"Here, eat the last one." He dropped one rib back into the pot and pushed it in front of me before sinking his teeth into the dripping meat and ripping a mouthful from the bone.
As I grasped the handle of the pot, shaking my head and smiling to myself, the main doors burst open and a struggling knot of men spilled in. Blundyl was immediately on his feet, frowning with incomprehension, his eyes squinting as he tried to pierce the smoky gloom to see what was amiss. I heard a loud, anguished voice calling Connor's name urgently and looked in time to see the man who had shouted slaughtered from behind, the point of a sword blade emerging suddenly from beneath his chin, violently thrust by one of the newcomers surging through the doorway. Some people at the rearmost tables, closest to the open doors, began to cry out and several Sprang erect, but as each rose to his feet he was shot down by arrows fired from lethally close range. Six or seven men died thus in moments.
All noise and movement at the tables ceased and everyone sat watching in stunned disbelief as Liam Condranson strode into view, teeth gleaming whitely in a wide smile beneath his moustache as his men moved swiftly behind him, spreading out along the walls flanking the doorway at his back. Most of these men held drawn bows, menacing the assembly. Liam carried a broad-bladed sword easily in his right hand, and a round shield covered his breast. He walked forward boldly, his eyes on Derek, glancing neither right nor left as he made his way down the length of the hall between the two central banks of tables. At his back came a wedge of armed and armoured men, twelve of them, who upended the tables as they passed, throwing them aside to widen the aisle and herding the former occupants to either side of the hall. Beside me, Blundyl, clearly seeing the value of discretion, since he was weaponless like us, subsided slowly into his chair.
Liam came to a halt when less than one-third of the length of the room remained between him and the dais. As he stopped, two of his retainers flanked him, drawn bows levelled at Derek, who stood rigid, half crouched, his fists clenched in impotent fury. Somewhere at the back, a woman began to wail; then came the sound of a chopping blow, and the voice was cut off. Now the stillness beneath the high thatched roof was absolute. I felt the tension in myself, half crouched, half seated, half blind, clutching the heavy iron pot, and I willed myself to relax.
Liam's voice was pitched so that every ear in the crowd could hear him.
"The trouble with good ideas and good intentions, Derek, is that they encourage smugness. Do you know what I mean?" Derek made no response. "I mean, if you are going to take the weapons away from your visitors, then you had better be aware that some of them, at least, might want to have those weapons back, d'you follow me? Now, I'm prepared to believe you might have been aware of that, at one time, but you've fallen into evil ways since then.
Eight guards, indeed! They were dead, all of them, before they knew we had come calling."
Now Derek drew himself up to his full height. "You are a dead man, Condranson."
Liam Condranson checked himself dramatically, raising his sword arm high and half turning to appeal to one of the bowmen who flanked him, taking care to keep his voice raised so that it remained audible to everyone in the halclass="underline" "Ah, would you listen to that? I am the dead man, and him with arrows slavering for his heart's blood! Sit down, King Derek, and shut your mouth. Sit, sit, sit, sit. Sit!" He bent forward and almost barked the last word and, aware of his helplessness to do anything else, the king sat, bidden like a mongrel dog.
The Erse admiral looked about him then, eyeing everyone, beginning with the group at the dais table. His gaze lingered on Connor, who glared back at him, aware that one of Liam's hulking guards had passed behind him and now stood with a bared blade right at his back, covering him and Tearlach. Another stood behind me and Blundyl. Liam sneered, and his eyes moved on to big Tearlach, who also sat rigid. But the insult proved too much for another of Connor's men, who leaped to his feet with an oath and died there, his throat shattered by an arrow before his words were fully formed. Liam ignored the interruption and continued his perusal of the room, turning now slowly and completely until he faced the dais again, where his gaze fastened upon me.
"That's a wondrous eye, you have there, big fellow. You must be the one who debated with my men this afternoon. Merlyn, from Camulod. I'd welcome you to my new stronghold, to my new kingdom, since it seems to be the king's own duty to welcome guests, but I would be lying.
You have the stink of Athol's Gaels about you, for all your yellow hair, so you're bound for the fire with the rest of his carrion." He broke off suddenly at a sound from Derek and turned to face him. "What is it? You have something that you wish to say? Your last pronouncement as a king?"
"You are mad," Derek growled. "My people will eat you."
"Eat me?" Liam whooped with delight, but then his expression hardened into a hateful mask. "What people? You ruled a flock of sheep, old man, a herd of cattle! Or have I overlooked your thousands hiding in the forests? I have taken your stronghold with one half of the crew of my own galley. Three-quarters of my men are still unarmed, playing the fool with yours, getting them drunk and legless. Later tonight, when they have all passed out—-your men, not mine—we will complete the ... conversion. My fleet arrives the day after tomorrow. You may blame your swinish friends, Mac Athol and his vermin, for cutting short your kingship by one day. Had they not come, you ·could have reigned until tomorrow night. Their presence, all unarmed while rooting at your tables, is a mere windfall, unlooked for and unplanned but very welcome." He stopped, and his face and voice underwent a startling transformation, assuming once again a specious goodwill.
"Now, here's what will happen next. Some friends of mine are waiting with the children and one of the women brought today by your new guests. I see the other Woman here, so there's nothing lost of that encirclement." He nodded pleasantly to Shelagh, who sat wide-eyed beside her husband, gazing back at Liam in loathing, and then he continued, addressing Derek again. "Now, you have to understand the mettle of my men. I've been affronted by their bad behaviour often in the past, and they're not good with children at all—I think it might be better if we all remain aware of that ... So, after you, the former king, are dead, your guests—by all the gods, man, have you no sense of shame at all, to sit with such as these? Your guests will come with me, as hostages, in silence. Is that not right, Connor Mac Athol?"
Connor said nothing and merely glared his defiance until a smashing blow from the man behind him sent him reeling and his face hit the table top. Liam waited until Connor straightened up again, shaking his head to clear it.
"I said, is that not right, Connor Mac Athol?" Another silence and another blow, this one heavy enough to shake the table when Connor's body fell against it. Another pause, and then, "I said, is that not right, Connor Mac Athol?"
"In the name of Lud, Connor, answer him!" This was from Shelagh. Connor gazed down at her for long moments, his eyes glazed, and then nodded his head in Liam's direction.