"Well' said the soothsayer, 'I saw in my second sight that its is on account of a daughter of yours that the greatest amount of blood shall be shed that has ever been shed in Erin since the time and race began. And the tree most famous heroes that ever were found will loose their heads on her account.'

After a time a daughter was born to Malcom, he did not allow a living being to come to his house, only himself and the nurse. He asked this woman 'Will you yourself bring up the child to keep her in hiding far away where eyes will not see a sight of her nor hear a word about her?"

-Joseph Jacobs, Celtic Fairy Tales, "The Story of Deirdre"

Deirdre crossed her arms.  Her mother was being difficult, as mothers were wont to be.  "Honestly mama, you taught me better."

Deirdre's mother shifted on her feet. Her mouth was set in a thin line, and something in her face just now made her look harsh or scared or both. "Don't you open that door Deirdre," She warned in a cold voice.  She wrung her hands. "I'm sure its just some bird or animal. Please Deirdre, come back and sit by the fire."

Deirdre smiled and shook her head, laughing.  Her mother was getting older, she could easily chalk this fear up to senility.  "If it's some bird or animal then the better it is that we help it. If it's some person,"  The word drew a wince out of her mother. "Then it's the better for us both to let him in.  You wouldn't want the death of a man on your conscience, would you?"  Deirdre felt like she might burst with excitement, she had only seen men in books, and Mama never let her go to town.  Perhaps the man outside was young and handsome, and in payment for their hospitality he would offer his hand in marriage and she would travel away, to see castles and cities and all manner of people.

Deirdre ran a hand over her hair, patting it down and sticking the front locks behind her ears.  She pulled her shawl off the hook to drape around her shoulders. As she undid the latch she heard her mother suck in her breath through her teeth across the room.  Deirdre stepped forward to put the door between them and opened it to stare outside.   

The man standing there was neither young, nor handsome.  He wore his graying hair around his temples and the back of his head with none on top, like half of a crown.  From there it drew downward, around his face very oddly.  All of the pictures Deirdre had seen on storybooks had been clean-shaven, and this gave her quite a shock.   He was round and stocky and covered in fur.  He smelled of damp wool.  His eyes were wide, though there were wrinkles around them and Deirdre seemed to hold him just as transfixed as he held her. 

She's like a sapling, slender and white and her hair flows over her like ink.  He thought to himself.   Her eyes, the color of moss, shaped like almonds, were set above her slender nose, and her red lips.   The house smelled like fire, bread and cinnamon and he couldn't help but think that it was the finest perfume a lady could wear, though it may have been his cold body and hunger speaking. 

"You're beautiful." He murmured. "The sort of woman a man would give his life for…" 

The comment made Deirdre feel like something slimy was hopping up and down in her stomach. Warmth blossomed in her cheeks, which she covered with her left hand. "Please sir, come in."  She took his left hand in her right and pulled him inside, smiling.  He stepped in and smiled at her, wondered how a girl in the woods could have such soft hands. 

"He's a charmer, Mama."

The older woman's hair was up, curled around her head in braids, the parts that weren't grey were blonde, not black like her daughter's.   Her mouth was still set in an angry line.  "Well, Deirdre, find the man a place to sit." 

  Deirdre smiled and pulled a chair close to the fire. "Here….." She patted his arm. "Take off your things and sit by the fire. I'll get you food and drink." She stepped towards the kitchen and winked at her mother. "Be nice to him"

Her mother scowled, watched her leave and turned back to the man, who was hanging his scarf and his gloves by the fire to dry.   He looked up at her as he unbuttoned his coat and smiled. "I thank you for your hospitality, madam."

She let out a snort and walked over to stir the fire.  "Your best way to thank me would be to keep your mouth shut about this place and about my daughter." 

He shook his head "To keep such a gem a secret….you know I know young men who would marry that girl on sight."

She crossed her arms "I'm sure."  

Deirdre stepped back out as the man sat down and handed him a plate and a goblet.   He could taste the wood in the chicken, the potatoes were smooth and creamy and the gravy was thick and just salty enough.  Throughout the meal the hunter spoke to Deirdre, about the world outside, about the princes who would die for her hand and her mother watched.  In her old eyes, instead of the cozy hearth and the walls of the cabin, there were a million visions of war and battle, of sword fights fought for the sake of her lovely ward, wondering why her father had sent them here, why he had told her to let no man see her.  This hunter gave her an ominous feeling, and as he sipped his wine she thought of the blood that could be spilled, had been spilled in generations past, for the sake of a woman.  She glanced at her daughter and thought of the classics she had read her, about Helen of Troy's face that launched a thousand ships.

She cleared her throat. "I think it's time for you to go, good sir."

The man looked up from his wine at the older woman's hard face, then at Deirdre's, surprise painted beautifully across it. "Right." He replied, rising. "I'll be on my way then."  He buttoned his jacket, donned his scarf and the other pieces he had left by the fire. "I thank you both again. I will tell my lord the king for your kindness."

"You'd do better to tell no one!" the old mother snapped.

"Mama! Be kind." Deirdre showed the man to the door, bidding him a good night and good luck beyond it.  He bid her farewell before she shut the door behind him. 

"You should have never let him in." her mother whispered when he was gone, trying to conjure anger amidst her fear.

"Oh, don't be an old ninny, Mama. We saved that man's life." Deirdre took off her shawl and hung it on the hook, fingering the soft fringe for a moment before turning around and smiling. "What harm could possibly come of that?"