The Celtic Riddle

But Nuada, as I'm saying, was a very fine god. He was king of the Tuatha de and fought in both battles of Mag Tuired, aided by his sword from whom no one could escape once it was drawn, a magic sword from the city of Findias, one of the four great gifts of the gods. In the first battle, he defeated the Fir Bolg, banishing them west to Connacht and the Aran Islands. But in that battle, Nuada lost his hand, and because any king of the Tuatha de had to be perfect, he could no longer be king. Diancecht the healer made him a silver hand that worked as well as his own, but still it wouldn 't do for him to be king. And so Nuada had to watch as the new king Bres, called the beautiful, destroyed the kingdom. Because while Bres might be beautiful to look at, he was part Fomorian, son of the Fomorian king Elatha and Eri of the Tuatha de, and he was not beautiful on the inside, if you catch my meaning. He was miserly with his people and demanded they pay tribute to him and to the Fomorians, to the point that even the great Dagda became a builder of raths, and Oghma was reduced to carrying fuel for the oppressors.

And Nuada watched all this. A bitter time it must have been for him, with the gods in terrible servitude. But then his hand was restored, through the spells of Miach, Diancecht's son, who some say obtained Nuada's own mutilated hand, others say took a swineherd's arm, and reattached it to Nuada's arm. Skin grew, the joints and muscles joined again. And once more, Nuada could be king.

And so he held a royal banquet, and who should come to the door but Lugh Lamfada, Lugh of the Long Arm, who persuaded Nuada to lead his people in battle once again, this time against the worst of foes, the evil Fomorians. Nuada turned his kingship over to Lugh, and this time the Tuatha de were victorious, the victory of light and life over darkness, and the Morrigan, the crow, proclaimed the victory so that it could be heard throughout the country.

I liked Nuada the best-he seems so human, despite the magic, the weight of the oppression of his people on his shoulders, while he watched, helplessly, because he was maimed and couldn't be king. He died at the hands ofBalor the Fomorian at the second great battle of Mag Tuired. I was with him, you know. I watched the magic die.

Yes, I liked Nuada best. Yer man, Eamon Byrne, he did too.

Deirdre's body washed up on the shore, not far from Second Chance. She never made it back to The Three Sisters Inn for her appointment with me, or if she did, no one there saw her. Whatever she'd wanted to tell me had gone with her to her grave.