Read Online The King of Sleep by Caiseal Mor - Free Book Online Page B

the blacksmith to observe whether the king was calling out in ecstasy or bellowing in anger. Méaraigh squinted to see better but didn’t answer.
    â€œHow are the wheels holding up?” Tuargain demanded to know. “Is the king taking it easy? I warned him not to drive too fast until he has a feel for the balance of it.”
    â€œHe’s driving like a fool,” the Druid answered solemnly. “Tuargain, you shouldn’t have allowed him to take it out before it was properly tested. If he should fall and break his neck there’ll be trouble to pay.”
    â€œHe won’t falter, Máel Máedóc,” the blacksmith cut in. “Eber Finn is the greatest warrior alive. It would take more than a fall from a chariot to change his fortunes.”
    â€œA small wedge cut from the oak tree can be used to split it,” the Druid answered. “In just such a manner a man can be the cause of his own ruination.”
    Even as the old counselor spoke, both sighted men saw the vehicle kick up the dirt. Together they gasped as the chariot jumped into the air only to land again with the king still firmly standing in his place at the reins.
    â€œWhat’s happened?” Tuargain asked urgently. “Has there been some mishap?”
    â€œAll’s well,” Máel Máedóc reassured him. “But I fear young Eber is taking far too many risks.”
    At that the Druid bit his tongue. He knew that most of the southern Gaedhals thought very highly of their war-leader. Eber had led them at the Battle of Sliabh Mis and successfully negotiated an extremely favorable treaty with the mystical Danaans, the native inhabitants of this island. The Danaans had agreed to withdraw behind the veil of the Otherworld, leaving all their lands to the Gaedhals. Only a few of their kind had remained living in scattered pockets among the Fir-Bolg of the Burren.
    But even if he had not been victorious, Eber Finn would have been well respected. He was the youngest son of King Míl and Queen Scota who had ruled their people in the lands of Iber before the tribes had elected to make a journey northward in search of new territory.
    Máel Máedóc did not wish anyone to know he had reservations about the young war-leader. Nevertheless he could not hide a frown, and his expression was full of concern. Before long the Druid realized that Méaraigh was glancing at him suspiciously, so he pulled the cowl of his breacan cloak over his face and hugged his hazelwood staff close to his body.
    â€œIt’s a fine chariot,” the blacksmith told Tuargain. “I wish you could see it. You’d be mighty proud.”
    â€œYou are my eyes as much as I am your legs,” the wheelwright reminded his friend. “I have a clear picture of the scene in my imagination. But tell me what you see.”
    As Méaraigh the blacksmith began his poetic description of the war-cart, Máel Máedóc closed his eyes and tried to shut out all that was being said. He had a difficult decision to make and these two crafts-men were distracting him from his thoughts.
    The old Druid sincerely wished he had not sanctioned the building of these new chariots at the last meeting of the Council of Chieftains.
    At the opening of the meeting, the gathering of advisers, counselors and elders had expressed unprecedented gratitude to their young war-leader for his rolein making a treaty with the Danaans. As a sign of their respect the council had conferred upon him a cap of bright gold to wear with honor and granted him the title of Finn, the Bright-Headed One. Then the leaders of the Fian, the warrior bands who roamed the countryside outside the protection and influence of the king, declared their allegiance to him. They named him Eber Finn of the Fianna and promised he would hold the title for life whether he remained King of the Southern Gaedhals or not.
    With such an open show of support young Eber had confidently