Chapter 6 #2
The well-trained horse surged forward and in just a few strides was flying along the road at a full gallop.
As they drew near the student group, Scáthach grasped the top lip of the cart and put her right foot in the leather strap that was looped and attached to the inside of the cart.
In a breathtaking display of strength and balance, Scáthach leaped up.
Her left foot balanced for an instant on the lip of the racing chariot before her right foot joined it and she sprang onto the back of the galloping horse.
Astride, she thundered past her cheering students.
Tabiti eased the horse into a gentle trot and then circled back to the group of students. Scáthach slid from the horse’s back, stroking the stallion’s side fondly before she faced her students.
“Balance.” She raised one finger. “Strength.” A second finger joined the first before she lifted a third, saying, “Courage.” Scáthach smiled.
“It’s normal to be afraid to leap from a chariot onto the back of the horse that drives it.
But as you observed, it can be done, so have courage and throw yourself fully into the attempt. ”
Behind her, Tabiti said, “And if you do not throw yourself fully into the attempt, you should be afraid.”
“Very good advice,” said Scáthach before she raised a fourth and final finger.
“And you must have a steady seat without a saddle. Those four things are key to successfully completing this feat.” She dropped her hand and continued.
“The chariot feat is an excellent skill to master for battle. Consider how often a wheel is damaged suddenly in battle, or you need a swifter escape than a horse pulling a chariot can attain.”
Uathach nodded and added, “And consider how dangerous it is to drive a chariot through the woods at a full gallop.”
“Or through any bog,” continued Scáthach.
“If you can leap from your chariot to your horse, all you need to do is cut him free from the yoke and you will not be trapped by a cumbersome cart. Now, let us begin. As I said, your first step is with the cart at a standstill. Once you successfully leap from the cart onto the back of your horse, you may then attempt the feat at a walk.”
“Are you not going to send them to the water?” Uathach asked.
“I’d almost forgotten,” said Scáthach as Tabiti chuckled. “For the beginning step, drive your chariots into the sea and attempt your stationary leaps there.”
“The water is a much softer landing than this road,” added Uathach with a grin at the group of nervously sweating students.
* * *
“Cuchulainn!” Scáthach called the warrior, who had to wait his turn at a first attempt of the stationary leap because of the odd number of students.
He jogged across the beach to where she and Tabiti had parked their chariot beside Uathach and the bard, who rode in the cart with her.
When he reached her, Scáthach jumped out of the chariot and motioned for him to take her place.
“Tabiti will be your driver while you drill the first steps of the feat.”
He nodded and leaped into the chariot. Tabiti clucked to the horse, urging him into the water.
The beach sand was interspersed with rocks and she was careful to guide the chariot around them.
She halted the horse when the water was deep enough that it would cushion Cuchulainn’s fall—should he fall—but not swamp the cart.
Scáthach walked along the beach, studying her students and calling out encouragement as well as correcting and instructing.
The threat of rain dissipated and the sky cleared so that spring sunlight lent them its warmth, which was welcome as every student except for Cuchulainn tumbled into the sea attempt after attempt.
The Queen of Shadow whistled sharply, and the students wiped seawater from their faces as they turned to give her their attention.
“Watch Cuchulainn. He has mastered the first step of the feat. Note that, unlike the rest of you, he does not pause long on the lip of the cart. The longer you pause before the leap, the better the chance of losing your balance.”
“Yes, consider how difficult it will be to attempt to stand on the lip when your chariot is racing through a battlefield,” added Tabiti. “You are not meant to stand there and gather wool. You only pause long enough to pull your foot from the loop and use the lip to leap.”
“Exactly,” Scáthach agreed. “Cuchulainn, please demonstrate.”
Cuchulainn executed a perfect stationary leap and then, without being asked, he waded up and down the line of chariots, giving pointers to the students and cheering when they were almost successful.
Scáthach, content to let Cuchulainn and Tabiti lead the drill, found a flat rock and sat, lifting her face to the sun.
She loved the wildness of Skye’s shoreline but did appreciate this unusually tranquil section of beach.
About a quarter of a mile stretched between the cliff-like rock giants that jutted out into the sea.
Between the rock walls the shallows were calm and the beach was more sand than rock.
Scáthach smiled as she remembered playing here as a child, nursemaided by sturgeons.
“Whoa, there! Whoa!”
Uathach’s voice cut through her memory and she glanced to her right, where the dark bay stallion that pulled her daughter’s chariot pranced restlessly and tossed his head. Scáthach stood and went to Uathach, who frowned at the horse as she attempted to quiet him.
“He’s restless,” Uathach said. Her mother went to the horse’s head and stroked his neck, murmuring to him.
“He’s young,” said Scáthach. “And a lot less experienced than the others.” She nodded in the direction of the horses standing quietly in the water as student warriors attempted, and mostly failed, to leap from the carts to their backs.
Uathach let out a long breath and rolled the shoulder of her wounded arm as she grimaced. “I should have known better than to harness a green horse today.”
“He has been unpredictable.” The bard sounded choked. His knuckles were white where he clutched the side of the cart.
Instantly concerned about her daughter’s injury, Scáthach said, “I’ll drive the chariot in your place. Rest yourself on a rock.”
Uathach grinned when her mother flicked an irritated look at the bard. “Oh, I’m fine, Mother. Just a little stiff and sore. It’ll be good for me to run him down the beach and back a few times. This sand will tire him and then he’ll behave himself.”
“I would, uh, prefer to wait on a rock here with—” Sechan began, but it was too late. Uathach had already clucked to the restless stallion and, with a wink, guided the chariot past Scáthach.
Scáthach watched her daughter skillfully hold the young horse to a controlled canter as she wove the chariot between rocks, heading toward the cliff-like wall to her left.
Silently, she chided herself. Uathach was an excellent horsewoman and was particularly skilled with a chariot.
Scáthach drew a long, calming breath and released it, remembering how Béfionn had allowed her the freedom to develop confidence in herself.
Scáthach knew better than to hover overprotectively and give her daughter a reason to doubt her own abilities, though next visit she would have to ask her mother how she had made it look so easy not to hover.
Resolutely, Scáthach shifted her attention from her Little Fry to the drilling students.
“Cuchulainn, Tabiti.” She motioned for them to join her on the beach.
“You’ve done well,” she told Cuchulainn.
“The students benefited from your demonstration and your encouragement. I’m proud of how you’re progressing.
” She pretended not to notice the flush of color that painted the young warrior’s cheeks at her praise.
Scáthach was used to the hero worship of her students and knew it would pass as he worked through his training.
“Tabiti, Cuchulainn is ready for the next step in the feat. Begin on the road at a walk. I recall that the area of the road parallel to the easterly rock wall is the smoothest.”
Tabiti nodded. “It is indeed. We’ll start there.”
“Remember, Cuchulainn, strength, courage, and balance. And do not—”
“Pause too long on the lip of the cart,” he finished for her with a smile.
She nodded but did not return the smile. “Hubris is dangerous.”
The young warrior’s grin instantly disappeared. “You are right to remind me, Queen of Shadow.”
“You may call her just Scáthach,” Tabiti said. She snapped the reins and the chariot pulled away, heading to the road.
Very distinctly, Scáthach heard Cuchulainn’s familiar response, “She is not just anything.”
Scáthach divided her attention between the bulk of her students who had yet to complete the first step of the chariot feat and Cuchulainn.
His first attempt to leap from the chariot while it was moving was almost successful.
He leaped. He landed on the horse’s back at an angle and fell off, hitting the hard dirt of the road with a surprised oof so loud, she turned her head and covered her laughter with a cough.
But his second attempt was successful—not pretty or graceful, but successful.
“Again!” Tabiti called, and they continued the drill.
With each leap Cuchulainn visibly gained confidence. She saw the moment he found his balance and landed with an ease that had Tabiti cheering.
Scáthach cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, “Move on to a trot.”
Tabiti nodded and wheeled the chariot around to head back to the smoothest part of the road. From the sea there was an excited cheer as Fergal was the first of the other students to successfully land a leap.
“Well done, Fergal,” Scáthach called. “Lonán, when you succeed with your leap, you and Fergal may join Cuchulainn and Tabiti on the road and move to the second step in the feat,” she told the student partnered with Fergal, who returned to practicing the leap with renewed enthusiasm.