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Post by Loegaire mac Niell on May 16, 2016 15:26:10 GMT
Niall climbed from his horse. The winds caught his heavy coat, revealing Fragarach sheathed at his waist. He looked at the assembled army of nobles and peasants. Such a force would likely only be mobilised once a year, given good fortune. The nobles began to join him at the head of the assemblage. 'Father!' A lone voice cried out from the horde. Niall glanced to his right to see a young man approach him. 'Eogan!' Niall beemed as he embraced his son. 'I'm gladdened by your presence. How fare things in the North?' 'Fine, fine. The Tuathas of the North West address me as over-King, their arms are yours.' Eogan was Niall's second son, having lived no longer than fifteen years. With little chance to be appointed to the High-Kingdom, he had been forging his own destiny in territory now referred to as Tir Eogan, or Eogan's Land. Niall, steely eyed, looked south. His men had just crossed the Boyne. The border lands of the other Irish Kings consisted of mostly impassable mountains, allowing for easy defense. Without these natural fortifications, the Laighin had cunningly stretched their borders to the Boyne valley, offering a difficult crossing. If an army tried to avoid the Boyne, they would be caught in the Great bogs of Mide. Here they stood, Dun Ailline, the seat of the Laighin Kings, must be less than two days march south. Niall had no design to take the Royal fort, instead he would meet Ennae on the field. It shouldn't be long, he thought to himself, as Ennae would not risk losing his ceremonial seat.
Niall opted to organise his men in preparation for a battle. Though he still intended to challenge Ennae to personal combat first, it is not unusual for the result to be disregarded and the battle to ensue afterwards.  The plan was simple. Should battle commence the Peasants would hold the line, sacrificing their lives to tire their opponents. As the line begins to look weak the Kerns would advance to fill the gap. The 1,000 Kerns on the left will simply continue to hold the line. Whilst those on the left will force their way forward and attempt to break Ennae's line. The Gallic nobles will prevent any attempts to flank the force and, should the enemy cavalry flee or otherwise be defeated, begin to harrass the flanks of the Laighin. |
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Post by Admin on May 18, 2016 12:40:44 GMT
The Host of Niall is harassed by skirmishers as they crossed the Boyne. A few small groups of Laighin skirmishers had placed themselves in wood on the far side of the river. They caused some panic as the men tried to cross, but were in small numbers and easily dealt with once discovered. The army is harassed for several miles by forces unwilling to provide a head-on battle, until the Host of Niall can see Dun Ailline within reach, and a host of warriors from Laighin presented ready for battle. The army seems to mirror that of Niall, with the nobles of Laighin eager to battle the nobles of Ulaid. 400 nobles and 4,000 peasants are arrayed for battle, but the king only has a thousand Kerns, many of which had already died near the river Boyne, leaving 800 ready for battle at Dun Ailline.
Ennae hears the challenge to single combat, and suggests a compromise, "Send home your commons, allow them to return to their fields. Let us face off with only the best we may offer. A hundred of your finest lords against a hundred of mine, and you and I shall face each other in the centre."
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Post by Loegaire mac Niell on May 18, 2016 12:57:59 GMT
Niall gathers Fiachre, Eogan and Ailill, King of the Airgialla to discuss the compromise offer.
'Fucking coward.' Ailill hissed. 'He's trying to even the odds.'
'Aye, it's true. Though his cowardice will cost him. Should we refuse, we will also be tarnished as cowards.' Eogan added.
Niall frowned as he looked upon the host before him. 'Eogan, take charge of the ceithern. Move the lines forward, in the event of trickery, you can enter the fray more easily. Fiachre, Ailill, gather your best men. We need to ensure that I find myself in a straight fight with Ennae, that will be the goal of the melee. We shall try to open up their lines with flanking maneuvers. Fiachre, you take the left, Ailill, the right. The largest and strongest of the men will stay alongside me, we'll punch our way through the centre, hold off Ennae's men so I can fight him man to man.'
Niall glanced towards the druid Malgarb, who was vigorously rubbing an unseen item under his cloak prompting looks of revulsion from men on all sides of the field. He approached his King and revealed Fragarach, it's blade glistening in the sun. Niall took hold of the hilt, and organised the formation.
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Post by Admin on May 18, 2016 14:41:29 GMT
Ennae walked up and down his lines with a few select advisors, picking off men one by one. When a hundred men were chosen the rest cautiously stepped back until they were out of bow-range. Ennaes favourite druid had predicted the trifold death of a king on the battlefield today, so Ennae carried a long knife, spear and a hanging rope, as did a few of his companions. He was adamant that he would not be the one to die. He had even source two white bulls at great personal cost, to perform a sacred ritual after the battle, to cure any ailment he may be suffering. His druids were, as he prepared for battle, searching for a suitable site for the rite.
As Ennae charged into the fray, he found himself way ahead of the bulk of his men. This could be good, or this could be bad, he thought to himself. As he plowed ahead he spotted the man he recognised as Niall, and headed straight for him. The men on both sides decided to stand back, for now, around the two fighting kings. They fought bravely, Niall with a cunning glint in his eye, and Ennae with a look of creeping unease. The fight was harder than he expected it would be, for a man with the Tuatha de Danann on his side. Ennae managed to take a stab at Niall with his spear, and drew blood. I should have accepted the duel, he thought. The contest would be over by now if he hadn't involved the men. Ennae went to draw his knife as Niall smarted from the blow, but he was too slow. Niall had stuck his blade into Niall's shoulder. Fragarach had pierced straight through the king's flesh, and though he lived, he bled profusely. A noble saw the way the wind was blowing, and pulled out his stretch of rope. He kicked Ennae to his knees and began to garrot him. A sword struck him from behind, wielded by Crimthann mac Ennae, the heir to Laighin. Another son, Eochu, picked up the limp king and dragged him back as the full army of Laighin charged in to join the fray, followed quickly by the men of Ulaid.
Before long the Laighin knew that they were outdone, and tried to fall back in some order. There was a great deal of confusion with many bands operating separately. Small skirmishes continued over several miles as the men of Laighin tried to find their king, following quick-changing rumours to outcrops there, and streams here, until they finally found a craggy ancient mound, where a small group of men lay hunched over a lifeless figure. Ennae was white and cold, his limbs stiff. He had died not long after his encounter with Niall. It was said by all that witnessed his final moments that he drowned. A description that perplexed those who weren't there.
In the morning, it was clear that Laighin was defeated. Niall sat in comfort at Dun Ailline, his wound tended to by Malgarb, as the king of Laighin, Crimthann mac Ennae, brought an offering of cattle, including two white bulls, and accepted the overkingship of Niall over all the Irish. Only twenty noblemen fell on Ulaid's side, and two hundred peasants fell, mostly crossing the Boyne. It is estimated that almost a thousand men of Laighin were killed in skirmishes and battle. A blow that won't so easily be repaired. Laighin lies defeated and subdued, unable to resist Ulaid for some time.
The value of the cattle, and the tributes of lesser kings of Laighin, as well as fine luxuries and horses taken from Dun Ailline, comes to 1,000 Aurei.
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Post by Loegaire mac Niell on May 18, 2016 15:47:36 GMT
Dun Ailline was not as grand as Tara. The keep was small and underground, build into the side of a hill. A crude yet impressive attempt to expand on the hillfort. It was there Niall, stiff and weak from his wounds, alongside his kinmen watched as Crimthann mac Ennae endured the ancient Laighin coronation ceremony. Unlike the High-Kings who were coronated at the Lia Fail, the Laighin were tested by the Tuatha de Denann. The would-be-King had his head held down in a pail of water. If he lasted sufficiently long enough he would be accepted as King. If he died, the next heir would be challenged. Fortunately for Crimthann, he passed the test.
The battle had been won, the Laighin subdued, but it had been costly. Niall would take some time to recover from his wounds, yet the Gaels were a warlike people and would demand further action. Calling Fiachre over, Niall began 'I will head back to Tara. We will plan for a raid on the Britons. I am in no state for fighting, send word to my son, Loegaire, he will be tasked with leading it.' Loegaire was Niall's eldest son from his first wife, half-brother of Eogan. A man not yet of twenty years, he had already gained a significant reputation for his strength and bloodlust.
Before departing from Dun Ailline, Niall gathered his nobles and disributed 100 Aurei worth of cattle among them, in gratitude for their loyalty.
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