'Oh, Conn, you know Braefar. He has always been weak, his actions inspired by jealousy for all you have achieved. His envy of you became malice years ago.'
'I know that,' said Conn sadly. 'It was after I fought the bear. He and Govannan were there, but it was Govannan who rushed to my aid. Wing just stood there, terrified. He was young, he had no weapon, and he froze. No-one blamed him, but he saw contempt in everyone's eyes after that. He was always trying to prove to me that he was worthy, and he tried so hard. He was so desperate for acclaim that he took risks, many of which failed.'
'I know, Conn,' said Brother Solstice. 'We all know. Had he been any other man you would have dismissed him years ago. How long has he been in league with Guern and the Sea Wolves?'
'More than a year. Jasaray sent him money to help finance a rebellion among the Pannone. One of the few projects Wing handled with care. He recruited Guern, supplied him with coin and weapons. The two of them were made for one another, both bitter, eaten alive by envy. Guern was related to the old Laird, but when he died I sent Bran to govern the north.' Conn poured himself a cup of water and drained it. He looked soul weary, thought Brother Solstice. 'I did not know they had linked with Shard, though I suppose I should have guessed it. Wing began to believe that I was the source of all his misfortune, that his life would have been blessed had I never been born. He may even be right in that. I don't know any more. What I do know is that Wing, when young, was a bonny lad. He loved me then. I was his big brother and he would follow me everywhere.'
'Men change,' said the druid. 'Weak men cannot deal with guilt or shame. It always has to be the fault of another when they fail. If they fail continually they see themselves as victims of some great conspiracy.'
'Ah, well,' said Conn, 'it will all end tomorrow.'
'It must not end!' said Brother Solstice. 'What you are planning is foolish. Perhaps the Morrigu intended you to refuse.'
Conn smiled and shook his head. 'I do not understand all she had planned, my friend. But I know if I fail to keep this promise the Rigante will fail in their war with Jasaray. I cannot explain it. I saw so much… I saw Jasaray in many guises, on many worlds. He won every battle he fought. I saw visions of horror beyond belief, of worlds dying, the air poisoned by towers belching poisons into the air, of dead trees, their leaves scorched, and fertile lands turned into deserts. I saw men with grey faces and frightened eyes, living in cities of stone, scurrying like ants from day to day. In truth I wish I had never touched her!'
'You think these visions will come to pass in the lands of the Rigante?' asked the druid.
'I do not know. I only know what I must do. And that is ride to the circle. Alone.'
'They will kill you, Conn. I know this Guern. He is charismatic and men follow him, but he is a vile creature, and there is no honour in him. He is big – almost as big as Fiallach – and he can fight. He's killed several men in blood feuds. And he will not be alone. You will be.'
'I have always been alone,' said Conn. 'I think we all are.'
Bane saddled a chestnut mare, then walked back into the farmhouse. Gryffe and Iswain were waiting in the main room. 'When will you be back?' asked Gryffe.
'Some day,' Bane told him. Reaching into the pocket of his black, sleeveless jerkin, he produced a rolled parchment. 'I made this deed in Three Streams the day the army moved out. It has been witnessed by three elders.' He handed it to Gryffe. 'It deeds the farm and all cattle and land to you.' He grinned at the surprise on Gryffe's features. 'You are no longer Wolfshead, Gryffe. You are a landowner.'
'I don't understand,' muttered the red-bearded warrior.
'He's not coming back,' said Iswain. She moved in to stand before Bane. 'Why are you doing this?'
He shrugged. 'I have a need to wander, Iswain.'
'It is more than that,' she said.
'If it is, then I choose not to talk about it. You said you and Gryffe were dreaming of a place of your own. Somewhere to raise children, to watch sunsets as you grow older. This is a good place, and I think you will be happy here.'
'We are happy here,' said Iswain. 'And we would both like to see you happy.'
He drew her into an embrace and kissed her plump cheek. 'When I come back we will have a feast, and I shall regale you with my adventures.' He turned to Gryffe and thrust out his hand. Gryffe ignored it and stepped in, drawing Bane into a bear hug.
'I shall hold half of all profits for you, man,' he said. 'And when you want to come home this farm will be waiting for you.' Releasing him, Gryffe smiled. 'We'll have taken your bedroom, mind. It's bigger than ours, with a better view.' The smile faded. 'You take care, Bane. Hear me?'
'I hear you, big man.' Gathering up his saddlebags Bane walked from the house. Settling the bags into place he stepped into the saddle and rode away without a backward glance.
It was a bright morning and he rode steadily east, crossing the hills and valleys until he reined in, some four hours later, on the hilltop overlooking Three Streams. It seemed so peaceful now in the spring sunshine, no hint, at first, of the bloodshed and valour, no echo of clashing swords and screaming men. Bright yellow flowers had bloomed along the slopes. Bane looked around the scene. A cast-off shoe lay in the grass close by, surrounded by flowers, and beyond it a broken sword blade, already pitted with rust.
From the woods came three boys, running and laughing. They were carrying wooden swords. Seeing Bane they paused. Bane waved at them, then heeled the mare onto the slope. He rode down into the settlement, past Eldest Tree, the colossal oak, and on to the forge, from where he could hear the steady beat of a hammer on iron. Dismounting he tied the mare's reins to a fence rail and walked into the forge. Nanncumal was watching an apprentice boy thumping his hammer upon a red-hot section of iron. The old man glanced up as Bane entered. Together they walked out into the sunshine. Nanncumal ran a cloth over his bald head, mopping up the sweat. He saw the saddlebags on Bane's mare. 'Where are you heading?' he asked.
'Across the water.'
'For what purpose?'
Bane shrugged. 'Perhaps it is to find a purpose,' he said.
Nanncumal sat down on a long bench seat. 'You did well here, boy,' he said. 'People won't forget.'
They will or they won't,' said Bane, seating himself beside his grandfather. 'It doesn't matter to me.'
Nanncumal looked away. 'I didn't do right by you, Bane. It grieves me to say that.'
'Long ago and far away,' said Bane. 'Forget it.'
'Easy to say. I loved my Arian. She was a good girl – until her sister died. They were children, sharing a bed. Little Baria was five years old. She had a fever, and her heart gave out in the night. Arian awoke and found her dead beside her. She was never the same after that. Terrified of the dark and of being alone. When Conn was savaged by that bear Arian almost went mad. I tried to talk her out of marrying Casta. It was not a good match. But she was convinced Conn would die, and she clung to Casta as if he were life itself.' The old man sighed.
'We don't need to talk about this,' said Bane. 'Mother is dead. Nothing can change that.'
'I'm talking about the living,' said Nanncumal. 'I'm talking about you and… Connavar.'
'I don't need to hear it.'
'Maybe you don't, maybe you do. But I need to say it, so humour me, Grandson. I know that you have always believed Connavar took your mother by force. It is not true. Arian told me herself that she seduced him on that day, hoping to win him back. She knew, deep down, he had never stopped loving her. The Seidh had warned Connavar never to break a promise, or great tragedy would result. He had promised to take his new wife riding. Instead he stayed for many hours with Arian. When he returned he found his wife had been murdered while he had been taking his pleasure. Connavar was insane with grief. He destroyed the murderer's village, slaughtering any who came within sword reach. In his madness he killed women and children that day.