DEIRDRE AND THE SONS OF USNA

Many thanks to those of you who have taken the time to let me know you enjoyed the first six unedited installments of my short story/novella, "Deirdre." I said I would post this throughout November, and inasmuch as tomorrow is November 30th, I think I must take a hiatus now to finish the story! Never fear, it will appear early next year as part of an anthology by Victory Tales Press. I will be sure to let you know details as I learn them, and you can see what form of trickery King Conor uses next. As one of my commenters said, modern politicians had nothing on these folks! So please rejoin me early in 2011 to learn the fate of Deirdre of the Sorrows.

THE CLIFFS OF MOHER

DEIRDRE AND THE SONS OF USNA - PART SIX

Eve to his Adam—or so Naisi told himself—the young woman with hair black as his own, and skin as white, led him to the very thing he feared. They lay together all the long afternoon, embracing in the heart of love, telling each other of their dreams and hopes as young lovers do. So enamored of each other were they that they swore only death would part them. At last, when Naisi feared his brothers who had gone hunting would soon return, he and Deirdre tidied themselves. And sure enough, Ainle and Ardan came a-whistling through the deep woods, no longer silent since they had taken their share of game.
‘Twas far more they took from the king’s bounty that day after Deirdre had plied them with kisses and Naisi with pleas. Well they knew the king’s wrath would exceed all previous bounds, yet taking Deirdre with them, they returned to their father’s strong castle where Naisi made haste to marry her that very eve. Thus had he taken claim of her in all ways possible, but it would be no protection from King Conor. As soon as the sun had risen, the four young people took a retinue, hounds and servants and sought refuge with a king more friendly to themselves than to Conor.
Now Conor was wroth with black rage so profound some feared he would go mad, or perhaps had done. Though he had wives and sons in plenty, it was Deirdre he had always envisioned as the breath of life that would keep his old age at bay. Robbed of that hope, for months on end he pursued her and Naisi and Usna’s other sons the length and breadth of Ireland. Catha’s prediction that Deirdre would cause war was fulfilled. So great was the threat Conor posed to other kings that at long last Naisi found himself unwelcome in any court and was obliged to make his way by sea to Alba, the land of wild men. Yet he had been careful to take a retinue large enough to secure a place in that land and in time built a fortress called Glen Etive where he and Deirdre were happy. King Conor could not touch them, for not only did they have a mighty keep, but the same council which had rejected Fergus when he left the throne for a woman made much the same response to Conor. Did he bankrupt their country to fight for a mere woman, they told him, they would find another king. And it was no idle threat, for always men sought to depose him, circling like a waiting wolf pack.
Conor was therefore compelled to hold his tongue, but never did he restrain his cunning.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!

Wishing everyone the joys of a safe and bountiful holiday!

DEIRDRE AND THE SONS OF USNA - PART FIVE

The most beloved of the Red Branch Knights were the sons of Usna. They were Naisi, Ainle and Ardan. Fierce in battle or the hunt, they were equally mild of manner in times of peace and Naisi especially enjoyed the sound of the harp and was a skilled musician. The land being peaceful at that time, he enjoyed to wander in the woods, listening to the sound of his own music. Even animals were charmed by the sound of it and as for people—why, they had no choice. It filled them with contentment and joy.
It was at this time, as well, that Deirdre (knowing her unwanted marriage to the king was approaching) sometimes did make her escape to walk in the outer world beyond gate and moat. Leabhar, who should have prevented it, was touched by the girl’s deep unhappiness, for she herself had loved a man when she was young. And Leabhar let Deirdre walk within the world of which she knew so little. No fairer nor more innocent maid ever trod the woods that belonged to the King.
Neither did Naisi fear to go there, for he and the king were on good terms and he knew of no reason he should not. And that is why on the fairest of summer days he sat beneath a tree on a hillock making the finest of his music. It was the music that pulled Deirdre in, of course. She could no more resist it than a trout does the lure and when she saw the sheer, pure beauty of the man making music, that drew her more strongly yet, for she knew him from her dreams.
Still, Leabhar had raised her to be circumspect, so no word did she say. Instead she only passed Naisi, eyes downcast so that no evil could be said of her. But beauty speaks for itself and Naisi, seeing it, was struck to the heart and he spoke.
“How fair a doe my music has called this time.”
“’Tis easy to be a fair doe when there are no bucks,” she responded.
Now the son of Usna was no fool, being himself a chief in Ulster though a young one. He had heard of Felim’s daughter secreted in a fortress of the king and suspected this must be the girl, so he tested her, saying, “Have you not the prize buck of this land, King Conor himself?”
“Yet if I were to choose,” Deirdre persevered, “I would choose the young buck.” And she looked at him so straightly that Naisi knew full well what was in her mind. It was in his, as well.
“But you are the king’s,” he protested weakly.
“Not yet,” she said.

INTRODUCING BILL HAWORTH

Today it's my distinct privilege to introduce British author/actor/playwright Bill Haworth.

Bill brings a wealth of experience to his general fiction short stories and books. Retired from the Army, he has worked in the offshore industry in the UK (North Sea), Canada, Arctic and the Middle East.

Most recently, DCL Publications released a print edition of Bill's "Stonehenge and Other Short Stories." My personal favorite is "Ice Palace," a fascinating true story of an incident in Czarist Russia.

For more information and Buy Links, CLICK BELOW:

http://www.amazon.com/Stonehenge-Other-Short-Stories-Haworth/dp/0984461566 or

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Stonehenge-and-Other-Short-Stories/Bill-Haworth/e/9780984461561

DEIRDRE AND THE SONS OF USNA - PART 4

Conor had several hidden fortresses known to only a very few, and it was to one of these that he had Felim’s daughter removed. Protected by wall, moat and guard dogs, it was impregnable, and he ordered that no one should enter but himself, Catha and an old nurse, Leabhar. Lacking other company besides Conor and Catha, who came but seldom, Leabhar and the child grew close as grandmother and granddaughter, for Leabhar was far from her youth. Nonetheless, she taught Deirdre well of birds and flowers, roots and herbs and the ways of animals. Even some scrying of the stars she taught to her. It was a pleasant way for a child to be raised, if a trifle lonely, yet Deirdre bore that well enough while she turned from a pretty girl into one with beauty to awe the very stars she studied. Seeing her dear one change into young womanhood--and noting that the king and his druid came much more often then--the old nurse became fearful, yet nothing did she say. What indeed could she say?
It was Deirdre who spoke by and by. Standing one winter’s day by the window, she spoke low and sad to Leabhar: “Alas, it is a lonely day and I am lonely, too.”
A chill ran through the older woman, who knew what was prophesied.
“And how could you be lonely, child, when everyone here dances attendance upon you?”
But Deirdre turned to her with no trace of her usual smile. “I am lonely for one of my own age, Leabhar, though I love you dearly. The king is old and I’ve no wish to wed him. It’s a younger man I’m dreaming of.”
At first Leabhar was wont to hush Deirdre for fear of the king, but then a worse fear started inside her and she queried, “What man?”
“One as fair of skin as I,” Deirdre responded dreamily, “with raven black hair and red lips. I have seen him. I see him at night. Each night, when I sleep. He is there, waiting for me.”
Then Leabhar did quiet her in earnest, the fear inside of her growing deadly.
“You must not speak of him,” she said with a nervous cast to her eye as though Conor might be lurking behind any door. “If you do, the king will have Naisi killed for sure.”
“Naisi?” Deirdre inquired, with a smile like sunlight.
“There is but one who looks as you describe,” Leabhar told her, worry lining her whole face. “A son of Usna, one of the chiefs of Ulster, and beloved of the Red Branch Knights.” She remembered the demand of those knights that the child Deirdre be killed lest she destroy them. “You must put him from your mind.”
But Deirdre would not put from her mind the man she saw in her dreams. "Naisi," she murmured. "My love."

DEIRDRE AND THE SONS OF USNA - PART 3

Now at this time Conor had a great guard called the Red Branch Knights, and he set out with them from Emhain Macha to Felim’s entertainment. A grand sight they were, for always Conor wanted people to see him covered in glory and to say, “There goes our King, Conor MacNessa, and none other.” Because though Conor had grown used to his kingship and had no mind to relinquish it back to Fergus, in the furthest corner of his heart he knew he had done nothing to deserve it and was thereby all the more determined that men should acknowledge it.
Rows of knights in bright colors preceded him, wave upon wave grandly mounted and bearing full arms though they went to a place of peace. Their banners glittered in the sun. Behind them, still more knights richly attired were driven in chariots and at last came King Conor himself in the grandest war chariot of all, with many hundreds of his lesser retinue following.
At first they went under a shining sun, with cheering people lining the road. But as the day grew late, clouds and winds beset the land, the wind stirring up dust so that it settled upon all the people and chariots, cloaking their bright banners. Conor the king proceeded in a cloud of choking dust but little glory.
No sooner had they reached the castle of Felim the storyteller than there was a huge crash from the heavens and blue-white lightning split the land, casting an eerie glow upon the castle and all the outbuildings Felim had raised at such cost. Clouds writhed above as if all the hounds of hell had been loosed and coursed the very heavens. Rain emptied from those clouds in a torrent and Conor was hard put to make his way to the doorway of the castle, so relentlessly did rain pelt and winds blow. Nonetheless Felim his host came to Conor, greeting him gladly and with many inquiries after his good health which Conor had begun to doubt at that point. Men thought perhaps that was why he sat silent and of a sober countenance as the banquet commenced amidst a crash and roar of thunder, and they marked that never had such a storm visited Ulster. Irishmen all they were and accustomed to the rains and gales that visited their island, but even Conor agreed it seemed no normal storm and that he, too, had a feeling of doom.
“Nonsense,” Felim insisted stoutly as the king began to partake of food, for he saw all his plans dashed to destruction and the favor he wished of Conor turned to stone. “’Tis but a storm!”
Hardly had the words left the storyteller’s mouth than a terrifying scream split the air, a sound to raise the bristle hair on a hound’s back.
“’Tis only my wife, who labors,” Felim insisted, but the king took not a bite of his food and sat with a pale and ashen face.
“’Bring her here,” Conor ordered, “that I may see if that is the scream of any mortal woman, for I much doubt it.”
And so the unfortunate woman was required to present herself to the king, doubled in pain though she was.
“Tell me true,” Conor demanded, “was it you who screamed?”
Felim’s haggard and trembling wife, fearing for her life, nonetheless shook her head, for she knew her maidservants would give her away if she lied to the great king.
“Nay, my lord,” she replied. “’Tis the child that screamed from inside my womb.”
“This is a thing I have never known!” Conor exclaimed, while beside him his druid Catha stood up abruptly and lay a hand upon the mother’s belly, his expression dire.
“’Tis the scream of a girl child,” he predicted, “and her name will be Deirdre, the call of alarm, for she will bring war.”
Greatly troubled, Conor the king ordered Felim’s wife back to her chambers, where in due course she gave birth to the predicted female child. Hearing it, the Red Branch knights (who knew Catha’s predictions to be accurate) demanded the death of the infant.
Conor was a hard man who had done hard things, and he also knew of his druid’s prowess, but it was not in the heart of him to murder a helpless infant. “No,” he refused his guard, “we shall not have recourse to such an evil deed.” Once more he asked his druid to prophesy, and Catha went out onto the ramparts beneath a sky still dark but no longer bearing rain. There, while the others at last began to enjoy the comforts of the castle, Catha scried the future of the child he had called Deirdre, but no difference could be find from his first prediction.
At last he returned to the banquet, where all men noted the king choked on his own drink while looking into the face of his druid.
“There is no change, my lord,” Catha told him. “Deirdre shall grow to be a woman of such beauty that kingdoms will contend for her. She is born for misfortune.”
Over the protests of his men, Conor had the child brought in again. And when she crowed and smiled at her king, his mind was set upon its path.
“’Tis no disbelief in the prophets or seers that prompts me,” he said. “This part is true; I will make her my queen. She shall be taken from here to a secret place and raised under my protection. He that would try to harm her acts against me and shall pay the price.”
The knights all were silent, still fearing the child meant their doom but unable to speak against him. Only Catha dared that and his words were grim.
“You will regret this, my king,” he said bluntly, “but as it is your will, I shall name her Deirdre of the Sorrows.”

DEIRDRE AND THE SONS OF USNA: PART TWO

But Fergus did not die and in time Conor learned of his great distress. Ness had died, some said of a broken heart, and Fergus asked that he might return to Ulster to mourn her. Conor’s own heart had been softened by time and the loss of his mother, and Fergus once had been kind to him, before he took the throne. And so Fergus was welcomed again to the court at Ulster and given high honors, but it soon became apparent that certain of the older chiefs would have been glad enough to see him back on the throne. Privately, Conor began to seethe with anger towards Fergus and to regret that he had ever permitted him back. And Conor bore a cold black anger that caused people to turn away from him.
While Fergus had dwelt in the court of Queen Maeve, the old Ulster custom had been reinstated whereby each chief presented a great banquet for the king and his retinue. At length it became the turn of Felim, Conor's chief story-teller, to hold this feast.
No effort or expense was spared; indeed preparations took the fullness of a year. A great hall of oak was built next to Felim’s castle, with shining inlays of precious stone. Foodstuffs of every sort were laid in: beef and mutton and pork; fowl and venison and fine, firm pink salmon borne on ice from Alba; curds and whey and all else that a dairy might supply; breads and cakes, pies and pasties of every sort; great quantities of wine, honey mead and ale both light and dark. Even wines from far-off Greece and Rome were purchased, and exotic fruits and vegetables never known in Ireland! Dozens of new cooks labored in kitchens built for the occasion, while inside the castle singers, dancers and musicians both foreign and native performed, male and female alike. For Felim was determined that never would his vast entertainment be forgotten.
And he had his wish.

DEIRDRE AND THE SONS OF USNA - PART ONE

A retelling of the tale:

It was by the trickery of his mother that Conor Mac Nessa became King of Ulster. Connor's widowed mother Ness had no hope of a throne for him by right of blood, but beauty she had in abundance. So she set out to seduce Fergus Mac Ri, king at that time. Rich and powerful though he was, Fergus could not obtain her consent to marriage despite his constant courtship. At last, when she had worn Fergus to the bone, Ness agreed on one condition—that he leave his kingship for a year, placing Conor on the throne for that time so that her son's issue could claim descent from the line of a king.

Now Fergus called it only a sop to her pride and was reluctant to concede this point and rightfully so. For when he finally agreed and he and Ness were wed, she lost no time suborning the people to Conor. By rich bribes and abundant favors she won them so that when Fergus went to retake his throne none would have him, saying if he had left it for a woman it could not have meant much to him.

Leaving Ness behind, Fergus and a band of followers departed for Connaught, where they were harbored at the court of Queen Maeve and her beloved, Aillil. That is how it was Fergus came to fight with the men of Connaught against his own Ulstermen in the Tain Bo Cuaigne where the hero Cuchullain fought Maeve’s army. But it being impossible to prevail against the great hero, the men of Connaught were turned back and Fergus with them. And Fergus descended into deep bitterness, grieving the loss of his lands and saying that he must have sight of them again before he died.

CONFESSIONS OF THE CLEANING LADY

In the spirit of the Halloween holiday, here's a little romp available as an ebook at www.thedarkcastlelords.com/confessions-of-the-cleaning-lady.htm

Set in the foxhunting country of Pennsylvania and Ireland, this contemporary fantasy romance features Irish faeries, four-footed creatures and two people looking for love in all the wrong places.

Trapped in the trunk of a pharmaceutical representative from Killarney, a band of feisty Irish faeries is released in the outlying suburbs of Philadelphia where Mal McCurdy makes his new home. In need of a housekeeper, Mal hires Shawna Egan, unaware that "his" faeries have made a new home of their own--in her oak tree.

Shawna, who was raised with tales of the Fair Folk but never realized she could see them, learns it the hard way when she cuts down the tree. She promises them another and faeries always repay their debts. But Shawna has secrets and even though she knows the faeries have brought her the "good man" she was seeking, will he still want her after he has heard the confessions of the cleaning lady?