Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [51]
Following a circuitous route, they had brought the bull safely out of Connacht, and as they drew towards Uisnech, Finbarr sent one of his men back to the owner with the following message.
“The High King was sorry you were not there when he came to collect tribute, but he thanks you for the fine bull you have sent him instead.”
Their arrival could hardly have been more encouraging. There were still a number of chiefs remaining with the High King and his retinue at Uisnech. Quite a crowd, including many druids, lined the path as they made their way towards the High King’s quarters. But it was the queen who came towards them first, her face wreathed in smiles.
“That’s my bull,” she cried. And coming closer, in a quieter tone she repeated, “That’s my bull,” with rich satisfaction.
From the king, however, his reception was less warm. He did receive a nod and a grunt, which seemed to indicate that the success of his mission was accepted. But evidently there were other, more important matters on the king’s mind.
“Conall and Deirdre have been sighted.” It was Larine who told him. Of his own abortive journey the druid said nothing, and nobody had guessed about it. He had been puzzled and secretly rather hurt when, upon his return, he learned that Conall, at the very time he was waiting for him at their meeting place, had apparently been seen heading south into Munster with the girl. The search parties were still out, he now informed Finbarr. “But there’s been no word of him yet.”
It was a little before sunset when the king sent for Finbarr. He found the king sitting on a covered bench by a tree. From under his heavy brows the king eyed him thoughtfully.
“You performed your task well.” He waited as Finbarr politely bowed his head. “Now I shall give you another. First, however, tell me: do you know where Conall is?”
“I do not know.”
“Find him. And bring him back.” He paused and then with sudden anger burst out: “He was my sister’s son, Finbarr. I showed him nothing but kindness. Do you think he has the right to behave like this to me?” Finbarr could only bow his head again, for the king had said no more than the truth. “He is to return, Finbarr, and then he may tell me why he did this thing. But if he will not come, you will return with his head or not at all. I am sending two chiefs with you. They have their orders.”
To watch me, Finbarr thought. Aloud he asked: “And Deirdre?”
“She is not to be harmed.” The king sighed. “It would be a mockery for me to take her now. She will be returned to Dubh Linn. You may tell her that.”
“Perhaps we shall not find him.”
“Your parents and your brothers and sisters are poor, Finbarr. Succeed in this and I promise they will be poor no longer. Fail, and they will be poorer by far.”
“Then I have no choice,” Finbarr said bitterly, and left.
The High King watched him, but without anger. He would, he reflected, have felt the same in his place. But kings cannot always afford to be kind. Nor can they afford to be entirely honest.
If Conall came with Finbarr, the two chiefs were to kill Conall on the journey. As for the girl, she would be returned to Dubh Linn. But before she reached there, she would be handed over to her new master. For the king had already sold her, as a concubine, to Goibniu the Smith.
It could not be otherwise, when you thought about it.
Slowly and carefully they travelled now, never venturing out onto open ground in the plain light of day.
It had been a close thing, the day they had been seen. They had just crossed a patch of heathland when two of the king’s riders, emerging onto it behind them, had caught sight of them and started to give chase. There had been nothing to do but run. Racing into the forest, they had left the track and managed to elude the king’s men; but the experience had shaken them both. The king would know they were hiding in Munster now. With its innumerable hills, creeks, and islands, it might be hard to find them, but he would be relentless.
It was Deirdre who had the idea.
From the hills of Munster, travelling eastwards,