The Horse Goddess (Celtic World of Morgan Llywelyn) Read Online Free PDF

the Kelti could make up a splendid fiction about his sexual prowess—if no quick-tongued woman was nearby to contradict him—or he might invent an astonishing tale of impossible feats on the sports field. But he would not falsify the number of notches
on his tally stick, for that represented his sworn word as to the exact share of the trade goods he was entitled to receive for his efforts. A man who tried to cheat the others of the tribe by claiming more than his due was sent to the spirits in the otherworlds to apologize.
    As they drew near Epona the miners’ walk became a swagger, with shoulders thrown back and strong white teeth glinting through their mustaches. They strutted, they grinned, they nudged each other aside in an effort to attract the attention of the newest woman in the valley.
    For the first time in her life, Epona saw men looking at her as they did not look at children.
    “Hai, Epona!” one of them called. “Sunshine on your head!”
    “A day without shadows,” she responded, feeling a flutter of excitement at the base of her throat. At last, the real beginning of her adult life! The men fell into step beside her, crowding close, saying flattering things, patting or pinching her or touching her braided hair. “Now you are a woman, eh? And what a woman! You will steal the light from your mother.”
    “That Rigantona was magnificent in her youth,” one of the other miners remarked. “I’ve heard them tell tales of her …” He smacked his lips and his friends laughed. Epona laughed too, a little nervously but enjoying herself. Shyly at first but with growing confidence she responded to their teasing. How delightful this was! A swing entered her walk as if her slim hips had already spread for motherhood. She bounced on the balls of her feet and her laughter rippled across the commonground.
    Soon the miners reluctantly turned aside to follow the steep trail to the Salt Mountain. Epona watched them go with regret. Then a vestige of childhood broke through and she burst out in giggles.
    Grown men! Flattering me!
    There was a bit of swagger in her own walk as she proceeded down to the lake.
    To catch a glimpse of her reflection she had to wade into
the icy water far enough to clear the weeds at the shore. She took off her shoes and gathered her skirts in her hands before easing into the shallows, a favorite sport of all the children in warm weather. The weather was not yet that warm, but she did not have to be brave; no one was watching. She gasped and her face twisted as the bitter cold gripped her feet and ankles.
    When the worst of it had passed, leaving her lower legs numb, she looked down into the water, waiting for the surface to calm. A blurred image of her own face looked back at her. To her disappointment, it was the same face she had always known: wideset blue eyes beneath level brows, straight nose heavily sprinkled with freckles, curving lips, and a willful little chin. Only her heavy braids looked unfamiliar.
    She stooped to peer more closely, hoping to see what the miners admired.
    “Epona! Epona, wait for me!”
    Her best friend, Mahka, came running down the slope toward her. Mahka, daughter of Sirona, who was married to the chief’s brother Taranis, was a sturdy girl, taller and heavier than Epona, but she had not yet begun the moon-bleeding and her chest was as flat as a boy’s. The time had not come for Mahka’s woman-making.
    Epona waded back to shore, feeling the wind chapping her legs. She welcomed the long skirt now. She sat down and began using it to rub her legs and feet.
    Mahka flopped down beside her on the damp mud. “I’m waiting. Are you going to tell me about it?”
    Epona bent over her reddened feet, massaging them. They felt as if they were being bitten by hundreds of ants. “Tell you about what?”
    Mahka laughed. She did not have the deep voice of Taranis, but her voice was low for a woman’s, and always sounded a little hoarse. “You know what I mean—the