Free Warrior's Daughter by Holly Bennett Page B

it was Fand who released her claim to Cuchulainn and returned to her husband Manannan, and to her own shining country. For, as she said to Emer, “The man is yours, and you are worthy.” And Cathbad, in his turn, mixed for my parents a draught of forgetfulness, the way my father would forget his longing for Fand, and my mother forget her jealousy.
    When Cathbad came to Dun Dealgan with the draught for my parents, he brought something for me as well: he brought Fintan. I count it the most valuable gift I have ever received, or am ever likely to.
    “He has been restless since you left, Luaine,” he said, hoisting down the wicker travel cage from a cart with slow care. “I believe he is meant to stay with you.” And indeed, when Cathbad opened the cage door and Fintan waddled through, he did not hesitatebut launched himself straight toward my shoulder. I braced myself against his ungainly landing and laughed as he set straight to nibbling at my ear.
    Tullia’s call interrupted our reunion.
    “It seems you are wanted,” said Cathbad gravely.
    I sighed. “I am to help with the grinding.” Grinding grain is a laborious business, and the person who spends an afternoon cranking the heavy millstones wakes up with an ache across her shoulders to prove it. I was not big enough to take my turn at grinding, but was put to work scooping the dusty meal into sacks nearly as big as myself. It was not my favorite job.
    “I am glad to see you working alongside your people,” Cathbad remarked. “One should never be too proud to work.”
    I colored, for in truth it rankled me to be set to menial tasks in the kitchen, and I a chieftain’s daughter.
    “Sir,” I ventured. I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to question the teaching of the chief druid, but I did it anyway. He cocked an eyebrow at me. “I don’t understand. How is it wrong, to be proud?” Pride was the life-blood of our warriors and noble women—their spur to great accomplishments, the wellspring of their courage. I had not thought there could be any such thing as “too proud.”
    Now both eyebrows raised, and I braced myself for the clout on the head my impudence might have earned. Instead I got one of his slow nods.
    “Look to your mother,” he said. “She is as proud a woman as walks Ireland. Yet she did not hesitate in Celthair’s dun to set her hands to work the servants quailed from. Am I not correct?”
    I nodded, trying to grasp his lesson.
    “When laziness, or weakness, or meanness hides behind pride, it is like a rich cloak used to cover filthy rags. True pride reflects true worth. Your mother knows the difference.”
    Tullia’s voice came again.
    “Go now, to your grinding,” said Cathbad. “Tell them the chief druid said Fintan is to keep you company.”
    I turned to go, then spun back one last time. Fintan squawked irritably as he overbalanced first one way, then the other, and the clenching grip of his talons made me feel his annoyance right through my heavy winter tunic. But my time in Emain Macha had changed me. I was no longer such a little girl that I did not know how to receive a gift.
    “I thank you, Cathbad, for bringing Fintan to me,” I said. “I promise I will care for him well.”
    I worked harder that day and complained less. I took pride in my work.
    That winter my training began in earnest. I was no longer playing at sewing or getting underfoot in the scullery; I was expected to work carefully and with some skill. Some days I was kept so busy I was grateful to have Fin as my excuse for some free time. Even after I had stopped shutting him inside except at night, I insisted that Cathbad expected me to spend time with Fintan every day. Fin expected it, in any case. He was always waiting for me when I came, and I can chart my growing into womanhood by the way I looked forward to my rambles with Fin. At first they brought me a chance to return to the childish freedom I had known; later it was the privacy and solitude I was grateful