»
S
I
D
E
B
A
R
«
Cathbad’s Caution
Oct 11th, 2010 by L Stephen O

Fergus and the King, Concubar, were at a game of Ard Fidchell when the chief druid of the Ulster came upon them, “It is not my wish to anger you, my lord, but there are matters to discuss relating to the games of Macha and too, the taking of arms of some of our young warriors, most notably sons of your Red Branch warriors.”

Concubar frowned, “Though you say it is not your wish to anger me, why is it that you are so adept at doing so? 

“It is just that last time we spoke there was tension. . .”

“Tension?  I remember it differently.  As I recall it, I threw you out.  I do not wish to hear you on the subject of Fand or of the boy.  Now, if you can avoid those topics, then there need not be any fear or you, Cathbad, saying, ‘I do not wish to BUTs’.  So, bring me news or council and let there be no buts about it.”

“As you say, my lord.” Cathbad began again, “The celestial bodies are in particularily good alignment for the games of Macha and always this has been an opportune time for our young men to take up arms.  As part of the latter we druids expect to read augures of a sacrificed bull. That is I will read the entrails . . .”

“This is not news.  You do this each year.” said Fergus.

“Even so, yes, and usually a bull has already been provided . . .”

Concubar nudged Fergus, “Did you know it isn’t the Druid’s bull that pays the blood price each year for their augures.  Cathbad begs a bull of me.”

“Oh!” supplied Fergus.  Cathbad reddened.

“Well then, chief druid, you know where my kine are, pick the one you want.”  Concubar made a show of turning back to the game board and ignoring his druid.  He winked at Fergus and then seemed to notice that Cathbad hadn’t left, “Is there anything else?”

Cathbad gathered his dignity, “I have seen the boy at arms practice.  I do not think it wise, but it is not my place to say so.  It has only been a very few days, but . . .”  Concubar was preparing to interrupt, but Cathbad plunged on, “He was a boy the day he came, but the little fellow he was he is no more.  Curuada, Son, is as near to a man now as makes no difference.”

Concubar glanced at Fergus, “Is that so? It has only been a few days.”

Fergus looked confused, “He is no taller.  Not even a hint of a beard. . .”

“He is a man.  Surely the way he swings the prince’s sword tells you that.  What child could hold it at all?”

“As I told you, CuRuada is unrivaled among your warriors. . .”

Cathbad saw his opening, “He will take up arms this year unless you do something.  Surely you see how dangerous it would be for him to do so.”

Fergus looked confused, Concubar vexed said, “If he is a man then why not?”

Cathbad gaped, “Have you forgotten?  He is not human . . .”

“HE is my son!”

“And if he dies who’s son will he be?” yelled Cathbad, “Who can pay the price for that death?  Who will ask it?  I say we will all pay for such a death,” and without asking leave Cathbad strode away.

Fergus and Concubar Discuss the King’s Red Son
Sep 28th, 2010 by L Stephen O

Concubar the king and his friend and weapon-master Fergus were sitting together over a game of Fidchell, ”Fergus, what can you tell me of the skill at arms of the little fellow, Curuada,”  Concubar glanced around to make certain they were alone before adding in a whisper, “my son?”

“Not hard to tell,” said Fergus as he pondered the board, “His strikings are vigorous, he plies his shield with success, his counter-striking is without flaw, his spear throw is ever true and he has mastered the catching feat, the dance of the three spears, and the casting and catching feat, and none is more skilled at the salmon leap than is Curuada.”

“What is the season? false Summer, hmmm see here, I entrench my footman.” The king made his move and then looking over at Fergus he asked “What of his skill with the chariot?”

Fergus scowled at the board considering. “Easy to tell, oh king,” said Fergus, “he has mastered all the throws from the chariot, he is proficient in the tongue feat and the horse back feat, his turnings are sharp, he knows the use of the scythes, he drives with great vigor so that none can fault his rein work, why, Curuada already can execute the wheel feat. He is without peer oh king.”

“What is your move then Fergus?” asked Concubar smiling to himself with fatherly pride.

“Do not rush me.  Patience is wisdom and a piece moved in hurry is a piece soon lost. I have several moves in mind, I but choose the best of many brethern.”

“Have you taught him the use of the long-sword, oh my master-of-arms?”

“Of course, he is a prince after all.  Know oh king, I have schooled him in long-sword slashings and parryings, all the whelming blows and the cutting strikes he knows well.  Though the weapon should be difficult for one so small, he plies it with ease.”  Fergus reached to the board and moved a mercenary closer to Concubar’s province. “He saw Cormac achieve the shield leaping reverse grip whelming feat and did what Cormac has labored for three years to perfect.  This was on his first attempt mind you.”  Fergus scooped up the die and cast. “5 days,” he counted the marker along the board edge. “HAH! it is full summer and I have advantage.” Fergus rubbed his hands together and moved the same mercenary to capture the king’s most advanced chariot.

Concubar leaned over the board and scanned it, but without much interest.  “I could have used that chariot. . .” Fergus smiled to himself, pleased with the game.

“I have never trained a lad so canny.  He is by far my best work.” Said Fergus.

“In truth he was my work, remember?” said Concubar.

“As you say,” began Fergus, “Cathbad is not so very pleased that you got him on that Faery woman.  I have seen him watching my training of the boy.”

Concubar cursed under his breath, “Don’t speak to me of that druid, he won’t leave off badgering me about how bad it is to mix with the fae folk.  And yet, here is the boy who excels in all things.  How is that bad?”

Fergus shrugged but said no more.

Concubar moved a javelineer behind his entrenched footman and gathered up the die.  “He sees trouble where there is none, and more trouble where there should be pleasantness.  Do you know he pesters me now about finding a bride?”

Fergus shrugged again, but almost spoke before he thought better of it.

Concubar made his cast.  “Two only,” he moved the marker and said, “still Summer and you to move.  With all of this of the boy, is this really the time to seek a bride? I ask you.”

Fergus looked to his king and decided the question was rhetorical.

“I have no idea where I might find a proper wife.  You are right to say that a quick move in Fidchell brings loss.  You should tell that to Cathbad, how much worse to charge off to find a woman because of a boy?”

Fergus nodded supportively and kept his eyes on the board.

“If I was to go a hunting, I’ll tell you it would not be for a wife.” Concubar leaned close to Fergus and whispered conspiratorially, “I find the comfort I need without difficulty, it is easy to find a woman.”

Fergus moved a charioteer out farther on the flank, “I know a girl that would be perfect for you.”

“Truly?  Who is she?”

Fergus smiled, “Emer, the daughter of the hostler.  Well formed though delicate, she has all the womanly virtues so that no woman is her equal in face, or in voice, in sweet speech, or in grace, nor any as skilled with needle and thread.”

“Emer you say? The daughter of the Hostler at the fording of the Red River on the South Road?”

“Aye, that is he.” Fergus steepled his fingers and pondered, “How long, oh king, has it been since you travelled this your realm and saw to your subjects?  Perhaps it is time you did.”

“I could take CuRuada hunting and test his skills in that regard as well, might I not?”

Fergus grinned, “Who knows? There might even be the sort of action that a hero might find to hand.  Perhaps a neighbor’s cows might find there way to our own possession?”

Concubar frowned, “That would be merry sport, so I guarantee that spoil stew Cathbad will be against it.  Of what possible good is it to be king if I must always dance to every finger snap of the Chief Druid?”

Fergus reverted to his standard non-commital shrug in lue of a real answer.

“Well, he can’t complain about hunting.  That at least I can still do.  Fergus, what say we plan a long day of hunting, CuRuada included, and then perhaps this fellow at the ford, the hostler, will feast us so I can have a look at his daughter.  What was her name?”

“Emer, to be sure.”

“Emer, right.” Concubar clapped his hands, “Oh Fergus, this is just the thing, killing two birds with one stone, three really, a bit of hunting with my son, a bit of pleasure while I see to a wife, and best of all, Cathbad won’t be in any of it.  See to preparations.”

“I fear it can not be for a week or so, the funerary games of Macha are set for Bright’s fullness, and there is an opportune conjunction of the Stranger as well.  Then too, it is the time for a few of the lads to take up their arms.”

“hmmm, then we simply must have a cattle raid on our hunt afterward, the boys can test their mettle, and I can bring my potential new good father some wealth on the hoof.” Concubar winked, “Never a bad thing to give a gift that costs someone else”

Fergus laughed along with the king, “Aye, and he will likely be freer with the wine if we bring him good beef, eh?”

“Even so.” The king smiled expansively.  Concubar grew serious, “Say nothing of this to Cathbad, he would only spoil our fun.”

“Ah, here he comes now”  Fergus whispered and both men turned to study their game. “um, who’s turn was it?”

Toward a New Obsession
Sep 21st, 2009 by L Stephen O

I’m not as young as I used to be.  As obvious as that is, I feel it today.  I think there are several things that have conspired to put me in this mood. 

Football: Look, as an American male I am duty bound to love this game and I do.  I used to play in the halcyon days of high-school.  It is obvious now that I don’t anymore.  Also I went “oh-for” in my fantasy leagues.  I got to watch my beloved Cowboys, who I have suffered with since Stabauch and Golden Richards, loose to the Giants.  The pain of it.  And I went OH-FOR in fantasy football.

It seemed I had a good plan for this week.  I was favored in every game.  But the fates were cruel and I suffered from under-performance by far too many of my key players.  Under-performance, oh-for, pain, loss. . .

Literature: I am reading an interesting book, The Broken Kings.  It is the pre-story of Merlin mixed in with Jason and the Argo.  I’m about halfway through and Holdstock makes a point in character about Jason.  Jason is a greedy jealous rash horrible man who is trying to make his mark.  Merlin on the other-hand is more like me, he is cautious, careful, over-thinks.  My point is (and what I got from Holdstock) is that Jason makes his mark because he is obsessed with doing so.  I think later on in the book we will see how or when or why Merlin is finally driven to the sort of obsession that makes a mark.

Life: I’ve made no marks.  I think this (doing this blog thing) is very much a desperate attempt to make a mark.  And since I desire, and am selfish, and have had a bad week of fantasy football, and realize that I can not make a mark on the field if I ever could, didn’t.  I am feeling pressure to make a mark, to do.  I have a deep desire bordering on the obsessive to HAVE DONE.  It is not the writing it is the have written.  Horrible grammar but perhaps you take my meaning.

Therefore, needing to, I will begin the desperate attempt to complete a novel here on these pages.  I fully realize that this will make me no money as I’ve heard publication on the web is death, but frankly I’m not sure I’m that good.  I need to make a mark and improve.  Why hold back?

No reason I can think of now.  Tonight then, I will think about what to do about running backs in all my leagues, I will think about who to start at receiver and in one case quarterback, and I will decide what story will give voice to my obsession to have written.

LSO

»  Substance: WordPress   »  Style: Ahren Ahimsa