"I have returned home," Declan went on, "But I do not want it to be a home freshly splashed with the blood of my father and his family and friends. You know of my forces and have seen what devastation I am capable of inflicting on this castle and the buildings in the nearby towns…" He was not telling the entire truth, but this was not the time to tell all of it, that he had used more than half of his store of Cathay black powder in demolishing the watch tower. "… You must already have realized that if any harm was to be done to me here, a terrible and merciless fate would befall everyone serving this house and the kingdom it rules. My men are well-trained and disciplined, they obey my every word, and they would be frightful in their anger if any harm should come to me here. You should know also that they are being well rewarded for their work in helping me win this dispute and, if it can be accomplished without loss of life on either side, they will be doubly rewarded and I shall be very well pleased."
The dark-haired son was looking thoughtful, the redhead's grip on his weapon had eased and he was frowning in perplexity while their mother's face was showing suspicion rather than fear. Her eyes moved from Declan to her two sons and the king before she turned them on him again.
"But what," she said, speaking for the first time, "is to happen to us?"
"I am reliably informed," said Declan, without saying that the information had come from the very knowledgeable diplomat and spy, his friend Brian of Tirconnel, "that your kingdom has seen difficult times over the years since I was last here, with cattle raids along the southern border and incursions by neighboring tuaths seeking expansion and who thought that a king too ailing to take up arms against them would offer little resistance. But there was resistance, from you and your sons, who with great effort and difficulty and at times subtle statecraft, were able to maintain the kingdom within its original borders. Those difficulties would be reduced, and I would be grateful, if you were to remain here to advise and assist me in the future ordering and defense of this land of ours. However…"
The woman and her sons were watching him intently as he raised a cautionary finger toward her and went on, "… You may remain as queen but neither of your sons will inherit the throne. If at any time you should think otherwise, and plot against me, you will be banished and your sons will not live long to regret their error. Is this clearly understood by all of you?"
They did not reply but their expressions said that it was. It was his father who broke the silence.
"I, too, regret an error," he said in a voice so weak and close to a whisper that it sounded like the wind rustling through long grass.
A once powerful, broadly built, and fearless warrior king shaven down to a near-skeleton by age and wasting illness was a pitiable sight, Declan thought, and he felt the last of his anger and hatred drain from his mind. He moved closer, seeing out of the corner of his eye the redheaded son's hand tighten on his sword hilt and then loosen again.
Before Declan could speak, his father went on, "I regretted it soon after you left us, no, were driven to leave by me. A child cannot be held responsible for the death of his mother in childbirth. Perhaps the midwife shared some of the fault, but none of it was yours. But in the madness of my grief and stupidity I would not see this until long after you were gone." His voice strengthened a little. "I hereby forbid my queen, her sons and you, Liam Mor, or any of my people to raise a hand to defend me, for I know what I have done and the fate I deserve.
'Tell me, Declan, am I to die?"
"Yes…" said Declan.
He took a long step forward and going down on one knee he grasped his father's hand, but carefully because the fingers were as fragile as the bones in a bird's wing.
"… But not before you have seen my wife, Sinead," he went on, "and held on your knees the boy and girl who bear our name. And not before you yourself as the reigning king are ready to die surrounded by your family and friends.
"With your permission I will leave you now," he went on quickly, because emotion in grown men, especially in himself, made him uncomfortable. "Liam Mor will want to stand down his men and I must withdraw mine and set up camp. You have many matters to discuss among yourselves. Take time to consider them well and then send word of the result to me."
He bowed again, looked into his father's shining eyes, then turned quickly to leave.
They were approaching the courtyard when a sudden, flat-handed blow struck his back, sending him staggering almost to his knees.
"Young Declan," said Big Liam, "that was well done. You will be a good king."
In his ear ornament he heard the voice of Sinead saying softly, "He is wrong, Declan. I have had a timesight. You will be a great king."
–
And so it came to pass that Declan returned to his home and his father to the position of Ionadacht, the first lieutenant of the clan and heir to the kingdom. With him came Sinead and the two children, who increased in number to five-another boy and two more girls, all of whom grew up to be as strong and tall as himself or small and slender and comely like their mother. After a period of initial distrust and polite hostility, the queen and her two sons accepted the situation and worked hard and well for the kingdom. When his father succumbed to his illness, the old queen followed him to the grave within a few days. She had been a hard, ambitious, and gifted woman and healthy for her years, but it seemed that she had not the will to go on living without his father and there was nothing that Sinead's healing arts could do about that. Her two sons married well into the reigning families of neighboring tuaths, for love, Declan suspected, as well as statecraft, because the two princesses were beauteous and the two small kingdoms concerned joined with his and made it one of the strongest in all Connaught.
But strangely and in spite of many urgings, Declan made no attempt to use his power to expand further. His specially trained and fiercely able soldiers had either married locally or been rewarded and gone their own ways while his own young people were trained to replace them if or when the need should arise. Although he had learned the ways of war in many foreign countries as well as from orbital observations of great generals at work, Declan was an exceptionally gifted commander in the field who seemed more concerned with the maintenance of peace and the prosperity that went with it than the waging of war, and he became respected more than he was feared throughout the great provincial Kingdoms of Hibernia.
–
Twice he was invited by his peers to the Hill of Tara, there to submit himself for election to the position of Ard-Ri, the High King, a station open only to those of proven courage and exemplary character. But graciously he refused the ultimate honor saying that he had matters requiring attention at home which involved him in enough responsibility.
The matters included secret visits to and by Ma'el. There was a small, natural cavern under the castle that had been used as a store in times of siege. Declan had caused it to be deepened and enlarged and had then sealed off its only known entrance with a massively thick wall of stone and by tumbling the roof of its access tunnel. It was thought that the chamber housed Declan's treasure and that there was a secret entrance, but if so its position had never been revealed to anyone, not even to the children or his most trusted advisors. This was because the most used way in and out was by the operation of the dimension-folding mechanisms on Ma'el's spacecraft.
Declan and his queen, Sinead, grew old; their children, with the exception of their first-born boy twin and heir called Mai after his godparent, left them to prosper or otherwise to be happy in other parts of Hibernia or far beyond, and the kingdom was stable and its people as content as they could hope to be in a still violent and uncertain land.