[COMPLETED] The Vixen and The Thief

Chapter 4

Uncail Fiach held good to his assurance of leaving as many defenders as possible. Accordingly, only half a dozen rode out from the fort in the direction of the moutain. Béibhinn rode beside Uncail Fiach. Behind came Senen the eldest son of Gearóid, Gearóid's brother Domhnall and An tUaisle Caoimhín, the filí of the family - a man reknowned for his wisdom and powers of persuasion. 

The summer sun slanted down between the full leaved puffs of trees  as they rode to the lowlands, the grasses laden with flowers, jewel bright. Their sweet perfume filled the air, already growing heavy with warmth and the hum of flies.

A fitting day to ride out on a great deed Béibhinn thought. But worry occupied too much of her mind to admit much excitement. The same humour pervaded the others it seemed, for once down on the flatter land they stirred the horses to canter, leaving the clouds of flies far behind; and scarce a word was uttered as they rode through the summer countryside. Skirting the hills, it was not long before they were riding alongside forest, but never entering that domain of wild creatures.

In a valley with a rushing stream they broke in the mid afternoon to eat, but soon were riding on again. Into lands unfamiliar to Béibhinn save previously as a green smudge in the distance. The land ran wilder, with rarely a asight of a fort or a dwelling, and no churches or monasteries at all.

Even anxiety could not entirely keep the thrilllof thrill of newness from her heart, especially as great Sliabh na bhFian rose rose above them, its grey-brown shoulders rising from surrounding mantle of woods.

Yet a heaviness lay in the air. Due to the heat she told herself. But could heat alone make one, surrounded by armed warriors feel uneasy for having neither dagger nor sword herself? She pushed it away, yet the fear returned like the gaze of hidden eyes. All they greater as they began to ride up and along the spurs of the mountain, thoruogh the cattle filled lands of The O' hAermhirgín and Uncail Fiach loosened his sword in its leather scabbard.

Then his lios came in sight before them, its great wooden ramparts raised on a broad plataue of the mountain. Flies rose from the long grass the track wove through and the whiff of smoke came on the afternoon air.

The lios was much greater than any Beibhin had ever entered. Many rings of earthen ramparts enclosing animal pens and lesser dwellings had first to be crossed before they entered the central enclosure with its fine thatched houses standing against the walls.

By this time Uncail Fiach had stated their names and  wishes so often that The O' hAemhighín himself had got word and now he stood in the centre of the courtyard, the fur of his mantle shining in the the late afternoon light.

Béibhinn could not but be surprised at his appearance. Quite what she had expected she was not sure - someone younger perhaps? A man more valiant and warrior like in appearance?

The O'hAermhirghín carried a sword indeed, but it seemed out of place with his thinning hair and amiable face.

"Fiach Ó Bhriain!" he exclaimed heartily as they dismounted, "Cead mile failte roimhe! And what brings you into my part of the land?"

Uncail Fiach returned his politeness curtly, handing his pony to one of the boys who had come over.

With a final pat, Beibhinn surrendered her own also.

"Bad tidings," said Uncail.

The Ó'hAermhirghín's heavy face creased into a slight grimace.

"Not of the gathering I hope. It is my regret that I could not go myself, but I deemed it wisest not to leave my lands. Not with - him - so near."