Prologue
The Gaiscíoch Warriors
They were the Gaiscíoch Warriors. They were the best. No man could ever beat them in battle. They had just come victorious from Caill. Their plundered goods would be dedicated to Badb after the night's feast.
It was what they'd always done, and it was what they'd always do, because any warrior who kept the plundered goods for himself was to be punished with death by torture.
This, however, was not enough to deter Cíocras from keeping a small golden coin, be it by his own greed or a greater design. Surely, he thought, the Goddess would not miss such a small treasure? Nor would She mind that he pass it onto his young son, Claíomh, who would surely treasure it more than she, right?
In doing so, Cíocras singlehandedly lost the Goddess Badb's favor for the entire band of Gaiscíoch Warriors. This would come to haunt them.