PROLOGUE

It’s true my father was a mighty man altogether.

Not all the stories they tell about him are true, of course, or not entirely. We are, after all, a people who love a good tale even better than a good fight, and I do not blame the bards for adding their own improvements to the history of the great Cuchulainn. Indeed, I am grateful, for in even the most fantastic details I find a true memory of the living man.

There are no stories about me, however—nor will there be, if Cathbad has his way. When those who knew me pass from this earth, the memory of my name will pass with them. Doubtless he is correct; Cathbad is counted wise among the druids, though like any man he has his own reasons for his advice.

And so I seek obscurity, at least for my old name. But there is enough of my father in me—and my mother too, for Emer was hardly one to shrink into the shadows!—to want my own story told, at least one time.

Will you listen and keep silent? It is my life I am trusting you with.

My name was Luaine.