The Oak and the Ram - 04 Read Free

winked.
     
     
    THE SECOND CHAPTER
    THE TREASURE BROUGHT BY KING FIACHADH
     
     
    King Fiachadh had brought a harpist with him, and for an instant Corum felt a shiver run through him, so unearthly was the harpist's music. Corum thought he heard the harp which had sounded at Castle Erom, now Owyn, but it was not that harp. This was sweeter. The bard's voice merged with the harp so that at times it was hard to tell which one heard. Corum sat with all the others in the great hall of Caer Mahlod, at a single vast table. Hounds ranged among the benches, nosing through reeds strewn upon the flagstones for scraps or for pools of sweet mead. Brands flared brightly, merrily, as if the laughter on all sides actually brightened the hall. Taking after their master, King Fiachadh's knights and ladies sported with the men and women of Caer Mahlod and many songs were sung, many boasts shouted, many improbable tales told. Corum sat between King Mannach and King Fiachadh and Medhbh sat next to her uncle, all at the head of the great-dining board. King Fiachadh ate as lustily as he spoke, though Corum noticed that the King took little mead and was by no means as drunk as his retainers. Neither did King Mannach drink overmuch, and Corum and Medhbh followed his example. If King Fiachadh chose not to get drunk, there must be a particularly good reason, for evidently he liked to drink. He told several tall stories concerning his capacity while they ate.
    The feasting went well and slowly the hall emptied as the guests and the residents of Caer Mahlod, usually in couples, bowed goodnight and left. Soon there were only a few snoring squires sprawled along the table, a big knight of the Tuha-na-Manannan spread-eagled under the table, a warrior and a maiden of the Tuha-na-Cremm Croich sprawled in each other's arms near the wall.
    And King Fiachadh said in a deep, serious voice: "You are the last I have visited, old friend." He looked hard at King Mannach.
    "I knew already what you would say. I fear I knew, too, what the others would say."
    "Say?” King Mannach frowned.
    "To my proposal."
    "You have been visiting other kings?" said Corum. "All the other kings whose folk are still free?"
    King Fiachadh nodded his great red head. "All. I see that it is imperative we unite. Our only defense against the Fhoi Myore can be our unity. First I went to the land south of my own—to the folk called Tuha-na-Ana. Secondly I sailed north where dwell, among others, the Tuha-na-Tir-nam-Beo. A mountain people and fierce. Thirdly I sailed down the coast and guested with King Daffynn of the Tuha-na-Gwyddneu Garanhir. Fourthly I came to the Tuha-na-Cremm Croich. Three kings are cautious, thinking that to attract the attention of the Fhoi Myore will mean instant destruction to their lands. What does the fourth king say?"
    "What does King Fiachadh ask?" said Medhbh reasonably.
    "That all those who remain—four great peoples as far as I know—unite. We have some treasures which the power of the Sidhi could put to use in our favor. We have great warriors. We have your example of defeating them. We should carry the attack to Craig Don or Caer Llud, wherever the six remaining Fhoi Myore dwell. A large army. The remains of the free Mabden. What say you, King?''
    "I say that I would agree," said Mannach. "Who would not?"
    "Three kings would not. Each king thinks himself safer by staying in his own land and saying nothing, doing nothing. And all three kings are afraid. They say that with Amergin in the hands of the Fhoi Myore there is no point in fighting. The elected High King is not dead, so a new one cannot be made. The Fhoi Myore knew this when they spared Amergin's life ..."
    "It is not like your folk to let superstition bind them," said Corum softly. "Why do you not change this law and make a new High King?"
    "It is not superstition," said King Mannach without offense. ' Tor one thing all the kings must meet to elect the new High King and I gather some are afraid to