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CuRuada the Red Son of Concubar Meets Emer
Nov 9th, 2010 by L Stephen O

There was an inn, an hostelry and place of rest for travellers, at the fording of the Red River known to all as the Gael Ford, which king Concubar maintained for hospitality, as is proper for a king.  The lord and master of this house was a man named Wil MacCullen, and he had a daughter named Emer.

Now Emer was skilled in needle-work more than any other maid and so at the great meet that came with the funerary games of Macha for three years she went up to Emain Macha to sell some of the fine work she had worked the previous year.  Her father Wil, being prideful, but also thrifty, found it pleasing that she had such renown that brought great credit on him and worth to his family so that he allowed it.  And not for that one reason did Wil of Gael Ford send this daughter before the kings of tuaths and the cattle lords and the princes of Ulster for Emer was fair and well spoken and wise so that Wil knew well that some high lord would pay a surpassing bride price for his daughter.

Emer for her part was not pleased that her father should parade her like a prize heifer, but she enjoyed the freedom she found at the fair.  Emer, though she would not have boasted of it, knew she was possessed of the six womanly gifts.  Though many were taller, and many fairer, and a few brighter of eye, still Emer, no one would deny, possessed the gift of beauty, Some sang sweeter, some spoke stronger, but none could fault her for she possessed the gift of voice, of all other women she was kind in word and generous as a king with her gift of sweet speech, renowned was her gift of needle-work, in spite of her father or by witnessing his faults she possessed the gift of wisdom, and because she knew her own great worth her discretion followed her wisdom and she was known for the womanly gift of chastity.

That day Emer and some other maidens had watched the hurling championship and had seen CuRuada lead the boys troop.  At least for Emer the game had been exciting and she was very impressed by CuRuada’s skill and also by his form.  For many of the other girls, some of the men who were defeated by the troop were even more interesting as were some of the taller boys among the red branch warriors’ sons.

Emer walked with her hangers-on in such a manner that she came up to a group of the boys who were congratulating Cu.  CuRuada was in high spirits from his win and enjoying the attention of his fellows, but when he saw the group of girls he became awkward, blushing slightly, and casting his eyes away from the other girls, but always looking up through long eyelashes to Emer herself.

The boys and the girls soon sorted themselves out, some leaving in a huff, some running off laughing, and some strolling arm in arm until none remained but Emer and CuRuada.

“What do you see, boy?” asked Emer of CuRuada.

“I see a fair country,” he said, though he couldn’t look her in the eye, “And I’m no boy.”

Emer laughed, “mmm, it would take a man to rest in my country.” Saying this she tugged her shawl to cover where his eyes had rested. “I don’t think you are that man, you’ve no beard at all.”

“I’m no boy,” he said stubbornly, “Is it really a beard you need?  I would lay my weapon there.”

“What do you know of weapons?  I’ll grant, you are marvelous with a cam, but it takes more than that to please me.”

Curuada met her gaze and he reached out and tugged lightly at her shawl, “What would please you?  I would lay my weapon there.”

There eyes rested in each other’s gaze and both knew that they were beautiful one to the other.  It was Emer who looked away first, mindful of her chastity, for it seemed impossible that this young man could please her father.  It made her sad in a way she had never been before, “It is no use, my father demands a very high bride price for me.”

“Why should he not?  You are beautiful, you are lovely in voice, in speech,” Cu pulled her closer, caressing her shoulders, “And if you wear your own needle-work then it is exceedingly fine. . .”

Emer shrugged away, and placing her hands on his chest, gently pushed him away, “mmmm, yes, and chaste and above all, wise.  So you see. . .”

“I see the woman I would marry.”  CuRuada smiled so brightly that Emer found her spirits buoyed as well.  “See you, I will get the cows your father demands, but my dear-heart, what would please you?”

He carried himself like a prince, it almost made Emer hope, but he hadn’t even the beginnings of a beard, “If you would please me, then you must know me.”

CuRuada laughed, delighted, “You are indeed wise, there can be no other for me, you are the most virtuous woman in all of Ulster.”

Emer smiled with pleasure, because she knew it to be true. “Who are you?  What is your name, bold stranger?”

“My name is Son. . .” He blushed for shame having broken his gesa, but he quickly corrected, ”They call me CuRuada.  I live here with King Concubar and I train with the boys troop.”

“Hound of the red hair, are you well named CuRuada?  I thought you said you were a man, but you are of the boys troop of the Red Branch Warriors.”

“That is a matter of a day only.”  CuRuada scoffed with supreme confidence, “Today is the day that the best of the boys take up arms and I am the very best of the best of them.  Today I will take up my arms and I will be a man in truth, a warrior of the Red Branch.”

A group of warriors and boys from the boys troop were hurrying toward the event field.  Several of the boys called for CuRuada, hailing him and urging him to come show his skill at the spear.  Emer shoved him away toward the men and boys, “Go play your games. . .” She said.

“I will win the competition.  No one can match my skill with the spear.  Come see if I don’t.”

Emer stepped away smiling, “Be careful you don’t swear a boast you can’t fulfill.” She teased.

CuRuada stopped dead, his face hardened  and his eyes grew fiery, “It is no boast, not this of the competition, nor that I will make you my wife.  These things must be.”

He was so serious that she almost believed that he could, but such was the stuff of legend and not truly wise to contemplate, “I meant no slander she said kindly.  I will come watch you win at the spear.  I promise.”

He nodded, relieved by her words and Curuada turned to go to the competition.  Before he could step away he turned suddenly back, he cleared his throat and was the blushing boy again, “I swear, I will marry you my lady, and no other, but I will find you much easier if I know your name.”

She laughed with joy to see him both boy and man and, she realized, beloved, “I am called Emer and my father’s name is Wil of Gael Ford.  I warn you, he is a hard man and not likely to want to hear that a beardless youth seeks my hand.”

He only smiled and repeated her name, “Emer”

For her own part Emer felt he said her name better than anyone else ever did.  She watched him go with his friends and wondered if it was wise to hope.

Abbot and the Djinn Chp 2.1
Dec 17th, 2009 by L Stephen O

Smoke came to himself again to the sound of chanted prayers.  He drifted as he listened to the sing-song praises, and in bits and pieces he remembered. 

It was supposed to be just another death at sea like many others before.  There is nothing quite like being lost at sea for drawing another chapter, grown uncomfortable and confining, to a definitive end thought Smoke.  This time the end had almost been too definitive.

Having the bottom of his skiff torn out on rocks and being beaten, nearly to death, on the stony shore hadn’t been according to plan, nor the storm that had driven him to it.  Come to think of it, he wasn’t quite sure that he hadn’t taken a mortal hurt with the way his body ached, and he was thirsty.  He was hungry too, but mostly he was parched.

Still, there were worse things than being bruised and thirsty.  Smoke, for his part, had felt worse.  His youth had been an extended association with want closer than any partnership, or marriage.

He wondered what his wife’s reaction to his reported death would be.  She wasn’t a bad woman, really, but then she wasn’t a very good one either.  Likely she would be delighted to have the freedom of her lovers, her children, his estates, and the full control of the portions of his business he hadn’t hidden and left in the care of his lieutenants.

It would be a relief for her not to have to worry about him discovering her infidelities, as if the children hadn’t told him, as if his spies were all blind, as if he hadn’t seen it all before.  Soon enough she would be dust, her brood would have squandered all his wealth, and all would be forgotten. 

Well, not everyone would forget, he remembered them all.  He was due a vacation, a forgetting time, renewal.  But first he must learn where he was, and get something to drink, yes, he was so thirsty.

His eyes fluttered open, there was dim light coming in the door of what appeared to be a stacked drystone room.  There was no ornament or furnishing save a ledge around the perimeter of the room that he assumed was where he lay.  It looked as if he was saved from death into poverty. 

He could hear the wind against his room, the sea not far away, and the voice that he had heard in the night, the voice of White Hands.  A curious fellow, White Hands, a prayer, a holy man it would seem.

The Rus and the Ice Folk
Aug 24th, 2009 by L Stephen O

The Rus and the Ice Folk

Ours is a cold hard world of red rock and ice.  But better to rule in Hell… much worse to serve there.  So we thank the gods of ice and fire that we are not the ice folk.  They are our subjects, our prey.

We have the magic of iron.  We have the slavers chains.  We have the branding irons.  But we have a fear of them ever rising against us so the only answer is to keep them crushed to the ground.  This we do with our ice ships and our contempt for them.  The best and the brightest we cull and sell to the south.  The strong we use in our households and mines, under close watch, lock and key, and the whip. The devious and sly we use against their own folk.

Through their labors we live well enough.  It is ironic that once we had left the Gaellic chains behind it was the ice folk who led us to this place.  They hunted and fished, feeding and clothing us, they even took a turn in the mines and gathered the thin timber on the spine of the world with us.  They prefered the ice while we exploited the red rocked scab.  Then, when wood and iron had made us stronger, we took from them what they would have freely given.  And then we took their freedom.

Our is a cold hard world, we Rus who live near the endless ice.  Some say that we serve to keep their blood lines fresh.  Some even say the slaves we take live better with us as thralls than they would on the ice.  Easy to say as the master.  Tis better to rule in Hell than to serve in heaven, or so said the Devil and so say the Rus, finding our place in this cold hell.

Freedom!
Aug 13th, 2009 by L Stephen O

I’m sure you remember the immortal William Wallace (as portrayed by Mad Max) “FREEEEEEDOOOM” and then the British hung, drew and quartered, burned and dragged the pieces of old Bill around London.

Sometimes freedom is like that.

LSO

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