Medb could see her sister Ethne bathing in the river. She was alone. Medb could speak to her in private, as she had hoped when riding out of Crúachain as dawn’s light was just touching the edges of the Field of Sheep. A kernel of an idea had started to blossom in the Medb’s mind over recent days. Ailill believed her schemes had stuttered to a fitful end, but she knew he was wrong. All she needed was for her sister to back her. She was not normally one who asked things of others, especially not if they would perceive her as a beggar. She hoped Ethne might help her cause, if she knew of the incident beside the Boyne all those years before.

Would she help? Medb was not convinced. Ethne might be her sister, but they had never been close. None of the five sisters had. Close or no, there was a need for Connacht that Medb hoped Ethne would understand. She would understand if their roles were reversed. Kingdom should come first and hang the high kingship and a united Ériu. The other kingdoms were vassals of Mac Nessa’s in all but name, so Connacht had to stand alone and although not directly of Connacht, Ethne was the sister of the queen. She had an obligation so far as Medb was concerned.

Ailill was not wholly wrong. So far, her attempts at revenge had failed. Her last scheme that involved manipulating Lugaid to the detriment of his father, had ended abruptly in the face of a fearsome war hammer. Under the shadow of that hammer, the boy was untouchable. And then MacNessa had disowned the boy claiming some nonsense about Clothra sleeping with her brothers and that the High King was the get of incest. Clothra’s brothers were also Medb’s brothers and she knew that none of them would have contemplated sleeping with their sister, any more than Clothra would have contemplated sleeping with them.

But none of that solved her problem.

Medb needed some way to get at Mac Nessa directly. Surely if Ethne knew the father of her son had raped her sister, she would help. Ethne was still a favorite of the defiler. She still had access to his bed. She still had access to his throat. She could help Medb to bring the story to a close. A blade in the early morning to open the slob’s throat while he was still in his cups and snoring, what could be easier?

“Good morning, sister,” Medb said as she sat on the bank.

Ethne became immediately suspicious. She crossed her arms over her chest, a protective gesture Medb would have found offensive if it were not so pathetic. Did her sister really think she meant her harm? Surely not. They had never been close, but they had never wished each other harm, either.

“I have seen them before, Ethne,” she said with a frown.

“What?”

“Your teats. We grew up together, or had you forgotten?”

“How could I have possibly forgotten, Medb? You treated me with disdain,” Ethne replied, but did not remove her hands from where they were hiding her breasts. “What do you want?”

“I want to talk to you about Mac Nessa.”

“What about my husband?”

“You are not his wife, Ethne. Mugain is his wife. You are nothing more than a concubine. As was I, before I had the courage to run from him.”

“If you want something from me, Medb, you are going about it the wrong way.”

“What makes you think I want something?”

“Why else would you have ventured so far from Crúachain in the early morning? I doubt it is just to spoil my morning ablutions.”

“It is not I, sister, who needs your help, but the kingdom of Connacht.”

“Connacht is your domain, Medb. I have no connection to Connacht.”

“Are you not my sister? Am I not your connection to Connacht?”

“Enough with your fancy wordplays, Medb, they are wasted on me. Tell me what it is you want or leave me in peace to finish my bathing.”

“I need your help.”

“My help to do what?”

“I need you to help me stop Ulster.”

“You want me to help you by going against my husband?”

“He is not your husband, Ethne. You are not the queen of Ulster—”

“And because you are the queen of Connacht, you think that makes you better,” Ethne interrupted.

“No, that is not what I mean, sister. I am trying to say that you do not owe that awful man anything.”

“That awful man, as you call him, is the father of my son.”

“That is not all he is, sister.”

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?”

“The man is a rapist.”

“Ha, tell me something I do not know, Medb. Every warrior is a rapist. It is the main reason they go reaving. Well, that and the drink.”

“And you think Mac Nessa ever goes reaving? Look at his fat arse next time you see him. That man has not swung a sword since his youth. But that is not what I mean. I mean he raped me, by the Boyne, during the assembly the year Connery Mór died.”

Medb watched as her sister finally let her hands fall into the water of the river, exposing her youthful breasts. Medb had ever been jealous of them. Now, with the years taking their toll, she was even more so. It seemed her sister had been blessed with perpetual youth. Lifting her eyes to her sister’s face she watched it move from shock to incredulity and finally on to rage. Medb could not believe the depth of anger visible in her sister’s face and she was glad of it until Ethne spoke and she realized the anger was directed at her and not at her defiler.

“You come here to my home with vicious tales about my husband and expect me to sit here and take them,” she hissed.

“He is not your husband. He is an evil man who thinks all women are his playthings. He used me when I refused to offer myself in exchange for my son’s life.”

“And now we get to the crux. I wager you gave yourself to him in the hope he would spare your son.”

“No, Ethne, he took me by force.”

“I just know you spread your legs like a hostel whore and when he executed Milscothach anyway, you cried rape.”

“No, Ethne, that is not how it happened.”

“You are known as the slut of Connacht, lifting your skirts for everything with a cock.”

Despite knowing Ethne was speaking through anger, Medb also began to lose her temper. Deep down she knew her sister did not mean what she was saying, but that did not make it less hurtful. Throughout her marriage to Ailill, Medb had remained faithful. She had never been tempted to taste the available wares, despite knowing Ailill would accept it as inevitable. It was the way of things in the ruling classes of the Five Kingdoms, where fidelity was a weakness.

“Take that back,” she cried.

“I will not, slut,” Ethne returned in a calm voice.

It was the calmness that caused something to snap. A moment before, Medb had excused her sister’s words because of the rage, but when she called her a slut in a perfectly calm voice it was obvious the rage had dissipated, and clarity had returned. She called Medb a slut and it hurt to the point of causing a pain in her abdomen. With the pain came uncontrollable rage in her own turn. She swung her leg over her sister’s torso and grabbed her by the hair.

“Take it back!”

“Whore!”

“Ahh!” Medb screamed and pushed Ethne’s head under water. Her strength in that moment of uncontrolled rage was insurmountable. Ethne thrashed and bumped and tried to get her sister off her torso, but Medb was unmovable.

“I will not let you up until you take it back,” but the thrashing continued and Medb understood the thrashing to mean defiance.

“There,” she said when the thrashing stopped, “that was not so hard, was it?”

She pulled Ethne’s head from the water. “So, take it back then.”

But Ethne said nothing. As Medb watched she saw the color drain from her sister’s face and a glassiness appear in her eyes. A fine white foam began oozing from her mouth.

“Ethne speak to me,” but Ethne was beyond words. Despite the obvious signs, it took Medb a while to come to terms with what she had done. In her rage she had drowned her sister. She had come here to her sister’s settlement to beg for her help and had murdered her at her morning ablutions.

Medb sobbed as the realization broke through. She dragged her sister and placed her head in her lap. “Oh, Ethne, what have I done? What happened to us that it came to this?”

Medb had no way of knowing how long she sat with her sister’s head in her lap. She just sat staring down at the bloodless lips, the open, lifeless eyes. She had never noticed how even and white her sister’s teeth were, but when she wiped away the white froth that was oozing from her mouth, she noticed them for the first time. It seemed strange that she would notice now, now that her sister was no more.

“Mother. Where are you?” pulled her forcibly from her contemplation.

She had known this moment would arrive as soon as she pulled her dead sister from the river. If not Furbaide, it would have been someone of Ethne’s household who would come looking for her. Medb had no idea what she was going to do. To have all her plans quashed by a murder trial and an execution by leather-thong seemed too much to bear.

“Are you decent, mother? I am just near the river.”

Medb looked up from her dead sister’s face as a bush parted and Furbaide stepped into the clearing.

“Aunt Medb, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Furbaide, your mother,” Medb said, while nodding down.

Furbaide seemed to notice his mother for the first time. “Mother, what is wrong?”

“She has been drowned.”

“Drowned? By whom?” the boy’s look showed that he had not fully grasped what his aunt was trying to tell him. She could see he was in shock and her message was not breaking through the barrier the shock was creating. She took a deep breath and sighed. Perhaps she could recover the situation.

“Your mother is dead, Furbaide.”

Something finally seemed to force its way through to him. “I can see that, Medb. She has been drowned. Who did it?”

“It was Conall,” she sobbed.

“My father’s champion?”

“Yes, your father had your mother drowned.”

“But why, aunt? What possible reason could he have?”

“I do not know why.”

Furbaide turned and began to stride back the way he had come.

“Where are you going?” Medb asked.

“I am going to Emain Macha to kill my father.”

“Your father is not in Emain Macha. Despite their differences, he is attending the wedding of his estranged son.”

Furbaide looked back with confusion etched into his face. Shock was causing him to confuse even the simplest piece of information.

“He is at Temuir with the rest of the Five Kingdom’s sycophants.”