The Celtic Riddle

The bar was absolutely silent. Three small children, sons and daughter of the innkeepers, crept into the room and sat on the floor, transfixed. Driving rain splattered against the window, and the fire cracked and hissed.

"Now there's many a story about how the de Danaan came to be here in Ireland. Many a tale. Some say they came from Scythia, driven out by the Philistines; others say they came from northern realms, from four glorious cities where they learned magic and druidic skills.

"There's more than one tale about how they arrived. Some say they arrived in a mist, others that they came in ships which they burned so they would not fall into Fomorian hands or so they themselves would not be able to flee.

"However they got here, when the smoke or mist cleared, the Fir Bolg, for it was them who lived in the western reaches of our island, found the Tuatha de had already fortified their place.

"The two groups met. They inspected each other's weapons, those of the Fir Bolg heavy and fierce-looking, the Tuatha de's light and agile. 'We should divide up the island equally,' the Tuatha de told the Fir Bolg.

"But the Fir Bolg were not impressed by the weapons of these newcomers, and they decided not to accept the offer, but instead to fight. And thus it was that the first mighty Battle of Mag Tuired was fought on a plain near Cong. At the head of the Fir Bolg was Eochaid, son of Ere; leading the Tuatha de was the prince Nu-ada."

"Nuada Silver Hand," one of the children called out.

"Nuada Argat-lam, Nuada Silver Arm," Denny agreed. "But he wasn't called that just yet, not till after the battle, and I'll tell you why. The battle was fierce, and there were heavy losses on both sides. But the Tuatha de won victory and pressed the Fir Bolg northward, where eleven hundred were slain, among them Eochaid, son of Ere.

"But there was a price to pay. In that wondrous battle, Nuada lost his hand. Diancecht the healer and Credne the brazier made for him a silver hand, which worked just like the one you have," Denny said, grabbing one of the children's arms. "For the Tuatha de had the magic, didn't they?

"But this was a great loss for the Tuatha de, for Nuada could no longer be their king, Tuatha de kings having to be perfect, and even though the silver hand worked so well, Nuada was no longer considered perfect. So the kingship fell to Bres, the beautiful, who was not only half Fomorian, but a very bad king. And the Fomorians exacted so much tribute from the Tuatha de that they suffered greatly, even their gods, like the Dagda and the rest. Just when it seemed darkest, a new champion arose, the greatest of them all, Lugh Lam-fada, Lugh of the Long Arm, and he, along with the other gods, and Nuada, with a real arm now, through magic made, fought the second great battle of Mag Tuired, more vicious than the first, the battle for supremacy over the dreaded Fomorians."

What followed was a wonderful tale, of magic harps, swords and spears, of gods and goddesses, of prophecies and promises broken, of bravery and treachery, of fathers killed by sons, and sons by fathers, and in the end, the death of Nuada on the field of battle, and a prophecy, from the Morrigan, goddess of war, of the end of the world.

"And this is only one of the tales of the Tuatha de," Denny concluded. "There are many more, until, as you all know, they were defeated at last by the Sons of Mil and banished to the sidhe, the islands and the underworld, where they live to this day." He paused for a moment. "And how about a little something to wet the whistle, barman?" he said.

The crowd applauded, then turned back to their friends and their drinks, and soon the room was a din of conviviality.

As the others chatted away, I couldn't help my mind wandering a little, back to the unpleasant episodes with Conail earlier in the day. Extenuating circumstances, Garda Minogue had said, in explaining why they wouldn't be laying charges against O'Connor. If the recent ugly scene was anything to go by, those extenuating circumstances included a bad fight with his wife, one which could have signalled the end of the marriage, a fact that could have resulted in O'Connor's reckless exit from Second Chance that afternoon as we were arriving, and his ill humor later on. Just as his wife inherited half of Byrne Enterprises, by all accounts a very successful business, and one he'd had a hand in running, or running down, to use Byrne's own words, Fionuala turfed him out. No wonder his excessive fervor in searching out the clue: He'd want to beat that family to the treasure, whatever it was, even more than I did.

"Have you thought about what your father's treasure might be, Bree?" Michael was asking as I returned to the present from my reverie.

"Of course I have," she replied. "I've thought about it and him a lot."

"So?"