And occasionally the Mare Britannicum too.
The North Sea was also Mare Germanicum or Mare Frisicum which seems appropriate.
The Amalingian Empire: The Story of the Gothic-Roman Empire
- Thread starter DanMcCollum
- Start date
The North Sea was also Mare Germanicum or Mare Frisicum which seems appropriate.
I didn't know that! Just shows, you can spend so much time researching different topics and still miss out on some interesting information. It shall be as you say: from this point forward, the Balkan Peninsula shall be known as the Haemus or Heemz Peninsula! Thank you; and thanks also for taking the time to read this timeline from the beginning; that takes dedication
These are all good points; and I shall include them in the future - though, for the British Channel, I wonder if it might not be known as Mare Saxonicum or something similar at this point. Hmmmm.
Chapter 71 Life from Death (Chapter 4 of the Caoimhe Cycle)
Chapter 71
Life from Death
Later Dal Caoihmian Depiction of Igider the Berber During his Campaign
“The passion for vengeance, once ignited, can burn the world. For the Jotun, though made of ice, can burn as strong as fire. Those seeking justice must make sure that their heart are steady. For those who quest for justice, may often lose their way and seek instead vengeance. And that is not the way of the All-Father” – Hakon Odinson
Caoimhe and her Brotherhood soon set up court in Esphailleas and sent word to all four corners of the earth that this land was now under their protection, and they would brook the harm of none of its inhabitants. For, as she looked out upon the devastated landscape, she could not help but feel her heart ache for these people and their plight and vowed, then and there, that she would do everything she could to make out of them a strong nation that would never again fall to such butchery. [FN1]
One of her messengers arrived in the camp of King Sisebut who was then campaigning far to the north in the lands of Aquitaine. King Sisebut welcomed the man, though he questioned why a wild and savage Gael would wish to speak to him.
“My King,” said the messenger, “I have come to you from the city of Esphailleas, far to the South. As we speak these words, that land is being despoiled by the vicious murderer Igider who seeks to expand his realm north of Carrick Mor.” [FN2]
At this Sisebut nodded, “Yes, I am well aware of the actions of Igider the Berber. But I am now defending our realm from an even greater threat – Sigeric Rìgh Breugach, the false king from Jailee who seeks to overthrow the true King of the Goths. If I turn my attention against the Berbers, then truly Sigeric shall bring greater destruction to the Empire and destroy our people.”
“This is as I suspected,” the messenger said, “and that is why I have come to you today. My Queen, Caoimhe Aon Féasóg, sits upon her throne in Esphailleas. She declares that if you are unable to protect the people of that city and land, then she shall do so. She says further that she is willing to do so in your name, if you only recognize her claim to the lands of Baetica. However, if you will not give her this, she will be willing to prove her claim upon the field of battle, after she has vanquished Igider the Berber and chased him back into the sea.”
Sisebut felt his face grow red with rage at the arrogance of this messenger and his Queen. However, he held his tongue, for he had heard the tales of Caoimhe Aon Féasóg who the Goths called Mareiunwulfs – She-Wolf of the Sea. “You Gaels are a strange people to allow yourselves to be ruled by your women,” he finally said.
“We Gaels follow strength and nobility, and I assure you that my Queen possesses both.”
“Perhaps,” Sisebut said, “and she is welcome to try to wrest that land of Baetica from me, though I feel she will be much the worse of that confrontation.”
“Greater princes than you, oh King, have uttered similar words, and yet all now lay dead. For she possesses a great beauty that rivals her cunning in battle and, when she was young, a great many princes sought her hand in marriage. But she declared that she would only agree to wed a man who was stronger than her. Many tried to win that hand, but it was she who won their heads in the end.”
“Be that as it may, I do not fear the blade of a woman, even one who possesses as great of a reputation as your Queen. Still, I will promise you this. If she can clear that land of the Berber and drive him back into the sea, then I shall grant her the lands of Baetica as she desires. But she shall hold those lands at my pleasure, and she shall make of herself a loyal vassle. Is that understood?”
At this the messenger bowed, “Though my Queen bows her neck to no man, she will happily hold the lands as your ally.” And, so the messenger departed.
And then Sisebut sat deep in thought, contemplating whether he had made an error and allowed a threat far wilder and greater than Igider the Berber to plague his house. “Surly,” he said to himself, “a woman such as that may not rest until she had sits upon the throne of the Caesars of old in Rome itself, and has trampled the crowns of many great princes beneath her feet.”
And at this, a great foreboding clutched his heart, but he dispelled it, “Yet, just as surely, the race of the Goths is too viral to ever kneel and quake before a barbarian from beyond the seas, and a woman at that. Though she is certainly valiant in battle, and her sword Saol ó Bhás is sharp indeed, she could never cut down the men of our folk. Still, she may be useful and should she drive Igider from our lands and drown him and his accursed men in the sea, than she has certainly won the right to defend our southern lands from all threats.”
And, with these words, he calmed himself and turned his attention back to the fight against Sigeric Rìgh Breugach and wondered if he should ever hear of the upstart Gael again.
When Caoimhe heard the words of King Sisebut, she was initially moved to rage. “I shall subjugate myself to no man,” she said. “Any King who is incapable of protecting his flock is no king at all and deserves not the title! I should slay him for his arrogance in thinking that I would serve under him as a handmaid does her mistress!”
At this, Eterscel, her husband, spoke up. “My wife, truly King Sisebut’s words were arrogant. But is not what he offers close to the proposal you sent him. You offered to rule this land in his name in payment for our victory over the Igider. He offers for you to become a Federate Queen ruling over the land. There is little difference between the two.”
“Do you not remember the time when we raided deep into Jaile and came to the great city of Tours and the way was barred against us? It was you who came up with the plan for our success. I pretended to be deathly ill and needing absolution and convinced the guards to allow me in so that I might seek the forgiveness of a priest. Then, as I pretended to lay dead, it was you who talked them city to open its gates to allow our men in for my funeral. It was your keening and wailing that won the day! For no sooner was the entire brotherhood within the walls than I lept up and killed the priest – an Arian and a heretic – and we laid waste to the city and carried off with us much loot. That was a glorious day!” [FN3]
Caoimhe nodded, for she remembered that day well. “Yes! And we spared the Christian clergy who came from a nearby monastery erected by our people, but we slew the arrogant Goths and looted their churches. How could I forget such a day – I hear mothers of Jaille still use my name to terrify their children.”
At this she laughed, and the clouds which had formed on her brow began to evaporate. “You are right, Eterscel, as always. Truly, you are the only man I have ever loved as only a wife can. You say that we agree to whatever the weak King says and, once we have been allowed into the realm, then none shall be able to stop us.” And with this the crisis passed, and Caoimhe and the Brotherhood began to plan for their assault upon the Berber raiders which were plaguing Baetica.
At that time, Igider was a great King who ruled over the Berbers who lived to the South of Carrick Mor, across the sea. He called his Kingdom Tingis and from that great city he spread his power throughout western Libya. Once, he had been a loyal servant to the King of the Vandals who ruled in Carthage, but no more. For, he was wiley and treacherous and used the old age and dotage of that King to expand his own power so that he was a powerful lord. When the Vandal King had died, he had declared himself King of Tingis andviciously fought against any who would challenge his power.
Igider was known to have twelve sons, each more brutal than the last, and they enjoyed nothing more than to cross the sea and ravage the lands of Baectia and all of Hispania. Each spring they would gather their men to them and boast who would gain the most loot. Then they would set off launch their fleets north and torment the Empire. After the season was over, they would return to Tingis and there hold grand processions and feasts in the style of the Romans and invite delegates of all surrounding nations to witness their wealth and power. Occasionally the boasting would turn violent, and Igider was not unknown to partake in such feuds. It is said that he once killed three of his own sons who had surpassed him in gaining loot that season and now all of his family lived in fear of ever surpassing him.
On Easter Sunday, Igider had gathered his sons and their men to his court to plan the next campaign to Hispania when a messenger arrived from the North.
“Do you come from King Sisebut, to seek terms so that we might stop ravaging his lands,” Igider asked, “for you can tell your King that I will not rest until every piece of gold, every fish in the river, every grain of wheat has been stripped from his lands and taken to glorious Tingis!”
“No,” the messenger replied, “I carry no word from King Sisebut, nor have I come to seek terms from you. Instead, I bring news. Queen Caoihme Aon Féasóg Nic Fergus now rules from her her capitol in Esphailleas and sends the following warning: if you should cross into the lands of Baectia which have proclaimed her their sovereign lord, she shall stain the waters of the Mhuirmhór red with the blood of you and your sons. The people of Tingis shall weep and moan as your House is driven back to the depths of Hell from wense they came. Heed my words oh Wicked King, and spare your life!” [FN4]
At this Igider laughed deeply, “It has been a long time since I have met a man – or woman – who is worth killing. I believe I shall enjoy taking this Queen of yours and making her my wife! Now messenger, I have a message for you to send to your Queen as well!”
And with that, his men grabbed the messenger, and bound him in chains. “Though I can not fault you for carrying out your orders, I am far more used to messengers who do not have such foul tongues.” Then he reached forward and pried the messenger’s mouth open and with his knife, he dug the man’s tongue out.
Placing the tongue in the messenger’s hand, he said “Now, return to your Queen with my message and tell her that I look forward to meeting her upon the field of battle if she is so willing.”
After the messenger had been sent on his way, Igider turned to his sons, “This year I shall bring back the greatest prize. One so great that none of you shall ever be able to surpass me! I shall either bring back Caoihme Aon Féasóg to be my wife, or her head to grace the gates of Tibis if she refuses.”
“Then,” he eldest remaining son said, “we shall march directly upon Esphailleas to depose this upstart girl?”
“No,” Igider said, “for although I fear no woman, I also wish to test her resolve. I know the legends of this Caoimhe, for tales of her bravery have reached us even this far South. She will be expecting an assault upon her city and we can not allow ourselves to fall into a trap – for she is a woman and not as strong as us, but that does not mean that she cannot use the cunning of her sex to lure us into a trap either!” [FN5]
Instead, Igider suggested that his forces would move up the coast of Baetica to the port of Malaca and there make landfall. Then they would move inland, pillaging the lands as they marched upon the city of Esphailleas, and draw Caoimhe out, for they reasoned that she would be moved to sympathy and rashness by the suffering the people who hoped to rule. There, in the open field, Igider and his sons would capture her and bring her back to Tibis.
The Berbers followed the plan of their King and sailed for Malaca where they laid waste to the city and threw down its walls. Then they marched West and proved to be a scourge upon the land, fanning out to burn fields and villages, and kill all they could find – both human and animal.
Yet Caoimhe was not moved. “Though I am not cold hearted,” she stated, and my heart pumps with rage for the indignities that are being committed against my people. But I shall not be drawn into open battle. I do not fight where my foe choses, for I am a Fenian Queen, and it is I who dictates the field of battle!”
And so it was, that Caoimhe, Eterscel and the Brotherhood chose a different strategy. Rather than meet their foe in open battle, they instead fell back upon their experience as raiders. Breaking into small groups, they melted into the landscape like a wolfpack in the mist and attacked the invaders when they were least expected.
Shortly after being welcomed in Esphailleas, Caoimhe had discovered that she was with child. However, she declared that she would not give birth until her adopted land had been cleansed from the plague of foreign invasion. Although her belly grew with the baby, this did not stop her from donning armor and taking to the field to slay her foes.
At first the attacks of Caoimhe and her brotherhood did little more than annoy Igider and his Berber soldiers. But as they moved north from Malaca, the attacks became more persistent. Those few captives who were taken found themselves freed by small groups of armed Gaels, and supply wagons caught fire, and horses were set free and scattered in the midst of the night. Soon, the Berber army found its advance slowed and morale began to suffer.
The worst happened once the army reached the city of Ostippo. There, three sons of Igider lead a raid to the south to collect grain and meat for the Berber army. One night, they were ambushed outside of the small community of Pedrera by Eterscel and a small band of his oldest and most valient followers. In the resulting battle, Eterscel slew the three sons of Igider and took their heads and trophies which he presented to his wife as a gift. [FN6]
As news reached the Berber camp of the death of the three princes and their men, Igider flew into a rage. “I have thought that I was fighting a Queen,” he declared, “but now I see the work of the King who truly rules. I shall capture this man and flay him alive for his indignity to my family.” And so Igider was driven into a frenzy to capture Eterscel. He demanded that his remaining sons and most loyal generals to scour the land and search for the killer of the three princes.
Eterscel laughed at the rage of his foe. “Though I have married a woman far greater than I,” he stated, “It was still I who scoured the Atlantic and reduced the walls so many cities to rubble and won a name for myself across the Empire. I do not fear the raging of this faithless Berber King. For, if I am destined to fall in battle, than I shall do so – but I shall die, fighting for my love, and my name shall live for ages to come.”
Yet, tragedy followed Eterscel, for it had been prophecied that any man who loved Caoihme Aon Féasóg would meet an early end and bring her nothing but pain. Fair Eterscel continued to harass the Berber army as his wife had ordered, but soon the Igider’s focus would overtake him, for the Berber King began to forsake all other activities and dedicated himself to tracking down his sons’ killer. In the countryside, outside the community of Gilena, a Berber force tracked Eterscel down to his camp and, in the battle, Caoimhe’s husband was slain and his head was delivered to Igider’s camp.
When news of the death reached Caoihme, she let out a great wail and began a keening the likes of which her men had never before seen. She twisted her hair and tore at the flesh around her eyes and was inconsolable. For nine days and nine nights she refused any food or drink and became so frail that many worried for her life and that of the child she was carrying. Many of th Brotherhood were also so afflicted, for many had served with Eterscel since they were but boys and knew him as a trusted friend and brother.
Finally, on the tenth day, Caoihme emerged from her tent and declared, “I now carry the son of a murdered man in my womb. Mark my words, for I shall not birth this babe until the killer of his father has had his life blood spilled upon the soil. I shall take the head of Igider and mount it in front of the church of Esphailleas; for I have taken the people of this land as my own, but now I share their sorrow and understand their plight. I shall cleanse this land of the loctus which feed upon it and destroy the wolves which prey upon its people.”
So determined, Caoihme stepped up her assaults upon the Berber army. When bands broke off from the main group, the Brotherhood fell upon them and killed them to the man. Any sons of Igider that were found, would be captured and slain, their heads sent back to their father the next morning. It was not long before the news of these attacks, and the rage of Caoihme Aon Féasóg, traveled amongst the Berber men, and many began to flee from the army. Those who were captured were killed and left tied to trees and fences as warmings, while those who escaped made their way back home and spread the tale of Caoihme and her lust for revenge.
Weakened, Igider knew that he needed to escape from Ostippo which had became a graveyard for his men. Panic was beginning to infect his men and many began to fear that they would never return home to see their wives, sweethearts and children. In a last, desperate, gambit, Igider sent out a small force lead by his 11th son – for his last son remained home in Tibis as a babe, in the care of his mother. The son was ordered to track Caoihme to her camp and kill her.
The 11th son, who’s name was Meddur, was a wild and energetic man. In many ways, he was said to be the most like his father of all of Igider’s sons. A lover of wine and song, he was also brutal in the field of war and was said to have killed his first man at the age of seven. Meddur set out south where he felt that Caoimhe’s camp would be located; along the way he spared no village that he came upon. He burnt every field, killed every cow and sheep, and left great piles of the dead behind him.
Soon the people of the region came to their Queen to ask for assistance. Hearing their sorrows, which so matched her own, she could no longer refused to act. But, once again, remember that she was a Fenian, Caoihme refused to be drawn into a battle on another’s terms. Instead, she stalked Meddur’s party and waited for the moment to strike. One night, she felt the time was right, and surrounded him camp. As the moon had waned to darkness, she personally attacked. Meddur’s men were slaughtered to the man, but the son of Igider was captured.
Then, with her captive, Caoihme arrived outside the city of Ostippo and carried with her, her captive. There, she announced her presence and cried out “Igider! Foul son of Tibis! Killer of fair Eterscel, my husband, lover, and father of my unborn son. I challenge you to battle for the soul of this land. If you are brave, and honorable you shall meet me. If you are not, I shall strike each of you down, one by one until the sons of Tibis are all buried in this foreign and hostile land!”
Then Igider emerged from the city and said, “I am a a man of the Berber people and their King, it would be below my dignity to fight a woman!”
Hearing this, Caoihme grew enraged and had his son Meddur drug before her and said “You shall fight me, or you shall witness the last of your sons dying at my blade!”
“What use do I have for such a weak son,” Igider said, “For I have the hammer and anvil needed to forge more and better sons than he, and I have left the most powerful and greatest of mine back in Tibis and, should I fall, he shall surely avenge me.”
At this, Caoimhe felt her battle spasm begin to overtake her. Her black hair began to stand on end, and her face began to grow red and then black. One eye grew in size so that it seemed ready to pop from her skull, while her other shrunk and seemed to disappear within her skull. Her jaw distended and man fainted, for they claimed that they could see her lung and heart throbbing down her gullet.
As the spasm took its hold, she grabbed Meddur’s head and rent it from his neck with her bare hands and threw it with all of her force at Igider. “Then you are a coward and there if no man who should follow one of such weak will!”
At this challenge, Igider grew into a rage himself. He had just been humiliated in front of his own men and witnessed the death of his last adult son. Meddur’s head flew through the air, hit the ground, and rolled to his father’s feet.
“Very well,” Igider cried, “you who have slain all of my sons, I would not be a man if I did not cut the head off of such a vile asp.”
And with this, the Berber King charged from the walls of Ostippo, sword in hand, and he sought out his foe. The two battled for half of a day for, in their rage, they were even matched. Many grievous injuries were inflicted upon both parties and was it not for the rage of both combatants, either would have died. But, in the end, it was Caoihme who was the victory and, with Saol ó Bhás in hand, she sliced through the muscular neck of her foe and severed his head from his body. Igider’s head fell to the ground and as it rolled, a flock of crows descended from the sky and began to peck it. Soon, there was no flesh left upon the skull, save for white bone.
Then, Caoimhe fell to the ground, not due to her injuries, but the labor pains which suddenly shook her to the core. The Brotherhood rushed to her side and carried her back to camp and there she lay in labor for three full days, until many felt that she and her children would die. But on the third day she gave birth to twin sons – Ceallach and Ciaran who were both known as Cath Rugadh; the Battle-Born. They were the sons of Eterscel, but they would forever call themselves Mac Caoihme and they, along with the other sons of Caoihme, would strengthen the lands of Dal Caoihme and bathe the land in the blood of their foes. They fulfilled the prophecy of their mother, for she had claimed that her children would not be born until the killer of their father would lose his life.
Having vanquished the Berbers and their leader, Caoihme returned to Esphailleas, having won her realm at the expense of the life of her beloved husband. There, she received the fealty of the lords and peasants of Baectia who proclaimed her their queen. She rested there for some years, bringing peace and justice to the land. As she promised, she lived the life of the man, and took many members of Brotherhood as her concubines, and many chose to see her as a King, rather than a Queen. [FN7]
But, her hatred for the Berbers of Tiblis never ceased, and she was vigilant in protecting her adopted people from incursions to the South. Then, one day, a messenger arrived in her court in Esphailleas. The traveler claimed to be a prince of the Vandals and sought an alliance to regain his throne from a treacherous brother.
…
[FN1] One might note that this seems to be a slight departure from Caoimhe’s usual attitude – she certainly had no problem devastating the lands of others prior in her career (and, we shall learn, she has little problem doing so again in the future). Perhaps the plight of the people of Southern Hispania really did awaken in her some feelings of pity. Or maybe this is what happens when a people have to craft a national myth for themselves.
[FN2] You may notice that the author here is using the Gaelic names for cities, places and, to a large extent, people. I believe that this fits how the stories would be told, for once the Gaels are established, there would be little reason for them to tell such stories using the Vulgar Latin terms in most cases. Also, it somewhat adds to the ‘folklore’ and ‘mythic’ feel that I’m going with these chapters. At least I hope!
[FN3] This tale seems a bit exaggerated to say the least, but is certainly possible. We know from our fine Greek friend that Tours, a few decades prior, was not the richest city in all of the Empire, but it was well protected. However, it had been the target of Rauthering raiders in the past – and subterfuge has been unknown in raiding in OTL or the ATL. I suppose we shall have to wait for the historical Caoimhe to show her head to see if it really happened or not. But, of course, its entirely possible that the written records just make no reference to it, even if it did.
[FN4] Mhuirmhór is Gaelic for “Great Sea” and seems a good term for the Mediterranean. In OTL the term is Meánmhuir a direct transliteration of the Latin which means “Middle Sea.” I figure that due to the importance that it will play to Dal Caoimhe and the wealth present, the more likely term would be “Great Sea.”
[FN5] You may have noticed that Igider sounds a bit … sexist. Although it pains me to write those words, I suspect that it was a common attitude at the time and it will likely work its way into the tales. Hence one of the reasons that so many characters in this story keep wanting to force Caoimhe to marry them. I apologize for this.
[FN6] Pedera and, later, Gilena are modern Spanish communities. Sadly, I was unable to discover when these towns were founded and if there were any earlier names for them. Should anyone have information pertaining to these communities and their histories, please let me know!
[FN7] Gaelic Men were allowed to take concubines in addition to their wife. Caoihme is choosing to follow these same laws, save that her concubines are men and not women. One might expect that this is going to eventually cause tension with those elements of society who are less than willing to take a female warrior ruler seriously. You could even look to references in the first chapter of these series of posts and imagine how the Church and other authorities come to view this.
Okay guys, this chapter is in honor of Irish Fest in Milwaukee where I worked this last week. I fear that its not the best chapter I've ever written, but this seems to have one of the more difficult chapters of the life of the legend of Caoihme that I had to work through. I hope you enjoyed it all the same and the next chapter should be rather fun indeed as we deal with the legend of the Vandal prince
Life from Death
Later Dal Caoihmian Depiction of Igider the Berber During his Campaign
“The passion for vengeance, once ignited, can burn the world. For the Jotun, though made of ice, can burn as strong as fire. Those seeking justice must make sure that their heart are steady. For those who quest for justice, may often lose their way and seek instead vengeance. And that is not the way of the All-Father” – Hakon Odinson
Caoimhe and her Brotherhood soon set up court in Esphailleas and sent word to all four corners of the earth that this land was now under their protection, and they would brook the harm of none of its inhabitants. For, as she looked out upon the devastated landscape, she could not help but feel her heart ache for these people and their plight and vowed, then and there, that she would do everything she could to make out of them a strong nation that would never again fall to such butchery. [FN1]
One of her messengers arrived in the camp of King Sisebut who was then campaigning far to the north in the lands of Aquitaine. King Sisebut welcomed the man, though he questioned why a wild and savage Gael would wish to speak to him.
“My King,” said the messenger, “I have come to you from the city of Esphailleas, far to the South. As we speak these words, that land is being despoiled by the vicious murderer Igider who seeks to expand his realm north of Carrick Mor.” [FN2]
At this Sisebut nodded, “Yes, I am well aware of the actions of Igider the Berber. But I am now defending our realm from an even greater threat – Sigeric Rìgh Breugach, the false king from Jailee who seeks to overthrow the true King of the Goths. If I turn my attention against the Berbers, then truly Sigeric shall bring greater destruction to the Empire and destroy our people.”
“This is as I suspected,” the messenger said, “and that is why I have come to you today. My Queen, Caoimhe Aon Féasóg, sits upon her throne in Esphailleas. She declares that if you are unable to protect the people of that city and land, then she shall do so. She says further that she is willing to do so in your name, if you only recognize her claim to the lands of Baetica. However, if you will not give her this, she will be willing to prove her claim upon the field of battle, after she has vanquished Igider the Berber and chased him back into the sea.”
Sisebut felt his face grow red with rage at the arrogance of this messenger and his Queen. However, he held his tongue, for he had heard the tales of Caoimhe Aon Féasóg who the Goths called Mareiunwulfs – She-Wolf of the Sea. “You Gaels are a strange people to allow yourselves to be ruled by your women,” he finally said.
“We Gaels follow strength and nobility, and I assure you that my Queen possesses both.”
“Perhaps,” Sisebut said, “and she is welcome to try to wrest that land of Baetica from me, though I feel she will be much the worse of that confrontation.”
“Greater princes than you, oh King, have uttered similar words, and yet all now lay dead. For she possesses a great beauty that rivals her cunning in battle and, when she was young, a great many princes sought her hand in marriage. But she declared that she would only agree to wed a man who was stronger than her. Many tried to win that hand, but it was she who won their heads in the end.”
“Be that as it may, I do not fear the blade of a woman, even one who possesses as great of a reputation as your Queen. Still, I will promise you this. If she can clear that land of the Berber and drive him back into the sea, then I shall grant her the lands of Baetica as she desires. But she shall hold those lands at my pleasure, and she shall make of herself a loyal vassle. Is that understood?”
At this the messenger bowed, “Though my Queen bows her neck to no man, she will happily hold the lands as your ally.” And, so the messenger departed.
And then Sisebut sat deep in thought, contemplating whether he had made an error and allowed a threat far wilder and greater than Igider the Berber to plague his house. “Surly,” he said to himself, “a woman such as that may not rest until she had sits upon the throne of the Caesars of old in Rome itself, and has trampled the crowns of many great princes beneath her feet.”
And at this, a great foreboding clutched his heart, but he dispelled it, “Yet, just as surely, the race of the Goths is too viral to ever kneel and quake before a barbarian from beyond the seas, and a woman at that. Though she is certainly valiant in battle, and her sword Saol ó Bhás is sharp indeed, she could never cut down the men of our folk. Still, she may be useful and should she drive Igider from our lands and drown him and his accursed men in the sea, than she has certainly won the right to defend our southern lands from all threats.”
And, with these words, he calmed himself and turned his attention back to the fight against Sigeric Rìgh Breugach and wondered if he should ever hear of the upstart Gael again.
When Caoimhe heard the words of King Sisebut, she was initially moved to rage. “I shall subjugate myself to no man,” she said. “Any King who is incapable of protecting his flock is no king at all and deserves not the title! I should slay him for his arrogance in thinking that I would serve under him as a handmaid does her mistress!”
At this, Eterscel, her husband, spoke up. “My wife, truly King Sisebut’s words were arrogant. But is not what he offers close to the proposal you sent him. You offered to rule this land in his name in payment for our victory over the Igider. He offers for you to become a Federate Queen ruling over the land. There is little difference between the two.”
“Do you not remember the time when we raided deep into Jaile and came to the great city of Tours and the way was barred against us? It was you who came up with the plan for our success. I pretended to be deathly ill and needing absolution and convinced the guards to allow me in so that I might seek the forgiveness of a priest. Then, as I pretended to lay dead, it was you who talked them city to open its gates to allow our men in for my funeral. It was your keening and wailing that won the day! For no sooner was the entire brotherhood within the walls than I lept up and killed the priest – an Arian and a heretic – and we laid waste to the city and carried off with us much loot. That was a glorious day!” [FN3]
Caoimhe nodded, for she remembered that day well. “Yes! And we spared the Christian clergy who came from a nearby monastery erected by our people, but we slew the arrogant Goths and looted their churches. How could I forget such a day – I hear mothers of Jaille still use my name to terrify their children.”
At this she laughed, and the clouds which had formed on her brow began to evaporate. “You are right, Eterscel, as always. Truly, you are the only man I have ever loved as only a wife can. You say that we agree to whatever the weak King says and, once we have been allowed into the realm, then none shall be able to stop us.” And with this the crisis passed, and Caoimhe and the Brotherhood began to plan for their assault upon the Berber raiders which were plaguing Baetica.
At that time, Igider was a great King who ruled over the Berbers who lived to the South of Carrick Mor, across the sea. He called his Kingdom Tingis and from that great city he spread his power throughout western Libya. Once, he had been a loyal servant to the King of the Vandals who ruled in Carthage, but no more. For, he was wiley and treacherous and used the old age and dotage of that King to expand his own power so that he was a powerful lord. When the Vandal King had died, he had declared himself King of Tingis andviciously fought against any who would challenge his power.
Igider was known to have twelve sons, each more brutal than the last, and they enjoyed nothing more than to cross the sea and ravage the lands of Baectia and all of Hispania. Each spring they would gather their men to them and boast who would gain the most loot. Then they would set off launch their fleets north and torment the Empire. After the season was over, they would return to Tingis and there hold grand processions and feasts in the style of the Romans and invite delegates of all surrounding nations to witness their wealth and power. Occasionally the boasting would turn violent, and Igider was not unknown to partake in such feuds. It is said that he once killed three of his own sons who had surpassed him in gaining loot that season and now all of his family lived in fear of ever surpassing him.
On Easter Sunday, Igider had gathered his sons and their men to his court to plan the next campaign to Hispania when a messenger arrived from the North.
“Do you come from King Sisebut, to seek terms so that we might stop ravaging his lands,” Igider asked, “for you can tell your King that I will not rest until every piece of gold, every fish in the river, every grain of wheat has been stripped from his lands and taken to glorious Tingis!”
“No,” the messenger replied, “I carry no word from King Sisebut, nor have I come to seek terms from you. Instead, I bring news. Queen Caoihme Aon Féasóg Nic Fergus now rules from her her capitol in Esphailleas and sends the following warning: if you should cross into the lands of Baectia which have proclaimed her their sovereign lord, she shall stain the waters of the Mhuirmhór red with the blood of you and your sons. The people of Tingis shall weep and moan as your House is driven back to the depths of Hell from wense they came. Heed my words oh Wicked King, and spare your life!” [FN4]
At this Igider laughed deeply, “It has been a long time since I have met a man – or woman – who is worth killing. I believe I shall enjoy taking this Queen of yours and making her my wife! Now messenger, I have a message for you to send to your Queen as well!”
And with that, his men grabbed the messenger, and bound him in chains. “Though I can not fault you for carrying out your orders, I am far more used to messengers who do not have such foul tongues.” Then he reached forward and pried the messenger’s mouth open and with his knife, he dug the man’s tongue out.
Placing the tongue in the messenger’s hand, he said “Now, return to your Queen with my message and tell her that I look forward to meeting her upon the field of battle if she is so willing.”
After the messenger had been sent on his way, Igider turned to his sons, “This year I shall bring back the greatest prize. One so great that none of you shall ever be able to surpass me! I shall either bring back Caoihme Aon Féasóg to be my wife, or her head to grace the gates of Tibis if she refuses.”
“Then,” he eldest remaining son said, “we shall march directly upon Esphailleas to depose this upstart girl?”
“No,” Igider said, “for although I fear no woman, I also wish to test her resolve. I know the legends of this Caoimhe, for tales of her bravery have reached us even this far South. She will be expecting an assault upon her city and we can not allow ourselves to fall into a trap – for she is a woman and not as strong as us, but that does not mean that she cannot use the cunning of her sex to lure us into a trap either!” [FN5]
Instead, Igider suggested that his forces would move up the coast of Baetica to the port of Malaca and there make landfall. Then they would move inland, pillaging the lands as they marched upon the city of Esphailleas, and draw Caoimhe out, for they reasoned that she would be moved to sympathy and rashness by the suffering the people who hoped to rule. There, in the open field, Igider and his sons would capture her and bring her back to Tibis.
The Berbers followed the plan of their King and sailed for Malaca where they laid waste to the city and threw down its walls. Then they marched West and proved to be a scourge upon the land, fanning out to burn fields and villages, and kill all they could find – both human and animal.
Yet Caoimhe was not moved. “Though I am not cold hearted,” she stated, and my heart pumps with rage for the indignities that are being committed against my people. But I shall not be drawn into open battle. I do not fight where my foe choses, for I am a Fenian Queen, and it is I who dictates the field of battle!”
And so it was, that Caoimhe, Eterscel and the Brotherhood chose a different strategy. Rather than meet their foe in open battle, they instead fell back upon their experience as raiders. Breaking into small groups, they melted into the landscape like a wolfpack in the mist and attacked the invaders when they were least expected.
Shortly after being welcomed in Esphailleas, Caoimhe had discovered that she was with child. However, she declared that she would not give birth until her adopted land had been cleansed from the plague of foreign invasion. Although her belly grew with the baby, this did not stop her from donning armor and taking to the field to slay her foes.
At first the attacks of Caoimhe and her brotherhood did little more than annoy Igider and his Berber soldiers. But as they moved north from Malaca, the attacks became more persistent. Those few captives who were taken found themselves freed by small groups of armed Gaels, and supply wagons caught fire, and horses were set free and scattered in the midst of the night. Soon, the Berber army found its advance slowed and morale began to suffer.
The worst happened once the army reached the city of Ostippo. There, three sons of Igider lead a raid to the south to collect grain and meat for the Berber army. One night, they were ambushed outside of the small community of Pedrera by Eterscel and a small band of his oldest and most valient followers. In the resulting battle, Eterscel slew the three sons of Igider and took their heads and trophies which he presented to his wife as a gift. [FN6]
As news reached the Berber camp of the death of the three princes and their men, Igider flew into a rage. “I have thought that I was fighting a Queen,” he declared, “but now I see the work of the King who truly rules. I shall capture this man and flay him alive for his indignity to my family.” And so Igider was driven into a frenzy to capture Eterscel. He demanded that his remaining sons and most loyal generals to scour the land and search for the killer of the three princes.
Eterscel laughed at the rage of his foe. “Though I have married a woman far greater than I,” he stated, “It was still I who scoured the Atlantic and reduced the walls so many cities to rubble and won a name for myself across the Empire. I do not fear the raging of this faithless Berber King. For, if I am destined to fall in battle, than I shall do so – but I shall die, fighting for my love, and my name shall live for ages to come.”
Yet, tragedy followed Eterscel, for it had been prophecied that any man who loved Caoihme Aon Féasóg would meet an early end and bring her nothing but pain. Fair Eterscel continued to harass the Berber army as his wife had ordered, but soon the Igider’s focus would overtake him, for the Berber King began to forsake all other activities and dedicated himself to tracking down his sons’ killer. In the countryside, outside the community of Gilena, a Berber force tracked Eterscel down to his camp and, in the battle, Caoimhe’s husband was slain and his head was delivered to Igider’s camp.
When news of the death reached Caoihme, she let out a great wail and began a keening the likes of which her men had never before seen. She twisted her hair and tore at the flesh around her eyes and was inconsolable. For nine days and nine nights she refused any food or drink and became so frail that many worried for her life and that of the child she was carrying. Many of th Brotherhood were also so afflicted, for many had served with Eterscel since they were but boys and knew him as a trusted friend and brother.
Finally, on the tenth day, Caoihme emerged from her tent and declared, “I now carry the son of a murdered man in my womb. Mark my words, for I shall not birth this babe until the killer of his father has had his life blood spilled upon the soil. I shall take the head of Igider and mount it in front of the church of Esphailleas; for I have taken the people of this land as my own, but now I share their sorrow and understand their plight. I shall cleanse this land of the loctus which feed upon it and destroy the wolves which prey upon its people.”
So determined, Caoihme stepped up her assaults upon the Berber army. When bands broke off from the main group, the Brotherhood fell upon them and killed them to the man. Any sons of Igider that were found, would be captured and slain, their heads sent back to their father the next morning. It was not long before the news of these attacks, and the rage of Caoihme Aon Féasóg, traveled amongst the Berber men, and many began to flee from the army. Those who were captured were killed and left tied to trees and fences as warmings, while those who escaped made their way back home and spread the tale of Caoihme and her lust for revenge.
Weakened, Igider knew that he needed to escape from Ostippo which had became a graveyard for his men. Panic was beginning to infect his men and many began to fear that they would never return home to see their wives, sweethearts and children. In a last, desperate, gambit, Igider sent out a small force lead by his 11th son – for his last son remained home in Tibis as a babe, in the care of his mother. The son was ordered to track Caoihme to her camp and kill her.
The 11th son, who’s name was Meddur, was a wild and energetic man. In many ways, he was said to be the most like his father of all of Igider’s sons. A lover of wine and song, he was also brutal in the field of war and was said to have killed his first man at the age of seven. Meddur set out south where he felt that Caoimhe’s camp would be located; along the way he spared no village that he came upon. He burnt every field, killed every cow and sheep, and left great piles of the dead behind him.
Soon the people of the region came to their Queen to ask for assistance. Hearing their sorrows, which so matched her own, she could no longer refused to act. But, once again, remember that she was a Fenian, Caoihme refused to be drawn into a battle on another’s terms. Instead, she stalked Meddur’s party and waited for the moment to strike. One night, she felt the time was right, and surrounded him camp. As the moon had waned to darkness, she personally attacked. Meddur’s men were slaughtered to the man, but the son of Igider was captured.
Then, with her captive, Caoihme arrived outside the city of Ostippo and carried with her, her captive. There, she announced her presence and cried out “Igider! Foul son of Tibis! Killer of fair Eterscel, my husband, lover, and father of my unborn son. I challenge you to battle for the soul of this land. If you are brave, and honorable you shall meet me. If you are not, I shall strike each of you down, one by one until the sons of Tibis are all buried in this foreign and hostile land!”
Then Igider emerged from the city and said, “I am a a man of the Berber people and their King, it would be below my dignity to fight a woman!”
Hearing this, Caoihme grew enraged and had his son Meddur drug before her and said “You shall fight me, or you shall witness the last of your sons dying at my blade!”
“What use do I have for such a weak son,” Igider said, “For I have the hammer and anvil needed to forge more and better sons than he, and I have left the most powerful and greatest of mine back in Tibis and, should I fall, he shall surely avenge me.”
At this, Caoimhe felt her battle spasm begin to overtake her. Her black hair began to stand on end, and her face began to grow red and then black. One eye grew in size so that it seemed ready to pop from her skull, while her other shrunk and seemed to disappear within her skull. Her jaw distended and man fainted, for they claimed that they could see her lung and heart throbbing down her gullet.
As the spasm took its hold, she grabbed Meddur’s head and rent it from his neck with her bare hands and threw it with all of her force at Igider. “Then you are a coward and there if no man who should follow one of such weak will!”
At this challenge, Igider grew into a rage himself. He had just been humiliated in front of his own men and witnessed the death of his last adult son. Meddur’s head flew through the air, hit the ground, and rolled to his father’s feet.
“Very well,” Igider cried, “you who have slain all of my sons, I would not be a man if I did not cut the head off of such a vile asp.”
And with this, the Berber King charged from the walls of Ostippo, sword in hand, and he sought out his foe. The two battled for half of a day for, in their rage, they were even matched. Many grievous injuries were inflicted upon both parties and was it not for the rage of both combatants, either would have died. But, in the end, it was Caoihme who was the victory and, with Saol ó Bhás in hand, she sliced through the muscular neck of her foe and severed his head from his body. Igider’s head fell to the ground and as it rolled, a flock of crows descended from the sky and began to peck it. Soon, there was no flesh left upon the skull, save for white bone.
Then, Caoimhe fell to the ground, not due to her injuries, but the labor pains which suddenly shook her to the core. The Brotherhood rushed to her side and carried her back to camp and there she lay in labor for three full days, until many felt that she and her children would die. But on the third day she gave birth to twin sons – Ceallach and Ciaran who were both known as Cath Rugadh; the Battle-Born. They were the sons of Eterscel, but they would forever call themselves Mac Caoihme and they, along with the other sons of Caoihme, would strengthen the lands of Dal Caoihme and bathe the land in the blood of their foes. They fulfilled the prophecy of their mother, for she had claimed that her children would not be born until the killer of their father would lose his life.
Having vanquished the Berbers and their leader, Caoihme returned to Esphailleas, having won her realm at the expense of the life of her beloved husband. There, she received the fealty of the lords and peasants of Baectia who proclaimed her their queen. She rested there for some years, bringing peace and justice to the land. As she promised, she lived the life of the man, and took many members of Brotherhood as her concubines, and many chose to see her as a King, rather than a Queen. [FN7]
But, her hatred for the Berbers of Tiblis never ceased, and she was vigilant in protecting her adopted people from incursions to the South. Then, one day, a messenger arrived in her court in Esphailleas. The traveler claimed to be a prince of the Vandals and sought an alliance to regain his throne from a treacherous brother.
…
[FN1] One might note that this seems to be a slight departure from Caoimhe’s usual attitude – she certainly had no problem devastating the lands of others prior in her career (and, we shall learn, she has little problem doing so again in the future). Perhaps the plight of the people of Southern Hispania really did awaken in her some feelings of pity. Or maybe this is what happens when a people have to craft a national myth for themselves.
[FN2] You may notice that the author here is using the Gaelic names for cities, places and, to a large extent, people. I believe that this fits how the stories would be told, for once the Gaels are established, there would be little reason for them to tell such stories using the Vulgar Latin terms in most cases. Also, it somewhat adds to the ‘folklore’ and ‘mythic’ feel that I’m going with these chapters. At least I hope!
[FN3] This tale seems a bit exaggerated to say the least, but is certainly possible. We know from our fine Greek friend that Tours, a few decades prior, was not the richest city in all of the Empire, but it was well protected. However, it had been the target of Rauthering raiders in the past – and subterfuge has been unknown in raiding in OTL or the ATL. I suppose we shall have to wait for the historical Caoimhe to show her head to see if it really happened or not. But, of course, its entirely possible that the written records just make no reference to it, even if it did.
[FN4] Mhuirmhór is Gaelic for “Great Sea” and seems a good term for the Mediterranean. In OTL the term is Meánmhuir a direct transliteration of the Latin which means “Middle Sea.” I figure that due to the importance that it will play to Dal Caoimhe and the wealth present, the more likely term would be “Great Sea.”
[FN5] You may have noticed that Igider sounds a bit … sexist. Although it pains me to write those words, I suspect that it was a common attitude at the time and it will likely work its way into the tales. Hence one of the reasons that so many characters in this story keep wanting to force Caoimhe to marry them. I apologize for this.
[FN6] Pedera and, later, Gilena are modern Spanish communities. Sadly, I was unable to discover when these towns were founded and if there were any earlier names for them. Should anyone have information pertaining to these communities and their histories, please let me know!
[FN7] Gaelic Men were allowed to take concubines in addition to their wife. Caoihme is choosing to follow these same laws, save that her concubines are men and not women. One might expect that this is going to eventually cause tension with those elements of society who are less than willing to take a female warrior ruler seriously. You could even look to references in the first chapter of these series of posts and imagine how the Church and other authorities come to view this.
Okay guys, this chapter is in honor of Irish Fest in Milwaukee where I worked this last week. I fear that its not the best chapter I've ever written, but this seems to have one of the more difficult chapters of the life of the legend of Caoihme that I had to work through. I hope you enjoyed it all the same and the next chapter should be rather fun indeed as we deal with the legend of the Vandal prince
I wonder how the Berber and Islamic historians would depict Igider? It was bad enough that he got killed by a woman in a one on one duel, but to be killed by a pregnant woman who was about to give birth after she killed all his adult sons? ♂️ I’m sure the Islamic historians will later rationalize Igider’s and his sons’ death as a result of their decadence in an effort to save face. The Iberians of TTL will consider Caoihme to be their version of King Arthur / Charlemagne and would depict the exploits of Caoihme in popular media (books, TV shows, movies) accordingly while Igider would occupy the role of Iberia’s great enemy / boogeyman.
As a previous poster has said, Islamic doesn't exist in this timeline, as the POD existed far before the birth of Muhammad. Instead, the Arabian Peninsula was united by Manichaens who were building off of an expanded Himyarite state. They currently control Mesopotamia and Ethopia.
Now, that being said, i really like a lot of your thoughts in this post. I agree that Ibiger is likely going to go down as the great Boogeyman in Iberian folklore - especially in the region of Baetica. Though, I have a suspicion that the inverse is also going to be true, and that Berber mothers will be terrorizing their children into good behavior by telling them tales of that Lilith of the North, Caoimhe
This is especially true if Ibiger's dynasty is going to hold on to any power, they are going to have to find some way - as you stated - of explaining the way that their founder and his son we're killed in armed combat by a pregnant woman (now just how pregnant she really was, of course, is open to see debate. After all, this is the mythic version of her life, and it would be very easily for her pregnancy to bece exaggerated over the centuries). Likely, the easiest way to do so is to point out that she's a barbarian woman - everyone knows how weird barbarians are! - and possibly she was demonic. In fact, her legends already state that she has some supernatural heritage (and those are tue stories that are painting her in the best possible light!), so that wouldn't be too much of a stretch.
Finally, yes, I definitely suspect that Caoimhe comes to take on a role similar to King Arthur in southern Iberia. Especially if, in the years to follow, threats of Berber invasions and raids continue to be a very present concern.
Thanks for reading, by the way, and I hope you enjoy the timeline!
That is ... a really good question, actually! One of the benefits of writing down a legend, is I haven't had to create too firm of a chronology yet
But, if we assume that she joined the Fianna at the age of 15 or so (which wouldn't be out of the question for the time) and spent five years with them before returning to Dal Riata and so forth ... Hmmmm. Mid to later 20s seems about right.
That is ... a really good question, actually! One of the benefits of writing down a legend, is I haven't had to create too firm of a chronology yet
But, if we assume that she joined the Fianna at the age of 15 or so (which wouldn't be out of the question for the time) and spent five years with them before returning to Dal Riata and so forth ... Hmmmm. Mid to later 20s seems about right.
If she's in her mid-to-late twenties at the time of her defeat of Ibiger, then Caoimhe could rule her new kingdom for a good 20-30 years (possibly longer but people in this time period rarely reach their sixties). This will be important because it gives her plenty of time to consolidate her rule over the new kingdom (is it called Baectia or is that just a region in southern Spain?). Is she going to play a big role in the Ruination you keep teasing us about? I really enjoy this TL and the mythical elements you've created have ironically made it feel more realistic than most TLs.
Baectica is the general region of the Kingdom. However, whether the 'real' boundaries match the mythic boudaries is a bit open to question . It's possible that thst boudaries in the story here match those of a later period in the ATL - since, well, myths work like that sometimes
And thank you! One of the reasons I've tried to include so much mythic material is because I think it does real help create a more 'lived in' world. The other reason, of course, is I love mythology, enjoying writing it, and you guys seem to humor me when I do
. Same reason I try to include some in-world poetry on occasion!Baectica is the general region of the Kingdom. However, whether the 'real' boundaries match the mythic boudaries is a bit open to question . It's possible that thst boudaries in the story here match those of a later period in the ATL - since, well, myths work like that sometimes
And thank you! One of the reasons I've tried to include so much mythic material is because I think it does real help create a more 'lived in' world. The other reason, of course, is I love mythology, enjoying writing it, and you guys seem to humor me when I do
While I enjoy the myths of an alternate timeline I’d be interested in learning more about the real Caoimhe. It’d be nice to contrast the real queen with the mythological figure.
Worry not! We will get to the historical Caoihme in the near future. One of the reasons I decided to lead off with the folklore account, was because I knew I'd reach the historical events in some time - and I wanted to set up the juxtaposition between the two.
But, remember, we've got a few chapters dealing with the socio-historical events in Ireland and elsewhere before reach The Ruination when Caoihme shows her head!
A minor question. How are the Assyrians doing? Historically they began to be displaced by arabs in the 6-8th century, culminating with Timur basically olbiterating them in the 15th. Are they a major force? Any independent statelets? Is the Church in the East a thing still?
That is a really good question! I'm just returning back home from one of my best friends' wedding, so let me get back to you on that one. My gut instinct is thst tue Assyrians are doing pretty well, but I'll have to do a bit of research.
As for the Church of the East: its doing very well for itself. It had some strong growth during the late Sassanian period in Persia and the successor dynasty as CoE Christians (although they rule over a still largely Zoroastrian realm. Although Christianity is stronger in Perisa than in OTL it is not yet the majority faith if, in fact, it ever will be)
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I was really hoping ot get a new update done tonight, but I've managed to run into some computer issues and resulting writer's block. Expect the next chapter of the tales of Caoihme to be showing up by the weekend at the very latest. Which sucks, of course, as I've been finding this story to not only be growing in the telling, but also burning a hole in the brain in the process! I did want to thank you all for reading this up to this point and for, seemingly, enjoying what has been coming so far. The next chapter will deal with the arrival of a Vandal prince in the court of Caoihme in the wake of her victory over Ibiger. Right now, I'm hoping to get this interlude done in about three more chapters (far more than I ever expected. I had once hoped to get her story told in two to three chapters, believe it or not!)
In any case, here is a litte bit of a sneak peek at what I'm working on
Monument Depicting Caoihme Aon Féasóg, entitled “Our Mother Protects.” Constructed in Esphailleas following the liberation of Dal Caoimhe in the years after the end of the Global War
In any case, here is a litte bit of a sneak peek at what I'm working on
Monument Depicting Caoihme Aon Féasóg, entitled “Our Mother Protects.” Constructed in Esphailleas following the liberation of Dal Caoimhe in the years after the end of the Global War
That's a sign of a good story arc, no?
Either that, or just a sign that I'm a verbose SOB
Chapter 72 Cartago Delende Est (Part 5 of the Caoimhe Cycle)
Chapter 72
Cartago Delende Est
Monument Depicting Caoihme Aon Féasóg, entitled “Our Mother Protects.” Constructed in Esphailleas following the liberation of Dal Caoimhe in the years after the end of the Global War
Part 4: Caoihme and the Sacking of Carthage
Following her defeat of Ibiger and the forces of Tiblis, Caoihme ruled wiely and justly within her Kingdom, having received the pledges of loyalty of the remaining nobles of the land. She spent lavishly and did what she could to repair the damage of the Berber raids and bring prosperity back to her people. Each summer, she and the brotherhood would raid along the coast of Libya, hoping to destroy the power of the Berbers and to pay them back for the pain that they had brought upon her and others. For heart still ached each day and each night for her husband Eterscel and saw much of him in their twin sons.
With the gold that she gained from one raid, she built a monastery upon the field where her husband had fallen. This monastery was to be staffed by Gaelic monks and, in time, it became a great literary and cultural center from which Gaelic monks and priests would travel out to the surrounding countryside. Although the area had long been known by Sileas due to the flint found near by, it soon came to be known by a new name: Leaba Eterscel – which meant Eterscel’s Bed – and it was said that Caoihme had a large crypt built for her husband’s body and she employed the monks to say daily prayers for his soul.
Now, some years after the death of Ibiger, a messenger came to her court in Esphailleas. He was dressed in rags but claimed to be a prince of the Vandals and demanded to be allowed to speak with the Queen of the land. At first, the guards refused to let him entrance and they gave him the name Dagairean Ri Og which meant “Prince Rags.” However, word soon reached Caoihme and she was intrigued by this young man who seemed so poor, yet possessed such spirit, and they gave word that she would have an audience with him.
Then the Prince, who’s real name was Hilderic, was escorted into the grand villa where Caoihme held court. When he laid eyes upon her, he was immediately captivated by her beauty and strength, and feel down upon his knees, while tears streamed from his eyes. “My Queen,” he began.
But Caoihme cut him as as she drew a long draught from the golden wine goblet in her hand, “I do hope that this is not a proposal, my good Prince Rags. For I still mourn the passing of my late husband and, even if I were to wish to take another husband to my bed, I would only do so with the finest, and you seem to me to be far too scrawny.”
At this the Prince blushed deeply, but bowed his head, “I did not always appear as I do now before you. For my name is Hilderic and once I was the heir to my Father’s kingdom in Libya. My Father was Tharasmund and he ruled from that great city of Carthage.”
“Yes,” Caoihme said, “I have heard of your Father. His renown reached far to the north in that great Kingdom of Dal Riata from wense I come. Tell me, how did you come to be knocking on my door like a common beggar, asking for coin or the scraps from my table.”
“I fear,” Hilderic said, “it was the work of my younger brother Godas. For he was always jealous of my place at my Father’s side and wished nothing more than to see himself warm the throne of the Vandals. He allied with the great Berber lords of the South and West as my Father lay upon his deathbed. His chief ally was Ibiger who you, yourself, slayed not long ago. He helped Godas drive me from my rightful throne and, in exchange, was granted his independence so that he might harass the Empire of the Goths and torment its people.”
At this, the old rage flashed momentarily upon Caoimhe’s face, but she forced herself to calm her temper at this news. “So, your brother is the one responsible for the misery of my people and the death of my husband, fair Eterscel?”
“Were it only that it wasn’t so,” Hilderic said, “but I fear it is. But, this means that you and I have common cause and so I have come to you today to beg your assistance in riding the throne of my brother, for the sake of both our kingdoms.”
“But,” Caoihme said, “what need do I have of helping you, for I have already liberated Ibiger’s head from his neck with the silver blade of Saol ó Bhás and his blood has watered the lands of my fair kingdom.”
“Though you have indeed ended the life of that miserable tyrant, my Queen, you have not ended the threat to your people. For even now, Ibiger’s youngest son Ziri lives and has been secreted far to the South so that he might be trained in the arts of war to exact vengeance for his father and rule his people. If he would be given the assistance of my black-hearted brother, I fear that he will eventually eclipse Ibiger and be an even greater threat to your just Kingdom.”
At this Caoimhe looked into her wine, deep in thought. Several moments passed before she spoke again. “I believe that you speak true, and your words carry the weight of wisdom behind them. It is a foolish bird indeed who grows fat and complacent upon her perch so that she does not perceive the cat climbing her tree. Very wel, what would you have of me?”
“A fleet. I have supporters still within my native land and there are those who would happily join us in our quest. But many of them remain upon the island of Sardinia and are not strong enough yet to attack Carthage itself. If you were able to join your fleet and army to our own, then there is no chance that my brother would be able to stand against the both of us.”
‘You are wise,” Caoihme said, “and I once again see the winsdom behind your thoughts. However, I fear that this will take more than my currachs, for the fleet of the Vandals is strong indeed.”
“This is true,” Hilderic said, “but I know the secrets of our ships and I would gladly help in the construction of a fleet that would rival any that my brother currently commands.”
“I would certainly accept your expertise, fair Prince. Now that only leaves the issue of my payment for assistance.”
“Once we remove my brother, I shall order our soldiers to move against Tibis and shall deliver to you the last living son of your old foe to do with as you wish.”
“That is all well and good,” Caoihme said, “but a Queen who pays her warriors with nothing but promises of future security is a Queen who longs for a short life indeed. I can draw to me the greatest fighting force that has been seen since the days of Alexander! But I do so, because I can promise those warriors victory and the gold that is owed them for their strength.”
“I see,” Hilderic said, “and know that you speak the truth. Very well, should you help me in my quest, I shall grant to you half of the treasury of Carthage upon our victory and shall also assist you in every way that I can against your foes to the South and North.”
“North?” Caoihme said and chuckled, “do you refer to Good King Sisebut? For he currently remains enmeshed in the affairs of the Gothic Empire and bothers us not. He feels that I have done him a service by riding him of the Berbers and am well placed to do so again if need be. He bothers us not.”
“Be that as it way, my glorious Queen, should you ever need my help against he or any other foes, simply say the word and I shall arrive to fight by your side.”
“Very well then, King Hilderic, I accept your vow in the spirit it was given and shall hold you to your promise from now until the time that the wind no longer blows and my people have faded from this land.”
And with those words, Coaihme rose from her throne and stepped towards Hilderic who bowed and gently kissed her outstretched hand. They exchanged vows and dedicated themselves to driving Godas from his ill-gotten throne. Hilderic proved good at his word and soon began to oversee the creation of the greatest fleet that had ever been known in the West since the days of Carthage of Old. Soon, 1000 ships stood at the ready in the port of Cuan Ban. [FN1]
Meanwhile, Caoihme sent word to all the lands of the Gaels, calling for all the best warriors of her people to respond to the call, promising them land and gold beyond their wildest dreams if they would serve in her armies. Soon all of the greatest of Gaelic Fiana – Domhnal an Gearr, Domhnal an Fahach, Padraig Teanga Oir, Colum Ceann Fuilteach and many others – had made their way to the court of Caoihme for her legend had already spread far and wide and all knew that glory and gold could be won in her service. So many adventures were to be had by these brave men and women that the tales formed the basis of that great Gaelic epic “An Cath Mór do Carthage.” [FN2]
Once the fleet was constructed and her soldiers gathered, Caoihme stood before them all and spoke thus: “God, in his wisdom, called me forth to this land to protect it from the ravages and despoiling of the foreign horde of the Berbers. Romans could not protect this land, Goths could do little, and so it fell to we Gaels to work in Christ’s name to bring peace. Now, you brave warriors stand before me, and I could not be more proud. Today we embark upon a great adventure to bring peace to the Kingdom of Vandals, to see their true King sit upon the throne, and to bring an end to plague of the Berbers upon my adopted land. Together, we shall fight as a brotherhood and we shall bring peace and justice wherever we go. And those who stand in our way and ally themselves with the works of that dark trickster Satan, shall surely by our swords and spears. Now, let us go forth, as instruments of light against the darkness so that our children and grandchildren will sing songs of the glory we win this day.” And at that, a great cheer went up amongst the assembled men and women, and they took to the ships and set forth.
Many adventures have been recorded of the fleet of Caoimhe as they traveled from Cuan Ban on their way to Sardinia. Although many remain popular, only one directly pertains to the tale here being told. It is said that Caoihme awoke one morning to find that her vision had grown fuzzy, and that shapes before her were no longer clear. At this, she began to fear that one of the water Sidhe of the Mhuirmhór had stricken her sight; for the capricious nature of the fae folk of the sea was well known to all those who plied its waters. Although a great fear wormed its way into her heart, she kept her face like stone as she ordered the fleet to disembark upon the nearest island which was Oileán Mór [OTL: Mallorca] where she had heard of many tales of wealth and wonder. Surly, if a cure for her sight could be found, it would be on this fabled island. [FN3]
Upon landing, Caoihme made her way to shore and fell down into the sand, deep in prayer. Soon, she began to perceive the cawing of a crow in the distance. Without a thought, she took and began to move in the direction of the sound. No sooner did she reach the bird, then it would take to wing again and begin to call for her to follow. This went on and on until the Sea Queen had been lost from the sight of her men, and made her way deep into the bush. Finally, the bird alighted upon the roof of a small shack. Hurrying towards the building, Caoihme began to knock on the door. After what seemed an eternity a wizened man opened the door and introduced himself a priest whose name was Columba. He lead her inside his abode and, while she say and told her tale, he examined her eyes and said “I fear that it is as you say. Your eyes have been cursed, for you failed to bring a priest upon this voyage to protect you from the dangers of the sea and the otherworld, which haunts your every step. For I can see that you are not fully of this world and have but one foot in it and one foot in the other.”
At this Caoihme said “I have had a geis placed upon me that says that I cannot turn away the request of a churchman. So, tell me now, should I forego my quest to place the rightful King upon the throne of Carthage and return to my own kingdom?”
“No,” the priest stated, “for your quest has been blessed from on high. However, you have also grown arrogant in your many victories. So know this; God has allowed you to be cursed to remind you that you are as mortal as any other. You shall taste victory upon this voyage, but you shall also suffer your first great defeat!”
At this, Caoihme began to grow angry, “Speak in no more riddles, priest! Tell me how to cure my blindness or begone from my sight.”
“Perhaps,” the priest said, “God should teach you patience as well as humility, but that is not my place to say. Very well, I shall tell you this – there is no cure for your curse. However, there exists two relics on this isle which can restore your sight. To attain them, you must send three of your men – for that is the holiest of numbers - and they are to travel inland to the center of this island. There, they shall find a hermit outside the town of Sineau. There, they must then bathe in the sacred stream that runs near his hut and then join him in prayer for thee days. Once they have done this, he shall grant them a boon – the relics which will help restore your sight.”
“Can I,” asked Caoihme, “not undertake this quest on my own?”
“No,” the priest stated, “for you must learn humility and to trust in the abilities of others. For too long now, you have charged ever forward in your quest for glory, relying upon your wits and the strength of your arm alone. But you have been granted a great and loyal band of followers by God, yet your put them at risk without relying upon them. This is why God has allowed you to be cursed, and why you can not take part in this quest yourself.”
And so Caoihme did as she was told. She asked which of her warriors would undertake this journey for their Queen and three stepped quickly to the front. One was Fionn Mac Diarmait, who had been with the brotherhood for years and had served with her husband Eterscal, another was Domhnal an Gearr and, finally, was Caoihme’s nephew Ciarnan an Dubh.
“Why do you do this for me,” Caoihme asked?
“Because we love you,” the men stated, “and would follow you to the very gates of hell itself and beyond. We have no fear when we are in your company, for we know that you shall bring us victory and keep us safe. If risking ourselves on this quest is the way that we may repay you, then so be it, for it is but the smallest thing we could do.”
‘Then go,” Caoihme said, “find the priest Columba and speak to him as I did, and follow his words exactly. You are good men, the most loyal of an already loyal band, and I return your affection. Now go, I beg you, and help me rid myself of this weakness which has befallen me.”
The men made their way to the priest to whom Caoihme had spoken and upon seeing them come, he welcomed them into his home. “So, you are the three men that wish to risk your lives for their Queen? Better men I have not seen in all of my years.”
“So we are,” stated Fionn Mac Diarmait. “For I served with her husband Eterscel for many years and learned to love that man as a brother. When they were married, I saw the love which he had for Caoihme and she became not just my Queen, but a sister also. I would gladly risk death for her, and I know that she would do the same for us in turn.”
“Perhaps,” Columba said, “but that is a test for another time. Now, I beg that you listen to me closely, for I know of relics which can restore your mistress’ sight, but it is not a journey for the weak of heart and you will face many grave perils before the quest is completed.”
At this Ciarnan an Dubh let out a laugh – for he had much of the courage and arrogance which also flowed beat in Caoihme’s heart. “When has ever a member of the Brotherhood of Caoimhe ever run from danger? My Aunt is a woman of great bravery and she asks the same of us. Tell us of these perils, and I assure you we shall conquer them as we have very other.”
Fionn Mac Dairmait nodded at this, “The lad is young and foolhearty, but he is also correct in this. None of out brothers are cowards and none would ever think of not risking his life for our sister-queen.”
Only Domhnal an Gearr remained silent, for he was a quiet man by nature and not given to bragging. But even her fixed his face with a firm look, and gazed directly into the eyes of the priest.
“Good,” Columba said, “If you have decided, then a journey stands ahead of you, and here is what you must do. First, you must travel from this place on foot towards the community of Sineau. There, in the mountains, you shall find a hermit who lives beside a sacred spring. You must bathe in the stream and then join the hermit in prayer for three days. This much I have told your Queen, but there is more.”
“First, the mountains are guarded by two great giants who will try to lead you stray. You must out wit them to learn the proper directions to the hermit. Second, upon reaching the stream, you will find that it is guarded by a great serpent which poisonious breath. You must kill this serpent and then present its head to the hermit who will then ask you bake the finest bread he has ever tasted. To do so, you must mix the blood of the serpent with his wheat and grind it into a fine flour. Only then will he ask you to sit down in prayer with him. But beware, for your trials are not yet over – for the hermit is a holy man and many who sit with him are blessed with visions by God while in prayer. These will be the truth but may not be what you wish to know. Finally, after you have prayed for three days, he will grant you your boon. Once you had attained it, return to your Queen and her vision will be restored with their help.”
The priest then moved towards the men and sprinkled them each with water, “Now, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, I send you upon your way. May God grant you what you seek, and little more.”
With this blessing the three men went along their way. For many days and nights they traveled by foot towards the mountainous highlands at the center of Oileán Mór. Soon they arrived at a pass, and two giants strode out behind rocks. “Halt!” one of the giants demanded and laid his heav club upon the path so that none should pass.
At this, Fionn Mac Diarmait stepped forward and said “Who are you to stand in the way of the men of Queen Caoimhe? We come at her direct order to seek out the Hermit of Sineau to cure her blindness. Do you you wish to impede us?”
“Certainly not,” said the first Giant.
“It is we who defend the passages of the Hermit so that he may continue to holy isolation and none but the purest may visit him. However, you come as a holy triad and certainly hold the blessing of a priest upon your heads. It would be our honor to tell you the way to the hermit.”
“Very well, Giants. Speak on, and give is your directions.”
“You must head straight north,” said the First Giant, “until you see a large tree the color of fire which stands upon a mountain. Then you must head East until you find a large stream which flows south. You will know it, for it flows green as the grass of your homeland. Follow it up hill until you find a pasture where the finest of sheep are grazing. From there you head West and a night and a day and then you shall find the abode of your hermit.”
“We thank you,” Fionn Mac Diarmait said and bowed. “Please take this coin in payment for your kindness.” And with this he gave both giants a gold coin.
As they hiked up the pass, the men came to the Tree which burned with the color of flame, and then turned until they came to the pasture with fine sheep. By this time, the men were exhausted by the day’s travels.
“Let us stop here,” Fionn Mac Diarmait said as he found a pathway through the mountains to the West of the pasture which had only one way in and one way out, and was covered in large boulders.
“I don’t understand” Ciarnan an Dubh said. “The priest stated that the giants would attempt to lead us astray, but you accepted their directions with no hesitation. Why?”
“Because,” Fionn stated, “the best way to escape a trap is sometimes to spring it. The Giants make their living by leading travelers astray with faulty directions and then waylay them in the night so that they may devour them for their supper. Was that not obvious? However, we still need their help if we are to find the Hermit, so we must capture one of them.”
With these words, he began to dig a deep trench and then covered it up with branches, stone and sand so that none could see where it was. Then, taking out a net, he fasted a trip string so that anyone who crossed it would soon be snatched up and carried aloft.
“Now,” he said, “you two sleep and I will keep the first watch. If God has blessed me with wisdom, we shall have our guide before the sun rises in the morn.
It was as he claimed. For no sooner did the other two men fall asleep than they were awoke by a series of loud crashes and moans. The first giant had stepped through the branches over the pit and fallen down, breaking his legs. Meanwhile, the second Giant set up the second trap and soon found himself bound in a net and thrust through the air.
Seeing that the first Giant was wounded and of no use, Fionn Mac Diarmait lept down into the pit and hacked its head off with his sword. Then he crawled back up and made his way towards the second Giant. This Giant began to weep and beg for his life.
“Why should I spare your life,” Fionn asked. “How many others begged for their lives before you devoured them in this pass?”
“But,” the Giant said, “if you spare my life, I shall show you the way to the hermit. At this, you have my word.”
“The word if a Giant is worth less than nothing,” Fionn replied, “but very well. I shall bind you so that you can not escape and you shall lead us to the Hermit. Only then shall I allow you to go free.”
And then he cut the Giant free. But while the brute lay senseless on the ground, Fionn used the rope and bound him in such a way as so that he could not escape, and the harder he tried, the tighter the knots grew. Then, taking out his sword, he slived through the Giant’s left ankle, severing his tendon, so that he was lame and could not escape.
Then he woke the other two men and told them of what he had done. They quickly made some breakfast and then ordered the Giant to lead them on their way. He showed them that, instead of heading West from the pasture, they needed to head East. For two whole days they walked, with the Giant limping before them, until they came to the base of a hill.
“Here lives the Hermit,” the Giant said. “I can go no further, for it is a holy place and I am not welcome there. I had done as you asked. Please fulfill your promise and set me free.”
“The Brotherhood of Caoihme always keeps its vows,” Fionn said, “and so I shall do as I promised. But, know this. If you return to your old ways of waylaying travalers, I shall find you and I shall strike the head from your shoulders. This I also vow! Now, leave my sight. Go to the South and find the Priest Columba who resides in the city of Palma and confess your sins to him and beg for baptism.”
The Giant did what he was told. He found the priest Columba and confessed his many qicked deeds and begged to be forgiven and baptized. This the priest did, granting the Giant the name of Críostóir. The Giant then took it upon himself to protect the city of Palma from all threats and lived to a ripe old age there, even marrying and having a large brood of children. The people of Palma came to love Críostóir and took him as their patron and, to this very day, he appears on their official Coat of Arms. [FN5]
As the giant left, the men turned towards the hill and began to walk up it. There they found a great stream and, on the other side, stood the shack of the hermit. As they came closer, they noticed a great thrashing in the water as if from some great serpent.
At this, Ciarnan an Dubh strode forward and planted his feet firmly upon the bank of the stream. Drawing his sword he let out a cry and declared “Here stands Ciarnan an Dubh, nephew of Queen Caoihme. In her name I fight and am given strength. Let any beast that believes it can conquer come so that I may spill its flood into the water.
At this, the thrashing grew wilder and a great black serpent, slick with river muck, burst forth from the waters, letting forth a great blast of its poison breath. Ciarnan held his breath, charged through the cloud and brought his sword down upon the serpent’s head. This only angered the creature more, which wrapped its scaley hide around the hero and began to squeeze. However, much like his aunt, Ciarnan was possessed of a battle rage – though not as greath. He began to scream as his body radiated a heat so great that it scorched the flesh of the serpent and caused it to loosen its terrible coils. Then, leaping up, Ciarnan wrapped his hands around the threat of the beast and squeezed. The two tumbled through the water for many minutes, but the strength of the hero soon proved to be too much, and he ripped the head of the serpent from its body and threw it upon the shore. The blood of the beast pooled into the water and then was carried away.
Ciarnan lugged the dead body to the shore and then he and the men did as they had been told and bathed in the sacred waters. It turns out that the serpent had been a demon which had been polluting the sacred stream but now that it was dead, the holiness of the water was cleansing the land of its evil. So holy was the water that is healed the wounds which Ciarnan and the others had received through their many journeys and they left the stream much refreshed and stronger.
Then they made their way to the hermit’s shack. The Hermit answered the door but upon seeing the men cried out “Oh! I have so many guests but no bread to give them. Surely God shal punish me for being such a bad host, but what can I do? I am too old and weak to grind the grain and bake the bread needed for such a lost party!”
Now it was Domhnal an Gearr’s turn to step forward and bow his head. Though he was a quiet man, he could be a man of great humility and sympathy. “Holy Father, it is not you who are rude, but we. For we are the ones who have arrived at your home unannounced and now need to be fed. If you but supply us the grain, we would be more than happy to grind it and to bake the bread for tonight’s feast.”
“Oh,” the Hermit said, “you are such respectful and kind men, and do not think that I did not see that it was you who slay the serpent which preyed within these waters. Please, if you canbake the bread, I bed you, take whatever it is that you need.”
And so Domhnal took a large sack of wheat and carried it to the grinding wheel. There he took some of the flesh and blood of the serpent and added it to the grain as he ground it as fine as the chalk which washes down from the cliffs of Britain. Then he kneeded it into a dough and set it to bake. By the time night had descended upon the land, several large loafs of break had been baked.
“Truly,” the Hermit said, “this is the finest bread which I have ever tasted. You are truly men of many talents and virtues. Please, I beg you, tomorrow will you join me in prayer in the waters of the river? After this task I shall happily give you whatever boon you wish.”
The next morning, the men awoke and found that the Hermit was dressed in the finest of white robes. He walked into the stream and fell to his knees and began to pray. They all did the same. The water was so cold that, at many times, all felt that they might perish from its sting, but so great was their love for their Queen that they would not allow themselves to be vanquished so. They redoubled their efforts and turned their attention towards God and the higher mysteries of the Son.
After what seemed an eternity, darkness fell from the sky and each of the men cried out. They saw the once great city of Carthage, and it was aflame, the waters of its port shimmering with the pyres which were kindled upon the land. And, above it, a great flock of crows cawed, and were carrying off gold and jewels in their mouth. Then they say a man in the city of Rome who was plotting treachery with a tongue that dripped of gold and honey. They saw many of their brothers fall to this man and his armies but being saved by a man of great holiness. Then they witnessed a great crow descend from the sky and come to roost within the city of Esphailleas and there it built a great nest and hatched a brood of fledglings who immediately set to flight and flew to the four corners of the land. Finally, they witnessed the hatching of one last chick, but this one was larger than the rest and its wings were tipped with red feathers as if they were blood. This crow gathered the others to itself and stoof stately over the city. Then one of the hatchlings began to quarrel with its mother and peck at her feet before flying off to the South across the sea where it was struck down by arrows and died. At this, the Mother and its brothers let out a great shout which seemed to shame all the lands of the West and took to the sky. They flew south to avenge their brother’s death but, in the battle that followed, the Mother fell from the sky with a crack of thunder and her children returned to their roost after feasting upon the flesh of their dead foes.” [FN6]
When the men came to, they found they were lying upon the banks of the stream, the hermit standing over them. “You have had a great vision,” the Hermit said,
“But what does it mean?” Fionn Mac Dairmit asked.
“Who were this figures that we saw,” Ciarnan an Dubh added
But Domhnal an Gearr simply bowed his head, for he understood the vision better than his brothers, but knew that it benefit no one to speak of this knowledge, for none would believe him. Instead, he stood, a single tear rolling down his broad cheek, for he had witnessed the glory and tragedy which would befall Caoihme and the whole Brotherhood.
The Hermit turned to him and smiled, and his smile was not unkind. He took one finger and wiped the tear from Domhnal’s eye, “You understand,” he said, “and I am so sorry for that. There are some things which mortal men are not meant to witness. You have my sympathy and if there is anything that I can do, please let me know.”
“Yes,” Domhnal said, his voice heavy with emotion but unwilling to forget the reason for which they had come. “You Queen required a boon from you; relics which may help restore her sight, for it has been taken from her by the SIdhe.”
The hermit bowed, “That is the least I could do for you, as you have cleansed this land of the Giants and Serpent who bedeviled it.” Then he ran to his shack and came back with a small golden box. Within it were two rose-tinted pieces of glass. “Tell your Queen to place these before her eyes and she shall see better than before, for they will allow her to see secrets that men wish to keep hidden. But, beware, for if she removes them from her eyes, then her current vision shall return.”
The men thanked the Hermit and received a blessing from him and returned to their Queen who waited for them at the boats. She heard their tales with great interest, and praised them for their efforts at ridding the land of the Giants and serpents. But when they came to the vision, she was as confused as all but Domhnal. Then she placed the rose glasses to her eyes and let out a happy shout, for she could see more clearly than she had been able to do in years. She ordered her metal workers to set these pieces of glass into a band which she could wear around her head. And for this reason she gained the name Caoihme Súile Fola – which means Saoihme of the Bloody Eyes for the rose tinted glass often reminded others of blood.
…
After setting sail from Oileán Mór the fleet of Caoimhe arrived in Sardinia where they met up with the forces of Hilderic who resided there, waiting for their prince to return so that they might return home and recapture his throne. When Hilderic’s men saw the great fleet the Caoimhe has assembled, they fell to the ground and declared that they had never seen such a great fleet before and surely there was no one who could stand in their way.
However, a great foreboding had fallen upon the heart of Hilderic and he went to Caoimhe and fell down before her weeping. “My Queen,” he stated, “I have not been entirely truthful with you, I fear.”
Caoihme looked down at her ally and, with her newfound sight, she was able to see into his heart and the fear that lay there. “Tell me, Prince Hilderic, what do you fear so greatly? Have we not assembled the greatest fleet that the world has ever seen, and manned it with such great warriors that even ancient Sparta would envy us?”
“We have my Queen, we have. But I have not been truthful all the same. You see, my brother Godas had more assistance than just Ibiger the Berber who you have slain. He has employed with him a great sorcerer named Yedder who can conjure up storms and deal death from the sky. It was with his help that I was driven from my throne and, now that I come nearer to Carthage, I grow fearful that we have not that strength which is needed to overcome this man of magic.”
“Oh,” Caoihme, “do not fear men of magic, for I have one of my own. He is a great poet named Coire Ceol Dóiteáin and he can counter whatever that this wicked magician can hurl at us.” [FN7]
Then Hilderic sighed in relief and said “Then I believe that nothing can stand in our way.”
“No,” Caoihme said, “there is nothing that can. Soon you shall sit upon the throne of Carthage once again, and we shall return to our homes, our ships heavy with the gold you have promised.”
Now, it so happens that the magician of whom Hilderic spoke had a dream one night and saw a great flock of crows descending upon Vandaland from the North and West. He went to Godas and said “My King, my dreams have brought me a great vision and it is one off danger. Even now your brother had brought to him a great ally – Caoimhe Mac Fergus, the She-Wolf of the Sea, and she sails towards Carthage to place him upon your throne and to carry off the wealth of the Vandals!”
At this, a great terror seized Godas, for he had long feared that his brother might someday return to claim the throne that was rightfully his. “Tell me, Yedder, what can we do to spurn their advances and drive them back to the sea?”
“My King,” Yedder said, “I shall draw a great storm to beset the land, so that the winds will drive the ships from our port and back to sea.”
“Do this,” Godas said, “for I wish nothing more than to see the ships of my brother and this she-king driven upon the rocks of the seas and their bloated bodies washing to shore.”
And so Yedder set about making preparations for the spell. He stood upon a gret tower in the palace and began an incantation, drawing upon his knowledge of the pagan gods of his people - for Yedder was not a Christian though many of his folk were. Soon big black clouds began to form upon the horizon and they centered upon Carthage itself. And then a great wind began to blow from the South and it was hot and strong – so strong, that Godas had to order his own ships to be chained up, lest they blow out ot sea and be smashed upon the rocks.
As it happened, Caoimhe and her fleet were sailing towards Carthage when this storm descended upon them. There were cries of fear from the men – both Gael and Vandal – as they took to the sails and attempted to keep the ships from smashing against one another or being driven back to the north. During the worst of the storm, Caoimhe sent for Coire Ceol Dóiteáin to come to the prow of her ship. And there he stood, through the wind and waves, and showed no fear, and began to chant:
“The storm is not stronger than I/
The wind is not wiser than I/
The waves have no more power than I/
Back you storm/
Back you wind/
Quiet be the waves/
For our ships shall carress the calm seas/
And our vows – those holy things – shall not be broken this day/”
And with these words, the storm ceases entirely. And back in Carthage, Yedder let out a cry of pain and surprise. “My King,” he said, “Caoimhe has upon her ship a wizard greater than I! For her has calmed the storms which I brought forth settled the seas which I churned up like a boiling cauldron.”
“This is not good,” Godas said, “for without your power, I shall surely fall upon my brother’s sword and you shall be vanquished with me.”
“Yes,” Yedder said, “This is so. But I still have some powers which my rival has not seen. And look, even now, the storm had fulfilled its purpose, for their fleet has veered west and not longer threatens Carthage!”
And this was true, for though Coire Ceol Dóiteáin had calmed the storm, the fleet of Caoimhe had found itself pushed far to the west and forced to make landfall at Saldae. But God was favoring them, for this city was loyal to Hilderic’s cause and welcomed the Gaels and their Vandal allies, feeding them and giving them supplies. There Caoimhe threw a great feast to show her respect for the people and many of them flocked to her banners and vowed to fight for her cause and that of their true King.
Then the Brotherhood of Caoimhe marched East, and they grew in strength as they went until they came to Hippo Regis. By this point, Godas had grown more fearful of his brother and he sent for his sorcerer once again and said “Yedder, you promised me more magic that might yet drive away these invaders to our lands, but you have done notihng. The time hs come for you to prove your worth to me and destroy these interlopers before they threaten Carthage itself!”
To this Yedder said, “I have spent the last weeks mustering my power and homing my skills. I shall destroy these interlopers before they reach Carthage and shall strip the flesh from their very bones!” And then he began to incant once again but this time, rather than a storm at sea, this time a great storm began to blow up to the South. In the Saharah a great wind began to blow and soon a howling gale was blowing the sands of the desert north towards the armies of Caoimhe and her brotherhood.
The storm blew for three days, and covered the lush farmland in sand, and the brotherhood was forced to take to their tents for protection, for the winds were strong and many feared that the coarse sand could strip the flesh away from their bones.
On the third day, Caoimhe sent for Coire Ceol Dóiteáin once again and said “Poet, you who have served me so well for these many years, and have helped tell the tales of my many victories over Goths, Romans and Berbers. But I require your help once again, for if we do not quiet this storm, I fear that we shall be buried by the desert itself.”
But Coire Ceol Dóiteáin shook his head and said, “It shall not be, for I have the power to stop this storm.” And then he strode out of the tent into the worst of the storm and began to chant
“Oh, Saharan Sands, listen to me/
Your will has been bent, your soul twisted/
To do these deeds for an evil man/
No longer listen to his chanting/
Come not at his calls and entreaties/
For we Gaels have weathered many a storm/
And we shall not be turned away by you tantrums/
Calm yourself and return to your home/
Far to the south/
And I shall praise our peaceful ways/
For all of my days”
And then, as soon as it had begun, the winds dropped and the storm ceased to me. And a great shout of joy went up from the men of the Brotherhood and their allies. And they began to march once more, this time to the gates of Carthage itself.
As the armies came into view, Godas again began to fear and sent for Yedder. “Foul practitioner of the dark arts” he said, “you have promised me twice that you would rid me of my brother and his nettlesome allies, and yet now they stand outside the gates of Carthage itself. Rid me of their presence, or your own life shall be forfeit and your head shall grace a pole outside of the palace.”
“Do not seek to threaten me false-king,” Yedder said, “for I have met a sorcerer amongst of foes the likes of which I have never before seen. Any magician less than him I would have destroyed long ago, but his powers are great indeed.”
“Greater than yours,” Goas asked?
“No,” Yedder said. “I have but toyed with him up to this point, but today I shall show him the ful extent of my power and the armies of Caoimhe and your brother shall die today, and I shall stake my life upon this vow!”
And then he went once again to his tower and began to incant. And this time, rather than a storm growing up, the walls of Carthage began to grow high into the sky so that no arrow could soar over them and no catapult could breach them. They were truly inpenertrable.
Upon seeing this, Caoihme went to Coire Ceol Dóiteáin and said “Great Poet who has not only spread tales of my glory to all the lands of the Earth but who has also calmed the two storms sent to destroy us, now we face walls that have been built by magic. Can you not help us in tearing them down?”
And Coire Ceol Dóiteáin replied “My fair Queen, this is no task for a great magician and poet, but I shall do it for you, since I know that you value my work.”
And then he strode out in front of the army and threw his arms to the sky and cried out
“Weary I grow of these conjuring tricks!
Storms you have sent me of sand and rain/
Yet these I have calmed with my voice alone/
Lightening and thunder have done little/
To silence my tongue and scare the Gaels/
Now I shall no longer play this game/
Oh storms of rain and thunder I call you now/
Strike down our foes and drive them from their homes/
Destroy the wicked Yedder and end his life/
So that the rightful King may once again sit upon his throne/
And bring justice to this once great land!”
And with these words a storm suddenly swirled over Carthage the likes of which no one alive had ever before seen. Great shafts of lightening struck the barracks and homes of those loyal to Godas and one particular bolt struck the tower of Yeddas which burst into flames. Yeddas himself was caught in the blast and fell screaming to the ground below and was knocked dead.
When the supporters of Godas saw their magician so easily struck down, a great fear grew in their hearts and they threw open the gates of Carthage. The Gaels streamed forward and began to sack the city, while Caoimhe and Hilderic marched towards the royal palace. There they found Gods cowering behind the throne, stripped of all courage now that his magician was dead. They drug him out from behind that royal chair and threw him before the people. Then Caoimhe grew her silver sword and ended his life, while a great cheer went up from the crowd that had gathered to watch.
And so Hilderic was restored to his throne, and Caoimhe was granted half of the treasury of Carthage along with the wealth that her soldiers captured while sacking the homes of Godas’ supporters.
But, the Brotherhood was not given the chance to rest for, mere days later, a letter arrived from Rome, and their next adventure began.
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[FN1] This might be considered a BIT of an exaggeration. By the way, Cuan Ban translates as “White Harbor” and is analogous to the Roman town of Portus Albus. This is one of those cases when people did a direct translation of the name of the town.
[FN2] This is somewhat akin to the story of Jason and the Argonauts in that every hero was said to have been a part of the voyage. Some version of this Gaelic tale even include Cuchullian signing up with Caoihme’s crew. However, the author finds this to be a bit too much and doesn’t include him in the short (and NOT exhaustive) list of heroes above.
[FN4] One might recall that Caoimhe’s father Fergus had been struck by blindness as well. This may wel explain part of her panic, but also hints at the cause of her predicament. It seems likely that bad eyes run in that family. Surely, I can sympathize.
[FN5] There are some strong echoes of the story of St. Christopher here. One wonders if this story didn’t develop to help explain why the city of Palma developed a devotion to this particular saint. Or, of course, I suppose there could be a few other explanations as well. Whatever the truth is, it has sadly been lost to the mists of time. And, yes, heraldry develops in this world, though under somewhat different circumstances than in OTL. Why? Because I LIKE heraldry, that’s why – though it won’t be showing up in any systematic way for a few centuries yet.
[FN6] Oooh, foreshadowing. Foreshadowing with a cycle of posts which, one could argue, are mainly foreshadowing as well. If that isn’t meta, I don’t know what is
[FN7] You may notice that there are a LOT of new characters being added in this chapter. I am doing this for two reasons. The first is to suggest that the legendary cycle of Caoimhe is akin to the stories of the Red Branch or the Knights of the Round Table – although there is certainly a central figure who drives the narratives, the stories of other heroes have become attached to it over time. The second is because the narrative of this chapter and the next derive from the epic that I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. Because of this, there is a lot more detail and side stories present and the author of this children’s book is finding it necessary to bring them in to help move the narrative forward. However, because this is a book for young adults and merely a (very long!) chapter, he can not go into as much detail as would be possible if the book was simply a retelling of Caoimhe’s tales alone.
Okay, my GOD was that a long chapter! I hadn't intended it to be when I set out to write it, I can assure you. But, as I've said, this story keeps growing in the telling, and in many ways this was by far the most 'mythic' chapters in this cycle so far. That being said, it was a lot of fun to write and I hope that you all get some joy from reading it. As it stands, I'm thinking that there are two or three more chapters dealing with the life of Caoimhe yet to write (meaning that this has already become, easily, the longest series of chapters I've ever written for this timeline so far!)
As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts; though I think this chapter leaves a bit less to comment on (there aren't all that many echoes of developments of Dal Caoimhe society and politics - though there are a few!) By the way, I apologize for any typos. Its late and I wanted to just get this chapter posted. I will go back through tomorrow after i sleep and edit things up to be a bit prettier if it needs it!
Cartago Delende Est
Monument Depicting Caoihme Aon Féasóg, entitled “Our Mother Protects.” Constructed in Esphailleas following the liberation of Dal Caoimhe in the years after the end of the Global War
Part 4: Caoihme and the Sacking of Carthage
Following her defeat of Ibiger and the forces of Tiblis, Caoihme ruled wiely and justly within her Kingdom, having received the pledges of loyalty of the remaining nobles of the land. She spent lavishly and did what she could to repair the damage of the Berber raids and bring prosperity back to her people. Each summer, she and the brotherhood would raid along the coast of Libya, hoping to destroy the power of the Berbers and to pay them back for the pain that they had brought upon her and others. For heart still ached each day and each night for her husband Eterscel and saw much of him in their twin sons.
With the gold that she gained from one raid, she built a monastery upon the field where her husband had fallen. This monastery was to be staffed by Gaelic monks and, in time, it became a great literary and cultural center from which Gaelic monks and priests would travel out to the surrounding countryside. Although the area had long been known by Sileas due to the flint found near by, it soon came to be known by a new name: Leaba Eterscel – which meant Eterscel’s Bed – and it was said that Caoihme had a large crypt built for her husband’s body and she employed the monks to say daily prayers for his soul.
Now, some years after the death of Ibiger, a messenger came to her court in Esphailleas. He was dressed in rags but claimed to be a prince of the Vandals and demanded to be allowed to speak with the Queen of the land. At first, the guards refused to let him entrance and they gave him the name Dagairean Ri Og which meant “Prince Rags.” However, word soon reached Caoihme and she was intrigued by this young man who seemed so poor, yet possessed such spirit, and they gave word that she would have an audience with him.
Then the Prince, who’s real name was Hilderic, was escorted into the grand villa where Caoihme held court. When he laid eyes upon her, he was immediately captivated by her beauty and strength, and feel down upon his knees, while tears streamed from his eyes. “My Queen,” he began.
But Caoihme cut him as as she drew a long draught from the golden wine goblet in her hand, “I do hope that this is not a proposal, my good Prince Rags. For I still mourn the passing of my late husband and, even if I were to wish to take another husband to my bed, I would only do so with the finest, and you seem to me to be far too scrawny.”
At this the Prince blushed deeply, but bowed his head, “I did not always appear as I do now before you. For my name is Hilderic and once I was the heir to my Father’s kingdom in Libya. My Father was Tharasmund and he ruled from that great city of Carthage.”
“Yes,” Caoihme said, “I have heard of your Father. His renown reached far to the north in that great Kingdom of Dal Riata from wense I come. Tell me, how did you come to be knocking on my door like a common beggar, asking for coin or the scraps from my table.”
“I fear,” Hilderic said, “it was the work of my younger brother Godas. For he was always jealous of my place at my Father’s side and wished nothing more than to see himself warm the throne of the Vandals. He allied with the great Berber lords of the South and West as my Father lay upon his deathbed. His chief ally was Ibiger who you, yourself, slayed not long ago. He helped Godas drive me from my rightful throne and, in exchange, was granted his independence so that he might harass the Empire of the Goths and torment its people.”
At this, the old rage flashed momentarily upon Caoimhe’s face, but she forced herself to calm her temper at this news. “So, your brother is the one responsible for the misery of my people and the death of my husband, fair Eterscel?”
“Were it only that it wasn’t so,” Hilderic said, “but I fear it is. But, this means that you and I have common cause and so I have come to you today to beg your assistance in riding the throne of my brother, for the sake of both our kingdoms.”
“But,” Caoihme said, “what need do I have of helping you, for I have already liberated Ibiger’s head from his neck with the silver blade of Saol ó Bhás and his blood has watered the lands of my fair kingdom.”
“Though you have indeed ended the life of that miserable tyrant, my Queen, you have not ended the threat to your people. For even now, Ibiger’s youngest son Ziri lives and has been secreted far to the South so that he might be trained in the arts of war to exact vengeance for his father and rule his people. If he would be given the assistance of my black-hearted brother, I fear that he will eventually eclipse Ibiger and be an even greater threat to your just Kingdom.”
At this Caoimhe looked into her wine, deep in thought. Several moments passed before she spoke again. “I believe that you speak true, and your words carry the weight of wisdom behind them. It is a foolish bird indeed who grows fat and complacent upon her perch so that she does not perceive the cat climbing her tree. Very wel, what would you have of me?”
“A fleet. I have supporters still within my native land and there are those who would happily join us in our quest. But many of them remain upon the island of Sardinia and are not strong enough yet to attack Carthage itself. If you were able to join your fleet and army to our own, then there is no chance that my brother would be able to stand against the both of us.”
‘You are wise,” Caoihme said, “and I once again see the winsdom behind your thoughts. However, I fear that this will take more than my currachs, for the fleet of the Vandals is strong indeed.”
“This is true,” Hilderic said, “but I know the secrets of our ships and I would gladly help in the construction of a fleet that would rival any that my brother currently commands.”
“I would certainly accept your expertise, fair Prince. Now that only leaves the issue of my payment for assistance.”
“Once we remove my brother, I shall order our soldiers to move against Tibis and shall deliver to you the last living son of your old foe to do with as you wish.”
“That is all well and good,” Caoihme said, “but a Queen who pays her warriors with nothing but promises of future security is a Queen who longs for a short life indeed. I can draw to me the greatest fighting force that has been seen since the days of Alexander! But I do so, because I can promise those warriors victory and the gold that is owed them for their strength.”
“I see,” Hilderic said, “and know that you speak the truth. Very well, should you help me in my quest, I shall grant to you half of the treasury of Carthage upon our victory and shall also assist you in every way that I can against your foes to the South and North.”
“North?” Caoihme said and chuckled, “do you refer to Good King Sisebut? For he currently remains enmeshed in the affairs of the Gothic Empire and bothers us not. He feels that I have done him a service by riding him of the Berbers and am well placed to do so again if need be. He bothers us not.”
“Be that as it way, my glorious Queen, should you ever need my help against he or any other foes, simply say the word and I shall arrive to fight by your side.”
“Very well then, King Hilderic, I accept your vow in the spirit it was given and shall hold you to your promise from now until the time that the wind no longer blows and my people have faded from this land.”
And with those words, Coaihme rose from her throne and stepped towards Hilderic who bowed and gently kissed her outstretched hand. They exchanged vows and dedicated themselves to driving Godas from his ill-gotten throne. Hilderic proved good at his word and soon began to oversee the creation of the greatest fleet that had ever been known in the West since the days of Carthage of Old. Soon, 1000 ships stood at the ready in the port of Cuan Ban. [FN1]
Meanwhile, Caoihme sent word to all the lands of the Gaels, calling for all the best warriors of her people to respond to the call, promising them land and gold beyond their wildest dreams if they would serve in her armies. Soon all of the greatest of Gaelic Fiana – Domhnal an Gearr, Domhnal an Fahach, Padraig Teanga Oir, Colum Ceann Fuilteach and many others – had made their way to the court of Caoihme for her legend had already spread far and wide and all knew that glory and gold could be won in her service. So many adventures were to be had by these brave men and women that the tales formed the basis of that great Gaelic epic “An Cath Mór do Carthage.” [FN2]
Once the fleet was constructed and her soldiers gathered, Caoihme stood before them all and spoke thus: “God, in his wisdom, called me forth to this land to protect it from the ravages and despoiling of the foreign horde of the Berbers. Romans could not protect this land, Goths could do little, and so it fell to we Gaels to work in Christ’s name to bring peace. Now, you brave warriors stand before me, and I could not be more proud. Today we embark upon a great adventure to bring peace to the Kingdom of Vandals, to see their true King sit upon the throne, and to bring an end to plague of the Berbers upon my adopted land. Together, we shall fight as a brotherhood and we shall bring peace and justice wherever we go. And those who stand in our way and ally themselves with the works of that dark trickster Satan, shall surely by our swords and spears. Now, let us go forth, as instruments of light against the darkness so that our children and grandchildren will sing songs of the glory we win this day.” And at that, a great cheer went up amongst the assembled men and women, and they took to the ships and set forth.
Many adventures have been recorded of the fleet of Caoimhe as they traveled from Cuan Ban on their way to Sardinia. Although many remain popular, only one directly pertains to the tale here being told. It is said that Caoihme awoke one morning to find that her vision had grown fuzzy, and that shapes before her were no longer clear. At this, she began to fear that one of the water Sidhe of the Mhuirmhór had stricken her sight; for the capricious nature of the fae folk of the sea was well known to all those who plied its waters. Although a great fear wormed its way into her heart, she kept her face like stone as she ordered the fleet to disembark upon the nearest island which was Oileán Mór [OTL: Mallorca] where she had heard of many tales of wealth and wonder. Surly, if a cure for her sight could be found, it would be on this fabled island. [FN3]
Upon landing, Caoihme made her way to shore and fell down into the sand, deep in prayer. Soon, she began to perceive the cawing of a crow in the distance. Without a thought, she took and began to move in the direction of the sound. No sooner did she reach the bird, then it would take to wing again and begin to call for her to follow. This went on and on until the Sea Queen had been lost from the sight of her men, and made her way deep into the bush. Finally, the bird alighted upon the roof of a small shack. Hurrying towards the building, Caoihme began to knock on the door. After what seemed an eternity a wizened man opened the door and introduced himself a priest whose name was Columba. He lead her inside his abode and, while she say and told her tale, he examined her eyes and said “I fear that it is as you say. Your eyes have been cursed, for you failed to bring a priest upon this voyage to protect you from the dangers of the sea and the otherworld, which haunts your every step. For I can see that you are not fully of this world and have but one foot in it and one foot in the other.”
At this Caoihme said “I have had a geis placed upon me that says that I cannot turn away the request of a churchman. So, tell me now, should I forego my quest to place the rightful King upon the throne of Carthage and return to my own kingdom?”
“No,” the priest stated, “for your quest has been blessed from on high. However, you have also grown arrogant in your many victories. So know this; God has allowed you to be cursed to remind you that you are as mortal as any other. You shall taste victory upon this voyage, but you shall also suffer your first great defeat!”
At this, Caoihme began to grow angry, “Speak in no more riddles, priest! Tell me how to cure my blindness or begone from my sight.”
“Perhaps,” the priest said, “God should teach you patience as well as humility, but that is not my place to say. Very well, I shall tell you this – there is no cure for your curse. However, there exists two relics on this isle which can restore your sight. To attain them, you must send three of your men – for that is the holiest of numbers - and they are to travel inland to the center of this island. There, they shall find a hermit outside the town of Sineau. There, they must then bathe in the sacred stream that runs near his hut and then join him in prayer for thee days. Once they have done this, he shall grant them a boon – the relics which will help restore your sight.”
“Can I,” asked Caoihme, “not undertake this quest on my own?”
“No,” the priest stated, “for you must learn humility and to trust in the abilities of others. For too long now, you have charged ever forward in your quest for glory, relying upon your wits and the strength of your arm alone. But you have been granted a great and loyal band of followers by God, yet your put them at risk without relying upon them. This is why God has allowed you to be cursed, and why you can not take part in this quest yourself.”
And so Caoihme did as she was told. She asked which of her warriors would undertake this journey for their Queen and three stepped quickly to the front. One was Fionn Mac Diarmait, who had been with the brotherhood for years and had served with her husband Eterscal, another was Domhnal an Gearr and, finally, was Caoihme’s nephew Ciarnan an Dubh.
“Why do you do this for me,” Caoihme asked?
“Because we love you,” the men stated, “and would follow you to the very gates of hell itself and beyond. We have no fear when we are in your company, for we know that you shall bring us victory and keep us safe. If risking ourselves on this quest is the way that we may repay you, then so be it, for it is but the smallest thing we could do.”
‘Then go,” Caoihme said, “find the priest Columba and speak to him as I did, and follow his words exactly. You are good men, the most loyal of an already loyal band, and I return your affection. Now go, I beg you, and help me rid myself of this weakness which has befallen me.”
The men made their way to the priest to whom Caoihme had spoken and upon seeing them come, he welcomed them into his home. “So, you are the three men that wish to risk your lives for their Queen? Better men I have not seen in all of my years.”
“So we are,” stated Fionn Mac Diarmait. “For I served with her husband Eterscel for many years and learned to love that man as a brother. When they were married, I saw the love which he had for Caoihme and she became not just my Queen, but a sister also. I would gladly risk death for her, and I know that she would do the same for us in turn.”
“Perhaps,” Columba said, “but that is a test for another time. Now, I beg that you listen to me closely, for I know of relics which can restore your mistress’ sight, but it is not a journey for the weak of heart and you will face many grave perils before the quest is completed.”
At this Ciarnan an Dubh let out a laugh – for he had much of the courage and arrogance which also flowed beat in Caoihme’s heart. “When has ever a member of the Brotherhood of Caoimhe ever run from danger? My Aunt is a woman of great bravery and she asks the same of us. Tell us of these perils, and I assure you we shall conquer them as we have very other.”
Fionn Mac Dairmait nodded at this, “The lad is young and foolhearty, but he is also correct in this. None of out brothers are cowards and none would ever think of not risking his life for our sister-queen.”
Only Domhnal an Gearr remained silent, for he was a quiet man by nature and not given to bragging. But even her fixed his face with a firm look, and gazed directly into the eyes of the priest.
“Good,” Columba said, “If you have decided, then a journey stands ahead of you, and here is what you must do. First, you must travel from this place on foot towards the community of Sineau. There, in the mountains, you shall find a hermit who lives beside a sacred spring. You must bathe in the stream and then join the hermit in prayer for three days. This much I have told your Queen, but there is more.”
“First, the mountains are guarded by two great giants who will try to lead you stray. You must out wit them to learn the proper directions to the hermit. Second, upon reaching the stream, you will find that it is guarded by a great serpent which poisonious breath. You must kill this serpent and then present its head to the hermit who will then ask you bake the finest bread he has ever tasted. To do so, you must mix the blood of the serpent with his wheat and grind it into a fine flour. Only then will he ask you to sit down in prayer with him. But beware, for your trials are not yet over – for the hermit is a holy man and many who sit with him are blessed with visions by God while in prayer. These will be the truth but may not be what you wish to know. Finally, after you have prayed for three days, he will grant you your boon. Once you had attained it, return to your Queen and her vision will be restored with their help.”
The priest then moved towards the men and sprinkled them each with water, “Now, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, I send you upon your way. May God grant you what you seek, and little more.”
With this blessing the three men went along their way. For many days and nights they traveled by foot towards the mountainous highlands at the center of Oileán Mór. Soon they arrived at a pass, and two giants strode out behind rocks. “Halt!” one of the giants demanded and laid his heav club upon the path so that none should pass.
At this, Fionn Mac Diarmait stepped forward and said “Who are you to stand in the way of the men of Queen Caoimhe? We come at her direct order to seek out the Hermit of Sineau to cure her blindness. Do you you wish to impede us?”
“Certainly not,” said the first Giant.
“It is we who defend the passages of the Hermit so that he may continue to holy isolation and none but the purest may visit him. However, you come as a holy triad and certainly hold the blessing of a priest upon your heads. It would be our honor to tell you the way to the hermit.”
“Very well, Giants. Speak on, and give is your directions.”
“You must head straight north,” said the First Giant, “until you see a large tree the color of fire which stands upon a mountain. Then you must head East until you find a large stream which flows south. You will know it, for it flows green as the grass of your homeland. Follow it up hill until you find a pasture where the finest of sheep are grazing. From there you head West and a night and a day and then you shall find the abode of your hermit.”
“We thank you,” Fionn Mac Diarmait said and bowed. “Please take this coin in payment for your kindness.” And with this he gave both giants a gold coin.
As they hiked up the pass, the men came to the Tree which burned with the color of flame, and then turned until they came to the pasture with fine sheep. By this time, the men were exhausted by the day’s travels.
“Let us stop here,” Fionn Mac Diarmait said as he found a pathway through the mountains to the West of the pasture which had only one way in and one way out, and was covered in large boulders.
“I don’t understand” Ciarnan an Dubh said. “The priest stated that the giants would attempt to lead us astray, but you accepted their directions with no hesitation. Why?”
“Because,” Fionn stated, “the best way to escape a trap is sometimes to spring it. The Giants make their living by leading travelers astray with faulty directions and then waylay them in the night so that they may devour them for their supper. Was that not obvious? However, we still need their help if we are to find the Hermit, so we must capture one of them.”
With these words, he began to dig a deep trench and then covered it up with branches, stone and sand so that none could see where it was. Then, taking out a net, he fasted a trip string so that anyone who crossed it would soon be snatched up and carried aloft.
“Now,” he said, “you two sleep and I will keep the first watch. If God has blessed me with wisdom, we shall have our guide before the sun rises in the morn.
It was as he claimed. For no sooner did the other two men fall asleep than they were awoke by a series of loud crashes and moans. The first giant had stepped through the branches over the pit and fallen down, breaking his legs. Meanwhile, the second Giant set up the second trap and soon found himself bound in a net and thrust through the air.
Seeing that the first Giant was wounded and of no use, Fionn Mac Diarmait lept down into the pit and hacked its head off with his sword. Then he crawled back up and made his way towards the second Giant. This Giant began to weep and beg for his life.
“Why should I spare your life,” Fionn asked. “How many others begged for their lives before you devoured them in this pass?”
“But,” the Giant said, “if you spare my life, I shall show you the way to the hermit. At this, you have my word.”
“The word if a Giant is worth less than nothing,” Fionn replied, “but very well. I shall bind you so that you can not escape and you shall lead us to the Hermit. Only then shall I allow you to go free.”
And then he cut the Giant free. But while the brute lay senseless on the ground, Fionn used the rope and bound him in such a way as so that he could not escape, and the harder he tried, the tighter the knots grew. Then, taking out his sword, he slived through the Giant’s left ankle, severing his tendon, so that he was lame and could not escape.
Then he woke the other two men and told them of what he had done. They quickly made some breakfast and then ordered the Giant to lead them on their way. He showed them that, instead of heading West from the pasture, they needed to head East. For two whole days they walked, with the Giant limping before them, until they came to the base of a hill.
“Here lives the Hermit,” the Giant said. “I can go no further, for it is a holy place and I am not welcome there. I had done as you asked. Please fulfill your promise and set me free.”
“The Brotherhood of Caoihme always keeps its vows,” Fionn said, “and so I shall do as I promised. But, know this. If you return to your old ways of waylaying travalers, I shall find you and I shall strike the head from your shoulders. This I also vow! Now, leave my sight. Go to the South and find the Priest Columba who resides in the city of Palma and confess your sins to him and beg for baptism.”
The Giant did what he was told. He found the priest Columba and confessed his many qicked deeds and begged to be forgiven and baptized. This the priest did, granting the Giant the name of Críostóir. The Giant then took it upon himself to protect the city of Palma from all threats and lived to a ripe old age there, even marrying and having a large brood of children. The people of Palma came to love Críostóir and took him as their patron and, to this very day, he appears on their official Coat of Arms. [FN5]
As the giant left, the men turned towards the hill and began to walk up it. There they found a great stream and, on the other side, stood the shack of the hermit. As they came closer, they noticed a great thrashing in the water as if from some great serpent.
At this, Ciarnan an Dubh strode forward and planted his feet firmly upon the bank of the stream. Drawing his sword he let out a cry and declared “Here stands Ciarnan an Dubh, nephew of Queen Caoihme. In her name I fight and am given strength. Let any beast that believes it can conquer come so that I may spill its flood into the water.
At this, the thrashing grew wilder and a great black serpent, slick with river muck, burst forth from the waters, letting forth a great blast of its poison breath. Ciarnan held his breath, charged through the cloud and brought his sword down upon the serpent’s head. This only angered the creature more, which wrapped its scaley hide around the hero and began to squeeze. However, much like his aunt, Ciarnan was possessed of a battle rage – though not as greath. He began to scream as his body radiated a heat so great that it scorched the flesh of the serpent and caused it to loosen its terrible coils. Then, leaping up, Ciarnan wrapped his hands around the threat of the beast and squeezed. The two tumbled through the water for many minutes, but the strength of the hero soon proved to be too much, and he ripped the head of the serpent from its body and threw it upon the shore. The blood of the beast pooled into the water and then was carried away.
Ciarnan lugged the dead body to the shore and then he and the men did as they had been told and bathed in the sacred waters. It turns out that the serpent had been a demon which had been polluting the sacred stream but now that it was dead, the holiness of the water was cleansing the land of its evil. So holy was the water that is healed the wounds which Ciarnan and the others had received through their many journeys and they left the stream much refreshed and stronger.
Then they made their way to the hermit’s shack. The Hermit answered the door but upon seeing the men cried out “Oh! I have so many guests but no bread to give them. Surely God shal punish me for being such a bad host, but what can I do? I am too old and weak to grind the grain and bake the bread needed for such a lost party!”
Now it was Domhnal an Gearr’s turn to step forward and bow his head. Though he was a quiet man, he could be a man of great humility and sympathy. “Holy Father, it is not you who are rude, but we. For we are the ones who have arrived at your home unannounced and now need to be fed. If you but supply us the grain, we would be more than happy to grind it and to bake the bread for tonight’s feast.”
“Oh,” the Hermit said, “you are such respectful and kind men, and do not think that I did not see that it was you who slay the serpent which preyed within these waters. Please, if you canbake the bread, I bed you, take whatever it is that you need.”
And so Domhnal took a large sack of wheat and carried it to the grinding wheel. There he took some of the flesh and blood of the serpent and added it to the grain as he ground it as fine as the chalk which washes down from the cliffs of Britain. Then he kneeded it into a dough and set it to bake. By the time night had descended upon the land, several large loafs of break had been baked.
“Truly,” the Hermit said, “this is the finest bread which I have ever tasted. You are truly men of many talents and virtues. Please, I beg you, tomorrow will you join me in prayer in the waters of the river? After this task I shall happily give you whatever boon you wish.”
The next morning, the men awoke and found that the Hermit was dressed in the finest of white robes. He walked into the stream and fell to his knees and began to pray. They all did the same. The water was so cold that, at many times, all felt that they might perish from its sting, but so great was their love for their Queen that they would not allow themselves to be vanquished so. They redoubled their efforts and turned their attention towards God and the higher mysteries of the Son.
After what seemed an eternity, darkness fell from the sky and each of the men cried out. They saw the once great city of Carthage, and it was aflame, the waters of its port shimmering with the pyres which were kindled upon the land. And, above it, a great flock of crows cawed, and were carrying off gold and jewels in their mouth. Then they say a man in the city of Rome who was plotting treachery with a tongue that dripped of gold and honey. They saw many of their brothers fall to this man and his armies but being saved by a man of great holiness. Then they witnessed a great crow descend from the sky and come to roost within the city of Esphailleas and there it built a great nest and hatched a brood of fledglings who immediately set to flight and flew to the four corners of the land. Finally, they witnessed the hatching of one last chick, but this one was larger than the rest and its wings were tipped with red feathers as if they were blood. This crow gathered the others to itself and stoof stately over the city. Then one of the hatchlings began to quarrel with its mother and peck at her feet before flying off to the South across the sea where it was struck down by arrows and died. At this, the Mother and its brothers let out a great shout which seemed to shame all the lands of the West and took to the sky. They flew south to avenge their brother’s death but, in the battle that followed, the Mother fell from the sky with a crack of thunder and her children returned to their roost after feasting upon the flesh of their dead foes.” [FN6]
When the men came to, they found they were lying upon the banks of the stream, the hermit standing over them. “You have had a great vision,” the Hermit said,
“But what does it mean?” Fionn Mac Dairmit asked.
“Who were this figures that we saw,” Ciarnan an Dubh added
But Domhnal an Gearr simply bowed his head, for he understood the vision better than his brothers, but knew that it benefit no one to speak of this knowledge, for none would believe him. Instead, he stood, a single tear rolling down his broad cheek, for he had witnessed the glory and tragedy which would befall Caoihme and the whole Brotherhood.
The Hermit turned to him and smiled, and his smile was not unkind. He took one finger and wiped the tear from Domhnal’s eye, “You understand,” he said, “and I am so sorry for that. There are some things which mortal men are not meant to witness. You have my sympathy and if there is anything that I can do, please let me know.”
“Yes,” Domhnal said, his voice heavy with emotion but unwilling to forget the reason for which they had come. “You Queen required a boon from you; relics which may help restore her sight, for it has been taken from her by the SIdhe.”
The hermit bowed, “That is the least I could do for you, as you have cleansed this land of the Giants and Serpent who bedeviled it.” Then he ran to his shack and came back with a small golden box. Within it were two rose-tinted pieces of glass. “Tell your Queen to place these before her eyes and she shall see better than before, for they will allow her to see secrets that men wish to keep hidden. But, beware, for if she removes them from her eyes, then her current vision shall return.”
The men thanked the Hermit and received a blessing from him and returned to their Queen who waited for them at the boats. She heard their tales with great interest, and praised them for their efforts at ridding the land of the Giants and serpents. But when they came to the vision, she was as confused as all but Domhnal. Then she placed the rose glasses to her eyes and let out a happy shout, for she could see more clearly than she had been able to do in years. She ordered her metal workers to set these pieces of glass into a band which she could wear around her head. And for this reason she gained the name Caoihme Súile Fola – which means Saoihme of the Bloody Eyes for the rose tinted glass often reminded others of blood.
…
After setting sail from Oileán Mór the fleet of Caoimhe arrived in Sardinia where they met up with the forces of Hilderic who resided there, waiting for their prince to return so that they might return home and recapture his throne. When Hilderic’s men saw the great fleet the Caoimhe has assembled, they fell to the ground and declared that they had never seen such a great fleet before and surely there was no one who could stand in their way.
However, a great foreboding had fallen upon the heart of Hilderic and he went to Caoimhe and fell down before her weeping. “My Queen,” he stated, “I have not been entirely truthful with you, I fear.”
Caoihme looked down at her ally and, with her newfound sight, she was able to see into his heart and the fear that lay there. “Tell me, Prince Hilderic, what do you fear so greatly? Have we not assembled the greatest fleet that the world has ever seen, and manned it with such great warriors that even ancient Sparta would envy us?”
“We have my Queen, we have. But I have not been truthful all the same. You see, my brother Godas had more assistance than just Ibiger the Berber who you have slain. He has employed with him a great sorcerer named Yedder who can conjure up storms and deal death from the sky. It was with his help that I was driven from my throne and, now that I come nearer to Carthage, I grow fearful that we have not that strength which is needed to overcome this man of magic.”
“Oh,” Caoihme, “do not fear men of magic, for I have one of my own. He is a great poet named Coire Ceol Dóiteáin and he can counter whatever that this wicked magician can hurl at us.” [FN7]
Then Hilderic sighed in relief and said “Then I believe that nothing can stand in our way.”
“No,” Caoihme said, “there is nothing that can. Soon you shall sit upon the throne of Carthage once again, and we shall return to our homes, our ships heavy with the gold you have promised.”
Now, it so happens that the magician of whom Hilderic spoke had a dream one night and saw a great flock of crows descending upon Vandaland from the North and West. He went to Godas and said “My King, my dreams have brought me a great vision and it is one off danger. Even now your brother had brought to him a great ally – Caoimhe Mac Fergus, the She-Wolf of the Sea, and she sails towards Carthage to place him upon your throne and to carry off the wealth of the Vandals!”
At this, a great terror seized Godas, for he had long feared that his brother might someday return to claim the throne that was rightfully his. “Tell me, Yedder, what can we do to spurn their advances and drive them back to the sea?”
“My King,” Yedder said, “I shall draw a great storm to beset the land, so that the winds will drive the ships from our port and back to sea.”
“Do this,” Godas said, “for I wish nothing more than to see the ships of my brother and this she-king driven upon the rocks of the seas and their bloated bodies washing to shore.”
And so Yedder set about making preparations for the spell. He stood upon a gret tower in the palace and began an incantation, drawing upon his knowledge of the pagan gods of his people - for Yedder was not a Christian though many of his folk were. Soon big black clouds began to form upon the horizon and they centered upon Carthage itself. And then a great wind began to blow from the South and it was hot and strong – so strong, that Godas had to order his own ships to be chained up, lest they blow out ot sea and be smashed upon the rocks.
As it happened, Caoimhe and her fleet were sailing towards Carthage when this storm descended upon them. There were cries of fear from the men – both Gael and Vandal – as they took to the sails and attempted to keep the ships from smashing against one another or being driven back to the north. During the worst of the storm, Caoimhe sent for Coire Ceol Dóiteáin to come to the prow of her ship. And there he stood, through the wind and waves, and showed no fear, and began to chant:
“The storm is not stronger than I/
The wind is not wiser than I/
The waves have no more power than I/
Back you storm/
Back you wind/
Quiet be the waves/
For our ships shall carress the calm seas/
And our vows – those holy things – shall not be broken this day/”
And with these words, the storm ceases entirely. And back in Carthage, Yedder let out a cry of pain and surprise. “My King,” he said, “Caoimhe has upon her ship a wizard greater than I! For her has calmed the storms which I brought forth settled the seas which I churned up like a boiling cauldron.”
“This is not good,” Godas said, “for without your power, I shall surely fall upon my brother’s sword and you shall be vanquished with me.”
“Yes,” Yedder said, “This is so. But I still have some powers which my rival has not seen. And look, even now, the storm had fulfilled its purpose, for their fleet has veered west and not longer threatens Carthage!”
And this was true, for though Coire Ceol Dóiteáin had calmed the storm, the fleet of Caoimhe had found itself pushed far to the west and forced to make landfall at Saldae. But God was favoring them, for this city was loyal to Hilderic’s cause and welcomed the Gaels and their Vandal allies, feeding them and giving them supplies. There Caoimhe threw a great feast to show her respect for the people and many of them flocked to her banners and vowed to fight for her cause and that of their true King.
Then the Brotherhood of Caoimhe marched East, and they grew in strength as they went until they came to Hippo Regis. By this point, Godas had grown more fearful of his brother and he sent for his sorcerer once again and said “Yedder, you promised me more magic that might yet drive away these invaders to our lands, but you have done notihng. The time hs come for you to prove your worth to me and destroy these interlopers before they threaten Carthage itself!”
To this Yedder said, “I have spent the last weeks mustering my power and homing my skills. I shall destroy these interlopers before they reach Carthage and shall strip the flesh from their very bones!” And then he began to incant once again but this time, rather than a storm at sea, this time a great storm began to blow up to the South. In the Saharah a great wind began to blow and soon a howling gale was blowing the sands of the desert north towards the armies of Caoimhe and her brotherhood.
The storm blew for three days, and covered the lush farmland in sand, and the brotherhood was forced to take to their tents for protection, for the winds were strong and many feared that the coarse sand could strip the flesh away from their bones.
On the third day, Caoimhe sent for Coire Ceol Dóiteáin once again and said “Poet, you who have served me so well for these many years, and have helped tell the tales of my many victories over Goths, Romans and Berbers. But I require your help once again, for if we do not quiet this storm, I fear that we shall be buried by the desert itself.”
But Coire Ceol Dóiteáin shook his head and said, “It shall not be, for I have the power to stop this storm.” And then he strode out of the tent into the worst of the storm and began to chant
“Oh, Saharan Sands, listen to me/
Your will has been bent, your soul twisted/
To do these deeds for an evil man/
No longer listen to his chanting/
Come not at his calls and entreaties/
For we Gaels have weathered many a storm/
And we shall not be turned away by you tantrums/
Calm yourself and return to your home/
Far to the south/
And I shall praise our peaceful ways/
For all of my days”
And then, as soon as it had begun, the winds dropped and the storm ceased to me. And a great shout of joy went up from the men of the Brotherhood and their allies. And they began to march once more, this time to the gates of Carthage itself.
As the armies came into view, Godas again began to fear and sent for Yedder. “Foul practitioner of the dark arts” he said, “you have promised me twice that you would rid me of my brother and his nettlesome allies, and yet now they stand outside the gates of Carthage itself. Rid me of their presence, or your own life shall be forfeit and your head shall grace a pole outside of the palace.”
“Do not seek to threaten me false-king,” Yedder said, “for I have met a sorcerer amongst of foes the likes of which I have never before seen. Any magician less than him I would have destroyed long ago, but his powers are great indeed.”
“Greater than yours,” Goas asked?
“No,” Yedder said. “I have but toyed with him up to this point, but today I shall show him the ful extent of my power and the armies of Caoimhe and your brother shall die today, and I shall stake my life upon this vow!”
And then he went once again to his tower and began to incant. And this time, rather than a storm growing up, the walls of Carthage began to grow high into the sky so that no arrow could soar over them and no catapult could breach them. They were truly inpenertrable.
Upon seeing this, Caoihme went to Coire Ceol Dóiteáin and said “Great Poet who has not only spread tales of my glory to all the lands of the Earth but who has also calmed the two storms sent to destroy us, now we face walls that have been built by magic. Can you not help us in tearing them down?”
And Coire Ceol Dóiteáin replied “My fair Queen, this is no task for a great magician and poet, but I shall do it for you, since I know that you value my work.”
And then he strode out in front of the army and threw his arms to the sky and cried out
“Weary I grow of these conjuring tricks!
Storms you have sent me of sand and rain/
Yet these I have calmed with my voice alone/
Lightening and thunder have done little/
To silence my tongue and scare the Gaels/
Now I shall no longer play this game/
Oh storms of rain and thunder I call you now/
Strike down our foes and drive them from their homes/
Destroy the wicked Yedder and end his life/
So that the rightful King may once again sit upon his throne/
And bring justice to this once great land!”
And with these words a storm suddenly swirled over Carthage the likes of which no one alive had ever before seen. Great shafts of lightening struck the barracks and homes of those loyal to Godas and one particular bolt struck the tower of Yeddas which burst into flames. Yeddas himself was caught in the blast and fell screaming to the ground below and was knocked dead.
When the supporters of Godas saw their magician so easily struck down, a great fear grew in their hearts and they threw open the gates of Carthage. The Gaels streamed forward and began to sack the city, while Caoimhe and Hilderic marched towards the royal palace. There they found Gods cowering behind the throne, stripped of all courage now that his magician was dead. They drug him out from behind that royal chair and threw him before the people. Then Caoimhe grew her silver sword and ended his life, while a great cheer went up from the crowd that had gathered to watch.
And so Hilderic was restored to his throne, and Caoimhe was granted half of the treasury of Carthage along with the wealth that her soldiers captured while sacking the homes of Godas’ supporters.
But, the Brotherhood was not given the chance to rest for, mere days later, a letter arrived from Rome, and their next adventure began.
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[FN1] This might be considered a BIT of an exaggeration. By the way, Cuan Ban translates as “White Harbor” and is analogous to the Roman town of Portus Albus. This is one of those cases when people did a direct translation of the name of the town.
[FN2] This is somewhat akin to the story of Jason and the Argonauts in that every hero was said to have been a part of the voyage. Some version of this Gaelic tale even include Cuchullian signing up with Caoihme’s crew. However, the author finds this to be a bit too much and doesn’t include him in the short (and NOT exhaustive) list of heroes above.
[FN4] One might recall that Caoimhe’s father Fergus had been struck by blindness as well. This may wel explain part of her panic, but also hints at the cause of her predicament. It seems likely that bad eyes run in that family. Surely, I can sympathize.
[FN5] There are some strong echoes of the story of St. Christopher here. One wonders if this story didn’t develop to help explain why the city of Palma developed a devotion to this particular saint. Or, of course, I suppose there could be a few other explanations as well. Whatever the truth is, it has sadly been lost to the mists of time. And, yes, heraldry develops in this world, though under somewhat different circumstances than in OTL. Why? Because I LIKE heraldry, that’s why – though it won’t be showing up in any systematic way for a few centuries yet.
[FN6] Oooh, foreshadowing. Foreshadowing with a cycle of posts which, one could argue, are mainly foreshadowing as well. If that isn’t meta, I don’t know what is
[FN7] You may notice that there are a LOT of new characters being added in this chapter. I am doing this for two reasons. The first is to suggest that the legendary cycle of Caoimhe is akin to the stories of the Red Branch or the Knights of the Round Table – although there is certainly a central figure who drives the narratives, the stories of other heroes have become attached to it over time. The second is because the narrative of this chapter and the next derive from the epic that I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. Because of this, there is a lot more detail and side stories present and the author of this children’s book is finding it necessary to bring them in to help move the narrative forward. However, because this is a book for young adults and merely a (very long!) chapter, he can not go into as much detail as would be possible if the book was simply a retelling of Caoimhe’s tales alone.
Okay, my GOD was that a long chapter! I hadn't intended it to be when I set out to write it, I can assure you. But, as I've said, this story keeps growing in the telling, and in many ways this was by far the most 'mythic' chapters in this cycle so far. That being said, it was a lot of fun to write and I hope that you all get some joy from reading it. As it stands, I'm thinking that there are two or three more chapters dealing with the life of Caoimhe yet to write (meaning that this has already become, easily, the longest series of chapters I've ever written for this timeline so far!)
As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts; though I think this chapter leaves a bit less to comment on (there aren't all that many echoes of developments of Dal Caoimhe society and politics - though there are a few!) By the way, I apologize for any typos. Its late and I wanted to just get this chapter posted. I will go back through tomorrow after i sleep and edit things up to be a bit prettier if it needs it!
Nice legend!
And a typo : "from wense" should be "whence" and never "from whence" as "whence" = "from where" (compare "hence" and "thence").
And a typo : "from wense" should be "whence" and never "from whence" as "whence" = "from where" (compare "hence" and "thence").