Looking at her Captain of Guard, once again asleep in his chair beside the entrance to her tent, Medb hissed in a breath. Had it been any other time, she would have thrown a boot at him and sent him out to clean the encampment’s middens. This early morning, she wanted to leave her tent unnoticed, so she made a mental note to punish him in some other way later. She pulled her cowl over her head and slipped out into the night.

Her tent was in the center of the encampment, beyond the reach of slingshots or javelins launched from the forest. She knew the guards would have their eyes facing out. With her black cowl on, she would be almost invisible among the shadows of a starless night.

Mac Roth had told her where Ferdia’s tent was located, and she found it with ease. She ducked in and hesitated by the entrance. The braziers were lit. She could see a pile of hides under which Ferdia was snoring lightly despite the balmy night. He came awake as she neared the bed. It seemed like all good warriors; he slept with one eye and both ears open.

She threw back her hood so he would know her.

“My Lady,” he said, blushing deeply. She put a finger to his lips and slipped her hand under the hide. He was naked. With a deftness born of practice, she quickly brought him to climax, kissing him full on the lips to stifle his groans when he exploded.

“Why?” he panted a few moments later when he had regained his breath.

“I wanted to ease the pain of the news I bring.”

“What news, Lady?”

“This Cú Chulainn has said there is no warrior in the armies of Connacht, Leinster, and Munster who can stand against him. He said not even Ferdia, whom he considered a sword-brother, has the courage.”

She watched as she told the boy the news. She could see skepticism in his eyes. He did not believe her. Well, no matter. She had not expected him to. “You, Ferdia, I know to be a true Connachtman. I know you hold our honor above all things. I know you do not need any added incentive to fight this Cú Chulainn. Still, I will offer a reward to show you we understand the sacrifice you will make by fighting against your brother. After you defeat this upstart at the fords, we will give you our daughter in marriage.”

“Finnabair?”

“Yes, Finnabair the fair.”

***

She was kneeling with her back to him, head bowed, leaning forward, hands in the mud. She was silent, rocking gently backward and forwards. “You betrayed him,” he heard, nothing more than a whisper, quickly borne away on the wind. Now, he could hear the sighing of the trees in the forest. The branches seemed to be repeating the word betrayal, over and over. He could not speak but shook his head violently. It was not me, he wanted to scream, but the words would not come. He ran around her so he could lift her and plead with her to believe him but stopped when he reached her front and saw the pools of blood under her hands. Her wrists were gashed, the pools were large; there could be no blood left in her veins. It was then he saw the shimmering paleness of her skin in the moonlight. Bloodless skin, a body ready for internment, only she was moving. She lifted her head, looked at him with accusing eyes, and hissed, Fergus.

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“Fergus, Fergus,” someone was shaking him.

He opened his eyes. Bradán was standing over him. “You asked me to wake you if the need arose.”

“I did. What time is it?”

“Dawn has just passed, Captain. You have a visitor.”

“Who?”

“It is the warrior, Genonn.”

“You can breathe easy, Fergus,” Genonn said from the tent flaps.

“Breathe easy, can I? Good. Love breathing easy, don’t I just. My thanks, Bradán; I’ll call if I need you. What news, Druid?”

Genonn waited for the warrior to depart before he answered, “The Red Branch have navigated another massive drunk. Their heads are sore, and their guts cannot hold their oats, but they are whole despite all that. Mac Nessa ordered a mustering. They are gathering on the plains of Emain Macha.”

Fergus looked at the still-warm ashes of his fire and wondered whether the news was good. He began the venture hoping to make Mac Nessa pay; now, the queen had failed in stealing the herd and the bull so Mac Nessa would not be shamed and driven from power. Unless there was a battle, Fergus might as well return to Crúachain or go elsewhere; Alba might be good. He guessed Conall had gone to Alba. Maybe he could follow his friend and ask why he gave in so readily.

“How soon will they be here?”

“Tomorrow, perhaps the day after. Not long.”

“It’s over, then. She will run.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. It depends.”

“What does it depend on, Genonn? I’m intrigued by how you think it can go on. She will have to run. There is no choice. Even she is not mad enough to face the Red Branch with a spiritless army at half strength.”

“I am not sure I agree with your assessment, Fergus. The queen will force the issue. She is overly proud and not well trained in martial matters.”

“What, go up against the Red Branch? The spirits of this motley warband could not be lower. The witch would be mad to try.”

“She would. To my knowledge, no one has ever accused Medb of sanity. If I were you, Fergus, I would prepare for battle.”

Fergus nodded and returned to the ashes, failing to notice Genonn leave. He was not sure how he took the news of the druid. His goal had been to make Mac Nessa pay, but he had not wanted to fight his brothers and sisters so that could happen.

“What did he want?” Longas asked as he dropped onto a seat beside the cot.

“The Pangs are over. Ulster is mustering.”

“We run, then?”

“Genonn thinks the queen’ll want to face the Red Branch in battle.”

“Even the witch is not that mad,” Longas scoffed. “I wager me armbands we are running for Crúachain before the day is out.”

“Either way, I’ve got to inform her of the news,” Fergus sighed.