Black Betrayal - an excerpt from Chapter 4...
Posted: Mon Mar 15, 2010 9:58 pm
Mogh Ruith the High Priest walked sedately behind humming an almost inaudible incantation. As the younger Druids left the cauldron to the more capable hands of their elder, Goll Mac Morna shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
There were but two tests left for Conaire to pass in order for his inauguration to be final; The Dagda’s cauldron and Conchobar’s chariot which awaited him in the square. Any hope then of Mac Morna himself being chosen instead would be lost, it agitated him, had the title of High King not been taken from a King of Leinster by force? Was it not his by right?
He thought Conaire was indeed impressive, but did he have the forbearance and level headedness required for such prominence? His train of thought was broken abruptly by Mogh Ruith who was now bashing the side of the cauldron with a heavy dagger causing a metallic ring to resonate throughout the Hall.
“Dagda…Dagda…Dagda…Dagda…” Mogh Ruith continued to chant the good Gods name over and over and his chants were soon rejoined by his acolytes, and they too had their voices joined by Druids from other orders whose own Gods had some connection to the Dagda.
These included the sisters of Brigit. Brigit was the daughter of the Dagda, one of his many children along with Ogma and Bodb the Red. Soon the entire Hall was chanting the name of the Dagda, the unanimous feeling of expectation giving the place an electrifying atmosphere.
A loud crack erupted from the centre of the cauldron hushing all the arrayed Druids except for Mogh Ruith who didn’t pause for a second in his incanting.
“Dagda…Dagda…Dagda…Dagda…Here, come here my Lord…” he gestured to Conaire to join him beside the cauldron and Conaire did not hesitate. Mogh Ruith took the new King’s hand and pushed it forcefully into the mouth of the black pot.
“Say it..Say the Dagda’s name…” he commanded gently.
“Dagda…Dagda…” he continued and Conaire’s voice joined him, quietly at first but at the old Druids instruction he grew louder and louder until he was shouting and again there was a second loud crack.
Conaire grinned and turned towards the expectant assembly, he withdrew his arm from the cauldron and thrust his hand into the air, in his palm he held a solitary red apple. Mac Morna let out a guffaw of laughter and Mogh Ruith shot a disapproving look at him and motioned that he should be silent.
“Stand back my Lord King,” gently Mogh Ruith ushered Conaire back and he fell to his knees.
“Behold!” he yelled.
“The Dagda deems that Conaire Mac Lamha is indeed worthy!”
At this the cauldron started to shake, first gently then it paused, then it shook so violently that it seemed it would tip, it’s three iron feet ringing loudly as they repeatedly banged on the slate floor.
Another apple dropped out at Conaire’s feet, then another, then a carrot, a turnip, the cauldron positively erupted with food. A flood of foodstuffs came pouring from it’s mouth, causing a ripple of excitement and laughter within the Hall until finally it stopped shaking and the flow of fruit, vegetables and grains ceased. Conaire grinned and juggled his apple from one hand to the other before singling out a young boy in the midst of the sisters of Brigit and tossing the fruit to him.
(c) K J Lander 2009 all rights reserved
There were but two tests left for Conaire to pass in order for his inauguration to be final; The Dagda’s cauldron and Conchobar’s chariot which awaited him in the square. Any hope then of Mac Morna himself being chosen instead would be lost, it agitated him, had the title of High King not been taken from a King of Leinster by force? Was it not his by right?
He thought Conaire was indeed impressive, but did he have the forbearance and level headedness required for such prominence? His train of thought was broken abruptly by Mogh Ruith who was now bashing the side of the cauldron with a heavy dagger causing a metallic ring to resonate throughout the Hall.
“Dagda…Dagda…Dagda…Dagda…” Mogh Ruith continued to chant the good Gods name over and over and his chants were soon rejoined by his acolytes, and they too had their voices joined by Druids from other orders whose own Gods had some connection to the Dagda.
These included the sisters of Brigit. Brigit was the daughter of the Dagda, one of his many children along with Ogma and Bodb the Red. Soon the entire Hall was chanting the name of the Dagda, the unanimous feeling of expectation giving the place an electrifying atmosphere.
A loud crack erupted from the centre of the cauldron hushing all the arrayed Druids except for Mogh Ruith who didn’t pause for a second in his incanting.
“Dagda…Dagda…Dagda…Dagda…Here, come here my Lord…” he gestured to Conaire to join him beside the cauldron and Conaire did not hesitate. Mogh Ruith took the new King’s hand and pushed it forcefully into the mouth of the black pot.
“Say it..Say the Dagda’s name…” he commanded gently.
“Dagda…Dagda…” he continued and Conaire’s voice joined him, quietly at first but at the old Druids instruction he grew louder and louder until he was shouting and again there was a second loud crack.
Conaire grinned and turned towards the expectant assembly, he withdrew his arm from the cauldron and thrust his hand into the air, in his palm he held a solitary red apple. Mac Morna let out a guffaw of laughter and Mogh Ruith shot a disapproving look at him and motioned that he should be silent.
“Stand back my Lord King,” gently Mogh Ruith ushered Conaire back and he fell to his knees.
“Behold!” he yelled.
“The Dagda deems that Conaire Mac Lamha is indeed worthy!”
At this the cauldron started to shake, first gently then it paused, then it shook so violently that it seemed it would tip, it’s three iron feet ringing loudly as they repeatedly banged on the slate floor.
Another apple dropped out at Conaire’s feet, then another, then a carrot, a turnip, the cauldron positively erupted with food. A flood of foodstuffs came pouring from it’s mouth, causing a ripple of excitement and laughter within the Hall until finally it stopped shaking and the flow of fruit, vegetables and grains ceased. Conaire grinned and juggled his apple from one hand to the other before singling out a young boy in the midst of the sisters of Brigit and tossing the fruit to him.
(c) K J Lander 2009 all rights reserved