The King of Sleep Read Online Free

northern king might prove to be a tyrant.
    â€œBetter the foeman you know than the enemy you don’t,” he whispered, making up his mind to support Eber and respond with all haste to his offer of alliance.
    Yet Brocan sighed heavily at the prospect of another war. His whole life had been nothing but one fight after another. Some he had managed to win easily; others had resulted in devastating casualties for friend and foe alike.
    His heart was full of sadness for all the deaths he had caused, all in the name of protecting his people. He rebuked himself for having thought that battles could ever solve any dispute. So many times he could have chosen to sit down and talk with his enemies and yet he had always decided to fight.
    However, he’d been war-leader and king over his kinfolk for too long to let his own sentiment mask the truth of this situation. Alliance was the only option. It would probably lead to war but that would come anyway if the Gaedhals were set on bickering among themselves. There was nothing he could do to stave it off. And his people were few, too few to stand alone.
    Brocan spoke to the cold stone wall opposite him.
    â€œThe only question is what price I’ll put on the lives of my people.”
    Then his heart jumped as it occurred to him he was faced with a unique opportunity. The Gaedhals knew the secret of smelting iron. Their weapons, ploughs and cooking utensils were fashioned from the black metal, far superior to Fir-Bolg bronze.
    That would be the price of his people’s loyalty. He’d demand the mystery of iron be revealed to the craftspeople of the Fir-Bolg.
    But Brocan knew Eber would demand something of equal value in return to bind the treaty. He dismissed the idea of offering cattle or horses. Livestock would not be enough. Gold and grain were likewise of little consequence in this kind of situation. Only kinship would ensure both parties kept their agreement sacred. A bond of blood would forever tie the southern Gaedhals to the Fir-Bolg and ensure King Eber didn’t turn on his allies once the victory was complete.
    Brocan rubbed the thick stubble at his chin as he searched for a solution. Then in a flash of inspiration the answer came to him. Eber Finn had no wife. If among the Fir-Bolg a woman of sufficient status and suitable intelligence could be found, a royal marriage might be possible. Such a bond was the only way to secure the future of his folk.
    However, no eligible females came to mind. He resolved to consider the whole matter later and to ask Dalan the Brehon judge his advice. So, with afeeling that he had gone some way to solving one of the many problems pressing upon his kingship, he made a move to rise and return to the mouth of the caves.
    As he was getting to his knees he noticed something strange on the floor against the opposite wall. It was so unexpected a sight in this forsaken place that at first he didn’t recognize it for what it was.
    Three large flat stones lay one upon the other hard against the rock face. Brocan had noticed rocks strewn haphazardly about the passageways throughout the caves, but this neat arrangement was unusual.
    Then the meaning of the arrangement hit him and his heart began to race with excitement. These stones formed a crude stairway. They must have been deliberately placed here. He struggled to his feet, his torch raised high again.
    And then he saw why someone had positioned these rocks just so. High across the wall vibrant pictures of bears, boar and hunters bearing spears stretched out before his disbelieving eyes. The paintings were in brilliant hues of red and yellow, with outlines and subtle shadings in black. And all around these lifelike studies were crafted dazzling decorations so that spirals, wavy lines and dotted circles framed the scene.
    Suddenly Brocan ran back to stare intensely at the white expanse of sand. When he could not make out any footprints other than his own he began to breathemore