had not left their traces for at least two years, Pyder had not summoned his people to a gathering, and it was not time for the summer bonfires to smoke the cattle and horses and men.
Two eaters of the dead circled above him, then a third, and fourth. They soared higher before they winged their way south. Smaller birds hurried back and forth, flashes and drops of motion against the sky and ground. It was a good land, proper land. Why had Pyder not tended it as he should?
Tuathal stood and made his way down to the king's camp. Already men took the horses and oxen farther for grass and water. They would need to move soon.
"Master allav, the king asks for you," a servant said, bowing low as he approached.
"I come." He followed the man to where Fiachta and several others stood with the messenger and Eoghan. Tuathal bowed and waited.
"... His exact words, oh king. 'The gods favor me.
Release my cattle and men, send white metal as insult price, and I will let you leave'.
" The messenger shook his head, square face full of uncertainty.
"Oh king, his words and his way did not match.
He glanced always over his shoulder, or off to the side, as if nervous.
Only four men came with him, and the horses that drew his truchai ...
did not look in their prime." The messenger hesitated, then added, "None of the men wore fine rings or shining metal, not Pyder and not his men. Their clothes ... well made, but worn."
The listening men murmured among themselves. Indeed, Pyder's words and the testimony of eyes did not match. Tuathal stayed silent.
After the murmurs faded, Eoghan raised the hand not holding his staff.
"If Pyder speaks truth, that he believes the gods to favor him, he is either under an enchantment, or deceives himself.
We," he gestured to his chest, "saw no such signs of favor.
Far more, disfavor and lack of blessing.
The beasts bear few young, the soil holds winter beyond time, the people flee, those who can do so.
" The white-robed priest turned to Tuathal and gestured. What did he ask?
Tuathal bowed a little toward the priest. "Those things of bane or power that grow without the hand of man do as they should.
The beasts of the forest, birds of the woods and fields likewise.
I see no beasts in the pastures to the west, fields plowed but not planted, or planted but with too little growing to be seen at a distance.
" Should he mention the red and white kine?
No, because Eoghan so frowned on those who openly used bardic or Brytheen power.
"Exactly so. Pyder is not favored by the gods of these lands." Eoghan's words carried great weight in them.
Fiachta looked into the distance, frowning as he stroked his mustache. Then he nodded once. "So be it. Tomorrow we move. Pyder has failed his duties to the gods, the land, and his people. He no longer has a claim to rule."
"Allav, master priest, who follows next in the kin line?"
Tuathal hesitated, waiting. Eoghan frowned even more than the king did.
His lips moved, as if silently reciting, then said, "His sister's son, her second, but he has only ten and two years.
Past that ... Fyon the Black might have a claim, perhaps, on the father's side, but that is uncertain and has not been invoked in two generations. "
Which suggested that the family doubted the claim themselves.
Tuathal nodded his agreement and turned his right hand palm up.
"Among those of age to rule? Ruairi son of Orlaith and Tyreeh.
He has no faults that I have heard spoken of, or that I saw when last I visited Tyreeh's lands, east and south on the Kirron, near the Ten Stone Hills. "
"These lands cannot go lordless, lest more war follow." Fiachta waited for the sounds of agreement to end, then added, "I do not care to have the high king of the west grow interested in our business." Louder sounds of agreement rose from the warriors and others.
Eoghan's eyes narrowed, but he did not speak.
Did he desire the high king of the Western Island to send his sons, or to come himself?
Surely not. Tuathal tucked the question away for the moment.
He had battle songs to consider, and needed to warn the chief servant about the hogs, if he had not already been told.
Which song would best inflame battle hunger and eagerness in the warriors?
Tuathal considered as he walked around the camp, watching the servants and arms men preparing for the meal and for evening.
"The Great Cattle Raid?" Perhaps not, since it ended with the cattle dead and the land near destroyed, all for a woman's pride.
"Darragh and the Sons of Caoimhe?" It had enough fighting, but needed pipes to do truly well, and he had not brought them, nor did they have a piper on this raid.
A raven flew past, dark shadow skimming the ground as black as the bird above. Ah!
"What say you, master allav?" Odhran, the oldest warrior, asked later that day, when all had finished their first portion of meat. The small brown cow had not had a calf with her, nor had she given milk when a servant tried her, so she filled the cooking pots.
Tuathal set aside his cup and settled the clarsach in its place.
"I say that the warriors of the Island of the Mighty are great in prowess.
" His fingers brought a fierce chord from the harp.
"And among the greatest were the men of Llugh Brown-hair who stood with him when he fought the Beast of the Red Hill. "
The men leaned closer and talk stilled as he began playing in earnest.
"Black the day when Llugh drew blade, blade bright shining.
"But not so black as the heart of the beast—
"Beast of terror and land-shaking.
"Fire-tongued the beast of the Red Hill, life devouring,
"But not so sharp as the blade of bright metal
"Held in the hand of the warrior!"
He sang the story of the ferocious beast, body as long as a king's hall, that wasted and ruined the land with its breath, jaws dripping poison to kill anything that sought to eat its leavings.
It destroyed flocks, fields, and farms around the Red Hill until Llugh Brown-hair challenged it, aided by his sworn warriors.
Terrible was the battle, not helped by the treachery of his brother's son, who sought to usurp Llugh's lordship.
The land had shaken under the force of the blows and the beast's roars had caused the very birds to die in mid-flight from fear.
".. Now those were warriors!" Cathal declared when the song and tale ended.
Loud boasts followed his words, and the men, red-cheeked with drink and battle-heat both, urged each other to great deeds. Tuathal slipped away, duty done for the moment.