When he saw Setanta ride over the rise with Conall, he felt his heart lurch. Hearing the words of Conall and Laeg had been good but not as good as seeing the reality in the flesh. He could see the boy was sore by the way he was sitting on his horse, but he was no less alive for that.

“It is good to see you, Setanta,” Fergus smiled and nodded.

“And you, Father.”

“I have not seen you wearing armor since this sorry campaign began. Are you well?”

“Aye. I need to protect the wound, so I do. Otherwise, I prefer the freedom of a bare chest and arms. Lorg Mór requires a little freedom for best use, so she does. You look tense, Fergus. Are you well?”

“When I saw them carrying that bier out of the river, I thought you were dead. It was only this morning I learned the truth.”

“Aye, I heard everyone thought me dead. Here I am, though. I am alive if not exactly hale.”

“You look the picture of health to me,” Fergus lied.

“Do not make me laugh, Fergus; it hurts like a horse kick.”

“What’re we going to do now?” Fergus asked with a nod and a smile.

“You are going to withdraw from battle, so you are. It was the terms of our agreement.”

“Our agreement? I’m not following, Setanta.”

“At the fords. We were to put on a display for the audience, and then I was to yield, so I was. You were to withdraw the next time we met in battle. Our agreement.” Fergus hesitated and looked at the ground under his horse’s hooves. Keeping his peace, he frowned. “It was your oath, Fergus.”

Fergus laughed and shook his head. “I was teasing, Setanta. We’ll withdraw. The day is yours, my Son.”

***

“Why are they not fighting?” Medb asked, pointing at where Fergus was facing The Hound. They seemed to be talking. Fergus had his arms crossed. The Hound appeared to be smiling, although Ailill knew it was only an impression. They were too far away for him to see anything as detailed as a smile. Conall Cernach was sitting beside the boy. Longas beside Fergus. All the Ulstermen together again, he realized. One banished, one fled, one charged.

“I think we have been duped, my Queen.”

“Duped. What do you mean, duped?”

“Fergus has no intention of fighting The Hound. Look, they are relaxed. I suspected as much.”

“You suspected as much what, Ailill?”

“Look. The three Ulstermen you had at the head of your army are all on the opposite slope, standing with your enemy’s army. Our army is beginning to waver. Look at them, Medb. They are defeated, even if they do not know it. This misadventure was doomed from the outset. We will be fighting for our lives momentarily.”

“Fighting for our lives. You, Ailill, have never fought for anything. You did not even fight for me when Fergus was humping me rigid. You took away his sword, and for what? Some sort of symbol. You should have taken his balls and hung them from your tent pole.”

Ailill stared at her. He did not expect her to realize his choice had been the only course. Had he killed Fergus, Conall would have retaliated and killed him. Her whole sorry misadventure would have crashed down around her. Not that he wanted her invasion to succeed. He just wanted peace. At least until Cet had died at the fords. Things changed then, but he had allowed Fergus and, indeed, Medb to get away with cuckolding him because he loved the kingdoms and wanted them strong when the enemy arrived.

He shook his head and pointed down the hill with his sword, “See, Medb. It was as I predicted. The shield wall has collapsed. The arrival of The Hound was all it took. A few cheers from the other side of the battle, and our pups are shitting in their triús.”

“Not just the arrival of The Hound. There is also the betrayal of Fergus to consider.”

“Perhaps. I do not know how we should feel, though. He is an Ulsterman. Did we really expect him to fight for Connacht in all this?” Hesitating, he looked down from the knoll and willed the warriors to stand. Entirely concentrated on the collapsing wall, he only saw Medb turn her horse and begin to canter away from the corner of his eye.

He could not believe it.

“No, you do not,” he shouted before spurring his mount to catch her. The Connacht, Leinster, and Munster warriors had given their lives for her, and she was running. At that moment, Ailill thought he hated Medb more than Mac Nessa. Mac Nessa had cost him two sons, but Medb had played a pivotal role in both. Without her interference, would Cet and Sin have died? Well, Sin, yes. He betrayed his country and sealed his own fate, but not Cet. Cet would not have been killed without the conniving of his mother.

“Whoa, Badb,” Ailill called as he grabbed the mare’s reins, stopping Medb’s flight before it had begun. “What are you doing? You cannot abandon the field. The battle is not yet decided,” he hissed.

“You are drunk, Ailill.”

Ailill dropped her reins and stared at her. He could not stop from pulling his lips into a taught upside-down smile. His supposed drunkenness was her inaccurate answer to everything.

She spat in the dust before saying, “It is decided. Look around you, Ailill. Our warriors are turning their backs to the Ulaid. It is over. They thought the boy dead, now he has arrived, and Fergus has left the field.”

“If Fergus had not stopped Monaghan, the battle would have been lost hours ago. There is something else happening.”

“Something else, not something else; it does not matter, Ailill. The battle is lost.”

“You cannot leave the field, woman. These warriors are dying for you.”

“These warriors are dying for me. Dying for me, are they? Do you not think they are dying because they saw some silver in the venture?”

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“You speak of Mac Nessa’s sycophants. These warriors,” nodding at the battle, “know nothing of the wealth of Cooley. The wealth of Fiachna. They are dying for you, not for money,” Ailill said, grabbing her reins again.

“Get off me, traitor,” Medb hissed. Ailill dropped the reins in shock. “I am sorry, Ailill. I did not mean that. I have my moon blood. I must staunch the flow, or I will bleed out.”

***

Medb swished the water over her breasts and sighed. She did not think leaving the battle was the wrong thing to do but still felt guilt trying to grab hold of her, wring her like so much wet washing. Fergus retreating lost the battle, and what use standing in the face of defeat? So caught up in their stupid code, she was sure the warriors of the Five Kingdoms would add their own interpretation. But Medb did not care. Over time, she could rebuild her reputation and continue her fight on behalf of the Kingdoms. There was no denying that it had suffered a severe setback with Ulster winning the battle, but, like all mishaps, she could right it. Besides, had she really lost? Running finished Mac Nessa. His people would depose him, which was her intention from the beginning. He would live out his life in shame. Not dead, but as good as.

The rustle of a nearby bush caused her to look up sharply. The Hound stepped out into the glade. Medb felt a flood of awful memories swamp her. She gasped and lifted one hand to her mouth and covered her breasts with the other forearm.

“You need not fear for your virtue, woman,” the boy said as he squatted at the pool’s edge, wincing in obvious discomfort.

“Are you not a warrior, then?” Medb goaded unwisely; she knew but was unable to help herself. She let her hands fall into the water before turning and seeing Cú Chulainn’s retainer, Laeg, standing on the glade’s edge with his arms crossed. Beside him, Conall Cernach.

“It was you from the outset. I knew you to be a traitor, Conall.”

“Cow’s udder calls me traitor, the one who ran from the field and abandoned her army. I am no traitor, witch. I am an Ulsterman. Despite that, had you not driven me away, I would have faced my brethren on the hill this morning.”

“And what of you, boy,” Medb said, turning to Cú Chulainn. “Are you an Ulsterman and a warrior?”

“An Ulsterman? Maybe. I have declared myself for Mac Nessa. If that makes me an Ulsterman, then so be it. A warrior? I suppose I am. Although, at times, I wish it were not so.”

Medb looked at the boy crouched beside her. His words seemed wise beyond his years. “You have regrets, Hound?”

“Some,” he nodded, turning away.

“Some regrets. That is a first. A hound that regrets the snapping of its jaws.”

“Aye, regrets. Tell me, Medb, what had you to do with the Samhain celebrations in Temuir?” Cú Chulainn asked, turning his gaze upon her. Medb’s ideas of manipulation fled under the gaze. There was no yield in the eyes. They were dead. She could see her demise reflected in them.

“I am a queen; you will afford me the proper respect, boy,” she hissed, but her bravery sounded false even to herself.

Medb knew she was close to death but could not stop the anger she felt because a commoner was mistreating her. Oh, she did not believe the stupid story of Mac Nessa: that this common boy was born of the king’s long-lost sister and Lugh of the Tuatha Dé Danaan. It was nothing more than hokum. More deceit from The Deceiver.

“You are queen in name only. Royalty needs to be earned, so it does. Lying there with your tits out, I see little evidence of royalty. When you have proven yourself, I will call you Lady.”

“I see. I must earn my title. What do you want, boy?”

“I am here to ask you about the Samhain festival. I have heard rumors that the beauty contest was your idea.”

“You have heard rumors. Hmm. Rumors from whom?”

“Who is not important. What is important is whether it is true.”

“Whether it is true? How did you find me?”

“I followed you when you ran from the battle, just like the coward you are.”

“Run? I did not run. I have my moon blood. It was your king who ran.”

Cú Chulainn shrugged and said, “You did not answer.”

“I had nothing to do with the Samhain festival,” Medb hissed. “I was only there briefly. Had I been there any longer, you would have brained me with all the other innocent women of the court.”

“Aye, maybe. I will not brain you now, either. You are a defenseless woman in a pool, so you are,” he said before standing and walking away, followed by Laeg and Conall.

The stillness boomed, an accusatory echo washing over her where she sat, breasts still exposed. “You accuse me of cowardice, and yet you do not dare to finish it here and now,” she called at the emptiness of where they had been. “I will not rest until all of you who caused this failure have paid! Do you hear me? I shall not rest.” She punched the bank with a closed fist before hauling herself from the water and walking to Badb to retrieve her dress from her bags.

“I would advise you to take care of your words,” caused her to look up sharply. Conall was standing on the edge of the glade. “When you threaten those I love, I am honor-bound to protect them.”

“Honor bound. You boys and your Tuatha-forsaken code. What exactly are you trying to tell me, Conall Cernach?”

“Sow’s tits. It is simple, woman. Should any harm befall Setanta or Fergus, I will hunt you to the world’s edges.”

“You will hunt me, will you?”

“You and anyone else responsible for harming my loved ones.”

***

Setanta started and turned when Conall stepped out from behind his bush and asked, “I suppose you think that was a charitable deed?” The boy had his sword in his hand before he had fully turned. “You will not need that,” Conall said with a smile and a nod towards the sword.

“You startled me, so you did.”

“I am sorry for that, Lad. I did not mean to startle you.”

“What do you mean, a charitable deed?”

“Letting the queen live, you considered it a charitable course of action?”

“No. It goes deeper than that.”

“You did not want to kill another unarmed woman?”

Setanta nodded dejectedly. Conall knew why the lad could not face taking his sword to a woman. He had run across the Five Kingdoms and Alba, trying to expunge memories of the last time he killed defenseless women. This was not the same. This was one woman who professed to be a warrior. She was also evil: responsible for the deaths of hundreds on the hill of Gáirech.

“It was a mistake,” Conall said.

“I know, but I could not help myself.”

“You know she caused the deaths of Dervla and Lugaid?”

“You heard her deny any knowledge, so you did. Why do you think she lies?”

“I have no proof. It is a gut feeling. She has always been a schemer. What happened at the Samhain festival stinks worse than a boar’s hole. Whenever I smelled similar, the witch would be in the vicinity. Sow’s tit should have died.”

“Aye. Maybe. I could not do it, Conall. Does that make me weak?”

“No, it does not make you weak, but it was a mistake. I hate to think what she will do now the battle is lost.”

“The battle? Not the war?”

“No. She will fight on until Mac Nessa is destroyed.”

“After running from Fergus, Mac Nessa is already destroyed. He cannot now hide behind the Red Branch and claim martial supremacy. Everyone knows he is a coward. They will depose him and elect a new king.”

“Will you not defend his honor, Setanta?”

“No, I will return to Dun Dealgan and help Emer raise our son. I cannot stand before a man who lacks the courage to fight for his beliefs. He is finished, so he is.”

“When you put it that way, it makes sense. Boar’s arse will never recover. I still do not think Medb will be satisfied. I think she will fight on until she has his head above her roundhouse lintel.”

“Why do you suppose she hates him so much?”

“I do not know. I wish I did. Whatever the reason, she remains dangerous to everyone she perceives as her enemy.”

“You and I both, then.”

“Aye. And Fergus. I worry about that boar’s arse more than anyone.”