i d2a2c3f564e8175e by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub

Dond insisted that he needed’ the boy here. Lendabaer wept. And Dondal, a

changed person and that overnight, remained adamant. The boy even sneered at

such a weapons-handler and Pict-slayer as he wielding net and oar and fish-spear for

the rest of his life, and the king mayhap in need of such a man for the good of crown

and land!

Samaire gave Cormac a look, and his face and demeanor grew worse than

sheepish.

“It was you, bloodthirsty hulk,” Samaire muttered, “who just had to say ‘Ye be

a warrior born’ to that poor peasant’s son. Oh, Cormac! He’ll be getting himself

killed within the month for it!”

Quietly, walking along the shoreline just before dawn, Cormac mac Art told

Dond mac Forgall a few facts. Around and about them birds twittered and called,

and the sound of the sea was in their ears.

“I have pride in me, Dond, and—”

“Aye, and with good cause!”

“Hush a moment, friend, and list to this prideful man,” Cormac said quietly. He

shot a glance in the direction of the hut. “That pride will not let me continue to lie,

and have a good man as yourself, Eirrin-born and of heroic bent in the protection of

his family... what was I saying?”

Dond suppressed his smile. “I suffer from the same iron ball rolling about within

my skull, son of Othna,” he said. “Ye were—”

“I know now, for you have said it. I have no father named Othna, nor have I

ever. I am Connacht-born, Dond, and it’s Art my father was, and a name hard to

wear he gave me.”

Dond stopped stock-still, and he stared. “My lord!”,

Cormac squeezed his shoulder. “Do not insult me by ceasing to call me ‘friend

Cormac,’ friend. At any rate—it was long ago I was forced to flee Connacht, for the

High-king then was fearful of a man bearing the name I do.”

“Sure, and it be a name even greater than Cuchulain, Cormac mac Art. The

High-king ye speak of was Laegair Niall’s son?”

“The same. With, I think, the aid of Leinster’s king, he did treachery on me, and

I fled, years and years ago. Now it’s on my way to Tara I am, and the High-king and

assembly I hope to see, for a man Eirrin-born does not forget his land. But none

must know this until I have made my way there, and had my reception, whatever

form it takes.”

“You mean to confront them all at the Feis of Tara, my lor—friend Cormac?”

“I do.”

“Then until well after that time, it is Cormac mac Othna and his friends I have

known and loved—but by Yuletide next, all will know that it was Cormac mac Art of

Connacht who slept and slew here.” Abruptly Dond chuckled. “And shared a

headache with me!”

“Be careful, Dond. My name may be even less then than now, for many have

forgot, in twelve years.”

“Twel—why, ye were a mere boy!”

“Aye. And that be something else I’d talk with ye about. So is Dondal a mere

boy, Dond, and not so proficient as was I with arms then, for I have been trained by

fighting men, and Druid-taught. I make you this promise, friend: I’ll not depart

Cashel before I’ve sent the boy home to you.

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