The man led us to a large cottage where he stuck his head inside the door and muttered something. Then he turned to us. “Please dismount and enter. Brógán O' Tolairg wishes to speak with you.”
The Staff of Nuada was never far from my hand, and I had it now as I stepped from my horse and walked toward the cottage. Laoidheach and Goban followed as I strode through the door and stopped in surprise. The man at the far end of the room seated on a large wooden box was not what I had expected.
“Come in. Come in all of you!” the man laughed. Huge and grotesque, he was, without doubt, the most corpulent being I had ever seen. His head and face meticulously shaved, he beamed with good humor. “Please, come in and be seated! Would you care for ale? I do not wish to brag, but I have perhaps the finest ale in all Eire!”
I shook my head. “No, though we thank you. We are…”
“Oh, don’t bother with names. No one uses his true name during these times; while I,” he chuckled, “well you already know who I am. Please do sit down.”
Two benches were aligned before him so we seated ourselves, and I continued, “We are sorry to disturb you, Brógán O' Tolairg, and request only a brief moment of your time.”
O' Tolairg again chuckled, his eyes squinting through rolls of fat alight with humor. “Yes, so I’ve heard. You want information.”
Then he pointed to Goban, and laughed. “You are the one who mentioned the sheep, I think. You have a sharp wit about you, one I appreciate, but,” he placed a finger before his lips and whispered, “shh. The men here wouldn’t want their little secret to become known.” His head rolled back on his thick neck as he roared at his own joke.
I began to grin as well, but then froze, seeing the wooden cross hanging on the wall behind him.
O' Tolairg followed my gaze and turned back to me. “You find the thing distasteful, I think? Yes,” he nodded, “it is an offense in your sight.”
“No, I—”
“Do not deny it. You think I don’t know the meaning of your serpent ring? Take the damned cross off the wall and throw it through the door if it suits you. It serves no purpose here, although a few of my rare guests find it comforting.”
He was a strange one. “You are not a Christian, then?”
Again he laughed. “A Christian? Hah! No, I’m no Christian, and far from it, though sometimes it’s wise to appear otherwise. Now, you wanted information?”
I nodded. “Yes, and I will gladly pay for it if it pleases you.”
His fat jowls jostled as he chortled. “Let’s discuss the value of my information after I’ve provided it, shall we? You mentioned slavers to my man. Now, tell me. What do you wish to know?”
“There were slavers here a few weeks ago. They held captive a young girl, a beautiful girl with long, auburn hair by the name of Aine. Do you remember?”
“How could I not?” the fat man beamed. “Such a girl is to be remembered. It is she you are interested in?”
“Yes, she is… That is, what became of her? Do you know?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “She was here, held by a mangy dog named Scannlon and his flea-ridden friends. Now she and they are gone.”
“I see. Yes, but did they say where they were going?”
For the first time, O' Tolairg frowned. “Yes. Scannlon is a great fool, and planned to travel east to Saithne.”
“Saithne, you say? I do not know it.”
“Humph, no doubt. It is a small village north of here, near the coast. Ships from distant lands have brought poisonous plague to some coastal villages and certain death for all who encounter it. The plague is in Saithne, and it is a place to be avoided.”
Laoidheach gasped beside me, and, concerned for Aine, my heart sank at the mention of the word…plague, the Black Death. I looked to O' Tolairg. “Why would a man deliberately travel to a village poisoned by the plague?”
“I’ve already told you. Scannlon is a fool. He thinks to capture youngsters there for slaves after their parents die of it. It is a stupid plan, one that will no doubt kill him.”
“And one that will kill Aine too, no doubt,” I mumbled.
“What is the girl to you? Your wife perhaps?” He shook his head in answer to his own question. “No, not your wife. I have it! She is of your blood. Your hair is red while hers is auburn. She is your sister! Am I right?”
I nodded. “Yes, she is my sister.”
O' Tolairg beamed. “I knew it from the very first. I’m very clever, don’t you see, and I always know how things will be in the end. So tell me, was my information useful?”
I tired of the fat man. “Yes, you were very helpful. Now tell me how I can repay you.”
He pointed to Goban. “I want him.”
“What? But that is ridiculous. Oh, I see. It is another of your jokes.”
“Oh, I love my jokes, yes I certainly do, but regrettably this is not one of them. You see, he is an escaped slave, but of course you knew that already. I well remember he came through here at about the same time as your sister, only he was a captive of Corcu Duibne warriors. I think they will pay a fat reward to have him returned to them. Wouldn’t you agree?”
The dilemma we now faced was my fault. I should have realized that Goban might be recognized in Quirene. The gaze O' Tolairg fixed upon me was no longer that of a jolly fat man.
I rose and faced him. “This discussion is meaningless. I would not give you the man, even if he were mine to give. I have two pieces of silver. They are ample payment for your information.”
O' Tolairg snickered. “You have silver? That is good, for I will have it and the man. To be sure, I will take all you have, and, if you are very fortunate, you and this other one beside you,” he pointed to Laoidheach,” can walk away from my village to find your sister.”
“You are a pig.”
He leaned back and yawned. “So I have been told before, but you begin to bore me. You and your friend have two choices. You can walk through that door and continue walking, or I will hold you and sell you as non-Christian slaves to the Corcu alongside the little man here.”
I drew my sword. “You forget. We are armed and we have you. You will follow us outside to our horses.”
“No, I think not.” He called, “Oh, Osgar!”
The man who led us to the cottage appeared in the doorway. “Yes, Master O' Tolairg?”
“You heard what was said here?”
“Yes master.”
“Be a good man, then, and go tell the others to gather before my cottage, won’t you?”
The man disappeared from the doorway, and O' Tolairg sneered. “You see? You have no way out. Oh, I understand you might kill me, yes indeed, but I have more than fifty men out there who would then kill you. There’s no profit in that, now is there? No. I suggest you all lay down your weapons, and accept my offer. Leave the small man with me, and you can simply walk away.”
“I have no need to kill you. Goban will.”
“Of course. But then my men will kill you just the same, don’t you see, and your deaths will be on his head. What say you, Goban? Do you want to be the cause of your friends’ deaths?”
Goban looked to me with sad eyes. “The bastard has us trapped for fair, Ossian, and that’s a fact. Go with Laoidheach while ye can. I will deal with this fat pig afterwards.”
O' Tolairg was already gloating over his victory, but my mind was on fire, seeking a way out.
“Let us just cut this swine’s throat,” Laoidheach urged. “His men might cut us down afterwards, but we cannot give up Goban.”
“You are a man of honor, eh, pretty man?” the fat man grinned. “Be very cautious, for I think my men would enjoy capturing you to use at their pleasure in the place of their women,” he winked, “or sheep. Where is the honor in that?”
“It is not a thing you would understand, you filthy pile of shit,” Laoidheach snapped.
Laugher filled the room as O' Tolairg leaned back his head and roared.
The Staff of Nuada trembled in my hand, at first so slightly I scarce noticed it. It began quivering again, more urgently. An unknown energy raced up my arm from the Staff, a vision of unimagined power filled my mind, and suddenly I knew precisely how to confront this evil man and his henchmen.
I pointed my Staff at O' Tolairg. “Stand to your feet.”
O' Tolairg grinned. “I think not.”
Goban rose, strode over to him and slapped his face hard with the flat of his calloused hand. “My friend said stand to your feet, ye stinkin’ offal!”
The fat man cringed under Goban’s blow, but his shifty eyes found mine. “I offered you a way out of here, but now I take it back! You will die here, or be sold as a slave!”
It was now my turn to smile. “Will you stand, Brógán O' Tolairg, or must Goban encourage you once again?”
He sat motionless for a moment, and then sighed. Two wooden canes rested on the floor beside him. He took them in his hands and heaved his enormous bulk upright. The man stood there, leaning upon the canes, glaring. “And now?”
“Now you will lead us through the door.”
“You are foolish men.” His eyes captured Laoidheach and Goban. “And very soon you will be dead men.”
I gestured toward the door. “Proceed.”
Laoidheach whispered in my ear. “What are you planning? Are you certain this is a good idea?”
“Stay behind me and watch our backs, my friend.” I then handed my sword to Goban, and pointed to O' Tolairg. “Prod him and keep him moving through the door.”
Goban walked behind the man and slapped him across his broad ass with the flat of the sword. “Ossian told ye to proceed. Start movin’!”
The huge man took a hesitant, shuffling step forward, his massive weight much supported by his arms and the canes. Another step was taken, and, slowly, a third.
“You are an inconsequential scoundrel,” I said to him. “You think yourself important because the scum in this filthy village cower before you. Know me for who I am, Brógán O' Tolairg, for I am Ossian, son of Ciann Mehigan, and a Druid among the Eoghanachts. You will release us unharmed, or, by the gods themselves, I shall unleash a power against you such as you cannot even imagine.”
He glowered at me and hissed, “You think my men and I tremble before the idle threats of wizards? You Druids flee before the Christian priests, and scatter like leaves before the wind. Even your old gods, the Lords of the Sidhe, fall back in the face of the irresistible incursion of Christian priests and their Holy Trinity. You cannot defeat the Christians, and you cannot defeat me! When we step through that door you will taste my power, Ossian of the god-cursed Eoghanachts!”
Eyes narrowing, I pointed at him. “You are foolish to forget. You will die with us, and as you said, where is the profit in that?”
“Foolish am I? You think I will die so easily?” His lips curled. “It will take more than the likes of you to kill Brógán O' Tolairg.”
Goban again slapped him across his buttocks with the sword. “Keep moving! Ossian didn’t tell ye to stop walkin’.”
O' Tolairg grunted, and resumed his slow shuffle like that of a monstrous, four-legged brute. He walked past me and the stench of him assaulted my nose, the foul odor of a creature long unclean.
Goban stepped forward, opened the door and told the fat man, “Ye go first. If an arrow comes, ye take it.”
Perhaps there was truth behind Goban’s words, for O' Tolairg hesitated, and then called out, “Wait! I am coming out!”
He began shuffling forward again and stepped outward into the sunlight. Goban followed closely behind, his sword at the man’s throat.
I reached to the pouch at my belt, removed the silver coiled-snake pommel and placed it upon the Staff. At once, power surged through me, so I hurried through the door to discover fifty or more armed men of the village clustered twenty paces away.
My eyes swept the crowd and I held the Staff high as I called to them. “There need be no trouble here! Stand back, and my friends and I will simply ride away.”
O' Tolairg bellowed in return. “Stop them! Archers forward, archers forward! Kill them!”
The Staff shuddered violently in my hands and I clenched my fist around it. “Stay back!” I yelled as eight bowmen stepped to the front of O' Tolairg’s men. “Do not raise those bows, for you will suffer the wrath of the gods, the wrath of Nuada himself!”
The archers ignored me as they nocked arrows on their bowstrings. Behind them men raised weapons above their heads, shouting insults.
Laoidheach gasped and then stepped beside me, poised, knife in hand.
I understood the power of the Staff since it first trembled in my hand. Now I held it level, and pointed the pommel at the archers. A force like lightning showered from the pommel, shrieking like the tortured soul of a banshee, striking and searing the eight archers who stood directly before it. It was a scene of horror, of screaming pain by all touched by the power of the Staff.
The remainder of O' Tolairg’s men fell back, dropping their weapons to race away in panic. I raised the Staff vertically and the lightning stopped.
Eight men lay upon the ground before us. Two writhed, emitting agonized groans.
Goban stared at me, the horror on his face plain to see. He could not find his breath, so whispered, “When I told ye the Druid’s stick would serve you as well as a sword, I did not know the terrible truth of it. It is an evil thing, possessed by an unspeakable demon.”
“A demon possessed thing, Goban? No. This power far exceeds that of a mere demon. This is the staff of a king, the Staff of Nuada of the Silver Hand! Through it, the Tuatha De Danann
established an empire, yet until now, little did I truly understand that it possesses the power of the gods themselves.”
O' Tolairg had slumped to the ground, and now lay there quivering, mewling with fear. Goban stepped over and kicked him in his ribs. “This was all your fault ye stinkin’ pile of cow shit. None of this should have happened. None of it!”
He raised his sword to take the man’s head, but I ordered, “Stop Goban! That is not the way. Wait.”
I looked across the village, but saw no movement. “Osgar!” I called. There was no answer, so I called again, and yet again.
Finally, there was a distant response. “I hear you, wizard! What do you want of me?”
“Come forward! On my word, no harm will come to you!”
There was motion at the edge of the distant grove of trees, and then Osgar staggered into view as though pushed into the open by unseen hands. He glanced once over his shoulder, and then began walking hesitantly toward us to stop five paces away. Face pale, he avoided looking toward the charred bodies of his former comrades.