Roma Mater Read Online Free Page B

whence the forebears of Niall had sprung, came many to greet their kinsman. From Mumu, where he had friends, came not a few. From the Lagini came some, more in hopes of mildening him towards themselves than in love. From the Ulati, alone among the Fifths, came not a man, unless it be a few outcasts begging. But then, in Emain Macha they held a revel too, which they said was as royal and sacral as this.
    Throughout the day of the vigil Niall had been taken up with welcoming his guests as they arrived, in such ways as became their standings and his. Now at eventide he would open the festivities.
    Bathed and freshly clad, in stately wise he walked from the King’s House to the point where the southward-running of the Five Roads to Temir came up on the hilltop. There his chariot awaited him. Its matched grey horses snorted and pawed; Cathual the driver must keep tight reins. Niall mounted easily. When the wheels groaned into motion, he stood steady amidst the rocking and jouncing. His spear swayed like a ship’s mast. Sunlight streamed level to make its head shine as if newly bloodied.
    From here Niall saw widely over his domains. Down along the road clustered the booths and tents of lower-rankingfolk for whom the buildings had no space. Many were striped in colours, and pennons fluttered above some. On the next summit loomed the hill fort sacred to Medb. Heights round about were still bright, but hollows were filling with shadow. Though leafless, forest hid Boand’s River to the north; yet the air, damp and turning chill, bore a sense of Her presence among the spirits that thronged nigh. Westward land dropped steeply to the plain, its pastures winter-dulled, save that mists had arisen to beswirl them with molten gold. The sun cast the same hue on clouds above that horizon, with heaven violet beyond them. Ahead of Niall bulked the Great Rath, its lime-whitened earthwork and the palisade on top likewise aglow.
    People crowded the paths to watch him and his guards go by. Men’s tunics and cloaks, their breeches or kilts, the gowns of women were vivid in red, yellow, blue, green, orange, black, white; gold, silver, amber, crystal, gems glistened around brows, throats, arms, waists; spears, axes, drawn swords flashed high in reverence; on shields, round or oval, the painted marks of their owners twined or snarled or ramped. Children, dogs, pigs ran about among the grown and joined their clamour to the shout that billowed for the King.
    Well did he seem worthy of hailing. His chariot of state bore bronze masks on the sides; the spokes of its two wheels were gilded; at either rail hung the withered head of a Roman, taken by him in the past summer’s warfare. Cathual the charioteer was a youngling short but lithe and comely, clad in tunic of scarlet; headband, belt, and wristlets were set with silver. From the shoulders of Niall swung a cloak of the finest wool, striped in the full seven colours permitted a king; his undershirt was of Roman silk, his tunic saffron with red and blue embroideries; rather than breeches he wore a kilt, dark russet to showoff the whiteness and shapeliness of his legs, with shoes of kid on his feet. His ornaments outweighed and outshone all others.
    Finest to see was himself. At some thirty years of age, after uncounted battles against men and beasts, Niall maqq Echach remained without any flaw that might cost him his lordship. Taller than most he reared, wide in shoulders and slender in hips, skin fair even where weather had touched it and not unduly shaggy, wildcat muscles flowing beneath. Golden were his long hair and moustaches, his close-trimmed beard. His brow was broad, his nose straight, his chin narrow; eyes gleamed fire-blue.
    Behind the chariot paced his hounds and his hostages, the men’s attire revealing his generosity. They wore light golden chains, that everyone might know them for what they were, but strode proudly enough; their position was honourable, and most times they went