The Greener Shore by Morgan Llywelyn

Cohern, hoping to distract him from Cormiac. I was gambling that he really was ill and would welcome a healer.
    One did not necessarily signify the other, of course.
    Ignoring me, Cohern continued his examination of Cormiac Ru. As he bent to feel the muscles in the young man’s legs, Cormiac’s eyes met mine.
Be still,
I mouthed silently.
    Labraid would have argued, or refused to obey. Cormiac did as he was told.
    When he had satisfied his curiosity, Cohern stood up. “I’ll take this one. He’s as hard as new rope.”
    The man thought we were selling slaves. I must disabuse him of the idea at once. “Cormiac’s not for sale. None of my clan is for sale, we are free people.”
    “Yes yes, but I need warriors and this one looks promising. I’ll give you…” Cohern gazed around his lodge in a vain search for valuables. There were only some cooking implements, a battered loom, and a stack of fleeces spread with a torn blanket of woven wool. Wind whistled through the gaps in the walls.
    Except for his gold torc, Cohern was poor. I could not help feeling sorry for him. If this was what Hibernia was like, we had not improved our situation. “Are you the chief of your tribe?” I asked uncertainly.
    “Chief of the tribe. Ha.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I’m only the chief of my clan. This clan: these few old men hiding in their lodges with the women and leaving me to face strangers alone. If you attacked us they would stand behind me, though. Oh yes. As far behind me as they could get.
    “Now, Ainvar, tell me what you’ll accept for this fellow with the fiery hair. I have some good wool, raised in the mountains and as thick as curds.”
    “We don’t need wool. What we need is a place to build a settlement.”
    Cohern’s bloodshot eyes bulged alarmingly. “You expect me to surrender our clanland to you? I’ve killed men for suggesting less!”
    “We don’t want all of your land, of course not,” I hastened to say. “Just let us live in peace on any small patch you’re not using.”
    His attitude underwent another lightning change. “What can you pay? We don’t rent clanland without payment.”
    Mindful of the head on the pole, I decided not to offer him the services of druids. “What payment do you ask, Cohern?”
    “Warriors like this one. How many more do you have?”
    “I told you, I can’t sell Cormiac, because he owns himself. As we all do.”
    Cohern gave a doleful sigh. “You have nothing to offer, then. You might as well leave now.”
    I could not go back to my people empty-handed. “Perhaps we can make an arrangement to suit us both, Cohern. I can’t sell Cormiac, but if he agrees I might offer his services to you for a period of time.” My eyes caught Cormiac’s eyes and silently commanded him to cooperate.
    Labraid would have argued. Cormiac merely gave a terse nod.
    Cohern rubbed his nose, ran his fingers through his hair, scratched himself in the armpit. Winning a little time to think. “All right, Ainvar. Will you exchange a dozen warriors for the holding of a piece of land for six years?”
    Praise be to That Which Watches! Bargaining was a skill that required no druid talent. The man did not appear to be physically able for protracted negotiations. If I could wear him down with talk first, this might yet work out. “My people will insist on knowing something about you before we can do business, Cohern. They’ve been badly treated in the past and you are a stranger to us.”
    “My clan and I belong to the tribe of the Iverni, in the kingdom of the Deisi.”
    So Hibernia was divided into kingdoms! Without giving me time to consider the ramifications, Cohern said, “The Iverni are descended from Éber Finn, who, as everyone knows, was the finest warrior and the most noble of all the sons of Milesios.”
    I tried to look impressed, but it was difficult since I had no idea what he was talking about. “Who was Milesios?” I asked.
    “A king of the Gael, a Celtic tribe that lived