Fool, Medb thought, as she had thought more than once before, but she made no protest even when the women of the dun cast pitying glances at her. She sat in her high seat beside her husband when he gave justice to his people and listened, and at each meal she ate and drank and spoke to him with good humour. Until one day when she had been watching the dark-eyed lad break a horse and came a little late to the table at dinner time. She found Conchobar’s current bedmate sitting beside him in her chair.

«There is a stool at the end of the table,» Conchobar said, and at the long tables set up in the hall for dinner some of the men looked up and chuckled at a wife being shown her place.

Medb smiled and kept on her way as if there were no one else at the table. Conchobar looked down into his ale horn, dismissing her. When she reached her chair, she seized the well-rounded, full-breasted woman by the back of her neck and the front of her gown, lifted her out of the chair, and dropped her off the dais down to the ground.

«I am the Ard Rí’s eldest daughter and Banríon of Ulster.» Medb’s voice rose above the shriek of the fallen woman and the gasps of the men seated at the tables, and silence fell on the hall. «I do not care who you take to your bed,» she continued, her voice ringing in the silence. «It is no great loss to me. But no one save I sits in the Banríon’s chair beside you while I am your wife.»

Conchobar had been so shocked by Medb’s action and the shriek his bedmate uttered when she hit the floor that he had not moved. Now he sprang to his feet and lifted his hand to strike Medb, only to feel a very sharp pain as a knife dug into his belly just below his navel.

«If you hit me, I will rip you open as I fall,» Medb murmured, smiling more broadly. «And then I will go home to my father with your seed in my belly. And Eochaid Fiedleach will appoint a new Rí to Ulster, not of your blood.»

Half the men in the hall had risen from the tables at the sign of physical confrontation. Foremost was the dark boy, until he saw the knife in Medb’s hand. Then, eyes glinting red with lust as he stared at her, he laughed aloud, a full, rich sound, deeper but just as ringing as Medb’s voice — and the tension was broken.

Conchobar dropped his hand; Medb’s eyes fixed for one moment on the boy, took in the long knife half hidden by his tunic and withdrew the knife she held ready to pierce her husband’s gut. She raised her eyes briefly to meet Conchobar’s glare and, still smiling, calmly stepped around her chair and seated herself. From the women’s side, several came forward to help up the sobbing concubine and draw her into their group.

Medb used the knife, still bare in her hand, its tip gleaming slightly red with blood, to cut a tender slice from the roast. She ate it off the tip of the knife and licked the knife blade clean. Conchobar sat down beside her.

«I spare you for what you carry,» he said.

Medb nodded, accepting the truce, and continued with her dinner with good appetite.

From the end of one of the tables, where the least important of Conchobar’s men sat, Ailill mac Máta watched Medb eating. It was clear enough that she had not been frightened by her husband’s threat. Her daring sent a wave of warmth across his groin. That woman was what he wanted.

Her marriage to Conchobar did not trouble him. He knew what Medb would do. She would give Conchobar his son, which would pay her father’s debt, and then she would break the marriage and leave, go back to her father’s house. Another wave of warmth passed through Ailill’s lower body and he drew a quick breath. To have Medb.

Ailill had not missed Medb’s expression when their glances met. But that kind of having was meaningless. She did not yet take him seriously; however, this was a woman who would grow and ripen, would challenge and reward throughout an entire lifetime. To bond with her for life would require much more than a few hot glances and a few sweet words. She would never again, he thought, come to a joining as a husband’s inferior in wealth and he, Ailill smiled grimly, did not intend to be any woman’s — even Medb’s — rag for wiping up messes.

By the end of dinner he knew what he must do. When the servants came to clear away both the food and the tables, Ailill slipped into the shadows to wait. He watched with satisfaction as Medb rose to go with a gaggle of women to their quarters. Brave, she was, but not a fool. She would not make herself an easy target while her husband was still raw with her challenge.

He followed the women, swiftly, silently insinuated himself among them, and stepped to her side. His skin tingled with her nearness and when she turned her head and looked at him a tide of lust rose through his belly to his throat. For a moment he could not speak and what he felt looked out of his eyes.

Medb’s head tipped to the side; she met his gaze without lowering hers and she smiled slowly.

«My name is Ailill mac Máta,» he said through a thick throat. «And I find you the most desirable of women.»

Medb’s eyebrows rose — it was not the most tactful thing to say when she was surrounded by the women of her husband’s court — but before she could speak Ailill shook his head impatiently and laughed.

«I wanted you to know my name and remember me,» he went on, speaking more easily, «for I will be gone from Ulster while you carry Conchobar’s child. Wherever you go thereafter, I will find you.»

«I am not likely to forget you,» she said. «But can you just leave without Conchobar’s permission?»

«I am no liegeman to Conchobar,» Ailill said. «He did not think me worth inviting into his household. I am a hired sword and my time will be ended with the coming of the new moon. tomorrow.»

They were at the door of Medb’s house then. The women who attended her went in, but she could sense them clustering near the door, listening. She grinned at Ailill; she was very tall and their eyes were exactly on a level.

«Goddess watch over you,» she said, running the tip of her tongue over her upper lip and then smiling. «I will look forward to seeing you. whenever and wherever you find me.»

He dipped his head once and was gone. Before it was fully light, he had left the dun, riding the young horse Medb had watched him break, and the first place he turned the horse’s head was to Conchobar’s pasturage. There he could number and judge Medb’s cattle.

She had brought other things to her husband’s house: silver cups and plates, gold rings and bracelets, garments and linens skilfully embroidered. Such would be easy to match. Though he made no show of it, Ailill had use of a whole family of Firbolg treasure. It was the cattle that would give him trouble — not obtaining them but moving them from the Firbolg fastness to the pastures of Eriu.

The herds were easy to track and Ailill saw with relief that they were still separate, Medb’s and Conchobar’s herders not yet friendly enough to allow the cattle to mingle. Nor were they too far apart, as each set of herders feared being blamed for choosing less rich pastureland.

It was easy, too, to know which herd belonged to whom. Medb’s herd was smaller and the cattle, Ailill thought, of better quality, but not by much. Eochaid Fiedleach had been careful of what he sent with his daughter.

Ailill spoke to Medb’s cowherd and fixed in his mind what he had to match. As he rode slowly southward towards the lands his distant ancestors had so briefly occupied, he considered how many extra beasts he should have in reserve. Too many rather than too few. Medb, Ailill was certain, would give attention to her cattle to make sure her value increased. A few too many in his herd would not be important. He could always sell off or slaughter the extra animals for eating.

As the light faded, Ailill found a good camping place, an ancient, grown-over ledge a third of the way up a long worn-down mountain. There was grass for his horse on the flat area and a trickle of water at the far eastern end. Ailill filled his waterskin, watered his horse and hobbled it, threw the horse blanket on to the ground, extracted cheese, dried fruit and journey-bread from his saddle bags and settled down to eat.

It would not be so easy as simply bringing the cattle, Ailill realized, as he watched the thin sliver of new moon-rise. There were all manner of questions to be answered and problems to be solved before he could drive his herd to wherever Medb’s was and propose their mating. Like. should he speak to Eochaid Fiedleach first or to Medb? A small shudder ran up and down his body. That was no easy question to answer, and—

The thought cut off as a thin wail drifted up from the base of the hill. Ailill sat more upright. It did not sound like an animal cry. The sound came again and broke off suddenly into a yelp of pain. Ailill surged to his feet and drew his sword from the scabbard that lay on the horse blanket beside him. That was a child crying.

Upright, Ailill could see there was a fire at the base of the hill. One man sat by the fire. Beside him. Ailill squinted to make his sight longer and, as if at his will, the fire flared up so he could see there was a stake in the ground and a braided cord tied to it. His eyes followed the line to a small, huddled figure at the end. He leaned forward, listening intently and picked up the muffled sound of weeping.

Now, it was no strange thing that a man should strike his son or his servant for ill behaviour or slacking his duties, but that the child should be leashed like a dog made Ailill uneasy. That a son or servant should be desperate enough to need to be tied on a dark night in the middle of a wilderness hinted at a cruel master.