Warrior's Daughter

by Holly Bennett

  I thought I understood. The druid’s life is not to be chosen as a refuge from difficulties but rather from heartfelt desire—a calling, if you like. Still, it gave me an uneasy feeling, to think of Cathbad knowing my future all this time. Foretelling. I’d had a taste of it myself, and I did not think I was much enamored of this particular druid gift.

  Evidently Geanann felt differently. “Cathbad believes you have the potential to be a seer. He says even as a child you showed signs of the gift.”

  Something sounded wrong in his voice. I glanced up quickly, searching his face for the hidden meaning, and was met with sheepish acknowledgment.

  “Your perception is true. I cannot quite keep the envy from my voice, though I swear it is without any trace of malice. It is what I myself aspired to—to be one of the farseeing. Alas, it is not my gift.”

  “Your gift saved my life, Geanann,” I said. “Do not expect me to value foresight over the skill and knowledge you have.”

  He nodded acknowledgment. “I have learned, for the most part, to be content with what I have been given. But you, Luaine—are you not pleased to have such a chance? Many consider the fili to be the highest branch of wisdom.”

  Who was I to argue with the sages? I kept silent for a bit, unsure of how to answer and even of my own feelings. But at last, as it nearly always does, my mind insisted on speaking its thoughts.

  “What good has it ever done, Geanann?”

  He looked startled. “What?”

  “Prophecy. Foresight. What is the use of it? I cannot see that it ever saved anyone. My grandfather Forgall was a druid, and in his efforts to escape the prophecy that he would come to harm from my father, he put himself directly in harm’s way. Does it not always end so, even in the old stories? And Deirdriu—Cathbad foresaw the bloodshed that would come to Ulster through her. Conchobor thought to avoid it by claiming her for himself, and look what followed!”

  I paused, remembering. Painful memories, they were, and my voice wasn’t more than a whisper as I told him.

  “When I knew that my father was after killing his own son, what use was that to me or to him? I could not stop him from loosing the Gae Bolga, nor turn aside the spear.”

  CHAPTER 20

  TREASURES FOUND

  “There really is such a place?”

  It seemed too good to be true, what Geanann described to me. Cluain-na-mBan: an island in a saltwater lagoon, floating on the mysterious edge between worlds, where the borders between land and water, ocean and lake, blended one into the other. It was a place held sacred to the sun god Mug Ruith. And here is the part that was a wonder to me—a community of druid women lived there. Only women: studying, teaching and talking to their gods.

  “The Isle of Women is not a secret,” smiled Geanann. “But its existence is kept quiet. Apparently you are not the first applicant for whom the island has been a refuge as well as a school. The family of an aspiring druid is not always well-pleased with her calling.”

  A druid was a person of high honor, whose status brought prestige to his or her family. Still, I could imagine that might be cold comfort to a husband whose home was neglected or to aging parents who counted on their daughter’s labor.

  On the Isle of Women I would be able to devote myself entirely to learning, far from the eyes and ears of Conchobor and his men.

  Somehow I had expected that, having found my path, it would now open before me as broad and smooth as a river. In truth, there were a hundred details and complications to sort out before I could begin the journey that would take me so far from my childhood home.

  First among these was the problem of my wealth. I needed some of it to pay my way, and I was not about to leave any of it under the nose of Dun Dealgan’s new master. Yet I could hardly travel for days on end with a cart full of treasure in tow—not if I wanted to arrive with anything to my name at all. No doubt Geanann’s druid authority would protect us to some extent; still I was unwilling to trust my entire livelihood to the piety of robbers.

  It was Roisin’s father who came to my aid.

  “Hide the bulk of it here,” he urged. “We are far enough inland from the fort that you can come and go unnoticed. My sons and I will see to its safety.”

  I looked at him: black-haired, big-shouldered, and his two sons as brawny as himself. There is treachery in the world, as I well knew, but there is also honesty. This was a time for trust.

  And so we prepared to raid my own treasure: myself, Geanann and Brocc’s son Tomman—as silent a man as Roisin was talk-ative—to drive the ox-cart.

  “But if we are noticed and questioned?” I fretted. Even circling widely around, eventually we would be in view of Dun Dealgan. I could not find the spot otherwise, nor get the cart up the hillside’s overgrown slopes.

  Geanann looked at me strangely.

  “Do you suppose there are many in Ulster who would question the business of any druid, let alone Cathbad’s son?”

  When death breathes over you, you see people differently. I had met Geanann at a time when rank and authority meant little to me. I saw him now in Tomman’s eyes: a man of power and knowledge. A man who spoke before kings and knew the will of the gods. He was a man to fear and respect, and I, who had put my very life in his hands once already, had allowed his kind manner to obscure that fact. I felt my cheeks color.

  “In any case, we will not put my authority to such a test,” he continued briskly, saving me a flustered apology. “Healing is not my only skill.” And he walked out Brocc’s gate and headed east.

  I watched, completely baffled, until he disappeared from view. “What on earth is he up to? I thought we were ready to leave.”

  “Magic, my lady,” a voice growled beside me. I turned to see Tomman at my elbow. He gave me the white-eyed look of a frightened horse. “He is making magic.”

  And so he was. As we drew near to Dun Dealgan, the skies darkened over the ocean and, like a hand laid over a child’s eyes, a thick fog crept inland to settle over my old home. We picked our way up the shoulder of the mountain in perfect sunshine, but when I looked back toward the coast I saw straight gray threads of rain driving down from the clouds into a pearly blanket that shrouded the land. My spine prickled and I looked at Geanann, riding ahead of me, with something close to alarm.

  What did you think a druid was? I chided myself. It was the knowledge—the histories and lore and law—that called to me, not the magic and rites and sacrifices. Yet magic was a kind of knowledge too and a part of every druid’s training. Would I one day find within myself the power to call up weather?

  “My lady?” Tomman, resolutely averting his eyes from both the mists below us and the man who had made them, was looking to me for direction. We were well up the slope now, and it was time to put musings aside and look to the landmarks.

  There was more in the caches than I had dared to hope. Four good-sized bundles there were: enough to fill the cart, enough to give me, landless and herdless as I was, the means to live for many years to come.

  Though I was not quite herdless after all.

  We had just started back along the narrow track that threaded down the hillside, when a commotion in the underbrush sent my hand flying to my sword. With a stifled curse, Geanann yanked a spear from the cart and pushed me behind him. We all three turned toward the sound, straining to identify the crashing that grew louder with every breath. Surely not men, I thought, and relaxed a little. Only a half-wit would attempt an ambush through a thorny wall of head-high gorse. Then we heard a bawl of frustration, and I knew.

  Sure enough, minutes later a shaggy head thrust its way from the shrubbery. The cow shoved her way through, flattening the branches obstructing her path, and emerged beside us. A calf followed in her wake and nestled close to its mam’s flank. Big brown eyes blinked at us, and we laughed. Half-wit indeed, I thought.

  “She must have calved late and got separated from the herd,” said Tomman. He turned to go, grabbing hold of the ox’s harness and urging it forward
against the weight of the laden cart, but I called to him to wait. Rummaging in the loaded cart, I pulled out one of the lengths of rope we had brought.

  “These are my cattle, are they not?” I said. “I cannot go after my entire stock, but I see no reason not to bring along these two.” And so we returned two more than we had started, and my new cow and her calf seemed content enough to leave the rough hills behind and follow us.

  I gave the cow to Brocc’s family, in thanks for their assistance. It was a handsome gift, for she was in full milk still. The calf I took with me. It was of an age to be weaned and would be a fine contribution to my new home.

  I was surprised to find Berach in Brocc’s yard when we returned. Not with bad news, though; he and Brocc were sharing a jar of ale, both looking well content with the day.

  “Lady Luaine,” Berach said to me as I settled myself beside them. “I understand you have a long journey ahead. Would you allow me to accompany you, as your bodyguard?”

  My first response was grateful relief. I had been nervous about traveling with Geanann alone—needlessly, perhaps, since he had traveled all over Ireland and over the sea as well, but still... Berach and Geanann together, though, would be a match for all but the largest band of robbers. But it was time I thought of others besides myself.

  “You should not be away when Dun Dealgan changes hands,” I pointed out. “You must be ready to report to your new chieftain and receive your duties. Surely a high position awaits you.”

  Berach’s blunt face became cold as an ax-head. “I’ll not be serving under any new lord of Dun Dealgan, nor under Conchobor himself. Will I kneel to a man I cannot respect?”

  My heart sank. “But Berach,” I protested, “will you go to Connaught, or serve some other king who fought against my father and your people?” I was so upset to think that Berach’s loyalty to me had led him here, to lose his place and his home, that I did not at first notice his broad grin.

  “Nay, my lady, do not fear.” His red hand was raised placatingly and the stony anger had vanished from his face. “I will go to the new high king at Tara, if he will take me.”

  I blinked. There had not been a high king of Ireland in all my lifetime.

  Geanann saw my bewilderment and stepped in. “It happened while you were sick, Luaine.” Only Geanann could speak of what had befallen me in such a matter-of-fact way, as though I had suffered a simple bout of the red fever or a bad chest. “The druids held the bull-feast while Conchobor was at Tara, so that he and Ailill and Maeve would be witness to the high king’s naming. They dreamed true. Berach just got the news at Dun Dealgan.”

  “Who is it then?” I asked.

  Berach beat him to it. “It’s young Lugaid of the Red Stripes, who was a pupil of your father’s.” The choice obviously pleased him. “I worked with the lad myself, betimes. You could see the quality in him, even then.”

  I remembered him—had been rather meanly jealous of him, in fact, for the three years he had shadowed my father. Back then Lugaid had sported a tousled shock of brown hair, a stringy youth’s frame and the proud patchy beginning of a warrior’s mustache. But Berach was right; he had a way about him—a blend of easy courtesy and confidence rare at that age. He had won me over. By ten I was daydreaming about our future marriage. Just childish storytelling, it was—yet if my life had followed a different track, it might have turned out so. And now Lugaid was king over all the provinces, and him barely twenty. I wondered if he felt capable of carrying the weight that had been put on his shoulders, or was he like I had been at Emain Macha—acting the part and hoping it would fool the powerful rulers who were now expected to bow to his young will.

  I turned back to Berach. “He will need good men at his side, Berach, is what I am thinking. And if he has half the quality you say, he will see that your own worth is of the best and reward it well.” He colored a bit and gave a curt nod of thanks.

  “And I thank you for your kindness,” I added. “We will welcome your company and your protection on our journey.” I was speaking for Geanann without knowing his mind, but I was not about to consult him over this. I wanted Berach at my side.

  “And that of myself as well.” Roisin had appeared and spoke up briskly from over Berach’s shoulder. I sighed. This was a conversation I had put off too long, but I had intended it to be private.

  “Roisin, you can’t come,” I said. It spoke to the fierceness of her loyalty that I felt apologetic about doing what was, beyond doubt, the best for her. “Geanann has told me that at the island they prefer initiates to come alone. And besides, how will you ever start a family of your own if you are stuck on an island full of women? It’s hardly a place to be finding a husband.”

  She smirked at me, black eyes full of mischief, and I found myself annoyed. Discomfited, rather—I had felt out of my depth in this entire conversation, and the sensation was not pleasant.

  “I’ll not be leaving you in that place until I’m sure it’s all right,” declared Roisin. “And as for the other, you can rest easy on my account. I have found myself a husband already. He’s just after speaking to my father, and we’ll be traveling on to Tara together once we see you safe to your new home.”

  Oh, I must have been a comical sight as I watched Roisin sidle up beside Berach and lace her arm through his. Like a gaping fool, I must have looked, as my mind scrambled to catch up with her. It was Berach’s face that told me I had, indeed, understood Roisin’s words. He put his big paw over her hand and gazed down at her, and his ugly face was so transformed with tenderness and pride that you would hardly have recognized it.

  “We saw a good deal of each other while you were at Dun Dealgan, Lady Luaine,” explained Berach.

  “And we liked what we saw!” finished Roisin, her eyes dancing.

  Didn’t I say she had good sense, my Roisin? At Emain Macha her eyes had been always on the most handsome of the young warriors. She would not have spared a glance for an older man like Berach, nor one so homely. But she recognizes treasure when it lands in her lap.

  I stepped forward and wrapped an arm around each one. “You could not have chosen better, either of you.” I stepped back and grinned at them both, and then we were all laughing, and I understood now how Geanann had at once envied and been glad for me. I could see how it would be for them: Roisin coming to rely on Berach’s steady strength, himself lifted by her high spirits, the house gradually filling up with babies. “I am happy beyond words for you,” I said, and I was. And didn’t I have an exciting future of my own beckoning, one I had not dreamed possible? Still the old dreams die hard, and my new path looked a lonely one in that moment.

  CHAPTER 21

  THE ISLE OF WOMEN

  What can I tell you of our long journey south? I had never traveled so far, nor even slept out of doors except at Beltane. Our road skirted the sea for the most part, but in the places where the slopes of the mountains pushed right down to the coast we traveled in thick forest. It was not the light woodland I was used to but a land of crowded, towering trees that shut out the light and obscured the surrounding country so that we could not tell what lay twenty paces ahead.

  Geanann insisted we not travel too fast or too far in a day. It filled me with impatience each morning, but in the evenings I was glad of his caution, for as the hours stretched on, the scar in my cheek came alive. The second night was the worst; we were well into Leinster by then, very near to my uncles’ lands in fact. My cheek pained me as it hadn’t for many days, a hot insistent throb that made me despair of sleep.

  He noticed, of course. I thought I had hidden my discomfort, but as I tossed in my blanket Geanann arrived at my side with a mug of some vile-smelling brew.

  “The weather is changing,” he said as he pressed the cup into my hand. “You may find your wound ever warns you of oncoming rain.”

  “I would rather be surprised,” I muttered, but I took the draught, and I slept.

  That was the last of the glorious weather we enjoyed that autumn. We woke t
o a gray drizzle that settled over the land like an unwelcome guest. In the days to come we had every kind of rain in existence, from a fine invisible mist that beaded on our hair and cloaks to lashing downpours that drenched us to the bone. One morning we picked our way through the forest in a silent silvery fog that billowed up from the wet ground like the very breath of the Otherworld, smelling of the secret rivers that run deep under the bones of the earth. A couple of times we were able to shelter for the night on a farmstead and dry out our things, but we skirted wide of any large duns. Berach was not the high king’s man yet, and for myself I wished to avoid awkward questions.

  Strangely, the weather was not able to dampen my spirits. My eagerness grew with every mile we traveled. I could hardly sleep on the last night of our journey, though we were warm around a farmer’s hearth. It was a new life I would be greeting on the morrow, and my mind jumped like a flea between excitement and nerves.

  The storm swept over us before we had traveled an hour. It upset me as the other weather had not; I wanted to arrive dry and composed, not bedraggled and dripping. We were at the southeast tip of Ireland now; the mountains had been left behind for a flat open land dotted with cleared fields and farmsteads, and while our road was now broad and easy, there was nothing to shelter us from the driving wind that ripped across the plain. The calf bawled with fear at every crack of lightning, and we had to clutch our cloaks tight, for the storm seemed bent on tearing the clothes from our skin. I kicked Orlagh up beside Geanann and yelled into his ear.

  “Are the gods angry with me, Geanann? Do they set their will against me?”

  He smiled. Rain was streaming down his face, despite the heavy wool hood. “More like it is your new mistress,” he shouted.

  I stared at him in confusion. Was he saying she did not want me? How could he smile at such a thing?

  “It takes determination to become a druid,” he explained. “The Isle of Women is not easily approached. Not by those seeking initiation.”