For Month of mini-writing challenges 2017- day 20

I, Cuchulainn

I, tied to a post, awaiting them,

my enemies who’ve killed me at last.

Stand my ground against them to the end.

Not much longer, now.

Blood-stained blade, too heavy to lift one last time.

Blood-filled tunic, stained with mine and my last friend’s.

Look, there come the chariots, halting.

The first killer approaches, smiling.

Forgotten, my stand at the fjord

Where Connaught man after Connaught man fell,

Their blood spreading through clear water

Until it ran as red as a sailor’s delight.

Lost, my return from my first battle,

When I immersed in three baths

Before my red-faced rage

turned against my own.

Will anyone remember me?

Will they know how I took the place of Cullen’s hound,

That man-killer I killed as a child,

So earning the name men came to fear?

Or am I just another warrior

Whose head will be the trophy

Of just another warrior,

Soon to be forgotten?

Hat tip to Kiwinana for the lead