Niall Burke was the only son of Rory Burke, the MacWilliam of
Middle Connaught. The MacWilliam had almost despaired of ever
having an heir. All three of his wives had died in childbirth. The
last of them, Maerid O’Brien, had given him his only child. From
the moment of his birth Niall had been a strong and healthy lad, but
the MacWilliam anxiously protected him.

His wet nurse ate at the MacWilliam’s table so that the lord of
Mid-Connaught could oversee her diet. The baby’s nursery was kept
well warmed in the winter and dry in the damp weather. No child
had ever been so well taken care of. Even his sleep was overseen
by a night nurse who sat first by his cradle, and later by his bedside,
monitoring his every bream.

Despite it all, the boy flourished. Convinced that he had a lively
heir, the MacWilliam finally eased his stranglehold. Intelligent, Niall
was educated first by the priests and then sent to England for polish
at Cambridge. In sports there was no one to touch him, and because
he could not be bested in any field, he was called Ironman.

He could run faster than any man in Ireland, was unbeaten in
wrestling from the time he was twelve, was both an excellent swords-
man and an excellent falconer. He swam as though bom to water,
rode like a centaur, and could follow a stag’s trail better than most
hounds.

Niall proved a lusty animal between the ages of fourteen and
sixteen. There wasn’t a serving wench in his father’s castle, or a
girl in the surrounding countryside, who was safe from his attentions.
Gradually, however, he calmed down and became more discerning.

Rory Burke adored his only son. And in the number of Niall’s
bastards scattered about the countryside, the father saw a resurgence
of his branch of the Burke family.