The Fortress of the Black Pool was the largest structure Meg had ever seen.

She had seen it before, back when it was just the glowering grim walls perched at the cliff on the end of the headland, but now it also had a large ring fort blocking the neck of the headland, and it was a bigger ring fort than Meg had ever seen, far larger than her own village. It had three earthen walls, not one; it had a wall of sharpened stakes atop each ring; it had stakes in the ditches between the walls.

It had the lowing of many cattle inside.

And it had a gate.

Meg marched up to the gate and picked up a big rock, and banged the rock on the bronze band running across it, making an awful racket of ringing.

"Come out and face me, you Queen!" shouted Meg. But she could barely hear herself shout, for the sound of cattle beyond the gate bleating and braying in panic drowned out everything else. Which was, to be fair, a far easier way to get anyone's attention than shouting. She made the bronze ring again, and again.

A couple heads appeared above the wall near the gate, belonging to a couple warriors. They shouted something, but it was also lost in the midst of the din. So they gestured for Meg to clear off. One of them gestured in a very rude manner.

But Meg did not clear off. She was satisfied with what she had done, and she was going to wait right there at the gate until the queen came out to ask what was going on.

But the guards were not interested in letting that happen. They drew their bows and prepared to shoot her.

Meg was tired of waiting. She ripped the gate off its hinges.

And in that moment she realized that she had been very foolish this entire time, because she had not only caused the cattle inside the fort to panic, she had given them all a sudden opening, so their panic had the chance to become a stampede. Thousands on thousands of cattle there were in the ring fort, they were desperately seeking any direction to flee, and now that herd was heading straight for the first gap they saw, with Meg in the way. And what could she do? Try to dance between them? Ride on their backs? Jump across their backs like a dog herding sheep? But she was too heavy for any of those options. Retreat? Oh no no. Not a step back would she take, not now.

Especially since that would put her within an easier range of bowshot for the guards.

So, she took one of the doors, and planted one end in the earth, and crouched beneath the other end, shielding herself both from incoming arrows and from the cattle heading straight for her.

The cattle flowed up and over the door, and away out over the land beyond the fort, and though below the door Meg could hear and feel the pounding of many hooves, she did not falter, but held on until the last cow was away. Then she stood up and tossed the door aside with a crash.

"Oh well done," said a voice from a long way away.

There at the far end of the fort stood the queen, in her best cloak and golden circlet, flanked by two warriors whose heads and shoulders were clad in shining steel.

"Spare me the sarcasm," shouted Meg.

The Queen shook her head, and made her way toward Meg, warriors in tow. Meg stood there and let her come, for she had done what she came here to do, and gotten the Queen to come out and face her.

The queen and her warriors stood before Meg. "Please," said the queen. "I offer no sarcasm, my old friend, no rancor. You have done yet another heroic deed. Annoying, to be sure, frustrating, even infuriating. But well done nonetheless. I only wish you had done it for my sake, instead of for the sake of some other lord. Tell me, who do you fight for now?"

Meg blinked, and looked to the south, where the harbor sat on the shore of the Black Pool. She realized with a start that she had quite forgotten about seeking passage across the sea. "Perhaps for myself," said Meg. "Perhaps to satisfy my fury. Perhaps for the sake of all the people whose cattle you stole."

The queen looked surprised. "You were telling the truth, then? You seek no more glory in battle?"

"No more," said Meg.

"And yet you do this to my gate," said the queen, "and cause me and my household injury thereby, and do justice without considering consequences. Do you know if any of those cattle will go back to the people who owned them?"

Meg shook her head.

"And it may be that others with warriors of their own steal them," said the queen, "which is just what I was trying to prevent in the first place. Well, perhaps if you can find all those cattle quickly enough, and return them to me, I might forgive you instead of banishing you from my realm."

"Didn't think to stay here anyway," said Meg.

"Oh for heaven's sake," said the voice of the little man behind her. "I'll round them up and send them back and we can all pretend this never happened, alright? Meg's too busy looking for Deirdre to bother with some stupid little impossible hero's quest."

The queen looked puzzled. "Deirdre is missing?"

"She's gone," said Meg. "Below."

Both of the warriors flanking the queen cried aloud in grief.

"And you would seek her," said the queen. "What is this, then? Did you come here hoping to end your life on the point of a spear, and follow Deirdre down?"

"Maybe," said Meg.

"She just wanted passage across the sea," said the little man. "That's all. It looks like you stole all the ships as well."

"First of all," said the queen, "I do not need an emissary of the Fairy King's court to tell me what to do – "

"I'm not from that old fool's court," said the little man.

" – Secondly, I merely impose a tax on the services of the ships…wait, whose court do you belong to then?"

The little man produced his harp, as if from nowhere, and said, "Whatever court will hear my songs, for the evening."

The Queen looked fearful. "You?"

"Me," said the little man.

The Queen harrumphed. "You would sing ill of me if I refuse Meg her passage across the sea?"

"Perhaps," said the little man. "But, we can compromise. For I would have Meg earn her passage, not be handed it by you or me…and I am always seeking brave deeds to sing of. So. Tell me. Where is your hound?"

The queen turned to the fort up the headland, and whistled sharply. From the top of the wall came an answering howl.

"He didn't want to come down and help with the cattle?" said Meg.

"I keep him contained," said the queen. "Can't have my best warrior just running off again like you did, now can I?"

Down the headland was a tall man running, a tall man with long black hair flying wild in the wind, his body bare of armor. As he skidded to a halt in front of the queen, Meg could see a look in his eyes that spoke of needing no armor, only a might that no foe would face.

Meg herself opted for armor as a matter of course, but that was when she hadn't been thinking of following Deirdre downward. These days she could see the appeal in going boldly bare, heedless of the spear's bite, maybe even welcoming it.

"So this is what's become of young Áed?" said Meg. "Stuck in a cage like a war hound, only let loose to charge the enemy?"

The man turned to Meg with pure contempt. "At least I'm doing something worthwhile. What are you doing? Milking cows?"

"I wish I was," said Meg. "I wish everyone was. Ah, but our queen here decided she'd rather do it all herself. Your arms will get sore, my queen."

"I am tempted," growled the queen, "to make you do all the milking yourself. Tell you what. You win a wrestle against my Hound here and I will let you leave my kingdom and sail across the sea. You lose, you have to round up all the cattle, bring them back here, and milk them all yourself every morning."

"Deal," said Meg. She spat in her hand, then offered it to the queen.

"Just like old times?" said the queen.

"Before you were Queen," said Meg. "Back when I bothered to speak your name."

The queen looked pained, for a moment, then composed herself. She spat in her hand and shook Meg's. "Deal."

 

 

Whatever reason the queen chose to keep the Hound contained, Meg could not know. He was tough, that was true, and though she strove with all her might to force him a step backward, to get him off his feet, to twist him around at all, he would not budge. Then again, neither would Meg, not when her love was on the line. The two were like mighty stags locking antlers.

"I hardly understand why you're doing this," growled the Hound. "Why fight so hard against me, just for passage over the sea? Are you scared of rounding up cattle? Is that it?"

"Just trying to find Deirdre," whispered Meg.

"She ran away from you then?" said the Hound.

"Áed," whispered Meg, "you are already getting close to the line you should not cross."

"I can cross any line I like," said the Hound, "for I can slay any man I wish."

"But not me," whispered Meg, "Apparently. What, did you find some kind of prophecy with a nasty hidden loophole? Is that why you're struggling?"

"Struggling," said the Hound. "Ah, no. No. I'm holding back."

At this, the man's face changed, for one eye grew much larger and one eye grew much smaller. His shoulders changed, for they grew taller around his neck, and his limbs grew wider around the bone. He grinned, and his teeth were all pointed as a dog's.

Meg began to feel her strength slowly failing against her opponent's.

"Pity," said the Hound. "You will lose after all, and waste your days milking cows, and never find Deirdre again. But if she left you, maybe she didn't like you anyway."

"Áed," said Meg, "you really have no idea what you're talking about."

"Enlighten me," said the Hound.

"She's gone to the underworld."

"Oh." The Hound chuckled. "Well then, you hardly need to look for her after all, if you know just where she's gone! All you need to do is take out your knife and – "

"And that's the line you shouldn't cross," said Meg. She let go of his shoulders, grabbed one of his arms, and swung him over her head, slamming him into the ground. Then she slammed him in to the ground the other way. Then she slammed him back the first way. Then she grabbed his feet and spun in a circle, swinging him around around around and around, until finally she let go.

The Hound crashed through the first earthen wall, then the second, then the third.

Meg caught her breath, then marched over to the line of holes and shouted through them, "You can gather the cattle yourself, Áed."

"Oh for heaven's sake," said the little man, "I already said I'd do it." He sped off through the ruined gate.

"What I get for trying to get a grip on things," said the queen. "Come on then."

She led Meg down to the ships.

 

 

And soon Meg was sitting in a Curragh with a few other passengers – a young man, a little girl, and a stout woman. There was also the skipper, a gruff man who was plying the oars as he maneuvered the boat out the inlet and into the sea.

As the man rowed, nobody had much to say, save for the skipper himself. "So," he said, "Big lady in the back there is the famous warrior Meg, is that right?"

"Don't know what you mean," said Meg.

"It is you," said the young man. "I heard about what happened to Deirdre. That was a real shame."

"Hey," said the skipper, "if you know where she's gone, you can follow her pretty easily."

Meg grabbed the skipper and tossed him back the way they had come, sending him skipping over the water all the way past the harbor to the edge of the Black Pool. Then she grabbed the oars and started to row furiously, and soon enough the land was out of sight.