Chapter Four
RNN'S CHILDHOOD
Through the long, bleak \^inters, through the wet springs and glowing summers and briUiant falls, the child lived hidden a\%^y in the glen of Slieve Bladhma with the two women as his only company. They became his parents, with Bodhmall his teacher and Liath his nurse and comforter.
From the time that he began to walk, Bodhmall was a harsh taskmistress. She spared the boy no pain or
hardship that might make him stronger, faster, more clever or more skilled.
She would pursue the toddling child up rugged hills or through the trees, swinging a stinging switch behind to urge him along. Often she would test his speed and reflexes by placing him in a meadow with a brace of young rabbits and charging him to see that neither escaped. The earnest boy tried desperately to please his stem teacher. He would chase the bounding creatures about, throwing his entire body, will, and strength into the impossible task of heading off the departing animals. Always he failed, ending exhausted, red-faced, and humiliated. But as the years passed, as he grew in swiftness and cunning, he came ever closer to success.
The tender-hearted Liath, always the mother to him, lived in constant distress at BodhmalFs harsh treatment of the boy. Over the years of isolation there, he became her sole reason for life, and each hurt he suffered was one for her as well.
One day, when Demna was only three, Bodhmall had hauled the lad squealing and squirming to a nearby pond, lifted him, and, to Liath's horror, flung him out into the deepest part.
With a scream, Liath had sprung forward to rescue him. But Bodhmall had knocked her to the ground with a single blow and stood over the sobbing woman, her body rigid, her face drawn with anger, her voice threatening.
"Quiet, you foolish woman! What I am doing is to save his life. If he means to survive, someday he will need all his courage, all the toughness we can give him. Don't you ever think to interfere with that again!"
And Liath, remembering Bodhmall's ruthless killing of her ovm brother, had lain still, trembling with fear, watching as the boy had splashed and cried and spluttered and then managed to thrash his way safely to the shallows. From that time on, she had watched the older woman's training with alarm and disapproval, but also from afar.
But as the years passed by, even she was forced to
grudgingly admit that Bodhmairs methods seemed to be successful ones, for all their cruel look. The boy actually seemed to thrive on them, growing astound-ingly strong and fast, moving in the woods with a fox's stealth, a stag's speed and grace, a bear's power. Liath also came to recognize that her hard companion's treatment of Demna was never unfair nor meant to cause real harm, but always carefully disciplined.
Still, when the training ended, it was to Liath that he turned for soothing, or binding of his hurts, or laughter and affection. So that kindly woman was able to touch him, too, instilling a sense of gentleness and consideration in him. While Bodhmall taught him the forest lore and how to track and hunt, Liath taught him its beauties and sang him songs of it. While the gaunt woman told him to be wily and hard and trust no one, Liath told him to love and understand all living things. While Bodhmall gave him the skills and courage of a savage beast, Liath saved him from having a savage heart as well.
Both of them tried also to teach the growing boy what they could of the life beyond the confines of their hidden glen. But this knowledge was very limited in two women who had hved their whole lives as servants within a chieftain's dun and never traveled more than a day's walk from their home. They could tell him of the dress and style of life and tribal customs they knew, but for knowledge of the wider world they could only pass on stories they had heard.
Some of the tales were vague, ill-remembered, or fancifril, and these were highly suspect to the cautious Bodhmall, who wanted the boy to learn only what she knew to be the truth. Often she admonished the romantically minded Liath when she caught her filling the rapt child's impressionable mind with legends of golden duns, magical heroes, and fabulous monsters. For Bodhmall understood that what he must learn about the outside world would have to come through hard experience. She could only hope that what she was teaching him would help him to survive the perilous journey of discovery he would someday have to make.
"I heard you telling him that old tale of the Boyhood Deeds of Cuchulain," she remarked to Liath one night as she watched the woman gently tucking in the sleeping boy. "I wish you'd not be always doing that."
"Ah, it was only for fun," Liath answered. "The lad is six years old today. He deserved a bit of fun."
She smoothed back the thick crest of glowing hair from the white forehead. "Good night, my Finn," she said softly. Finn—the Fair—had become her own pet name for him, and he now answered to it more readily than to his given name.
"Liath, you'll be ruining the boy with all these foolish tales and songs and motherings," Bodhmall said disapprovingly. "He'll become too soft."
"He must have love to survive," Liath responded, leaving his sleeping alcove to join Bodhmall by the fire. "All children need love."
"Love may destroy him," Bodhmall warned, as she had countless times before. "It will take a ruthless heart for him to succeed in the world he must enter."
"You are wrong, Bodhmall," the little woman said with some force. She had slowly learned to stand up to the other, and she could be stubborn now. "If he is truly to be the man you wish, all things must be equal in him. Warmth as well as hardness. So don't be taking that deadly tone with me. You can threaten me as you like, but you'll not stop me."
"And I thank you for that," said a voice.
Startled, both women whirled about. Muime stood at the doorway of the hut.
She had aged very little in the years that had passed. She had become more mature in looks, but it had only added to her beauty.
"Muime! You are alive!" exclaimed Liath.
"I managed to flee to Carraighe," she said absently, moving forward, her eyes fixed upon the figure in the bed. "I'm married to its king. He has hidden and protected me."
"Still, to come here is a great risk!" Bodhmall said gravely. "If you were seen and followed or if you were found here—"
"I know, Bodhmall," she answered, her pleading gaze going to the older woman. "I know it was a risk, but still I had to come. I had to see him and know that he was well. iVe searched the glens of all Slieve Bladhma to find you. Please!"
Bodhmall eyed her coldly for a time without reply. Then she relented, shaking her head impatiently.
"Ah, well, youVe here now, and the damage done,'* she said. "You may as well see him." But as Muirne started eagerly toward the bed, she added warningly, "But take care not to wake him. That Til not allow. He mustn't know you came here."
Muirne looked back at her in shock. "What? I can't speak to him?"
"Bodhmall, no!" Liath protested, her own feelings for the boy making her know what distress must fill the young woman. "You must let her—"
"I will not!" Bodhmall said fiercely, cutting her off^. "He can't know of his mother now. He thinks that she is dead."
Muirne stepped back toward her. "Why would you tell him that?" she asked in a stricken voice.
"There was no choice," Bodhmall told her bluntly. "You must understand that. As he grows older, keeping him hidden away here will become more difficult. Impossible, maybe, if he knows you're somewhere in the world outside. And he cannot leave here until he is ready."
"Ready?" Muirne repeated. "For what?"
"To claim the place of his father, as he should!" Bodhmall announced, pride ringing in her voice.
Muirne gripped the woman's arms. "You can't do that to him, Bodhmall!" she said in agony. "You'll be condemning him to his father's fate!"
Bodhmall looked down into Muirne's pale, frightened face. Her own was set stubbornly.
"It is already done, Muirne," she said with finality. "The boy knows who he is and what he must do one day. There is no other way."
"There must be!" Muirne said desperately. "There must be some way to save him!"
"And what would you do?*' Bodhmall demanded harshly. "Would you have him stay hidden away here? Trapped here by fear all his life? No, Muirne. He is of the Clan of Baiscne. He is Cumhal's son. He must take the name and his place in the world as he should. And the only way he can succeed in that is to stay here until the time comes."
Muirne stared up at the tall, hard woman. "I hate what you have done," she said. "You have betrayed me."
"My loyalty is to Cumhal, not you," came the chill reply. "It is not for you to change this now, and I'll not let you. If you wish to see him, you may, but only as I say. Do you agree?"
The young woman's body sagged in defeat. Desolation filled her voice. "I've little choice, it seems. You've taken his life from me."
"No, Muirne," Bodhmall corrected. "You gave it to me when you put him in my keeping. Go to him now, but be careful."
Muirne nodded. Softly she crossed the hut to the small pallet at its far side. She stood for a moment, looking down at him. He lay on his side, his face relaxed in sleep. Lightly she stroked the white-gold hair, so like her own, and then gently sat downi upon the pallet next to him. In a soft, almost inaudible voice, fine and high and sweet as a harp's tone, she hummed a lilting air to him. It was a mother's luUabye to her babe, the only act of love that she might show to him, though he would not know of it.
Tears filled the eyes of Liath. There was no jealousy in her at seeing Demna with his mother, but only sorrow for her loss. Even Bodhmall, who would have stopped the tune for fear of its waking the boy, could not interfere in Muime's brief moment.
The tune ended. The young woman sat silently by his side, staring at his face, trying to memorize each feature, trying to drink in some sense of him. Then he stirred uneasily, as if her presence were reaching through his sleep.
"Quickly, he is beginning to wake," Bodhmall hissed. "You must come away! He cannot see you!"
Muime leaned forward and, very lightly, kissed the smooth white forehead of her son. Reluctantly she rose from the bed and moved away, crossing the room again to the door. She paused there for a final look back.
"You will see him again, Muime," Bodhmall promised. "One day you will see him captain of the Fianna of Ireland."
"Or laid on his funeral pyre," the young woman replied, fixing a hard stare upon the other. "It's my own heart you have in your hands, Bodhmall. If you destroy it, you will destroy me too. And may the curse of my people fall upon you then!"
She turned and passed out of the hut. The darkness swallowed her. As she disappeared, the boy sat suddenly upright in his bed, his eyes open, staring toward the door in a startled way.
"What is it!" he cried out. "Who was there?"
Liath moved quickly toward him, coming between him and the door. She pushed him gently back.
"Be easy, Finn," she told him soothingly. "It's all right."
He resisted her, craning his neck up to peer around her. His voice was insistent.
"But, Liath, someone was here! I know it!" Suddenly he stopped struggling and looked at her musingly, fi*owning as he sought to grasp a faint impression. "Someone was singing, weren't they?" he asked. "They sang, and"—he raised a hand to touch his forehead— "they kissed me . . . here!"
The little woman cast a pleading glance at Bodhmall, but the other's face was stone.
Liath threw her arms about the boy and pulled him toward her, hugging him tightly so he wouldn't see her tears.
"Hush, my son," she told him softly. "It was only a dream. "
Chapter Five
DISCOVERY
The son of Cumhal slipped stealthily through the sun-dappled glade. His sinewy body, clad in a simple tunic of dressed hide, moved with the Hthe grace of the deer he stalked.
Sixteen years had turned him into a man in size and form. Tall, broad, and sturdy of frame like his father, he had the leanness and suppleness of his mother as well. He had Muirnes hair too. The long, unbound flow that curled about his shoulders flared almost to silver when he passed through one of the scattered rays of intense spring sun.
His features were a blend of the best in each. The fragile, sculptured beauty of his mother had refined the coarseness of his father's traits while leaving their bold character in brows and nose and chin.
The years of Bodhmall's hard training had honed his forest skills well. His passage made no sound and left: no mark on the bright, newly green foliage. Now he paused, standing totally motionless, listening intently. His eyes scanned the underbrush ahead for any movement. His slender, iron-tipped spear was held up, ready for the throw.
But there was no sign of his quarry ahead, no sound of its movement. This puzzled and irritated him. Game seldom managed to elude him now. And he was certain that this buck had come this way.
Of course, it was a new section of the forest, and much farther from home than he had ever ranged be-
fore. With age had come an occasional loosening of the reins by Bodhmall. Each time he had again stretched them taut in his exploring, impelled by a spirit for adventure and an insatiable curiosity.
He crept on, following the way he thought the deer had gone. He moved into a thicker section of trees, working his way carefully through clinging underbrush, and found himself suddenly on the edge of an open space.
This was no forest clearing. The view was unlimited by trees. The fields went on to the horizon in soft swells thickly furred with lush spring grass. Large herds of cattle grazed upon them. The many spring-born calves bawled and gamboled about their placid mothers or shakily tried to master their spindly new legs.
He realized with surprise and excitement that he had reached the forest edge and was seeing that world outside for the first time. It was a bit frightening, but it was fascinating too. And nothing held his attention more than a large knoll of earth not far away. For atop it was a manmade structure.
He stared at this with tremendous interest. Of course Bodhmall had told him of the homes of men that lay beyond the sanctuary of Slieve Bladhma, but he had never seen any building except for their tiny hut.