Pendragon

'This is absurd,' Gwenhwyvar contended. 'Put up your swords, both of you!' Aside from a neat cut on Conaire's arm there was little evidence thus far of any deadly intent.

'Stand aside, woman,' King Conaire told her. 'This is between Fergus and me alone.'

The pipes screeched on, skirling loudly. 'Silence!' Gwenhwyvar screamed at the pipers, who faltered to a squawky stop. She turned back to the two kings, fists on hips, and, in a tone that brooked no foolishness, demanded, 'Now tell me, why are you standing out here hacking at one another like Finn mac Cumhaill and Usnach Blue Shield?'

'Do not think to intrude here,' Conaire growled. 'We mean to settle this before the sun passes midday.'

'Do your worst, Conaire Crobh Rua,' Fergus said, tightening his grip on the great sword once more.

'Answer me!' commanded Gwenhwyvar, addressing Conaire. 'Why are you fighting?'

Fergus spoke first. 'He has heaped dishonour on the tribe of Guillomar, and I cannot allow such abuse to go unpunished.'

'Come then!' cried Conaire. 'We will see who is to be punished here. Stand aside, woman!' He made to raise the sword over his head.

Gwenhwyvar put her hand to the naked blade and held it; she confronted him, her face a hair's breadth from his. 'Conaire Red Hand, you tell me what has happened and tell it now.'

'I will not!'

'Conaire!'

'I – it was, it – 'he stammered, the weapon beginning to waver. 'It is all Fergus' doing. Ask him, for my sword speaks for me.'

'You hold the fealty of five lords, and are bound by strong oaths to protect them,' Gwenhwyvar told him, still holding the blade and keeping his arms aloft. 'Therefore, I demand to know why you are attacking one of your own kings,'

'I will tell you nothing. Ask Fergus!'

'I am asking you!'

Conaire was red-faced with anger, his arms trembling with the effort of holding the heavy sword above his head. 'Woman, you do vex me most sorely!' he growled. 'I have told you it is all Fergus' doing.'

'Liar!' cried Fergus, pressing close. 'Stand aside, daughter. Let me finish him now.'

'Father! Keep still.' She faced Conaire and demanded, 'Will you speak yet, or must we stand here all day?'

I glanced at Llenlleawg and saw that he was smiling, obviously enjoying the dispute. Even so, his spear was in his hand and ready.

The huge sword trembling above his head, Conaire rolled his eyes and gave in to her demand. 'You are worse than your father,' he snorted in disgust. 'Let my hands down and I will tell you.'

Gwenhwyvar, satisfied with his reply, released the sword and stepped back a pace. 'Well?'

'It is that accursed priest!'

'Ciaran has done nothing to you!' Fergus charged, thrusting forward.

Gwenhwyvar pushed him back, and addressed Conaire. 'What about the priest?'

'He stole six of my cattle,' the king complained weakly.

'Your cattle wandered away when your cowherd fell asleep,' Fergus said. 'The priest found them.'

'And took them to his own pens!'

'He offered to give them back!'

'Oh, he offered! He offered – if I would come and get them he would give them back.'

'Well?' demanded Gwenhwyvar, growing more exasperated with each passing moment.

'It is only so that he can rail at me with that – that creed of his,' Conaire insisted. 'He defies me to listen to him and says that he will make a Christian of me yet. But I will have none of it!'

'What are you afraid of, man?' Fergus challenged. 'Hear him out and make up your mind. No one can make you believe anything you do not want to believe!'

'And you, Fergus mac Guillomar, are a fool!' Conaire rejoined. 'You are beguiled with the babble of that priest. Most malicious of men, he has stolen your wit as well as reason. Christians! Look at you, Fergus, you cannot even fight your own fights anymore. I see what listening to priests has done to you, and I will not go down that path.'

Gwenhwyvar spoke up. 'I am a Christian, too, Conaire,' she said, coolly. 'Do you think me weak-willed and witless?'

Conaire raised a warning finger. 'Stay out of this, you. This is no concern of yours.'

'Is it not?' she asked. 'I rather think it concerns all who hold the Christ as lord over them.'

'Then draw your weapon and stand behind your father,' Conaire told her. 'And I will give you stroke for stroke what I give Fergus.'

'Go to it then!' cried Fergus. 'Do your worst!'

'Oh, stop it – both of you,' Gwenhwyvar snapped. 'Conaire, we do not have time for this. If it is a fight you want, listen to me now. The Vandal host is laying waste to Ynys Prydein. I have come to raise the warbands of Eiru to aid Arthur.'

Fergus was only too happy to be distracted from the tussle at hand. 'Did you mean to keep it from us, daughter? Why, my men and I are ready; we will put to sea at once.' He turned to his warriors, who stood looking on. 'Bid your kin farewell, men. Arthur needs us.' Turning back to Gwenhwyvar, he said, 'Arthur in need? Say no more. That is good enough for me.'

Conaire frowned. 'Well, I care little for that. I will not go.'

Gwenhwyvar could scarce believe the man's stubbornness. 'After all Arthur has done for you?' she challenged. 'Is this the thanks of a noble lord? Britain suffers now because Arthur helped you.'

'What son of king leaves his realm unprotected?' Conaire sniffed, putting on a brave display of indifference.

'He did it to save you!' Gwenhwyvar declared.

'More fool he,' replied the Irish king smugly. 'I did not ask his help, nor did I need it.'

'If not for Arthur you would be dead now-you and all your people with you, Conaire Red Hand!'

'And if I were dead I would not have to keep hearing about Arthur!'

Gwenhwyvar, her face flushed with rage, spun from him. 'Go, Father, ready your ships and men. Llenlleawg and I ride to rouse the southern lords.'

'This lord will not be roused,' Conaire insisted. 'Nor any beholden to me.'

'Go your way, Conaire,' Gwenhwyvar told him. 'You are of no consequence anymore.'

'I will not go -'

'Well and good!'

' – and neither will I allow my lords to sail to Britain,' he said. 'This is no concern of the Uladh or its kin.'

'Arthur needs help and I am pledged to give it,' Fergus said. 'All I have I owe to him. More, he is my kinsman through the marriage of my daughter. I am going to help him.'

'And I say you will not go.'

'And I say I will!'

'You will not – '

'Silence!' Gwenhwyvar screamed. She faced the Irish king squarely. 'You can choose not to help us,' she said, anger seething from every pore. 'That is your right. But you cannot prevent Fergus from going if he is so resolved."

'No,' allowed Conaire, growing sly, 'I cannot prevent him from going. But – 'he turned a defiant gaze upon Fergus – 'if you leave, your lands are forfeit.'

'Snake! Snake!' cried Fergus. 'You cannot do that!'

'Stand back and watch what I do!"

'Do not listen to him, Father,' Gwenhwyvar said. 'Go and ready the men.'

'Since you are going,' Conaire continued, 'I advise you to take your priests and people with you, for I tell you the truth: there will be no home for you if you return."

'Take the land!" Fergus bellowed, drawing himself up with immense dignity. 'And I take back my oath of fealty to you. I once pledged myself to a true king, but you are not that man. Go your way, Conaire Crobh Rua. I am done with you.'

'What need have I of a faithless lord like you?' Conaire sneered. 'I will give your lands to men who honour their oaths and do not go chasing after priests of strange religions.'

Fergus drew breath to reply. Gwenhwyvar put her hands on his chest and turned him. 'Go now. Say nothing more.'

'Indeed,' her father replied, 'there is nothing more to say.'

He turned and hastened back to his waiting warband and the gathered throng of his tribe. In a moment they began moving away.