Warrior's Daughter

by Holly Bennett

  Tlachta wrapped me in cloaks, found a fire still unquenched and sat with me while my strength slowly returned. As she tended me, she alternately scolded me for overextending myself so recklessly, and beamed with pride at what I had managed. Eventually, though, she became aware that Roisin glowered at her with a recklessness of her own.

  “The sick feeling will pass,” Tlachta told me. “And I imagine it will pass all the sooner if I remove myself from between two long-parted friends.”

  “You leave me in the best of hands,” I told her. “There is no one could look after me better, as she has already proven.” The glower transformed itself into a smile nearly as sunny as Geanann’s.

  I went home with Roisin, and her house with Berach was as bright and brisk and comfortable as I had imagined. But I went to the judgments too and heard the cases, for my days of hiding were over. And if Conchobor was there also, it was no concern of mine.

  I was free of him.

  And though he was also free of me and grasped my lands inhis hand with none to gainsay him, yet I almost pitied him. I still do. For the days of his life run short, and when his time comes to pass through the veil into the next life, I know what awaits him there.

  The Hound will have him. And the Hound will have no pity.

  EPILOGUE

  I have one last thing to tell you before we part ways. It concerns Geanann’s last visit to the isle.

  It had been a year since I had seen him, and I felt awkward in his presence as I never had before. Living with women as I did, I thought little of my appearance and had barely noticed the changes that had steadily transformed my angular girl’s frame into a woman’s body. Now, though, as he sat so near to me, I was aware of the thrust of my breasts against my shift as if they had sprung out overnight, and I could not find a way to sit that did not seem to display them. And when he rolled back his sleeves to catch the cooling breeze, the sight of the golden hair glinting on the swell of his forearm was such a distraction to me I could hardly follow his words.

  You will be laughing at me now, I am sure. A young woman taken with a man, and so cut off from her own heart she could not see the obvious!

  But I could not let myself see. Not with a purple track carved down my face that ensured no man would ever be taken with me. I had not been long recovered from that wound when I determined that the only way to deal with such a thing was to keep a firm leash on my own heart and to be content with the love between friends.

  And I managed it too. I tore my eyes from the strong hands, the bright smile, and concentrated on his words, and gradually the self-consciousness left me and I was once again at ease. And we traded news of our lives like old friends: Geanann’s travels and adventures and his testing soon to come, my studies and my growing interest in the law.

  And then I told him of the name Tlachta had given me on Samhain. I shook my head.

  “I am getting used to it. I like that my name is linked to Fintan’s—it speaks to the bond between us. But really. White Blossom? It is a name for a woman of great beauty, not—”

  “Then it is a name for you.”

  Startled, I could not stop my eyes from finding his, and there was something in their gray depths that held me. As if in protest, my hand rose to cover the scar—but Geanann reached out and caught my wrist and pulled it down.

  “Don’t. You need never hide that from me. What do you think I see when I look at that scar that I made myself, though it was the hardest thing I ever had to do? It’s a young girl’s courage I see, courage to shame a warrior. And Luaine—Finscoth—I see a woman’s beauty shining through it, so bright it nearly blinds me.”

  He had never loosed his hold on my wrist, and he pulled gently on it now, leaning forward to take my head in his other hand. He put his lips just under my eye where the scar began and he slowly traced its length, over the swell of my cheekbone to the point of my jaw. And by the time he arrived at its end I was lost. He did not have to search for my lips—I could no more have kept them from him than stop my own breath. And for a long time there were no words between us, for it was a different language altogether we were speaking.

  “It is so long I have been dreaming of that kiss.” His smile washed over me, and I basked shamelessly in it. It made me happy just to look at his face, and it was a wonder to me that his eyes lingered over my features with the same delight.

  “How long?” I had had no idea.

  “Oh, now... These things creep up on a person unawares. But I believe it may have been the day you jumped on your horse and galloped off without me, and your wound barely set.”

  “Why did you wait to tell me, then? I was old enough.” Even as I said the words I knew they were untrue. I may have been old enough, but I had not been ready.

  Geanann was shaking his head. “I wanted your love freely given,” he said. “You were so alone and so young. I was afraid you might feel I was demanding repayment. Worse, I was afraid you might feel compelled to give it.”

  “But I am old enough now,” I said, and this time I didn’t get his light-up-the-world smile but a smoldering look that sparked a rising heat in my belly.

  “Oh yes,” he said softly. “You are old enough now.”

  He left the next morning, with a promise to return to me soon.

  “We have much to talk about,” he said seriously, “but it is hard now to talk when you are by me.”

  I smiled—a part of me still dazed to find myself trading lovers’ jokes—but I knew he was right. It was not so simple between us, not if I was to continue my training. And that, Geanann had made clear, he would not interrupt. “You have only started to discover your gifts,” he said, “and while, if the gods are with me, I will be resplendent in feathers the next time you see me, I am not qualified to take an apprentice. Even if I were, I could not match the richness of learning you have here.”

  But I didn’t fret over it. I was learning to trust my path. If we were meant to be together, a way would reveal itself.

  At the causeway, Geanann held me tight and kissed me one last time. I threaded my arms around his neck and let the world fall away. And then I watched him ride onto the mainland and disappear down the road.

  I could hear the whispers and giggles behind me. There are some thirty women on the isle, druidesses, apprentices and servants, and by the time I returned to my studies there would not be one who had not heard about me and Geanann. I didn’t mind. One of Roisin’s down-to-earth homilies came to mind: A man who proclaims his love before witnesses is a man who will stand by his word. It would be long before we could marry, but we would pledge to each other at Beltane all the same.

  So much of life is a mystery, hidden even from the wisest. I had not looked for love, but it found me all the same. And it made me think again on Emer and Cuchulainn, and on the love that was between them.

  I understand my mother’s choice better now. Her life with Cuchulainn had blazed like a bright flame. It must have seemed to her that what remained after his death was a spark so faint and feeble it was not worth the tending. Better to go out together. And yet...our lives are a gift from the gods. As long as the light still glows within us, no matter how faint, should we be so quick to stamp it out?

  It takes courage to die in battle, or to take one’s own life as my mother did. But it takes courage to live as well: to face the long black nights of grief, to rise from the ashes and begin again. To trust that like the warmth of spring or the light from the Samhain fire, happiness may yet return.

  I have so much to learn. But some things I have learned, not least about who I am. As I turned back from the causeway and returned to the island that has become my home, a triad came to me. The words sounded in my head like a heartbeat, and I knew them to be true. They are three petals on the white blossom I am cultivating within me. I wake to the knowledge of them every day:

  My name is Finscoth.

  I follow the druid’s path.

  I am loved.

  FICTION AND MYTH

 
Like most writers who have tried to turn a legend into a modern novel, I have taken liberties with my source material. This is not, as I heard one writer accused of, an arrogant attempt to make the myth into what I think it should have been, but rather to adapt it as the backdrop for a coherent, emotionally engaging story for a modern reader.

  So, true confession time for some of my worst sins:

  First, my heroine. The best-known sagas don’t mention any daughter of Cuchulainn and Emer, though I did come across one reference to Finscoth, who is listed as Cuchulainn’s daughter in Names from Myths and Legends prepared by Bruce L. Jones. However, no other heroes’ young children are named in the sagas either—I assume because they were not germane to the action, not because they did not exist. So it’s a fair bet that Cuchulainn and Emer could have had a child, and since Cuchulainn’s son by Aoife is referred to as his “only” son, any other offspring would have been female.

  Luaine, who was betrothed or married to Conchobor and then beset by Aithirne and his sons, is said in various versions to be the daughter of a chieftain of the Sidhe, or of a low-profile fellow named Domanchenn. And she dies from the satirists’ attack. I have made her Cuchulainn’s daughter, rescued her and invented a reason for her true identity to have been suppressed.

  The story of Cuchulainn’s many wounds in the battle for the bull of Cooley, and his strange sleep and subsequent visit with the Otherworld woman, Fand, are based on two separate incidents which I have blended into one.

  The food-poisoning disaster at Dun Lethglaise I have made up, but it is inspired by an existing story of Cuchulainn’s anger at not being told of a feast (held by one Conall mac Gleo Ghlais), and a remark by Maeve, who insists her invasion will go well since not only are the Ulstermen stricken by the pangs of Macha, but one-third of them are up with Celthair in Dun Lethglaise. The pangs of Macha were a curse dating even farther back in history than Cuchulainn’s day, consigning the men of Ulster to the pains of a woman in labor at the time they were most beset by enemies.

  Last, but not least, I have rather unfairly made Conchobor into a villain. There is plenty of evidence that his attitude toward women left something to be desired by today’s standards, but no suggestion that he actually engineered Luaine’s death.

  WHO’S WHO—AND HOW TO SAY IT

  Note: “kh” is pronounced as a soft “k” in the back of the throat.

  Abhartach (AWV-ar-tokh) Aithirne’s son, a poet

  Ailill (AL-il) King of Connaught

  Aithirne (ATH-ir-na) Poet

  Alba (AWL-ba) Present-day Scotland/Wales

  Aoife (EE-fa) Warrior queen of Alba; mother of Conlaoch

  Baile’s Strand (BOLL-ya) Beach near Dun Dealgan

  Baire (BAR-ra) Conchobor’s ally

  Ban drui (BAHN-dree) Female druid

  Beltane (BYAL-tun-a) Spring festival—May 1; return of the light

  Berach (BER-akh) Cuchulainn’s master at arms and Luaine’s trainer

  Bricriu (BRIK-ru) Poet

  Brocc (BRUK) Roisin’s father

  Bronach (BRO-nakh) Apprentice on Isle of Women

  Cathbad (CAW-vud) Chief Druid of Ulster

  Ceara (KYAR-a) Emer’s horse

  Celthair (KEL-thar) Host of feast where warriors are poisoned

  Cluain-na-mBan (CLOON-na-MON) Isle of Women; presently Our Lady’s Island

  Conall Cearnach (CON-al CAR-nokh) Warrior; avenges

  Cuchulainn Conchobor (CON-kh-vur) King of Ulster; Cuchulainn’s uncle

  Conlaoch (CON-laykh) Cuchulainn’s son by Aoife

  Connaught (Con-AWT) Province of Ireland

  Cooley Mountains (as written) Low mountain range just north of Dun Dealgan

  Cruachan (CROO-khan) Connaught’s Royal Seat

  Cuchulainn (Coo-KHULL-in) Luaine’s father

  Cuingedach (KWING-a-dukh) Aithirne’s son, a poet

  Cu Roi (Coo Roy) King of Munster; powerful druid

  Cuscraid (COO-crid) Conchobor’s son

  Daigh (DAY) Druid who presides over Luaine’s coming of age

  Damnhait (DAV-nit) Apprentice on Isle of Women

  Deirdriu (DARE-dru) Conchobor’s wife Donn Cooley (as written) Ulster’s great brown bull

  Dun Dealgan (DOON DYAL-gan) Luaine’s first home

  Dun Lethglaise (DOON LAY-GLASH-a) Celthair’s house; site of food-poisoning

  Eirnin (ER-neen) Luaine’s tutor

  Emain Macha (EV-in MOKH-a) Ulster’s Royal Seat

  Emer (AY-ver) Luaine’s mother

  Eoghan (OH-en) Warrior who kills Naoise

  Fand (FOND) Woman of the Sidhe; loves Cuchulainn

  Ferdia (FAR-dee-ah) Cuchulainn’s friend; fights for Connaught

  Fergus (FER-gus) Trusted warrior; defects to Connaught

  Fidchell (FID-chull) Game similar to chess

  Fili (FEEL-y) Seer

  Fingin (FIN-gwin) Conchobor’s healer

  Finnbennach (FIN-ba-nokh) Connaught’s mighty white bull

  Finnchad (FIN-khad) Conchobor’s son

  Finscoth (FIN-scot) Luaine’s new name

  Fintan (FIN-tan) Luaine’s raven Follaman (FOLL-a-vun) Conchobor’s son

  Forgall (FOR-gul) Emer’s father

  Gae Bolga (Guh BOLL-ga) Cuchulainn’s notched spear

  Geanann (GA-nawn) Cathbad’s son; druid and healer

  Geasa (GEES-a) Taboos

  Laeg (LOYG) Cuchulainn’s charioteer

  Laegaire (LAYR-a) Ulster warrior

  Lasair (LA-sar) Cuchulainn’s poet; Luaine’s teacher

  Leinster (LEN-ster) Province of Ireland

  Liban (LEE-ban) Woman of the Sidhe

  Luaine (LOO-in-ya) Cuchulainn’s daughter

  Lugaid of the Red Stripes (LOO-ad); New High King at Tara

  Lugh (LOO) God of sun and fine craftsmanship; rumored to be Cuchulainn’s father

  Lughaid (LOO-ee) Warrior of Connaught

  Lughnasadh (LOO-na-sa) Harvest festival—Aug. 1; named for god Lugh

  Macha (MAW-kha) Master druid on the Isle of Women

  Maeve (MAVE) Queen of Connaught

  Manannan (MON-an-an) God of the sea

  Miach (MEE-akh) Sencha’s wife Morrigu, The (MOR-ee-goo) Goddess of war and discord

  Mug Ruith (MUG RITH) A sun god

  Muireann (MWIR-in) Apprentice on the Isle of Women

  Muirthemne (Mur-HEV-na) Area around Dun Dealgan

  Munster (MUN-ster) Province of Ireland

  Naoise (NEE-sha) Deirdriu’s lover

  Neeth (as written) River near Dun Dealgan

  Niall (NEE-ul) Horse master Ochain (UH-khan) Conchobor’s magic shield

  Ogham (OH-am or OG-am) Ancient writing system

  Orlagh (OR-la) Luaine’s horse

  Osnait (OS-naid) Emer’s maid

  Rathnait (RATH-nit) Teacher on the Isle of Women

  Roisin (RO-sheen) Luaine’s maid

  Rosnaree (Russ-na-REE) Battle site

  Samhain (SAHV-in) First day of winter—Nov. 1; Celtic New Year

  araid (SAWR-ud) Apprentice on the Isle of Women

  Scathach (SKAW-thakh) Female Scottish warrior; Cuchulainn’s teacher

  Seanan (SHAN-awn) Celthair’s groom

  Sencha (SHEN-kha) Conchobor’s peacemaker

  Setanta (SHAY-dan-da) Cuchulainn’s birth name

  Sidhe (SHEE) The Tuatha de Danaan (see below)

  Sualtim (SOO-al-div) Cuchulainn’s father

  Tara (TAR-a) High king’s royal seat

  Tlachta (TLOKH-ta) Chief Druid on the Isle of Women

  Tomman (TUM-un) Roisin’s brother

  Torc (TURK) Decorative neck ring

  Treasa (TRASS-a) First level druid on the Isle of Women

  Tuatha da Danaan (TOO-ah-tha DAY DAH-nan) An immortal race skilled in enchantments who live in a realm normally invisible to humans

  Tullia (TULL-ya) Luaine’s nurse

  Uath (OO-ah) Cu-Roi’s enchanted disguise

  Ulster (UL-ster)Province of Ireland

  Holly Benne
tt is the author of The Bonemender, The Bonemender’s Oath and the forthcoming The Gray Veil, all published by Orca. In her “real” life she works as editor-in-chief of Today’s Parent Special Editions. Born in Montreal, she lives in Peterborough, Ontario, with a houseful of musicians (three sons and husband John) and a nice quiet dog.