“You have my promise to do as you say. True. He must become his own man, but beneath the Lordly One’s guidance and protection, of course, as will befit his position.”
Was it the Lordly Ones’ protection she intended, or the guardian wing of a doting mother? I knew her well, and chortled. My son must grow strong and wise if he hoped to stand free from the Morrigan.
She rose to stand before me and laid her hands on my shoulders. “Sail, my beloved, and may destiny’s winds carry you towards a mighty future. Never look back, do not rue what you lost here, for the past is the victim of time. Always remember. Cáerthann shall serve as your legacy to this land. Your son will bring honor to your name. I am sure of it.”
“Ah, Morrigan, at the point of death it will be your name on my lips.”
She cupped my face in her hands. “And it will be your name I speak, my love, when we meet on the shore of Tír na nÓg.”
* * *
My solitary prayers completed, swift steps carried me atop a large stone where I stood, my feet widespread, Nuada’s Staff planted against the level surface. My scarlet master’s robe billowed in the wind; the coiled serpent, emblazoned with heavy gold thread, glinting in the dawning sun.
On the beach below, Goban and Torcán stood to one side as villagers bustled about loading the last of the provisions. The curraugh’s two white sails displaying their red Christian crosses stood stark against the rolling sea’s blue horizon. Brendan was there along with his monks. One by one all stopped what they were doing to stare up to me.
Brendan’s mouth was moving, his words borne away by the wind, but his waving hand urged me to join them. The time had come to sail, and with it, the fulfillment of the Morrigan’s prophecy. Never again would I set foot on my homeland. Ah, but what mattered that?
Trusting in the wisdom of my gods to determine my fate, I stepped down from the stone on light feet, striding towards the beach. Though my face remained calm, my heart glowed.
There would be a son.
I would be remembered.