Page 41 of Queen of the Shadow

He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. “It is an interesting thought.”

Scáthach smiled but said nothing.

He was silent awhile and then his gaze flicked to her once more. “And what of your father? Was he more like Lugh or Béfionn?”

“Neither. Ardgeimm, Jarl of Lethra, was a man unlike others.” She gazed out at the sea to their right as she remembered. “He was kind and strong, compassionate and wise—as well as being a powerful warrior and leader.”

“All of those traits are rarely found together,” said Cuchulainn.

“Exactly why I choose to teach my warriors that theyshouldbe found together.”

“I know you left Lethra when you were a child, but did your father begin your warrior training?” he asked.

“No! My mother trained me—to fight and to swim. She and I created the feats I teach. My father taught me to ride; horses are an important part of Lethra’s culture.” Her gaze was unfocused and her voice turned dreamy. “Even when I was very young, I used to love driving a horse and sleigh through the snow. Father and I would go to his favorite ice fishing spot and we would spend the day fishing and talking, just the two of us and our favorite horses.”

When she said no more, he asked, “What did you two talk about?”

Scáthach blinked as if awakening from a dream and turned her gaze to Cuchulainn. “You really want to know what my father and I talked about when I was a child?”

Cuchulainn nodded. “I do. My father didn’t speak to me until I began training as a warrior, so I’m curious.”

Scáthach tilted her head as she thought back. “He spoke of my mother—her beauty and her strength and how much she loved us.” She smiled. “It helped me to feel close to Mother, even though she did not visit Lethra often after Father took a wife.”

“You didn’t resent the fact that he took a wife?”

“No! Even then I understood that a goddess couldn’t be restricted to the mortal world, especially one who rules the Underworld.” Her voice softened. “I was happy. I was valued by my father and his people, and beloved by my mother. Lethra was a good place to be a child. Except for a brief time after Aife was born, I have nothing but happy memories of it.” She glanced at Cuchulainn. “And Ulster? How was it to be a child there?”

“I believe it was happy for other children.” He spoke slowly, contemplatively. “I remember watching other boys play and laugh, especially as their fathers encouraged them and showed pride in them. But me?” He shrugged. “I did not have that experience.”

Scáthach studied his face, which lacked any expression. “What of your mother?”

Cuchulainn glanced down at the only ring he wore—a gold signet that formed the letterS. “My mother was proud she gave birth to the son of a god who could best anyone who challenged him.”

“Even when you were just a child?” she asked.

“I was never just a child,” said Cuchulainn.

* * *

A little after midday they ate their lunch on the wagon. There was no need to stop. The trip to the south was slow because of the cows tied to the wagon, and Cuchulainn could easily eat and keep the horses plodding along at a pace that wouldn’t stress the cows. They would be much faster on the return trip when they carried only barrels of mead with them.

“Is that it?” Cuchulainn straightened in his seat as the hilly road curved back to parallel the sea and they looked down on the white sand of a pristine beach. The golden rocks that surrounded it and the clear turquoise waters beckoned to swimmers. “Is that Rubha Shlèite?”

“It is. And the Aird of Sleat is not far from here. Stay here and swim while I go to the village and exchange the cows for mead. Then I’ll return to get you,” Scáthach said.

Cuchulainn frowned, though his gaze returned to the invitation of the sandy beach and the crystal water. “But should I not—”

“You should enjoy your boon. That is all you must do today. I won’t be too long, but you’ll have enough time to swim until you’re exhausted.”

He grinned, looking very boyish. “In truth, I already swam today, and the current put up quite a battle. It won’t take me long to be exhausted.”

“Perfect because it won’t take me long to get the mead loaded. Leannan, stay with Cuchulainn,” Scáthach said after Cuchulainn hopped out of the cart and grabbed a woolen blanket he’d packed with their lunch. As she clucked at the horses and drove the cart slowly away, she watched the warrior and the dog race to the beach in a rush of energy, laughter, and barking. It made her smile, and that smile remained all the way to the village.

* * *

The Aird of Sleat was a fishing village tucked into the craggy hills that overlooked the southern sea. It was a modest village, though the bounty from the waters kept them well fed. The matriarch of the village, Lileas, was known throughout the isle and even the mainland for the sweet richness of her golden heather mead.

It hadn’t taken long for Lileas’s husband and sons to pasture the cows and then load the wagon with six barrels of precious mead. As a treat for the Queen of Shadow, Lileas filled a waterskin with mead and said, “Aye, for a wee nip on yur way home!”