Dublin by Edward Rutherfurd Read Free Book Online Page B

business.
      Mostly though, as his eye scanned the crowd, what Goibniu noticed were the people who owed him something.
      Stately, plump Diarmait: nine cows, three cloaks, three pairs of boots, a gold tore to wear round his neck. Culann: ten pieces of gold. Roth Mac Roth: one piece of gold.
      Art: a sheep. They all borrowed, all were in his power. Good. Then he saw Fergus.
      The tall fellow from Dubh Linn, who owed him the price of twenty cows. Fine girl with him: she must be his daughter. That was interesting. He moved towards them.
      Deirdre had also been watching the crowds. The clans and septs were still swinging in from all parts of Leinster. It was certainly an impressive sight.
      Meanwhile, a curious exchange was taking place between her father and a merchant. It concerned the chief's magnificent golden tore.
      It was the custom on the island that, if you had given your jewellery away as security for a loan, you should be able to borrow it back for the great festivals, so that you should not be dishonoured. A kindly dispensation. If Fergus was embarrassed as he retrieved the splendid gold neck ring from the merchant, he certainly did not show it. Indeed, he solemnly took the heirloom from the other man, as though they were performing a ceremony. He had just placed it round his neck when Goibniu arrived.
      Whatever the smith thought of Fergus, one couldn't fault his politeness. Goibniu addressed him with all the high-flown courtesy he would have used to the king himself.
      "May good be with you, Fergus, son of Fergus. The tore of your noble ancestors looks well upon you."
      Fergus eyed him cautiously. He hadn't expected the smith to be down at Carmun.
      "What is it, Goibniu," he asked somewhat sharply, "that you want?
      "That is easy to tell," said Goibniu, pleasantly. "I wished only to remind you of your promise to me, before last winter, of the price of twenty cows."
      Deirdre looked at her father anxiously. She knew nothing of this debt. Was this going to be the start of a quarrel? So far, the chief's face remained impassive.
      "It is true," Fergus conceded. "You are owed it."
      But then, in a lower voice. "It's a hard thing you're asking, just now. Especially at the festival."
      For it was another pleasant custom of the festival that Goibniu could not actually enforce his debt during the proceedings.
      "You'll be wanting to deal with the matter when the festival is over, perhaps," suggested the smith.
      "Not a doubt of it," said Fergus.
      During this exchange, Deirdre had continued to watch her father closely. Was he hiding his anger? Was this the calm before the storm? Goibniu was a man with many important friends. Perhaps that was keeping her father in check. She hoped it would continue to do so.
      Goibniu nodded slowly. Then his single eye rested on Deirdre. "You have a beautiful daughter, Fergus," he remarked. "She has wonderful eyes. Will you be offering her in marriage at the festival?"
      "It is in my mind," said Fergus.
      "It will be a fortunate man, indeed, who wins her," the smith continued. "Don't dishonour her beauty, or your noble name, by accepting anything but the highest bride price." He paused. "I wish I were a bard," he said, with a polite nod towards Deirdre, "so that I could compose a poem about her beauty."
      You'd do that for me?" she said with a laugh, hoping to maintain the amicable mood of the conversation.
      "Certainly." Goibniu's eye looked straight at Fergus.
      And then Deirdre saw her father look at the cunning craftsman thoughtfully. Was Goibniu offering to find her a rich bridegroom? She knew that the one-eyed smith had far more influence than her father. Whatever bridegroom Fergus might consider, Goibniu could probably find something better.
      "Let us walk together," her father said, with a new softness; and Deirdre watched the two men move away.
      So that was it then. Whatever momentary relief she had felt