In an Ireland where the mythology is almost forgotten, a young poet must lay claim to the Kingship of his tribe.

1. “INTO THE WELL”
EP. #4: POETRY
Black. The sound of fire raises up, as it crackles and sparks, we hear a person
warming themselves beside it. In the distance a battle can be heard, the
person stands and approaches it while speaking.
Bard Long ago, there was a King in Ulster called Fiachna the Fair. I know; another King!
But, his story is not our story, we’ll get there soon enough.
Shite, I’m already at it.
I’m going to be quiet enough in this one. As you will soon see, I’m not quick
enough or clever enough to keep up with this lot. I’ll be nearby for the beginning, but after,
I’ll just watch, I think.
So! It was, one fateful day, Fiachna found himself defending his lands across the
sea to the east from a greedy king.
His enemy was smart, and using magic he trapped Fiachna and his warriors into a
ridiculous, yet certain death.
Fiachna Poisonous, man-eating sheep! This is absolute bollocks!
Bard Its a new one, alright.
Fiachna Though they die easily, one bite condemns you to a long and painful death. How can
I send warriors to certain doom like this?
And by sheep!
Their ancestors would mock them for eternity.
Bard Perhaps you should retreat?

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Fiachna A king who cannot protect his holdings is no king at all. I myself will go
alone. I will be able to kill them all before the poison totally overwhelms me.
Bard You’ll die for sure.
Fiachna Then that is my lot.
Bard Even as he said this, a mist rose up, and out of it strode a single tall war-like man
He wore a green cloak, and a brooch of white silver over his breast. A circlet of gold was
around his hair, and two sandals of gold under his feet.
Be careful Fiachna of the Cruithin! For this is Manannán Mac Lir, King of the Tuath
de Dannan.
Manannán Hail, Fiachna the Fair!
Fiachna Hail, great one! Do you come now to mock me?
Manannán No, I come to save your life.
Bard Ha! At what price?
Manannán Bard! Must you always interfere?
Bard Its basically why I’m here.
Manannán Fine! The bard is correct, there will be a price, but should you pay it, I
will rid you of this… this… well, the sheep.
Fiachna Anything!
Bard Fiachna—
Fiachna —Anything, upon my honour.
Manannán Your son and heir, who is not yet born. I would take him with me to the Otherworld,
to be raised as my own until he knows twelve years.
Fiachna But you will return him?
Manannán I will.
Fiachna Done.

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Bard And so, Manannán pulled a great hound from within his cloak, and it killed
all the sheep and helped defeat Fiachna’s enemies to boot. Fiachna returned victorious to his
home in Ulster and found his wife pregnant.
The months past and Fiachna was full of foreboding.
Why did the Tuath de Danan want his child? What did they know that he did
not? That is our story, the story of a child of mortal and Tuath.
The story of Mongan.
Many suns rise and fall on the Giant’s Causeway. But in a world far from ours,
beyond the stars and yet under the ground.
Bard Sixteen years passed, and in the Otherworld a boy dwelt in a house by a river, lit by
stars strong enough to brighten days with no sun. He managed the herds of horses that were
his father’s. Beyond their plains, a great forest grew, to which the boy knew no end.
He was, of course, Mongan.
The door to the house opens.
Mongan Father? Father?! He is gone again. I am sixteen but a day, and he leaves me alone
once more. He travels far and wide, while all I know is this house, and these plains.
Bard And so Mongan set about his day, venturing out to tend to the horses.
Mongan You are at least consistent, my good beasts. Though I am no master of your
language, I feel you like me well.
The horse snorts indignantly.

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Mongan Ha, point taken. I am, after all an interloper in your domain.
Mongan lets out a melodramatic sigh.
Mongan Oh this world is full of wonder,
a universe unbound.
But how I find myself wishing,
to put my feet on solid ground.
To live in a world of magic,
a dream to some, I’m sure.
But how am I to ever know,
If what I feel, is real at all?
It is so lonely in this Otherworld,
every day I conjure friends,
but their power is of temporal light,
and I am alone at days end.
Oh we may bless this land of forever,
where Time is the toy of gods.
But love and hopes and dreams and fulfilment,
I fear, are meant for somewhere else.
What is the other, this world is for?
For its name reveals the truth.
There is an other to this other,
and that’s what my dreams are of.
Father tells tales of this solid world,
that is real and yet so false.

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He claims it’s of naught but death and fear;
But my heart demands to see for itself.
To live in a land of free from pain,
A wish to all, I’m sure.
But they have each other while I none,
and in this prison, I don’t know,
if I’m real at all.
Manannán Maybe you are not, Mongan, maybe you are a toy of this god?
Mongan Father.
Manannán Your heart makes demands of its own now? And of me at that?
Mongan I meant nothing—
Manannán Sixteen years I have sheltered you here, from the death that awaits you above.
Mongan I meant no disrespect, but I… I… I just don’t feel like I belong here!
Manannán No? That was made quite clear, dare I say, eloquently. If you would be free from this
prison I have you in, fine! Be gone!
A bell chimes, as the world grows quiet and Mongan shouts in shock.
Bard With that pronouncement, gravity disappeared under Mongan, and he fell
upwards. He plummeted towards the black sky, among the stars and into the colourful
mists which encompasses the space between worlds. He fell until he saw nothing at all, then
with a thump landed on soft grass.
As he blinked open his eyes, a bright sun was above him, set against a blue sky more
beautiful than he had ever seen. Across the vast fields he was in the centre of, he could see a
great lake glistening in the lowlands.A large herd of cattle grazed nearby.

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Armed with knowledge of the Otherworld, and scant real-life experience, the boy
approached the herd to ascertain where he was.
Mongan Excuse me? Hello? I was wo—
He is cut off by the aggressive snort of a bull.
Bard Mongan had caught the attention of the bull of the herd, who, feeling threatened,
began stamping his foot and preparing to charge.
Mongan Now here, good beast, I mean no danger to you. Wait! I just need—
The bull roars and charges. Mongan shouts in fear, but the more hooves join
the charge. A stampede begins.
Bard Now, whether by chance or Manannán’s design, another sixteen-year-old, named
Macandaimh was guarding the herds this day, for they were not wild, but belonging to the
Cruithin.
Macandaimh spotted Mongan as he made his foolish attempt to talk to the cows, and
as the bull turned on Mongan; was already spurring his horse towards the lad.
Mongan was running for his life, when Macandaimh rode up alongside him, holding
out his arm.
Macandaimh Grab hold!
Bard Taking the blessing that was given to him, Mongan seized the offered hand, and was
swung up into the saddle behind the warrior. Macandaimh dodged his horse out from the
cattle and away from the stampede.
Macandaimh Are you mad?!
Mongan (breathless) My thanks!

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Macandaimh You would have to be bonkers, or braver than Cú Chulainn to approach the herds of
the Cuithin as if to pet them!
Mongan The Cruithin?
Macandaimh Yes! My tribe, they own these lands, and claim kingship of all Ulster.
Mongan Ulster?
Macandaimh Feck sake, yes, Ulster. Where we are! Who are you not to know the obvious?
Mongan (brightly) I’m Mongan.
Macandaimh (calming down) Pleased to meet you, Mongan, though, considering the
circumstances, I think you’re pleased to meet me. I am Macandaimh, warrior of the
Cruithin, named for my father, the Champion of King Fiachna.
Mongan I’m very pleased to meet you, doubly so, in the circumstances… So, this is Ulster?
Macandaimh Where are you from?
Mongan Very far away.
Macandaimh You don’t sound like you’re from very far away.
Mongan No, I suppose I don’t.
Macandaimh You look familiar to me, though I can’t place you. Who is your father?
Mongan Manannán mac Lir.
Macandaimh You are mad, so.
Mongan I really don’t think so, though I admit, I do find it hard to tell.
Macandaimh Any man who thinks himself the child of a Tuath de Danan must be one
wheel short of a cart.
Bard Mongan went quiet at this, he didn’t believe Macandaimh, of course. He knew his
father was indeed Manannán, and wish as he might, he wasn’t mad. Why had his father left
him here? Was it truly a punishment? Mongan had learned throughout his childhood that his
father often had more than one reason to do the things he did. And Mongan suspected that
this a was one of these times.

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What he didn’t yet suspect was that destiny was tying a noose around him. And to
slip it, would decide the fates of many.
Macandaimh Where are you heading?
Mongan I don’t know, I’m sort of… lost.
Macandaimh Hmm, I have a duty to these cattle, and I’m not entirely sure you can be trusted
alone. So, for your own safety, you can stay with me until that is done, then we will seek my
father, AnDamh, he will know what to do with you.
Bard The two young men spent the afternoon together, and they enjoyed one another’s
company. When Macandaimh’s relief arrived, they set out towards the dun that was the
centre of the Cuithin’s power.
It sat on a hill overlooking the surrounding countryside, Mongan had never seen it’s
like in all his short life.
Mongan You all live so close together.
Macandaimh People have more space where you come from?
Mongan There are no people where I come from. I’ve known only my father and the animals
all my life. And now I wonder if he is a person at all.
Macandaimh That must have been lonely. How old are you?
Mongan I turned sixteen yesterday.
Macandaimh Well that’s a funny thing. For so did I. And one other in this dun, though if
you do have sense in you, you’ll avoid her.
Bard The two dismounted and Mongan was led up the slope and inside the walls.
People bustled everywhere and Mongan was in awe.
Macandaimh Heed me now, this is the home of King Fiachna the Black, and his name fits his
temperament as well as his colouring. So stay here and wait, I will find my father. If anyone
asks, you are under the protection of AnDamh. I will be swift.

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Bard And with that, Macandaimh departed, leaving Mongan to relish in the sights and
sounds of other human beings.
Mongan I can’t believe I’m finally here, in the real world, with real people!
Dubhlaca Talking to yourself is sure to be a mark against you, stranger.
Mongan I am under the protection of AnDamh!
Bard Mongan found before him the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Well,
she was in fact the first woman he’d ever seen, but as luck would have it she was actually
considered “the fairest in all the land.” Dubhlaca.
Dubhlaca AnDamh? Are you a relative of his?
Mongan I- I- I am a friend of his son.
Bard Dubhlaca considered him as a child considers a new toy.
Dubhlaca Well now, Macandaimh has no friends, despite his father’s fame, so either you are
lying, or you are a cow turned into a boy.
Mongan I am no cow, but a man, near full-grown,
it is your manners which more resemble,
that insult you have thrown.
I am Mongan, child of the magic síde,
But, can you tell me more, of this strange world,
Into which I am freed?
Dubhlaca Hmmm.
Princess Dubhlaca is my true born name,
and insults are mine to give on a whim,
at yourself point the blame.
For you are naught but a poor peasant lad,
And my destiny is to be a queen,
Besides that, you are mad.

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The magic síde, it’s your claim to hail from,
The fantasy of a child, or maybe
Not just a poor peasant,
but also, you are dumb.
Mongan A peasant? Nay. But the son of a king.
His Kingdom is not far from this place,
Shhh. You can hear it sing.
I feel it close, though it I cannot see,
It is a real part of your normal world,
like the roots of a tree.
I don’t think these insults are your own words,
but repeated from another’s cruelty,
you use them for a show,
like the tweeting of birds.
Dubhlaca Insightful you are beyond your short years,
A wisdom you learned perhaps, in your home,
a known place of wonder,
So tell me, why you’re here.
Mongan I grew lonely and wasted in my land,
I desired far new horizons,
and by chance or design,
here is where I was found.
Dubhlaca Ha, in this shite-hole each day is the same,
I dream of distance between me and here,
but duty calls on me,
so at home I remain.

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Mongan Would you leave If you could,
to travel this fair land?
Are you lonely as well?
I’ll help, here take my hand.
Dubhlaca You’re bold, son of a king,
It’s true I feel lonely,
My father is cruel,
and for these thoughts alone, would punish me.
Mongan This is the first sadness,
in this land, I have seen,
my father too, I spurned,
he banished me here, for the fool I’ve been.
Though, a lesson to learn,
I now am sure to fail,
for now I see you, it’s of here I yearn.
A woman such as you,
should be free as a bird,
for trapped in a cage,
your song cannot be heard.
Dubhlaca A bird you call me, and
yet, I’ve never flown,
can a bird be a bird,
without wings of its own?
Mongan I would loan you my wings,
you need just but ask me,
I know not this world, but

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lead and I’ll follow thee.
AnDamh Jesus Christ!
Bard A burly man, trailed by Macandaimh, Interrupted them. Breathless from
running, he was shocked to find Mongan and Dubhlaca together.
AnDamh Princess, excuse me, this friend of my son’s isn’t bothering you, I hope?
Dubhlaca He is, but I don’t mind.
AnDaimh Well, he can return to my home now. Come boy, leave the princess be.
Bard Without another word, AnDamh dragged Mongan away.
The sounds of the outside world fade, and a fire crackles in the hearth.
AnDamh paces his quarters.
AnDamh I’d almost not believe my own eyes but your similarity to your mother cannot be
denied, and neither can your name. Mongan MacFiachnai, it must be you!
Mongan MacFiachnai?
AnDamh Aye, and we thought you lost. Your mother grieved terribly, but your father
promised you would return, but after all that’s happened, we thought the Tuath had pulled
some mighty trick.
Mongan My mother? My father? I already told your son; my father is Mananan MacLír.
AnDamh Is that what that trickster told you? No, you mother is Cáintigern and your
father was Fiachna, King of Ulster.
Mongan Dubhlaca’s father?
AnDamh No! God no! I suppose there’s a story here.
Bard!
Bard No, you don’t need me,
AnDamh Just tell the fecking Compert Mongan, quick as you can, no grisly details.

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(to Mongan) Damn bards, always trying to renege on their only job!
Bard “Only job”! Right.
Sixteen years ago Fiachna the Fair, found himself facing certain death, so he made a deal
with Manannán MacLír, in exchange for saving the king’s life, he agreed to allow, his then
unborn son, to live with Manannán for twelve years.
This son, named Mongan, was born on the same night as Macandaimh, the son of
Fiachna’s champion, and the two boys were even christened together, binding them in
destiny.
But you see, another child was born that night, the daughter of another Fiachna,
Fiachna the Black, a very ambitious warrior. Whose influence held sway over much of the
doings of the King’s court.
He used this influence to force Fiachna the Fair into a pact. The Black longed to see a
child of his blood as King of Ulster, so he bargained for Mongan and Dubhlaca to be
betrothed. But then, when the boy was but three days old, he vanished. Taken by Manannán
MacLír to be raised as his true son.
Initially, Fiachna the Black, seemed to accept the King’s word that Mongan would
return. But, six years after, the Black mustered support, and then murdered Fiachna the Fair
and banished his Queen. Seizing the kingship for himself.
AnDamh, Fiachna’s champion and those loyal to the King could either bow to his
leadership or die alongside their kin, so they chose to wait for Mongan’s return…
(to Mongan) You’re quite late.
AnDamh Yes, yes. But he’s here now. It’s finally time.
Mongan “Time” for what?
AnDamh Time for you to be king.
Mongan King? No, no, I can’t be king. What do I know about being a king?
AnDamh Ha! You can’t be much worse than Fiachna…

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As a king, he forgets what it well known, that it is wisdom and loyalty that
secure a throne.
As a king he is greedy, and suffers no defiance, slight or imagined it matters not to
his highness.
As a king there are rules long set into verse, even my son knows them, listen as he
asserts…
Pause.
AnDamh …listen as he asserts…
Macandaimh Father, not this…
AnDamh Come on, you rehearsed!
Macandaimh sighs, then takes a deep breath.
Macandaimh If a king preserves Truth, it shall preserve him
If a king raises truth, it will raise him.
(slowly getting into it)
If a king exalts mercy, it exalth him
If a king cares for his tribes, they will care for him
If a king helps his tribes, they will help him
If a king soothes his tribes, they will soothe him
It is through the truth of the ruler that plagues are kept from the people.
AnDamh That’s it son!
Macandaimh It is through the truth of the ruler that the borders are not hostile.

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AnDamh Just like we practised!
Macandaimh It is through the truth of the ruler that he judges great riches.
A bodran beat starts.
Macandaimh It is through the truth of the ruler that every heir has fair inheritance.
Bard Where’d that drummer come from?
AnDamh Shhh!
Macandaimh (louder) It is through the truth of the ruler that his people have peace, comfort, joy
and ease.
It is through the truth of the ruler that abundance of fish swim in streams.
It is through the truth of the ruler that abundances of fruit are tasted.
It is through the truth of the ruler that milk-yields are perpetuated.
It is through the truth of the ruler that there is abundance of corn.
It is through the truth of the ruler that healthy children are born.
AnDamh My turn!
Observe the driver of an old chariot.
He looks ahead, he looks behind, to the right and to the left of it.
He looks, so he defends, he defends so he protects,
so that he may not break an old wheel through neglect.
(to Mongan) You should be writing this down!
Let he not be blind to the weak in their sufferings.
Macandaimh Let him not be needlessly cruel to his enemies in the punishing.
AnDamh Let him be impartial in the judging of disputes.
Macandaimh Let him be honourable in his every pursuit.
AnDamh Let him be beneficent, capable, honest and well-spoken

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Macandaimh Let him be steady, true-judging firm and open.
AnDamh Tell me fair Mongan, do you know what we’re saying?
That Fiachna the Black is not just in his displaying.
Tell me, child raised in the Otherworld.
Can you understand this lesson I have told?
The bodran beats a fast drumroll until Mongan replies.
Mongan (slowly) I understand it well, and it seems a lofty responsibility.
And though riches comes with power, I seek only affinity.
I’ve been alone so long, trapped in a world without friends,
Looking ever over my shoulder, and around every bend?
to be a king, it seems, is just the same.
Will I end up wishing to go back where I came?
My father was betrayed, by plotting in his court,
Like you stand, conspiring as you’ve been taught.
Listen!
I have no interest in this power, fame, or glory,
to live a good life, is my biggest wont, and dream.
You think to make me, a stranger, king in this story.
Your hopes are misplaced, your plans come undone at the seam.
Fiachna More so than he realises!
(draws his sword) AnDamh you treacherous dog! I knew you’d try to overthrow
me eventually. But to actually find Mongan MacFiachnai, well isn’t that something?
Daughter!
Dubhlaca Y-y-yes f-father.

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Fiachna Is this the boy you were seen with?
Mongan Dubhlaca, your face!
Dubhlaca Yes father, that’s Mongan.
AnDamh Macandaimh! Get the prince out of here.
AnDamh draws his sword and charges at Fiachna, the two become locked in a
duel.
Macandaimh Mongan, come on!
Mongan Dubhlaca come with me!
The sound of fighting grows fiercer.
Macandaimh Mongan!
Mongan You can be free! I promise!
Dubhlaca I can’t!
The fight ends abruptly with AnDamh’s death roar, his corpse falls to the
ground.
Macandaimh Father! Mongan!
Bard But it was too late, Mongan was captured, so Macandaimh turned and fled,
leading all loyal to his father out of the dun before the king could send pursuit.
Mongan was thrown in the darkest prison, while Fiachna decided the most enjoyable
way to kill him.

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Dubhlaca was also imprisoned, though it was one of luxury, while Mongan’s
consisted of soiled straw on wet dirt. Her walls were invisible, constructed by class and
society. And, of course, her father.
Dubhlaca What should I do? My father will execute him for sure—now I’m talking to myself!
But still, Mongan is not just an opportunity to escape, there is something in
his eyes, or behind his eyes, which draws me to him as well.
Who is he,
To brighten my day so?
Only to cause such darkness.
I live bound,
tied in place tight and fast,
by the very blood vessels that help keep me alive.
A status,
and a future, that are mine,
Only by the will of my father.
Regardless, it will all be for naught,
If the darkness of my childhood,
casts a shadow over the land I rule.
How bitter will I grow?
Will I bring prosperity,
If I find no value in my own soul?
Who is he?
To a cast light,
into these dark corners of my mind.
I knew him but moments,
But our words spoke together,

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As if we were one in the same, halves of a whole.
I could free him,
Wine is enough to sate,
those protectors at his prison door.
I would betray my blood,
This act would forever damn me to my father,
of our family, there is only us, a clan of two.
Could I do it?
Would this be enough,
To free me from this gilded cage?
Who is he, to bring me hope?
Bard Meanwhile, in his prison, Mongan struggled with all the revelations his first
day on earth had brought. And how vastly different he was after only one sunset.
Mongan Well, I wanted real. And this must be as real as it gets. A prisoner. A real one this
time, not with the privileges of my previous cage.
Father! Father! Can you hear me? He must.
I know you can!
Did you care not for me at all? What was the point on taking me then? Was I truly
just a toy you grew bored of?
Answer me!
You took me from my home. You caused all this horror. Is there really no
hope to be found here?
Dubhlaca Mongan?
Mongan Dubhlaca?
Dubhlaca Are you well?
Mongan As well as can be expected.

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Dubhlaca You sounded as if you were despairing.
Mongan I admit to the privilege of not knowing despair, so I couldn’t recognise it. But
hearing your voice has lifted the darkness.
Dubhlaca Fecks sake, do you ever stop?
Mongan I don’t know, really. Why are you here?
The lock clicks, and the door swings open.
Dubhalca Saving you.
Mongan But your father?
Dubhlaca You did offer to take me away from here.
Mongan And you’ll come?!
Dubhlaca We’ve got to get out of this dun first. I bought time with you with two bottles of
wine. Getting you past the guards was something I hoped you could help with.
Mongan Me?
Dubhlaca You’re a child of magic. You must be able to do something.
Mongan This world is so different, I don’t know if I could… Maybe, just maybe, I could
make myself unseen. Now that the door is open, I could walk straight out. But I couldn’t
hide you.
Dubhlaca I’m allowed to leave here.
Mongan Fair point. Hold on.
A slight sucking sound is heard.
Dubhlaca I’d hoped you were too old to suck on your thumb!
Mongan It helps me think. Aha!

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Mongan mutters an incantation.
Mongan klikkaklakkaklaskaklopatzklatschabattacreppycrottygraddaghsemmihsammihnouith-
appluddyappladdypkonpkot … … There.
Dubhlaca “There” what?
Mongan I’m invisible.
Dubhlaca I can still see you.
Mongan That’s because I want you to see me.
Dubhlaca Are you sure this will work?
Mongan Not if they hear you talking to an invisible person.
Dubhlaca On your head, and mine, let’s go.
Bard Mongan’s magic held. And Dubhlaca led him past the jeering guards, and out the
main gate of the dun. No one daring to stop the solitary daughter of Fintan the Black.
Once they were a safe distance away Mongan threw back his magic, and the two fled
across the plains. Mongan led the way, despite his lack of knowledge of their surroundings.
His heart let them to the top of a hill, where, inside a ring of trees, was a dark, still
pool.
Dubhlaca What is this place?
Mongan Its a well. Or it was.
Bard It still is, though your father, Manannán that is, tried his hardest to remove its
significance. The druids of old did their best with it.
Mongan How did you find us?
Bard I was here first.
Mongan Do you know anything of Macandaimh?
Bard I know a great many things.

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Dubhlaca Ignore him, he’ll go away soon.
Mongan My father said his power was absolute. That he destroyed the wells, after
what the greedy king did.
Bard He cannot destroy what he does not truly own. When those wells were dug, a bridge
was built, and though it no longer stands, its ruins leave stepping stones which the wise may
use to cross.
Sounds approach, feet moving through the undergrowth.
Macandaimh Mongan!
Mongan Macandaimh, you found us!
Macandaimh This old cleric led us to you. Though he mentioned not your company.
Manannán (putting on an old voice) I only knew where to find the boy; the girl was unknown to
me.
Mongan I think you lie, father.
Collective gasp.
Manannán I should have known my magic wouldn’t fool you.
Bard And before their eyes, Manannán cast aside the guise of the cleric, and
revealed himself.
Mongan Why come now? You were happy to leave me to die earlier.
Manannán Because only now you veer from the path I put in front of you.
Mongan And how is that?
Manannán I know your heart Mongan, you and Dubhlaca would flee, and leave Ulster to its own
battles.

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Mongan And why shouldn’t we? No good can come from me fighting the father of the woman
I love.
Manannán I took you to save your life. Fiachna the Black would have killed you, as he did your
father. He desires power, and naught else, and a man such as that could conquer all of
Ireland. He betrayed his king and has put a terrible yoke over this kingdom. You should be
ashamed to think you can leave it to suffer.
Dubhlaca He is right, Mongan, though my heart would prefer if my father was deposed, not
killed.
Macandaimh I have been rallying the chiefs of Ulster. More than half would take your side should
you call them. You are the king they have been waiting for.
Manannán More than that. She is the queen they have waited for. Together they can unite the
halves, and rule as one.
Macandaimh Now that is an idea, we do not need to battle your father, Dubhlaca, if we simply
capture him. Then then those allied with him would follow behind you instead. Its is fear
that keeps them loyal, not friendship.
Dubhlaca My father doesn’t do friendship.
Macandaimh Then it is decided.
Mongan But? What if I don’t want to be a king.
Bard That in of itself is reason for you to be one.
Macandaimh For the memory of both our fathers, Mongan, you must.
Mongan Then I will.
Dubhlaca Then we need a plan.
Silence.
Bard Ahem, I have one.

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All You?
Bard It’s a good one, though, not without its risks. It will be all or nothing.
Pause.
Manannán Fine! Let’s hear it.
We leave before the plan is revealed a gust of wind take sus away, and a cock
crows to greet a new day.
Bard The next day, Macandaimh rode to the front gates, accompanied by Dubhlaca,
Mongan, and his honour guard. The gates were barred against them.
Guard Who goes there?
Macandaimh Macandaimh, seeking retribution from Fintan the Black.
Fiachna Do you not think to return my daughter, before making demands?
Dubhlaca I am here of my own free will, father.
All you along the battlements, hear me! I witnessed my father kill AnDamh,
and I stand now with Mongan MacFiachnai, returned, at last, from the Otherworld. Together
we support Macandaimh claim to combat with my father, Fiachna the Black. In honour for
his father, that was cruelly slain.
Fiachna I killed your father in fair combat.
Mongan Was it fair? When he was un-armoured, while you were not? Was it fair, to
storm into a man’s home, and barely give him chance to defend himself, only to be slain in
front of his son? Are you that much of coward that you won’t face him now, on fair terms,
when he requests the fight?
Fiachna I will not be bullied, Mongan Macfool.

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Dubhlaca The challenge has been issued father. Do you think you can refuse and still
hold onto what you possess?
Bard Fiachna cast his eyes to his nearby allies, who had rallied to his call. Would they still
stay loyal to him if they thought him too intimidated to fight a child?
Fiachna I relent. I didn’t want the blood of this boy on my hands as well. But so be it.
Bard And so Fiachna joined them outside the walls, and a crowd gathered. The priest of
the dun, blessed their combat. Macandaimh and Fiachna the Black faced each other, circled
by the onlookers.
Macandaimh To first blood—
Fiachna —To the death.
Macandaimh So be it.
Dubhlaca Macandaimh!
Macandaimh It is done, I’m sorry, Princess, but this is the only way.
Fiachna Enough of this!
He charges, and combat is joined.
Bard Fiachna’s first shot, landed square in Macandaimh’s wide shield,
knocking back the lighter warrior who quickly rolled away,
and leapt up jabbing in at Fiachna’s far side.
The king dodged it, swinging down to use the shaft to
strike, but Macandaimh took it on his shield, and swung
his own heavy spear shaft strongly with a fierce roar.
But Fiachna whipped round his shield at it with all
his strength, knocking the spear from the younger man’s hands.
He then jabbed in fast with three successive hits while

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Macandaimh, his shield held two handed, took the blows.
Upon relief, he drew his sword, and managed to
chop the pointed head off his opponent’s own spear.
Fiachna smiled and drew his own weapon with haste.
They stuck and parried, like two synergetic souls.
Each moved in and out, in junction with one another,
the fast rhythm of the fight pulsed within them both,
each seeking the crescendo with which a strong hit
could land a fatal blow and earn swift victory.
Macandaimh was less experienced than Fiachna,
and the king knew well the urgency of battle.
He hastily rammed his shield into Macandaimh,
repeatedly throwing the young lad off balance.
And, as he wisely predicted, eventually
Macandiamh threw all his weight forward to push back.
at the last moment, Fiachna suddenly dodged,
allowing the younger man to lose his balance,
and as he fell, Fiachna struck at his leg.
But perhaps the king was tired, or could it be that
Macandaimh was lighter on his feet than he thought,
or it is just possible that fate intervened.
Fiacha missed, and he then lost his own balance.
As he fell forward, sword tip sinking into the earth
Macandaimh turned and with a swing that would send him
spinning to the floor, he went for the exposed neck.
If he missed, he would fall hard and flat on his ass,

27. 27 of 27
and Fiachna would be free to chop him to bits.
And so, it came down to, at last, all or nothing…
The sickening sound of sword finding flesh sends a head falling to the floor.
Dubhlaca screams.
Dubhlaca Father!
Bard Victory goes to Macandaimh.
The crowd cheers while Dubhlaca cries into Mongan’s arms.
Mongan I’m sorry, my love, I wish there had been another way.
Dubhlaca I don’t just cry for my loss, but I cry for a world where there was nothing else
to be done.
Mongan Then lets you and I try to build a better one.
Bard After all was said and done, Mongan and Dubhlaca were married. Together
they ruled as king and queen. Ulster was united under them. And they lived together for
many years and had many adventures. Mongan would show her the Otherworld, while she
would show him the beauty of Ireland.
Mongan travelled as a poet and learned many secrets of the land, but always he
would return to Dubhlaca, who as Queen, was well loved, respected, and admired.
They would be admired forever for their minds, not their prowess with weapons. And
that in of itself, is why they are a story worth telling.
Black out.