Finn Mac Cool (49 page)
Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
“We only eloped together,” he tried to explain. “It wasn't so terrible as that. Men and women have run off before ⦔
“Women
have run off before,” Cailte stressed. “From Finn. And this one was one too many.”
have run off before,” Cailte stressed. “From Finn. And this one was one too many.”
“I don't understand.”
“You don't have to understand. You have to take the woman and run and keep running if you value your life and hers.”
“Would he hurt Grania?” Diarmait asked in disbelief
“I honestly don't know what he's likely to do. He's gone ⦠mad, Diarmait. Quite mad. I've seen Finn disturbed in his head before, but never anything like this. Something seems to have broken inside him.
“He wanted, so much, to have a wife again and a warm bed and a cheerful companion. I know he did. He once had a wife he loved very muchâ”
“My mother,” interjected Oisin, who had heard all the stories.
“âand I think Finn hoped to find something of that again with Grania. Now she's left him too. You could not have done the man as much damage if you'd run your spear through his heart.”
Diarmait was appalled. “If I went to Finn right now and asked his forgiveness and mercy, would heâ”
“Don't even think it,” Cailte warned him. “Just run.”
“Where can we go?”
“Anywhere, as far from here as possible.”
“There are hounds after us already, I heard them.”
“Cormac sent that party searching for you,” Oisin explained. “He gave the order while Finn was too upset to issue any commands.”
“But Finn will recover,” Cailte warned. “He'll recover enough to come after you himself, and then there'll be no tree tall enough for you to climb or sea wide enough for you to swim to escape him. And he won't listen to apologies or to reason, I promise you. I know him. As he is now, he won't listen to anything.”
Diarmait said, “Why do you even speak to me, you who are the commander's closest friend, if I've done something so terrible to him?”
“Because I am his closest friend,” Cailte replied. “If and when he ever comes to his senses again, he will regret any violence lie does to you or the girl. I know him. So until that day comes, I will do what I can to protect the two of you so he will have less to reproach himself for.”
“You love him very much,” Diarmait said, suddenly aware.
“As you and Oisin love each other, I do. I guard his back,” Cailte added simply.
Oisin went to stand beside Diarmait. “And I guard yours,” he vowed.
“Even against your own father?”
“We do not choose our parents, but we choose our friends.” The words were difficult for Oisin, but he said them. As far back as he could remember, he had been the son of Finn Mac Cool and proud of it. But the man he had seen raving inside Tara a short time ago was not the father he loved and admired. Today's Finn Mac Cool was like a wild animal, terrifying in its unreasoning rage, and he did not want to be associated with such a creature. Diarmait Mac Dorm, pale with anxiety but still sensible, still his merry-hearted companion, was his choice of the two.
In the shadow of the walls of Tara, the young men made their decisions. The majority went with Oisin to stand beside Diarmait, silently pledging to him.
We would have so pledged to Finn, Cailte thought but did not say aloud, remembering how it was with himself and the original nine. He respected Oisin for his courage.
Lugaid's son went back to stand guard at the gate as if nothing had happened in order to allay any suspicions, while Oisin and some of the others went to the stables to get horses for riding out across the plain. But they did not mount the horses. Instead, they brought a pair to
Diarmait in his place of concealment and urged him to take one for himself and one for Grania and flee before the sun went any farther toward the western sea.
Diarmait in his place of concealment and urged him to take one for himself and one for Grania and flee before the sun went any farther toward the western sea.
“You have hardly any chance of escape,” Cailte concluded sadly, “but none if you stay here. Go now, quickly, and we'll do what we can to help you.”
So Diarmait Mac Donn, bright young hero and most popular member of the FÃanna, was forced to turn his back on Tara and run for his life.
At first he galloped with tears in his eyes. But as he drew nearer the place where Grania waited hidden, he began to feel her calling him, drawing him like a tidal tug, and his pain eased just a little.
He would salvage something. Out of this youthful madness, he would take something of value and hope it made the cost worthwhile.
THIS TIME FINN WAS NOT LONG INCAPACITATED BY MADNESS. Within a day and a night he was in control of himself again, or in as much control as he could be of the raging beast within him. Too much hurt had been done to him, too many times. He had met the world with a smile on his lips and poems in his heart, and the world had bashed and battered him and taken from him everything that mattered, including the hard-won honour of the FÃanna.
Only Oisin was left to him, and when he saw his son's face, he knew Oisin's sympathies were with Diarmait Mac Donn.
I am alone, Finn thought. I am as alone as I was after I left my foster mothers and went roaming through the wilderness. Being alone did not bother me then. It seemed natural. Why should it bother me now?
He thought this with his head, but he did not feel it in his heart. From some place deep inside him, in the marrow of his bones, rose an ache beyond endurance.
Once he would have talked to Sive about it, trusting the fact of her being to soothe away the pain, any pain.
But Sive had left him.
Muirinn had left him.
Now Grania. And when he allowed himself to even think the name ot that slant-eyed girl, black rage rose up in him and choked out all his rational thinking like briers choking healthy fruit.
Cormac Mac Ain was deeply upset. “I am sorry about this, Finn,” he told his commander “More sorry than I can say. It appears now that my daughter went willingly. She may even have enticed young Diarmait, from what one or two of the servants are saying. If that is true, she has disgraced not only herself, but me, and I will accede to any punishment you demand of her.”
“Punishment?” Finn's teeth grated on the word. “Revenge? I foreswore revenge a long time ago.”
Cormac gave a small, relieved laugh. “It's glad I am to hear you say it, becauseâ”
“But I take back that oath,” Finn went on relentlessly. “When I find Diarmait and Grania,
and I will,
I will be revenged on them as no man has ever been!”
and I will,
I will be revenged on them as no man has ever been!”
In horror of the thing he saw in Finn's face, Cormac took a step backward. “You're very angry and you have every right to be, but I beg you, remember the law. We can work out compensation. In all the years I've been High King, there are hundreds of situations that have been brought before the brehons instead of resulting in bloodbaths. Compensation restores goodwill between people. I've upheld that principle as has no king before me. In this matter too, we can arrange for compensation ⦔
“I cannot be compensated for what's been done to me,” Finn said flatly.
“You can of course, there's always a way. We can have my daughter shorn of her hair perhaps, and the young man's clan, even his tribe, will be forced to payâ”
“I cannot be compensated,” said Finn Mac Cool. “But I can exact vengeance.”
Arguing with him was useless. In the end, Cormac had no choice, as one of the aggrieved parties, but to support him. They would combine forces in the search for the runaways.
What happened when Diarmait and Grania were found was a problem for the future.
An icy Finn Mac Cool, embittered almost beyond recognition, issued orders to the FÃanna. Huge hunting parties were to be formed to comb Erin from north to south and from east to west. Bands were to station themselves at every bay and harbour, denying the fugitives any chance of escape by boat.
“That's not possible,” Goll tried to tell Finn. “There are hundreds of hundreds of places around the coast of Erin where one can launch a boat. We can't guard them all.”
“Try,” commanded Finn Mac Cool.
But Diarmait and Grania were not making for the sea.
When Diarmait returned to their hiding place with the pair of horses, Grania was overjoyed to see him, but puzzled as to why he had brought horses. “So we can flee more swiftly,” he explained.
“But I cannot ride a horse, Diarmait. I've never even tried. I'd fall off, I know I would.”
He felt young and foolish. “I should have thought of that.”
“I can ride in a chariot, though. Can you get us a chariot?”
“I cannot, I don't know where ⦔ His eyes brightened. “I do know! There is someone who will give us a chariot! Someone not too far from here. If we travel by night, we may be able to reach his home without being caught.”
Under cover of darkness, Diarmait mounted one of the horses, balanced a fearful Grania on the animal's rump behind him, and led the other horse at a careful walk. “Don't go any faster,” Grania kept saying, holding him around the waist hard enough to shut off the workings of his gut. It was obvious she would indeed require a chariot, she would never endure a flight on horseback.
Diarmait made his cautious, wary way to the banks of the river Boyne, to the stronghold of the chieftain who had fostered him there in the years of his beardlessness. Angus was a strong, proud man who adhered to the old ways and still kept chariots long after the fashion for using them in warfare had died.
Angus was delighted to see his fosterling. “Come inside and take hospitality!” he insisted. “And your woman too. Who is this? Have you taken a wife?”
“I am his wife,” Grania announced, sliding thankfully off the horse.
But Diarmait's personal honour forced him to say, “She is not wife to me. We have a marriage. By abduction.”
“By abduction! Good on you, lad! Strong, hot blood in you, then! I thought that sort of thing was forbidden to the FÃanna these days Come in and drink ale with me and tell me all about it, eh? Eh?”
Diarmait was relieved to know that the full details of his crime had not yet reached far beyond Tara. If they had, Angus might not have given him the same welcome. But he went inside his foster father's hall and drank ale and ate meat by his fire, and let Angus's women tend the weary Grania.
And late in the night, when the shadows of the fire threw grotesque shapes on the walls and the wind rose, he divulged the entire story.
Angus was understandably taken aback. “Not good, this, not good at all. You have the High King and the RÃgfénnid FÃanna against you; that's quite an achievement for so young a man. And the debt you owe is monstrous. Neither your sire nor I could ever pay such a price.”
“I know that. I'm not asking you to. I'm just asking for what help you can give: a chariot for Crania to ride in and enough food to get us across Erin without stopping if we must.”
Angus stared into the fire and considered. He was a beefy, grizzled man with a broad red face and a fringe of whiskers like moss creeping over his features, moss that did not hide his concern as he said, “As your foster father, I shall do what I can for you. And I won't condemn you.
There'll be enough of them to do that. I've always been proud of you, Diarmait, and never prouder than the day I heard you'd been welcomed into the Fiarma and were training as an officer. That's come to be a noble boast, and I've boasted of you.”
There'll be enough of them to do that. I've always been proud of you, Diarmait, and never prouder than the day I heard you'd been welcomed into the Fiarma and were training as an officer. That's come to be a noble boast, and I've boasted of you.”
“I'm sorry you can boast of me no more,” Diarmait said sadly.
Angus gathered himself. “Who says I can't? I can indeed! Who else has a son bold enough to steal a king's daughter and a commander's wife?” Determined to convince both himself and Diarmait, he clapped the young man on the back so hard he left a huge bruise that ached for days. “Now get some sleep, and we'll see you away at dawn.”
The light of the next day was just creeping into the sky when a grateful Diarmait departed the stronghold of his foster father, equipped with a chariot and two horses trained to pull it, for which he had exchanged the riding horses taken from Tara. Bundles of food were stored in the wicker-sided cart, leaving just enough room for Diarmait to stand and drive, with Grania beside him.
Sleepily, she leaned her head on his shoulder as he waved farewell to Angus and lifted the reins. “I hope I see you again,” Diarmait called to his fosterer.
“Here or in the Land of Everlasting Youth,” the other replied with a cheer he did not feel.
The fugitives set off for the west, for the empty places.
Diarmait had hunted with Finn and Oisin, he knew how the hounds worked. He deliberately drove the chariot as far as he could along the beds of rivers and streams, destroying the scent for the hounds to follow. Where the water was too deep or the way too narrow, he emerged to drive along the bank, regretting but unable to prevent the ruts the chariot wheels made. It would have been easier riding horses, but he would not chide Grania.
She touched a deep protective streak within him. The enormity of their deed had gradually dawned on her as well, and he knew she was afraid. From time to time she trembled. But she clung to him and reiterated her love for him until he could not doubt her. He could do nothing but go on.
Chariots made for rough riding. They leaped and lurched and threatened to overturn almost constantly. Diarmait, trained to ride horses, was uncertain with the reins, and the team felt his hesitation and took advantage of him. But he continued grimly, determined to save Grania and himself if he could.
It was a large if.
The systematic hunting of the fugitives was underway. Finn himself led the principal team of trackers with his best hounds, and Caurag to tend them. Cailte insisted on accompanying him.
“I could use you better with another company,” Finn told the thin man. “I need officers I trust. Too many of the FÃanna seem to be taking Diarmait's part in this.”
“The young ones,” Cailte assured him. “Diarmait's one of their own, they sympathize with him.”
“Some of the older ones too, I'm afraid. There are men who admire what he's done.”
“There were men who admired Cuhal Mac Trenmor,” Goll could not resist remarking.
Finn tried not to hear.
When he was occupied elsewhere, Cailte approached Caurag. “If the hounds pick up the trail,” he said, “see that Conbec of Perfect Symmetry leads them. If you can, send him on ahead and hold the others back. If Diarmait sees him, he'll know Finn is close behind and be warned.”
“You're asking me to act against the commander.”
“I am not, I'm asking you to act in his best interests. If he catches them while in his current state of mind, he'll do something that will blight the rest of his days.”
“Och, I don't think he'd hurt the woman.”
“Do you not? Have you looked at him recently, Caurag? Really looked at him? There's nothing behind his eyes but madness. He looks like a wolf with the foaming-mouth sickness. Do as I ask, help me protect him from his own actions.”
Reluctantly, Caurag agreed. “If I find out later that I've betrayed him. I'll blame you for it,” he promised Cailte.
The hunters found wheel tracks occasionally, often enough to lead them in time to the ford of Luan on the Shannon. There, Diarmait had finally realized the chariot was more trouble than it was worth and abandoned it. The hounds found it lying broken among the reeds by the river, and the horses turned loose to graze.
“From this point, they've gone on foot,” Caurag reported to Finn.
“They'll be easier to find, then.”
“Not necessarily. They can move in and out of streams more easily now, and climb bare rocks where the scent won't hold.”
“The girl could never do that.”
“She can if she's determined enough.”
She was.
Within herself Grania had found, to an unexpected degree, a stamina and tenacity that surprised both herself and Diarmait. The spoiled and petted child of a king, she stripped her spirit to the bare bones of survival and went on long after a lesser woman would have collapsed.
Diarmait's admiration for her, and pride in her, increased daily.
Within one cycle of the moon she had shapechanged from a plump.
pretty girl with a white skin to a thin, freckled woman with ropy sinews in her arms and wild hair snarled and tangled by briers. Yet to Diarmait she seemed more beautiful than ever. He no longer remembered that her first purpose had been to flee Finn. He remembered only that she loved him and wanted to be with him, and was willing to undergo terrible hardships to that end.
pretty girl with a white skin to a thin, freckled woman with ropy sinews in her arms and wild hair snarled and tangled by briers. Yet to Diarmait she seemed more beautiful than ever. He no longer remembered that her first purpose had been to flee Finn. He remembered only that she loved him and wanted to be with him, and was willing to undergo terrible hardships to that end.
His own sufferings seemed meagre compared to hers.
Feeling the hot breath of dishonour on the back of his neck, Diarmait made a point of telling people, whenever they encountered anyone, “This is not my wife. She is my woman, but not my wife.” In that way he felt he was to some small degree keeping faith with Finn.
It was the best he could do.
But those words angered Grania. Whenever she heard them, she always announced, “I am his wife! I am wife to Diarmait Mac Donn.”
“It isn't true,” he told her repeatedly. “We've agreed to no contract, we've exchanged no vows. We've exchanged no vows, Grania!”
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