The power play was
finally working out, because of his iron patience and the fickle turn
of events.
In past times, it had been with much weariness and not a little
conniving that Conabar had played up to the endless demands of Master
Rababull's contemptuously-worded family obligations, while he had
watched and learned and waited for over four hundred years for this
singular opportunity to finally present itself.
Kadrug was still in possession of the sluice gates, but what was that
to Conabar? He had his own House, and his own fields, to which might be
added the holdings of Master Rababull. What could Kadrug do to him?
Kadrug's men were spent, whereas Conabar's men were fresh and spoiling
for the battle! All he needed to do now was to fight off Kadrug, or
better yet, try to make an ally of him. Kadrug, with only the fields to
bivouac his fighting forces, could not hold out forever against an
entrenched, battle-hardened evil-doer like Conabar, who had the staying
power of his riches to bribe others, and such vast holdings to sustain
himself and his warriors.
"Long live Conabar!" yelled his men, the noise of their hollering and
hooting voices deafening in the confines of the stockade.
Yea, thought Conabar to himself while his men cheered on, long live my
ways and my word.
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