Each lord was allowed two advisors—one to sit at his right hand and one to stand behind his chair—and Conor chose Fergal and Donal to attend him. Fergal and Conor occupied one of the overstuffed wool sacks to one side of the hearth opposite the brehons, and Donal stood behind and between them at the ready. Médon and others of the fianna who had been in the battle at Mag Cró hovered at the door outside, staying nearby in case any word came their way, or should their witness be required.
It was not until everyone had taken their places that Vainche made his entrance. He and his battlechief Gioll strolled to a bench in the front row among the other lords, leaving Liam and Eamon to take the last two places on the bench beside them. Liam did not look at Conor, but kept his gaze on the druids clustered loosely around their chief.
When all were settled, Rónán, in recognition of the fact that he had brought the case to the attention of the brehons, rose from his place and, taking his staff, thumped it on the floor three times, each crack resounding throughout the hall. One of the ollamhs stepped forward and proceeded to relate a long and seemingly exhaustive history of previous proceedings and judgements from various cases in times past, thereby reminding everyone present of the authority wielded by the brehons. Even renowned kings bowed before the judgement of a druid, as the recitation amply demonstrated. When he finished, another ollamh rose and, in a song, invoked the spirit of justice and righteousness to prevail throughout the proceedings.
When these rites had been observed, then Rónán took his place at the hearth and, raising the long length of rowan above his head, called on everyone within the sound of his voice to abide by simple rules of order. ‘The staff in my hand signifies the consent of the brehons. No one who is not a brehon will speak unless holding this staff. The person speaking must be allowed his say without interruption and all others will maintain respectful silence unless called upon to speak. If anyone here cannot abide by these decrees, then that person should leave now.’ He passed his gaze around the ring of chairs and those standing in attendance; when no one quit the hall, he said, ‘Let all within the sound of my voice know that the Ard Airechtas of Eirlandia is begun.’
He turned to Eoghan and presented the staff to the brehon chief, who took it in his right hand and stood. ‘You have been summoned to hear a complaint of most grievous substance and far-reaching implications—one that demands our full and faithful consideration. In order to rightly discern the truth of this matter it will be necessary to revisit certain past events. When we have done that, we will determine whether an offence of any kind took place. Only then will we see clearly if a judgement is required and, if so, what that judgement should be.’
Returning the staff to Rónán, he took his seat. Rónán turned to the lords and said, ‘Who is it that invokes the judgement of Eirlandia in this matter? Rise and be recognised.’
The question met with silence and hung unanswered in the air. Fergal shifted in his chair and gave Conor a nudge and a look as if to say, He means you, brother.
Conor rose from his place on the wool sack, and Rónán extended the rowan staff. ‘Conor mac Ardan,’ he intoned, ‘take the staff and state your complaint.’
Gripping the staff, Conor collected his thoughts and took his place before the hearth. Every eye was on him as he cleared his throat and began. ‘Word came to us here at Tara that Scálda ships had made landfall on Auteini lands in the north. I raised the fianna and rode to lend support to the defenders. At Mag Cró we found them already hard pressed and joined in the fighting.’ He paused to choose his words and then proceeded to describe the two failed attacks and how the warleaders agreed on a plan to break through the enemy chariots.
‘We formed the battle line—three separate wings. Fergal led one, Vainche another, and Toráin and the other lords were to hold the centre. At the agreed signal, the centre was to break off the attack and feign a retreat to draw the enemy chariots into giving chase. The two side wings—the fianna on the right, Vainche and the Brigantes and Darini on the left—were to sweep around the outside and then strike at the chariot line from the rear.’ Conor paused, remembering the struggle to stay alive that day.
‘What happened then?’ asked Rónán, his voice low, gentle.
Conor lifted his head. ‘What happened? Every lord and warrior within the sound of my voice knows what happened next,’ Conor spat. ‘We rode out. The signal was given. The centre collapsed. The Scálda gave chase—as we knew they would. Fergal and the fianna made the turn and swept in from the right … but instead of Vainche and his battle group, we were met by a host of enemy chariots.’
‘And the looked-for attack from the right?’ asked Rónán.
‘It never came,’ replied Conor softly. He turned his eyes to Vainche and shook his head. ‘The attack never came because Vainche had deserted the field and left the fight, taking his warriors with him. He abandoned his swordbrothers in the midst of battle and rode away.’
Conor moved around the hearth ring to stand directly before Vainche, who refused to meet his gaze. ‘Thirty-two men died that day. Settlements burned. And I want to know why!’ demanded Conor. ‘Why all the lies and deceit? Why the treachery? Was it only in service to your insufferable vanity? Was it jealousy? Ambition?’ Standing over Vainche, Conor shouted, ‘Why? This is your chance to help us understand. Why did you do it?’
Vainche, rigid with hatred, remained silent and stared straight ahead with cold fire in his eyes.
Having spoken his mind, Conor passed the staff to Rónán and returned to his place on the wool sack beside Fergal, who gave him a nudge of approval. Rónán then turned to the chief brehon, who climbed slowly onto his stiff legs and stood for a moment with a hand pressed to his forehead.
Then, in a voice that seemed to come from beneath the hard-beaten floor of the hall, he said, ‘The crime of treason has been invoked—namely, that Lord Vainche, having allied his forces with those of the amassed Dé Danann defenders, withdrew the warriors of his battle group during battle. This battle group—which included the Darini warband under the leadership of Liam mac Ardan—was unexpectedly withdrawn while successfully engaged in a counterattack. This action, it is claimed, not only led to the failure of the counterattack and the needless deaths of thirty-two Dé Danann warriors, it ultimately resulted in the loss of the lands and settlements belonging to the Auteini.’
He allowed the enormity of the crime to sink in, then continued, ‘In fairness, I must point out that warriors die in battle and that is a cruel fact of war. How many of the deaths at Mag Cró might have resulted directly from this treacherous action we cannot know. Therefore, lamentable though it may be, we cannot reckon those deaths in the matter before us. Even so, it will be understood that deceiving and forsaking warriors who have placed their trust in a warleader is a grave and appalling offence. To do so while engaged in battle is the breadth and height of treason. This, then, is the crime we have been asked to assess and, if cause is found and proved, this is the crime we will judge.’
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Turning slowly around, scanning the crowded hall, Rónán called out, ‘An accusation of treason has been made. For this allegation to be judged, brehon law requires at least two witnesses. Is there one among those who fought that day who can speak to this charge?’
The lords glanced around at one another to ascertain which among them would be the one to cast the Brigantes king to his fate. But, before any of them could rise and be recognised before the brehons, Vainche was on his feet and moving to the hearth at the centre of the ring. Rónán regarded him with cool indifference. ‘You will have your chance to speak,’ Rónán told him. ‘Now is not the time.’
At this, the Brigantes king drew himself up and said, ‘Grievous charges have been laid against me, and I am come here willingly today to defend my honour and that of my people. To that end, I respectfully ask this august assembly to consider the character and actions of the one who has made these scurrilous claims which I am now compelled to answer. You have heard wha
t Conor mac Ardan had to say—and he wove a most convincing tale to be sure. Yet, I will tell you that this same man has perpetrated a crime against me that is itself answerable and must be taken into account.’
‘What is he doing?’ muttered Fergal.
‘Listen!’ hissed Donal.
Rónán started to insist that he wait his turn, but the chief brehon waved aside the objection, saying, ‘There are those among us who are able to keep two ideas in their head at the same time. We will allow it.’ To Vainche, he said, ‘I would like to know how the truth of this matter has been distorted. Please satisfy an old man’s curiosity.’
Rónán passed the rowan staff to the king, and stepped aside. Lord Vainche thanked Eoghan for allowing him to clear up the misunderstanding that had brought them here. He then began by acknowledging the seriousness of the crime, and expressed his belief and trust in the wise brehons to give the matter a fair and just hearing once they had learned the true facts.
He took a few slow paces before the hearth, as if to compose his thoughts; then, grasping the staff in both hands, Vainche looked to the seated lords and, in a voice of utmost innocence tinged with sadness, he said, ‘One day not long ago, I was about the business of ruling my people with the fair and considerate hand they have come to expect of my kingship. On that day, like any other, I rode out with a few of my men to the hunting runs for which the Brigantes are rightly renowned. While I was away, Conor arrived at Aintrén with a warband and forced his way into my fortress.
‘In order to avoid a skirmish and bloodshed, my queen—at great risk to her person—made bold to challenge him. She was humiliated in the presence of the tribe and her pleas for peace ignored. Conor would not relent. He was angry. Enraged. He had come for a fight and since I was not there to engage him, he took out his anger and frustration on my queen and property. He stole horses from my herd, depriving my warriors of the animals on which they depend for the defence of our lands.’
Shaking his head slowly, as if labouring under a painful memory, Vainche appealed to the lords seated on the wool sacks. ‘But rather than stoke the fires of hatred and animosity this deluded man obviously feels toward me, I chose to suffer the hurt in silence.’ He looked around, appealing for sympathy. ‘If this was all that man did, it would be enough to bring him before the Airechtas, but he went further. Having gained entrance to the ráth and dishonoured the queen, he then proceeded to try to poison her good opinion of me and destroy the natural harmony and affection between a king and his people. How did he do this? He did it by delivering a highly inaccurate account of a recent battle and lying about what took place.’ Vainche glanced at Conor and shook his head as if unable to fathom the depths of his adversary’s depravity. ‘Not only did he lie about what took place on the battlefield, he lied about his part in what can only be described as a disastrous and shameful defeat—a defeat for which Conor mac Ardan is largely responsible.’
This last claim caused a flutter of confusion in the hall and brought Conor to his feet. His birthmark burning, he strained forward and was pulled back by Fergal, who quickly drew him back to his seat.
‘With these lies,’ Vainche concluded, ‘this lowborn cheat and liar not only deceived my queen and people, but persuaded some of my warriors to join him. He despoiled my herd, gutted my warband, and tried to turn the tribe against me.’
Rónán, arms crossed over his chest, stood grimly looking on. Seeing that the Brigantes lord had finished, he looked to Eoghan, who, after a moment’s discussion with Eithne and Brádoch, said, ‘We have heard your complaint of theft of horses and the unlawful enticement of warriors away from their rightful lord. Is there someone present who can speak to this contention?’
The brehon looked around the assembled lords and advisors, and Conor, too, turned to see who might speak up for him. When no one volunteered, the call went out to those waiting outside for anyone who might be able to tell what happened on the day of Conor’s raid on Aintrén.
It was Médon who answered the call. He pushed through those standing and stepped into the space around the hearth. There was a murmur of voices and a shuffling of feet, and Médon put out a hand to receive the rowan staff.
Rónán stepped before him. ‘Were you at Aintrén the day of Conor’s alleged raid?’ Médon nodded. Rónán passed the staff to him and said, ‘Then tell us what you heard and saw.’
‘I rode with Conor and Fergal to Aintrén to get the horses we were promised. Since Lord Vainche was not there when we arrived, we spoke to the queen instead. She gave us the horses and we left. As we were riding away, members of the Brigantes warband came running after us. They said they wanted to come with us and join the fianna. Conor agreed and we rode back to Tara.’ He concluded with a shrug. ‘That’s all.’
A quiet commotion coursed through the hall. Eoghan cast a stern glance around and rose from his chair. Folding his hands before him, he said, ‘You say you rode to Aintrén with Conor and Fergal.’
‘Aye, we did that.’
‘Three warleaders. And how many warriors accompanied you?’
‘None,’ replied Médon. ‘It was only us three alone.’
A patter of nervous laughter greeted this statement, relieving some of the tension that had gripped the room since Vainche’s attack on Conor. The chief brehon held up his hand for silence. ‘Lord Vainche has declared that his stronghold was stormed and that horses and members of the Brigantes warband were stolen or otherwise removed.’ He fixed Médon with a stern, uncompromising stare. ‘Are we to believe there were only three of you to storm the Aintrén fortress and force your way inside?’
‘Only the three of us,’ insisted Médon, ‘but we didn’t force our way inside—there was no need. The gates were open when we got there.’
‘You say you spoke with the queen,’ continued Eoghan, ‘and asked for the horses and that she gave them to you. Did you use force or threaten her in any way to obtain these horses?’
Médon shook his head. ‘Nay, lord. None of that. The queen gave them to us because that was what was owed.’
‘Owed?’ said the chief druid. ‘In what way were these horses owed to Conor?’
Médon briefly explained about how the northern lords had called Conor to account for stealing Tara, but that the judgement of the airechtas had gone against them, and that as a result Conor was awarded five horses from each of the kings who had taken part.
Eoghan turned to Rónán and said, ‘You were the brehon in charge of this airechtas, I believe.’
‘I was,’ answered Rónán. ‘Lord Cahir of the Coriondi contacted me and I made my way to the council, where I took charge of the airechtas in question. I can verify that this man’s account is accurate. I will also remind the brehons of the determination that was made which allowed Conor to lay claim to Tara Hill and its surrounding lands.’
Eoghan confirmed the ruling and resumed the questioning. ‘You are telling us that the Brigantes fortress lay open to your entrance and that the horses were given willingly by Queen Sceana in payment of the honour debt awarded to Lord Conor by the airechtas of the northern lords. Correct?’
Médon nodded. ‘That is it, exactly.’
‘Now then, moving on quickly—what can you tell us about the warriors Vainche claims were taken from his warband that day?’
‘Aye, that did happen.’
‘How many warriors were taken?’
‘Two.’
Again, there were chuckles from the ranks of onlookers.
‘Two warriors?’ Eoghan repeated. ‘Only two?’
‘Aye, only two. And they weren’t taken. They quit the Brigantes warband and came to us because they were ashamed of how they had been made to serve a cowardly lord. They said they wanted to join the fianna to make amends.’
‘Amends, you say. What reason did they give for wanting to do that?’
‘Because of what happened up on Mag Cró,’ replied Médon simply. ‘That’s what they said.’ He cast a glance over his shoulder at the crowd behi
nd him and added, ‘I expect they are here in the hall somewhere—you can ask them.’
‘Since that would seem to be the most expedient way of moving this inquiry along, we will do just that.’ Eoghan raised a hand and signalled to Rónán, who called for the two Brigantes warriors to come forward and make themselves known to the brehons.
From the back of the hall near the doorway, there came a small stir and the two warriors pushed their way to the hearth. Looking uncertain and distinctly uncomfortable to be the objects of brehon scrutiny, they moved to stand beside Médon. At Rónán’s command, they identified themselves as Comgall and Mongan, former members of the Brigantes warband.
‘Did you abandon your lord and swordbrothers to join Conor’s fianna?’ asked Eoghan. Both nodded. ‘And did Conor compel you in any way?’
‘Nay, lord,’ said Comgall. Mongan shook his head.
‘Perhaps he offered you something in exchange for your service and loyalty,’ suggested Brádoch from his chair. ‘Gold, perhaps? Or, a higher position in his fianna?’
‘Nay, lord,’ replied Comgall firmly. ‘He never did.’ The warrior glanced at his brother beside him. ‘It was all our own idea. We didn’t even know if he would have us after what had happened at Mag Cró.’ He glanced at Mongan, who added, ‘But we had to try.’
Chief Brehon Eoghan dismissed the two warriors and returned to Médon. ‘Now then, if I understand you correctly, warrior, the order of events would suggest that because of what happened on the northern battlefield of Mag Cró, Conor went to Aintrén intent on confronting Lord Vainche and avenging this grievance. Would I be right in thinking this?’
‘Nay, lord, nothing like that,’ replied Médon, glancing across to Vainche. ‘It is in my mind that Lord Conor went to Aintrén not for revenge, but to collect the honour debt which Vainche refused to pay.’
‘The five horses awarded to Conor by the northern airechtas.’ The chief bard looked to the lords and said, ‘Who among you were present at this northern council hosted by Corgan Eridani? Stand up so that we can see you.’
In the Kingdom of All Tomorrows--Eirlandia, Book Three Page 21