“Hail Epona!” Brighid joined Cuchulainn and the warriors of Guardian Castle in the joyous shout.
And then, miraculously, a voice was heard above theirs as, over the rise in the wide road poured wagon after wagon led by a stunning redheaded woman on a prancing silver mare. The same fire crackled in the air around the pair, except it was smoother. No less powerful, it was more focused and controlled, with an aura of maturity and experience.
“Hail Epona!” the woman cried again, her voice magically magnified by the Goddess.
With a loud cry of gladness, Ciara ran to the woman and knelt before her. The woman slid gracefully from the mare and without hesitation, lifted the Shaman into her arms.
Brighid could hear the murmurs of the warriors and the Masters, murmurs that turned into shouts of welcome as they recognized their new visitor. Cuchulainn clucked to his big gelding. “Will you join me in greeting my mother?” he asked Brighid.
Brighid gave him a surprised look, and he shrugged his shoulders.
“Don’t you know her? I assumed she visited MacCallan Castle shortly after I left.”
“She did, and, yes I have had the honor of meeting your mother,” Brighid said.
“Well, then come with me,” he said, kneeing his gelding forward.
The Huntress jogged at his side. “I thought you might like to present Ciara to your mother alone.”
The warrior’s brows drew together. “Why would you think that? This isn’t exactly a private setting.” He waved a hand at the group of children descending upon his mother, Epona’s Beloved Incarnate Goddess, and the silver Chosen mare.
Feeling more than foolish, Brighid clamped her lips together. She sounded like a petulant schoolgirl.
“Anyway, I’ll need your help rescuing her,” Cu said.
Brighid looked from the shining Beloved of Epona to the long line of wagons that stretched down the road behind her.
“How did she know we were here and that we needed the wagons? There was no way a message could have arrived at Epona’s Temple in the space of one night,” Brighid said.
“There’s one thing you should learn about my mother-between her, that mare and their Goddess, she literally knows everything. Or at least, as she has often told me, she knows everything that is important.”
As they pushed their way through the group of laughing, talking, singing children, Brighid sent silent and semiblasphemous thanks to Epona that her own mother didn’t know everything-whether it was important or not.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“I’ve always thought that being in the company of children makes time seem to pass more quickly.”
Brighid snorted with even more than her customary sarcasm, causing Etain to toss back her head of glorious hair and laugh with full-throated exuberance. Brighid tried to maintain a sober expression, but quickly gave it up. It was impossible not to laugh with Etain.
“I suppose they keep us busy, because there never seems to be enough time for…for…anything when they’re around, so they do appear to make time pass more quickly,” Brighid conceded.
“There. I knew I’d get you to admit that the past two days have flown by.”
It was true. If they kept up their brisk pace, by dusk they would reach MacCallan Castle.
Now, the High Priestess of Partholon grinned, looking more like a fresh-faced young bride than a woman who had seen the passing of sixty springs. The Beloved of Epona laughed again. “Flown by! Those are well-chosen words. Would it not be a wonderful thing to experience? Whenever I see one of the children running by with that amazing, gliding gait of theirs I wish I could grow wings and join her.”
Brighid could only stare at Etain in shock. Was it blasphemy to imagine Epona’s Beloved with Fomorian wings?
“Oh, I know. Your look reminds me far too much of my husband. You must be another centaur who can not abide heights.”
“Heights and equine limbs are not compatible.”
Etain’s silver mare blew heavily through her nose, as if she had been listening and was agreeing with the centaur. Actually the mare probably was listening-and understanding-Brighid reminded herself. She was the Chosen equine incarnation of Epona, and much, much more than an ordinary horse.
Etain stroked the mare’s slick neck fondly. “No, I won’t be taking you near any cliffs, my beauty. I do remember how you rebelled the last time.” The High Priestess glanced at Brighid and lowered her voice to an exaggerated, conspiratory level. “You might say that the Chosen is deathly afraid of heights. You might say it, but don’t say it too loudly. She is usually utterly fearless.”
Brighid smiled back at the beautiful priestess. “I’ll consider it our secret.”
“Then you, my fine Huntress, will have the eternal thanks of Epona!” Etain’s tone was teasing and light, but by simply mentioning her Goddess’s name, the air around her filled with the sweet scent of lavender and violet-winged butterflies appeared, circled the priestess, and then disappeared into the dense forest.
Brighid just smiled and watched, taking it all in. Etain was simply incredible. And now she knew where Cuchulainn, or at least the part of his spirit that was nothing but joy, had inherited such a strong sense of happiness. Etain’s passion for life was infectious. Traveling with Epona’s Chosen for the past two days had been a much more pleasurable experience than Brighid had anticipated when the High Priestess of Partholon had arrived so unexpectedly at the gate of Guardian Castle with her fleet of wagons, handmaidens, and palace warriors who had temporarily been relegated to the job of wagon drivers.
The truth was, Brighid had been rather nervous and uncomfortable around Etain at first. She hadn’t had the opportunity to get to know Epona’s Chosen during Etain’s short visit to MacCallan Castle. Etain had spent most of her time closeted with her daughter and Elphame’s new mate, Lochlan. Brighid had been busy hunting for the suddenly increased number of mouths to feed. Not that her impression of Partholon’s High Priestess had been negative-in fact it had been just the opposite. Brighid had been awed by the presence of the Beloved of Epona, and impressed by the obvious love she showed for Elphame. Brighid knew what it was like to have a powerful mother, and she had been surprised by the tenderness Etain had shown her daughter and Lochlan. Several mornings Brighid had even seen Etain praying alone at Brenna’s tomb, in obvious mourning for her son’s lost love.
And then there was the devotion Etain showed Cuchulainn. Brighid had watched closely when Cu had first approached his mother, waiting for Etain’s reaction to the physical changes that grief had caused in her son. Brighid’s mother would have chastised her, probably publicly, for allowing herself to appear less than perfect. Etain had simply opened her arms and embraced him, then laughed and wiped away what she called tears of joy at seeing her beloved son again.
Etain had to notice the difference in Cuchulainn. It didn’t matter that Cu was obviously trying to put on a happy facade. The warrior had probably smiled and talked more in the past two days than he had in the past two moon cycles. He’d made a good effort to cover his pain, but there was no doubt that the High Priestess and Beloved of Epona was completely aware that her son’s soul was shattered and that he had come precariously close to giving up on life. Brighid kept waiting for Etain to lecture him, or to purposefully let slip little comments about how he should be doing this…or thinking that…or to show that she was disappointed in him for being broken and battered by something that was over and done with. But it didn’t happen. Etain loved her son, completely and without judgment or conditions.
How different would Brighid’s life have been if her own mother had known how to love her children, as well as be High Shaman of the Dhianna Herd?
“That’s a serious look, even for you, Huntress,” Etain said.