Read Online Challenge of the clans by Kenneth C Flint - Free Book Online
Authors: Kenneth C Flint
Tags: Finn Mac Cumhaill
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further amazed the watching men, Finn rushed to grab up his tunic and spear and then headed away fi*om the lake, back toward the woods of Slieve Bladhma.
"Don't let him go!" the druid shouted. But his order was useless. Before anyone could act, the young man was far away, vanishing into the shelter of the trees.
"An amazing lad," the trainer said, staring after him with awe. "None I've ever known had such power."
"Maybe," the druid said thoughtfully. He looked at the chieftain. "Did you see his face?"
"I did," the man said irritably. He was more concerned about his son, who the other lads were now hurrying to help. "Why?"
"You didn't find it familiar?"
"Familiar?" he said, looking quizzically at the druid. "No. I didn't know him. Did you?"
"Not him. But years ago, when I was among the advisors to the king, I saw someone else much hke him." His voice was excited and his dark eyes glowed. "That's why I had to see him, to be certain. Now I would swear by all the gods my people swear by that this boy carries the blood of the daughter of Tadg!"
"Ahve!" cried Conn of the Hundred Battles, leaping up from his seat to stare down in shock at the two men.
Tadg stood before the high king's raised platform in Tara's central hall, the visiting druid beside him. On hearing his story, he had brought him at once to see Conn.
The sixteen years had made no impression upon the slender high druid. No gray touched his fine hair, no lines creased the smooth skin of the beautiful face. Conn, on the other hand, showed the wear of time. His hair had receded from his brows. His lean face and body were more gaunt. His energetic manner had become a slower and more careful one.
"Are you so certain that this is Cumhal's son?" he demanded.
"There is no way to be certain," Tadg explained. "But this druid vows that the resemblance to my daughter is remarkable, both in his features and in his hair. And he is of the right age to have been born around the time of Cumhal's death."
"But how could it be, Tadg?" Conn said accusingly. "You told me that Muirne and her child were dead."
"I told you that there were rumors of her death," Tadg reminded him. "All that we know is that she vanished and has not been heard of in all these years since. The child we know nothing about, except for the tales that a son was born. It is possible, my king. Muirne loved Cumhal. She was a woman of tender heart and great will. She would have done anything to save her child. And the glens of Slieve Bladhma would be a fine place to hide."
"Then it's clear that we can't take any risk," Conn said irritably, pacing the royal dais. "If Cunihal did have a son and he has survived, he could create a great danger. He might revive the Clan na Baiscne. He might carry out a blood feud, challenge MacMorna for the leadership, even renew the Fianna challenges of my rule!"
He shook his head as he walked, his mind filled with visions of a new Cumhal defying him, clamoring for ever greater power. It seemed all the more threatening to him now. The aches and weaknesses of age, the hints of his mortality had grown so insistent that he could no longer ignore them. And with the recognition of his frailty and vulnerability had come increased insecurity. The resentment of Cumhal that had led him to have the man destroyed had now deepened to fear of the challenge he symbolized.
He stopped pacing and fixed the high druid with a troubled gaze.
"Tadg, this cannot happen," he said emphatically, "ril have no trouble again from that clan. If this MacCumhal were to appear—"
"I understand, my king," said Tadg, breaking in smoothly, his tones soothing. "Of course this boy must be found and destroyed without anyone knov/ing of it."
"But I mustn't be brought in, " Conn quickly added, turning away as if to separate himself from the deed. "The Firbolg clans cannot think I had any part in it."
"Naturally, my king," Tadg assured him with a smile. "No one could think that the high king of Ireland would be
"Don't let him go!" the druid shouted. But his order was useless. Before anyone could act, the young man was far away, vanishing into the shelter of the trees.
"An amazing lad," the trainer said, staring after him with awe. "None I've ever known had such power."
"Maybe," the druid said thoughtfully. He looked at the chieftain. "Did you see his face?"
"I did," the man said irritably. He was more concerned about his son, who the other lads were now hurrying to help. "Why?"
"You didn't find it familiar?"
"Familiar?" he said, looking quizzically at the druid. "No. I didn't know him. Did you?"
"Not him. But years ago, when I was among the advisors to the king, I saw someone else much hke him." His voice was excited and his dark eyes glowed. "That's why I had to see him, to be certain. Now I would swear by all the gods my people swear by that this boy carries the blood of the daughter of Tadg!"
"Ahve!" cried Conn of the Hundred Battles, leaping up from his seat to stare down in shock at the two men.
Tadg stood before the high king's raised platform in Tara's central hall, the visiting druid beside him. On hearing his story, he had brought him at once to see Conn.
The sixteen years had made no impression upon the slender high druid. No gray touched his fine hair, no lines creased the smooth skin of the beautiful face. Conn, on the other hand, showed the wear of time. His hair had receded from his brows. His lean face and body were more gaunt. His energetic manner had become a slower and more careful one.
"Are you so certain that this is Cumhal's son?" he demanded.
"There is no way to be certain," Tadg explained. "But this druid vows that the resemblance to my daughter is remarkable, both in his features and in his hair. And he is of the right age to have been born around the time of Cumhal's death."
"But how could it be, Tadg?" Conn said accusingly. "You told me that Muirne and her child were dead."
"I told you that there were rumors of her death," Tadg reminded him. "All that we know is that she vanished and has not been heard of in all these years since. The child we know nothing about, except for the tales that a son was born. It is possible, my king. Muirne loved Cumhal. She was a woman of tender heart and great will. She would have done anything to save her child. And the glens of Slieve Bladhma would be a fine place to hide."
"Then it's clear that we can't take any risk," Conn said irritably, pacing the royal dais. "If Cunihal did have a son and he has survived, he could create a great danger. He might revive the Clan na Baiscne. He might carry out a blood feud, challenge MacMorna for the leadership, even renew the Fianna challenges of my rule!"
He shook his head as he walked, his mind filled with visions of a new Cumhal defying him, clamoring for ever greater power. It seemed all the more threatening to him now. The aches and weaknesses of age, the hints of his mortality had grown so insistent that he could no longer ignore them. And with the recognition of his frailty and vulnerability had come increased insecurity. The resentment of Cumhal that had led him to have the man destroyed had now deepened to fear of the challenge he symbolized.
He stopped pacing and fixed the high druid with a troubled gaze.
"Tadg, this cannot happen," he said emphatically, "ril have no trouble again from that clan. If this MacCumhal were to appear—"
"I understand, my king," said Tadg, breaking in smoothly, his tones soothing. "Of course this boy must be found and destroyed without anyone knov/ing of it."
"But I mustn't be brought in, " Conn quickly added, turning away as if to separate himself from the deed. "The Firbolg clans cannot think I had any part in it."
"Naturally, my king," Tadg assured him with a smile. "No one could think that the high king of Ireland would be
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