Challenge of the clans (33 page)

"I find them a wonderful place to go, myself," Cnu Deireoil remarked, smiling with pleasure at the scene. "It's another thing that makes your mortal life more enjoyable. There are no fairs in the Sidhes."

"It's true enough that everyone Hkes a chance for bartering and play and friendly contesting," Crimall agreed. "It may even help to keep the fighting down, bringing the clans together to talk, and giving the young men and women a chance to meet. Many a wife's been found at the fairs."

They moved up the slope and entered the busy avenues of the market stalls. All kinds of products were displayed. There were foods, cloth, household goods, artwork, weapons, and many other things from the comers of Ireland and beyond. They created a rich

collection of varied textures and materials and hues to excite the senses.

Energetic bartering went on all about them. Finn noted that some of the most intense haggling, accompanied by emphatic gestures, involved cattle and horses. The argument over the value of one sleek, black-coated steed had drawn a crowd as avid and partisan as those at the matches below.

Through the milling crowds roved entertainers— jugglers and balladeers and musicians of all types. There was another and more unusual form of entertainment too. In various open spots, men in bardic dress stood upon raised platforms, addressing attentive groups in their resonant tones. As he passed by, Finn overheard snatches of discourse on history, on family genealogy, and on the laws of Ireland.

"They're a part of every fair," Crimall explained when Finn pointed them out. "It's a fine chance for them to bring their teaching to the common folk who have httle other chance of hearing it."

Finn tended to stop often to observe these marvelous new things in fascination. His comrades were constantly urging him along.

"Don't be so slowing of us," Crimall finally said impatiently. "They'll be starting the first of the meetings at the dun soon." He pointed upward. "Look there. The warriors are already going in."

Finn's party was through most of the fair by now, and had reached the edge of the open area maintained below the walls of the fortress. Groups of cloaked men were visible moving up the roadway fi*om the markets and the pavilions of the camps and passing through the gates.

Finn delayed no longer. He moved briskly upward with his clansmen, his attention now wholly on the timber stockade looming above. He noted that a pair of warriors stood at the gates, stopping and speaking to each group before allowing them inside.

"There are guards passing the warriors through, ** he pointed out. "How will we get by them?"

"Let me see to that," Cnu Deireoil said, pulling

the case from his harp and grinning widely. "It will be my own pleasure/*

"And what clan is it that you're from?" one of the guards asked as Finn's band approached. He looked over the mixed and somewhat shabbily dressed lot of men. "I see no colors among you that I know."

"Well, you might say that they're with me," the little man spoke up.

The guard looked at him and laughed. "With you? And who are you to be needing such company?"

"Maybe the greatest harper in Ireland is all," he announced proudly. "iVe music to charm any ear. Listen!"

He strummed a few notes on the instrument. The attention of the two men was seized at once. They cocked their heads, their faces taking on that foolish expression Finn had seen before.

"You find it most captivating, I can tell," Cnu Deireoil said. "Now, we'll just be passing in. You don't mind at all, do you?"

They shook their heads.

"I thought not." He gestured to the others. "Go ahead, lads. I'll just keep them occupied until you get past. Hurry."

The warriors moved quickly through the gates and into the yard. Cnu Deireoil kept up his playing until the last was safely inside. Then, with a cheery "Hope you enjoyed the tune," he trotted after them.

The guards stood captive of the last, lingering notes until the next party of clansmen accosted them. Then they shook their heads and gazed about them in bewilderment. By this time, Finn's party had merged with the scores of other warriors in the fortress yard.

"The magic always works best on those of duller wits," the harper commented. "Two like that'll likely not even remember we were here."

Now the Teach Mi Cuartha, the main hall of the high king, was ahead. Finn looked up at its massive outer wall and felt the first internal tinglings of anticipation, of excitement and nervousness combined. This was the final goal of his journey before him now, he

thought. At last he had come to the place where all he had learned would be brought to its testing. He recalled his feelings when he left Slieve Bladhma, and he realized that it had then been for Bodhmall and not himself that he had set out, ready to fulfill a duty that he had been taught to believe in but had not felt. But here, with the hall before him and the loyal warriors at his back, he knew that his reasons for acting had finally become his own.

As Finn and his comrades joined the men making their way through the main doors of the hall, they were unaware that they were doing so almost literally beneath the nose of Conn himself. For the high king was now looking down upon the warriors crossing the yard fi*om an upper window of the royal quarters, a smaller structure set not far fi-om the hall. Close beside him stood the high druid Tadg.

*This may be the largest gathering weVe ever had,** he commented. "I'm very pleased with that." He glanced around at Tadg. "Especially if there will be no unwanted guests."

The druid's gaze darted to the only other occupant of the room, a slim, blond-haired young man who sat at a nearby table, listening attentively. He was Art, the son of Conn.

"My king, should I speak ..." Tadg began hesitantly.

"It's all right, Tadg," Conn assured him. "You can speak before my son. He knows the tale of Cumhal and this Finn. Someday, possibly soon, he'll be having to deal with these arrogant Fianna men himself to rule Ireland."

"Very well," Tadg said. "Then I assure you again, my king, that Finn is only a tattered pile of rotting limbs. Likely his clansmen are as well by now. There'll be no challenge, at this or any other Samhain."

"I am relieved to hear that, finally," Conn told him, emphasizing the last word. He looked down into the yard again. "Well, the warriors seem to have all gone into the hall. It's time for you and me to join the others for our entrance."

Meantime, Finn and his group had by now made their way inside with the rest. Here the awe Finn had experienced over the other sights of the festival was overshadowed by his first view of the famed hall of Tara na Righ.

None of the other halls he had seen in his travels had matched the splendors described in Liaths tales. But here her glowing descriptions paled beside the real thing. The room was vast, the space enclosed over a hundred feet across and rising at least four stories to the peak.

The outer area was divided into seven compartments for the seating of the ruling classes. The walls between them were not of wickerwork but of red yew wood elaborately carved with curving lines and stylized animals interweaving in complex designs. The outer edges of the partitions were banded in gleaming bronze, as were the thick roof poles and the beams that ran upward to the peak. On the walls above the compartments were hung the shields of the many clans attending. In the open central area about the large fire pit were tables enough to seat hundreds of their warriors. These tables were now crowded, with many other men standing, filling every available space. The compartments were all closely occupied, too, with the exception of a single empty one opposite the main doors.

A loud horn blast came from somewhere outside the hall. At the sound, the warriors standing tightly packed about the door pulled back, clearing the way for a column of men who started in.

"Careful now," Crimall warned quietly/' It's the high kings procession coming."

Finn and Caoilte shifted in front of Gnu Deireoil, hiding him from sight. Finn turned his face away, watching from the comer of his eye.

A group of ollamhs in their brightly colored robes of office led the parade, striding by in solemn majesty. Behind them came the high druids in their gowns of brilliant white. Leading them was one that Finn knew at once. For even though his face had been shadowed before, the shape of the head and body were a vivid

image in Finn's mind. He gazed for the first time upon the features of his grandfather, surprised that one so cruel could still have the delicate, gentle looks of his mother.

Tadg and his druids moved past the group of Finn's men, his gaze actually sliding over the young warrior. Then they were gone and a new party was entering the hall. Four men in colorful warrior dress first, each vdth a different, brightly patterned cloak, all richly adorned with gold and jewels, all strutting with the unmistakable arrogance of leadership.

"Who are they, then?" Finn murmured to Crimall.

"It's the kings of the four provinces," his uncle whispered back. "Munster and Leinster at the front, Ulster and Connacht behind. Ah, there'd be no such closeness of those four without the Samhain peace, I can tell you that!"

Behind them strode another whose own air of haughty aristocracy proclaimed his rank like a trumpet's blaring. Finn needed no one telling him that it was the high king of Ireland himself he was seeing now. He peered stealthily but with great curiosity at this ruler whose deeds were already legend, who was held up as a great and honorable man, yet who had conspired in the death of his father.

Slightly behind and close on either side of the high king, as if on guard, moved two other men. One of them Finn discovered with some astonishment that he knew. He had seen that hard, dark face somewhere. But where? He searched his memory, and then an image came clear: that same face, streaming with rain, staring in surprise, revealed for an instant by a lightning flash.

"Who is that man behind the king?" he asked.

"Him that was called Aed, leader of the Moma clan," Crimall replied. "The stout one vdth him is his brother, Conan."

When all had passed, Caoilte expelled a great sigh of relief "I'm very glad that's over."

"At least you could see something besides a man's

backside," came the complaining voice of the Little Nut from behind him.

The procession moved on, along an avenue through the tables, around the central fire, tovs^ard the one empty compartment on its far side. There they mounted a raised platform set within the space and grandly took their seats about a long plank table. The high king sat at the center, the other Idngs ranged on either side. Druids filled the left end of the tables, bards the right. Behind Conn the two Fian warriors stood protectively.

"It*s the most powerful men in Ireland gathered before you now," Crimall explained to Finn. "The highest ranks of judges, bards, and priests, with the five kings. They make up the examining board. It takes their agreement to verify any claim."

"What do we do?" Finn asked.

"For now, we wait. They'll open the ceremonies and begin to accept the candidates. First will come the craftsmen and artisans, presented by their clan chieftains. Then will be the new members of the bardic and druidic orders. Last come the new claimants for nobility. That's when your turn will come."

So they waited. At first, Finn observed the proceedings with a certain interest. Tadg and other of the druids went through an elaborate ritual, invoking the support of the gods in this enterprise. Then the high brehon stepped to the front of the dais.

"Those gathered here are now one in the acceptance of the Samhain peace," he announced. "The first session of the Fete of Tara may now begin. Chieftains, bring forward your candidates."

One by one the various spokesmen rose to present their people. For most, simple nods from the members of the board were all that was needed for approval. In some few cases, there was a brief discussion of qualifications, but always the acceptance came.

The ceremony plodded on from man to man, into the afternoon. Finn's interest gave way to growing restlessness. He watched the golden rectangles of light slanting in through the high windows of the hall crawl across the floor and lengthen with a slowness as agoniz-

ing as that of the ceremony. But, finally, the confirmation of the new chieftains began.

Here it was the province kings who put forward the men from their tuaths who would now serve as clan chieftiains. There were only a half dozen of these, replacing leaders who had died—largely by violence— during the year. When the last one was confirmed, the high brehon moved forward on the dais again to announce the formal close of the ceremony.

"Now's the time, lad," Crimall said. "Quickly!'*

"There being no more—" the high brehon began.

"Wait!" Finn shouted. "There is one more!"

Men around him turned to gaze in curiosity. Tadg pulled himself stiffly upright in his seat, wonder filling his face at the sound of this voice. Conn only looked puzzled at this violation of tradition. The high brehon stepped to the edge of the dais, peering out across the crowd.

"And just who are you to be making this claim?" he demanded.

Finn pushed farther into the central area and leaped up onto a table. He yanked the cap fi*om his head and shook out the hair he had bunched under it. The flow of it shimmered in a shaft of sunlight.

"Surely you know me?" he said. "I am the one called Finn."

There was a roar of astonishment. Conn, stunned by his surprise, sat back, staring, speechless. But Tadg's wonder at the escape of the younger warrior was not enough to hinder his quick wit. He jumped to his feet, shouting urgently: "He is an outlaw! Kill him. He means the king harm!"

Around Finn a hundred hands leaped for their swords. His own blade flashed out in reply. Would he after all be killed before he had a chance? If so, he'd not go easily. Below him, Caoilte, Crimall, and the others of his company drew as well.

But the fight never came.

"No!" cried Goll MacMorna, striding forward. "He is protected by the Samhain peace. Any man attacking him answers to me!"