Queen Maeve has declared war upon the province of Ulster in an effort to take possession of the Brown Bull of Cooley. Ultimately, this is an attempt to match the wealth of her husband, King Ailill of Connacht, who owns a magnificent white bull. Only Cuchulainn, a boy warrior, stands between Ulster and certain annihilation. Supported by the Morrigan, the goddess of war, he begins a reign of terror upon the Connacht warriors. In his heroic stand, the reader discovers the genesis of the determination of the Irish people, their will to stand alone against oppression.

Praise

"An amazing piece of work. This version has a marvelous ring of authenticity. This is what those wild pagans were really like-before the priests got to them! It's a really magical narrative-a turn-on in every sense of the word." -Thomas Fleming, author of The Officers' Wives

"A tremendous achievement. You don't have to be Irish to be entranced by Eickhoff's earthy magical rendering of one of the world's most ancient epics." -Jeanne Williams, Spur Award-winning author of Home Again.

About the Author(s)

Randy Lee Eickhoff

Randy Lee Eickhoff holds several graduate degrees, including a Ph.D. in Classics. He lives in El Paso, Texas where he works on translations in several languages, poetry, plays, and novels of which two have been nominated for the Pulitzer Prize. His translation of Ireland's national epic is now a text in not only schools in the United States, but countries overseas as well. His nonfiction work on the Tigua Indians, Exiled, won the Southwest History Award. He has been inducted into the Paso Del Norte Writers Hall of Fame, the local chapter of the Texas Institute of Arts and Letters. He spends his time in El Paso, Ireland, and Italy, lecturing on Dante and The Ulster Cycle.

Excerpt

Chapter 1
 
The Bed Argument
 
 
One night after the royal bed had been laid in Cruachaín of the Enchantments in the province of Connacht for the rulers Ailill and Maeve, known as “She-Who-Makes-Men-Drunk,” they began to argue while lying spent upon the richly embroidered pillows. In the comfortable rubble of their bedclothes Ailill nestled his head, damp from fervent lovemaking, upon Maeve’s lap, admiring her naked breasts above him.

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