"All right," Finn agreed, "if you both feel it's so important. Bring it along, Cnu Deireoil." He looked back at the fallen giant, his young face set in grim satisfaction. "But it's enough for me to know that I've begun to avenge my father on his enemies."
Book Three
The Ways of theFianna
Chapter Twenty-one
CLAN NA BAISCNE
The eyes of Tadg, high druid of Tara, gazed upon the body of Luachra, alive now with a flock of hopping, pecking crows.
Tadg was not in the clearing where the fight had been. Instead, he viewed this scene in the glittering black eyes of a raven. The shining blue-black bird was larger than a hawk. It stood motionless upon a skull before the man, its gaze fixed steadily, unblinkingly on his.
Now, as Tadg watched, the image shifted. It rose fi-om the body, lifting above the treetops of that distant wood, rising to provide a panorama of the countryside below. It swept along a narrow roadway that cut through the trees. Some way along it, three moving objects, tiny fi*om that height, were visible.
Abruptly the ground seemed to leap upward. So vivid was the impression that Tadg felt his stomach heave with the sense of dropping. The three figures grew rapidly, almost filling up the image for an instant before they flashed from view. But that instant was long enough for the high druid. He knew that these were the ones he sought.
The bird cawed loudly, giving its wings a restless flap. Contact was broken. The image faded fi^om its eyes.
"Very well," Tadg said to it. "I thank you for what you have given me. Inform me when you discover where they are going."
The bird cawed again and flapped away, rising from the clearing and out of sight.
Tadg lost no time in leaving the sacred wood and going up to the dun. He found the high king engaged in his usual midmorning pursuit, watching the youths in training at Tara play a fast-paced hurling match.
"My king, I have information that is vital," he said.
"What now, Tadg?" Conn asked impatiently, trying to keep his eye on a particularly skillful play of the ball. "The game is very close."
The druid leaned closer, murmuring, "It concerns the boy named Finn, my king."
Conn's gaze swiveled up to him at once. "I see! Well, come over here."
They moved away from the other spectators. The sound of their cheering and the shouting of the boys covered their talk effectively.
"Tell me what it is, then," Conn demanded. "Has Coll found him?"
"The men of Moma have failed completely," Tadg said. "I've just learned that their champion Luachra has been killed by MacCumhal. No one pursues him now. And he is heading into Connacht!"
Though this last piece of information seemed significant to the druid. Conn was puzzled by it.
"Into Connacht?" he said. "But that's still far from here. He's not likely to be any danger to us from so far away."
"You've forgotten. High King," Tadg said. "The last word we had of the survivors of the Baiscne clan was that they had fled into the forests of Connacht."
"Of course!" Conn said with new concern. "If he should join them—"
"The danger will be all the greater," Tadg finished. "Yes, High King."
"Goll must go to Connacht at once and begin the search again," Conn said with force.
"He tried long ago to hunt down the survivors of Cumhal's clan," Tadg pointed out. "He failed. In those forests it would take a thousand men to find warriors with the training of the Fianna."
"We cant send a thousand men!" Conn protested. "It would be known what we were doing. There would be a great outcry!"
"Of course, my king," Tadg said in his soothing way. "That is why I think Goll should be left out of this. Let me see to Finn MacCumhal this time, and the rest of the Clan na Baiscne as well."
"You?" the king asked suspiciously. "But Goll warned you that he would not tolerate your using druidic powers against the boy."
"Yes, my high king. But you and I understand that the destruction of Cumhal's son is more important than his feelings of honor. Why, your very power over Ireland might be at stake."
"Yes ..." Conn admitted slowly, reluctantly. "Perhaps you are right."
"Of course I'm right, High King," Tadg said with smooth assurance, his small mouth bowing in a clever smile. "Goll need never know that I have done his task for him."
'Tell me no more of it," said Conn brusquely, turning away from the druid to head back toward the game. Then he paused, turning back to add an afterthought: "I do wonder just how great a threat this really is. After sb many years, what can be left of the Baiscne clan?"
"Are you certain this is the place?" Finn asked in a disbelieving way.
"I followed the directions your mother gave us," Caoilte told him. "They were very exact. This must be it."
Finn looked around him again. How could this be the camp of his father's clan? It was only a few tiny huts of woven branches scattered through the trees, nearly invisible amidst the foliage. Without his forest skills, they might never have been found.
From the low door holes of the huts men began to emerge. They were gaunt and bearded, clad in animal skins and the worn remnants of warrior's dress. They
seemed to Finn more like a winter-starved pack of wolves than men as they slunk warily forward, weapons raised in defense.
One of them cautiously moved forward a bit from the rest, a spear lifted threateningly. Shaggy hair and unkempt beard nearly masked his features, but his eyes revealed his hostility.
"Who are you then?" he demanded. "What are you doing here?"
"iVe come seeking the Clan na Baiscne," Finn said.
The mans eyes flicked round the circle of his fellows, then back to the young warrior. "There's none of that clan left in Ireland," he snapped. "Now be away from here or we'll make an end of you."
"I have to find the Clan na Baiscne," Finn told him in an entreating way. "I mean to join them. My father was their chieftain, Cumhal MacTredhom."
That name clearly surprised the man. He started, then shook his head angrily. "That's a lie! It's a trick of the Morna clan. Cumhal's child didn't survive."
"Please listen to me," Finn said. "My mother hid me away. I stayed hidden until I was able to survive on my own in the world."
"He's speaking the truth," Caoilte put in. *The warriors of the Morna clan have pursued him across half of Ireland. He killed one of their champions only two days ago."
"More lies," the man growled, pulling back the spear. "You'll die now."
"No! No!" Cnu Deireoil protested. "It's the truth! Look here! I took this from the body of the one Finn killed. " He held up the pouch he carried.
As the man saw it, a look of amazement wiped away his expression of hostility. Exclamations of surprise came from among his fellows. All lowered their weapons and moved in closer.
"The treasure bag!" the bearded one said, walking up to Cnu Deireoil. He put out a hand and, in a gentle, reverential manner, touched the pouch. Then he looked
up at Finn. "And you killed the man who had this? What was he like?"
"He was a giant," Finn said, a little bewildered by this odd reaction. "He called himself Luachra."
"Climb down," the man asked.
Finn exchanged a doubtful glance with Caoilte, but then complied, dismounting and facing the other courageously. The bearded man moved in, peering search-ingly into his face. Then he nodded.
"Yes, I can see him in you now," he said. "You are my brother's son."
"Your brother?" Finn said.
"I am your uncle, Crimall," the other told him. "Welcome to the poor remnant of your father's clan." He gave Finn a great hug, then turned to the others. "This is the son of Cumhal," he announced. "And he has returned the treasure bag of our clan to us."
"What do you mean. Uncle?" Finn asked. "How can this treasure bag be yours?"
Crimall gave him a strange look. "You mean you don't know? This was the treasure bag of the Clan na Baiscne until the Morna clan defeated us and took it from your father's body. The man that you killed was the one who gave your father his mortal wound!"
The fire sent a stream of sparks up in a glittering column to wink out against the sky. It threw a ruddy hght over the objects from the bag, now laid out care-ftiUy on a cloth before it.
Finn and his two comrades sat in a circle about the fire with the others of the clan. They chewed on roasted venison and listened—Finn quite raptly—^as Crimall told them about each piece in proud tones as he pointed them out.
"The smith's hook was that of Goibniu, chief smith of the Tuatha de Danaan. These are the shears of the king of Alban, and that helmet belonged to Lochlann's king. The belt is made of the skin of a monstrous fish killed years ago, and the bones are of Asal's pigs brought to Ireland by the sons of Tuireann in the time of Lugh.
And this shirt and dagger are said to be those of the sea god, Manannan MacLir himselfl"
One by one he carefully began to pick up the sacred objects and place them back into the pouch.
"The tales have it that the treasure pouch is made of a crane skin that was once the skin of the beautiful woman Aoife," he went on. "She was put into the crane's shape through jealousy."
"I've heard the tale/' Cnu Deireoil said. "And a very tragic one it is."
"Your thanks should go to the Little Nut and to Caoilte as well as myself for bringing that here," Finn told his uncle.
"Then it's a great debt we owe them. For it was the honor of the clan that was lost with our treasure bag.''^
"We're happy to have helped," the harper said, but he watched the last jewels poured back into the pouch with a wistful eye.
As before, the objects were all accommodated easily by the miraculous treasure bag. Crimall tied its thongs carefully and set it aside.
"Tell me what it's been like for you out here. Uncle," said Finn, eager to learn more of his clan.
"It's not been so bad," Crimall told him. "The Momas gave up hunting us long ago. Likely they think we're harmless now. We live off the land easily enough when the summer's here. It's only the winters that are hard, when the game is scarce, and we can't find a shelter with some obliging chieftain as we used to do." He sighed. "Ah, there are times when I do miss those days. It's a great sorrow to me to see what our clan's become."
"Those days will come again. Uncle," Finn promised. "I've come to join my clansmen and learn the ways of the Fianna. I mean to take my father's place and to challenge the Clan na Morna for the leadership that should be ours."
Crimall looked into the earnest young face and smiled sadly. "Ah, lad, it's a fine dream, but there's no
means to make the truth of it. Look around you. We're all of the clan left."
Finn's gaze slid around the circle of men. He was forced to admit to himself that they were far from what he had imagined. He had expected a force of proud, stalwart warriors. Instead he saw men who seemed old and worn and without spirit, reduced to living like animals in the wilds.
"Understand, Nephew," Crimall went on. "We've lived all these years without any hope of recovering our power. There was only surviving left to us. Most of the younger men have scattered, joined other clans or gone into service, hiding from the Momas. Those of us here have little time left to us. And when we're gone, there'll be an end to the Clan na Baiscne. "
"And you mean to just sit here and wait for this end?" Finn said, outraged by these words.
He chmbed to his feet and stood, a towering, powerftil figure against the background of night, his muscular form and strongly featured face lit by the fire's crimson glow. He swept his clansmen with eyes that seemed to blaze. His voice took on an impelling force that Caoilte and the Little Nut had never heard before. It held them as it held the other men.
"I do not know you," he told them, "but I have heard the tales of the Fianna all my life. I have come to believe that those of the Fianna are the greatest warriors in all of Ireland. No real warrior would give up a fight, that I have learned. No man at all would let his honor be stolen away without sacrificing his own life to take it back. I am the son of Cumhal. I have come to take his place. I mean to restore the honor of my clan, even if I must do it alone. If you are of the Fianna, if you are warriors, if you are men at all, you must join me."
The speech roused a new fire in the hearts of the men. Crimall jumped to his feet.
"You are right!" he said, and turned toward his comrades. "We've nothing more to lose," he said to them. "Better to die fighting to regain our pride than to
waste awa> here. He drew his sviord and held its blade high. "Who will join me?"
As a man the others of the clan stood, their spare frames drawing erect with a vigor they had not felt in many years. Their weapons ]es^ up, sword and spear points flashing with red fireli^t.
"For Baiscne!" came the cry from Crimall.
"For Baiscne and Cumhal!" came the reply from the throat of ever\ man.
Chapter TLuenty-tLvo
THE RED WO]V\AN
A ba>ing padc of bomids bounded throng the trees. Each of the lean and wiry animals strove to outdistance its fellows, to be the first to readi their quarry.
It was not &r ahead now. The great stag was tiring after the long pursuit by the persistent hounds. It was reaching the end of its strength, and the pack was closing in.
Not fer behind the pack ran Finn MacCumhal, Caoilte, and others of the Baiscne dan, mo\ing at their greatest speed to stay close, to keep the stag in sight.
Suddenly the animal turned at bay. It dropped its magnificent head and plunged back into the hounds, \ndK) scattered before it. One dog was caught on the antlers, lifted and flung away by a shake of the stag's muscular neck. It landed with a yelp, bleeding bom the stab wounds of the antler points, but these did not deter it. It darted back in at the stag at once.
The pack closed in around the stag then, the circle
of them barking and snapping at the animal to keep it trapped until the men arrived. It was Finn and Caoilte who leapt through their circle first to dive in upon the stag. Caoilte went bravely in over the antlers, plunging downward with his hunting spear in an attempt to strike the spine. But the animal twisted sideways, and the weapon missed its target, sinking into the tough muscle beside the bone.