'You fought as a warrior, Conn. You killed no children. And you could not have saved them.'
'At the very least I could have died for them.'
'Maybe one day you will,' she whispered. 'But I don't understand. Why did they kill them?'
Conn gave a harsh laugh. 'There is only a small market for young children. So they took away some of the prettier ones, and slaughtered the others. More than a thousand in Alin alone. Now, everywhere I ride, people say, "There is Connavar, the man who killed the evil king." The evil king.' He let out a deep sigh, then rubbed his hand across his face. 'As far as I know Carac murdered four people: his brother, his brother's wife, his brother's son, and Banouin. Jasaray, the conquering hero of Stone, has now slaughtered untold thousands. And I helped him. He rewarded me with stallions and six chests of gold. Now when I sleep I see the faces of the children. They are calling out to me to save them. And I do nothing. Connavar the hero. Connavar the coward, more like.'
'You are not a coward, Connavar, and you know it,' she said. 'And you will protect the children. The children of the Rigante. I have heard what you have been saying to Ruathain and the others. The armies of Stone will one day cross the water. When they do you will stand against them. The past is dead and gone. You cannot change it. The future waits. Had you ridden down and killed a few soldiers you would have died for it. And thousands more children, yet to be born, would face a terrible doom. Think on that.'
'I do think of it. As I think of this one little boy, who saw my garb, and recognized me as a tribesman. He ran towards me crying for help. A soldier threw a spear through his chest. That boy will haunt me all my days.'
'Perhaps it is right that he should,' she said, softly. 'And, despite it, you will live your life as a man - a good man. You did not kill those children, and you could not have saved them. There is a limit to the power of any single man - even a hero. You were the Boy who Fought the Bear. Now you are the Man who Killed the King. Yet still you are only a man. You are not responsible for the woes of the world, nor the evil of other men. You understand? If the past must haunt you, then use it wisely. You cannot alter the past - but you can use it to alter the future. The terror you saw has strengthened you, Connavar. It has given you purpose. Bless the dead for that. And move on.'
Conn leaned back on the pillow and closed his eyes. Eriatha looked closely at him, and knew that her words had struck home. He seemed more relaxed. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and smiled. 'You are very wise,' he said. 'And I will heed what you say.' Lifting her hand he kissed the palm. 'I am grateful you came here tonight. You were right. I did need to speak of it. I feel at least a part of the weight has lifted from my soul.'
'Good. I shall leave you now. I can hear my own bed calling me.'
'Stay,' he said, his voice gentle.
And she stayed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
the LAND APPROACHING SEVEN WILLOWS WAS RUGGED AND beautiful, the hillsides covered with pale blue heather and yellow gorse, shining gold in the sunshine. Conn reined in his steeldust pony at the top of the last rise and stared down over the wide valley below, and the distant, sparkling sea.
In the centre of the verdant valley stood Seven Willows, a large stockaded town of perhaps three hundred homes, with some twenty farms dotted around it. Cattle, sheep and goats could be seen grazing on the hillsides, and, further away, fields of golden corn were being harvested. Parax moved alongside him.
'A pretty place,' he said.
'Pretty and exposed,' replied Connavar, pointing towards the estuary. 'A good landing place for longships. No cover to protect a defending force, and only the wooden stockade of the town to hold them. Any force stronger than a few hundred could take that town in less than a day.' He cast his gaze around the valley. 'It should have been constructed further to the west, on one of those flat-topped hills. The gradient would slow an advancing force, giving archers more time to thin them out.'
'Maybe so,' the old man agreed. 'But they haven't been attacked in ten years. So they must be doing something right. Can we ride down? The wind is too chilly up here and my ears are freezing.'
Conn grinned at him and heeled his pony down the trail. 'You're getting old,' he called back.
''Getting old? I was old when you were born, whippersnapper! Now I'm ancient, and should be treated with more respect.'
The sun was high and hot as they reached the valley floor and Parax removed his pale green cloak, rolled it and hooked it to the wooden cross-pieces of his saddle. As they rode on they passed farmers gathering their crops. Several children stopped their work to stare at the riders. Conn waved to them, but they didn't wave back.
At the open gates of the town there were no guards and the two men rode into Seven Willows, heading for the main hall, no more than a hundred paces from the eastern gate.
'Usually the ruler's home is closer to the centre of a settlement,' said Conn.
'Aye, but this place has grown over the years,' said Parax. 'See there, the remains of the old stockade wall by yon stream? As the settlement grew they tore down the old western wall and extended the stockade.'
Conn grinned at him. 'You don't miss much, do you?'
They dismounted in a paddock alongside the hall, unsaddled their ponies, and turned them loose.
A young warrior strode out to greet them. He was not tall, but his shoulders were wide, his heavily muscled arms a little too long for his body. 'You'll be Connavar,' he said. 'The Lord Fiallach is expecting you.'
'You mean, surely, the Lady Llysona?'
'Whatever,' replied the man, tersely. 'Follow me.'
'Friendly welcome,' whispered Parax. Conn shrugged and moved after the warrior. The hall was well lit, the shutters of the high upper windows opened wide, sunlight streaming through. The Lady Llysona was sitting at the head of a horseshoe-shaped table. To her right sat the giant warrior Fiallach. The beautiful Tae was at her left. Some twenty nobleman filled the other seats.
'Welcome, Connavar,' said the Lady Llysona. Dressed in a gown of green satin she was a handsome woman. Her red and silver hair was braided with golden wire, and she wore a thick golden torque around her slender throat. In her early forties now, she had once been a great beauty, and was still breathtaking. Connavar bowed.
'Thank you, Lady. It is good to be here. I bring greetings from the Long Laird, and his hopes that you are well. He has asked me to offer my advice in the matter of defence against raids from the sea.'
'We don't need your advice,' said Fiallach.
Conn ignored him. 'My lady, I am recently returned from a war across the water, where I saw many towns under siege. Seven Willows is poorly placed to resist an attack. But I will make a better report to you once I have scouted the surrounding countryside.'
'It is kind of you to take the time to come to us,' said Llysona. 'But the Lord Fiallach is a noted warrior, and he is responsible for the defence of Seven Willows. I have the utmost confidence in him. Therefore you may return to Old Oaks.'
Connavar bowed again. 'I am sure that confidence is well placed, Lady. However, the Long Laird, my lord and master and the lord and owner of this land, has ordered me to oversee the situation. Do you wish me to return to him with the news that his orders are no longer to be obeyed in Seven Willows?'
She gave a thin smile. 'No man should be encouraged to disobey the orders of his betters. What I am saying is that the Laird need have no worries concerning our well-being. Perhaps you should convey that to him.'
'I will pass on your words, my lady. As soon as I have completed my mission.'
'Are you deaf, or merely stupid,' stormed Fiallach. 'You are not wanted here. Do you understand that?'
Conn's eyes never left the face of the Lady Llysona, and when he spoke again his voice was calm and even. 'Back in Three Streams, my lady, a barking dog is never allowed at table. It disturbs the guests. However, if you tell me the Lord Fiallach now rules in Seven Willows I will address all comments to him.'
This time she did
not smile. 'I rule in Seven Willows, but the Lord Fiallach is my most trusted counsellor. And let me warn you that it is not good sense to anger him.'
'It is not my intention to anger anyone. Merely to offer good advice and instruction. Whether the advice is heeded or ignored is a matter for you - and your counsellors. However it turns out, I will make a report to my lord and return to my home.'
'How long will you need?' she asked.
'Three or four days to make the initial report. After that ... I do not know, my lady. It will depend on whether my advice is heeded.'
'Four days it is then,' she said. 'Farrar will show you to your lodgings.' She gestured at the ape-armed warrior who had met them. He rose from the table and led them out into the open, across the now empty market site, and on to a small, crudely built round house. The timbers had dried out and warped, leaving gaping holes, and the thatched roof was in disrepair. Two cot beds had been placed inside. Both were rickety and badly constructed. Connavar stepped inside and a rat scurried across his foot.
'Enjoy your visit with us,' said Farrar, with a sour grin.
'Just being in your sunlit presence is enough for me,' Parax told him. The man reddened.
'Is your servant mocking me?' he asked Connavar.
'I suppose he must be,' replied Conn, coldly. 'Given the choice between your company and the vermin that already occupy this ruin, I'll take the rats. Now get out of my sight.'
Farrar's jaw dropped. 'I'll take no insults from—'
Conn grabbed the man by the front of his tunic and hauled him in close. 'Understand this, you discourteous dog-turd. You have neither the wit, the strength nor the power to offend me. Now if you want to challenge me, do so. I will take no pleasure in killing you, but I will do it, if you force me.'
Releasing the frightened man he pushed him from the hut, then turned to Parax. 'We will sleep in the open,' he said, his voice cold and angry.
'You do have a way with you, lad,' said Parax, with a smile. 'I've never known a man so adept at making friends. You should teach me some time.' Conn's anger evaporated, and he smiled. 'Anyway,' continued Parax, 'we can make this place habitable.' The blankets within the hut were lice ridden, and Conn left them where they were. He and Parax walked out into the settlement where Conn purchased new blankets, a broom, several wooden plates, a copper pan, a hank of bacon, a small sack of oats, and some salt. Returning to the hut, the two men dragged the two rotten beds out into the open, throwing the lice-infested blankets over them. Parax swept out the rotted straw that covered the floor, and prepared a fire.
Conn moved outside and stood before the pile of furniture. He saw Tae stroll from the Long Hall and cross the open ground. She looked at the pile.
'I am sorry,' she said. 'This is awful. But my mother was angry that Father should send someone to crack the whip over us, and Fiallach has not forgotten that you shamed him.'
'I hope you will not get into trouble for speaking to us,' he said, stiffly.
'It doesn't matter. Would you like me to show you around the country tomorrow?'
'I would like that very much.'
She smiled at him. 'It would be nice if you were to tell me you accepted the Laird's commission because you wanted to see me again.'
'I can tell you that - because it is true. You have been in my mind ever since the Fire Night.'
'I have thought of you too,' she said, then turned away and ran back to the hall.
Parax emerged from the hut. 'Sweet girl,' he said. 'She'll make that Fiallach a fine wife.'
Conn felt his hackles rise, then saw Parax grinning at him. 'You see too much,' he said.
'I'm not the only one.' Parax inclined his head towards the hall, where Fiallach was standing in the doorway, staring at them. 'You watch him carefully, boy,' said Parax. 'He's a killer.'
As night fell, Conn and Parax sat in their small hut before a fire set in a circle of stones, which also served as light in the absence of lamps or lanterns. 'Why are they being so unpleasant?' asked Parax. 'You are the same tribe, after all.'
'We are caught between two evils,' Conn told him. 'Firstly, there is the ill-feeling between the Lady Llysona and the Laird. He was unfaithful to her, so it is said, and she responded by moving to Seven Willows. She could have ended the marriage, but that would have left her with little power and no income. So it is natural for her to try to thwart the Laird's plans. Secondly there is the question of Fiallach. The man is a brute and a bully. I watched him fight. He tormented his opponent cruelly. And he has no affection for me. Since he appears to be Llysona's chief counsellor we have little hope of any real co-operation.'
Then why stay?'
'I like to finish what I start, my friend,' replied Conn, with a smile.
'There is another reason,' offered Parax.
'Aye, there is. Do you think she is beautiful?'
'I find all women beautiful - especially the fat ones. Not too fat, mind. But plump. Oh yes, and dark eyed, full lipped. And friendly. They have to be friendly. I married a fat woman back in Alin. She was a joy.' Parax sighed. 'Plague took her after two years. Never found a woman to match her.'
'Have you given up trying?'
'Never give up, boy!' replied the old man. 'But I don't think the young ones will have any time for an ancient like me. Unless I get rich, of course. Rich men are never too old in the eyes of some women. Still, not much chance of that.' Parax added fuel to the fire, then watched the smoke spiral up to the narrow opening at the centre of the domed roof. A flea bit his arm. Parax deftly caught it between thumb and forefinger and flicked it into the fire. 'We should find somewhere better to stay tomorrow,' he said.
'I intend to. Banouin - an old friend of mine - told me of a comrade living here. His name is Phaeton. He is a merchant. I will seek him out tomorrow.'
Conn lay down beside the fire and pulled his blanket over his shoulders. Tae's face hovered in his mind, and he slept fitfully.
Parax woke him just after dawn. The old man looked concerned. 'What is it?' asked Conn.
'They've stolen our ponies.'
Conn sat up. 'This nonsense ends today,' he said.
'We're going back to Three Streams?'
'That's not what I meant.' Pulling on his boots and belting on his sword and dagger, Conn walked from the hut. It had rained a little in the night, just enough to put a shine on the buildings and freshen the air. Parax joined him. 'Where are they?' asked Conn.
'I followed the tracks to a field about a half-mile from here. There are three men there. Armed men.'
'Show me.'
As the two men set out Tae came riding up wearing a dark brown leather shirt and matching leggings and boots. 'Where are your ponies?' she asked, innocently.
'We are just going to fetch them,' Conn told her, forcing a smile. 'We will meet you back here in an hour.'
Tae rode her pony to the paddock and dismounted. Leaving the beast, she ran to join the two men. 'This is obviously some kind of bad jest,' she said. 'I am sorry.'
'It is not your fault,' said Conn. 'But it is probably best if you are not close by when we find the men who took them.'
'Tell me where they are and I'll ride there and fetch them,' she offered. That way there'll be no trouble.'
'It has gone too far for that,' Conn told her. He slowed then stopped and turned towards her. 'Are you betrothed yet to Fiallach?'
'No.'
'Good. That is one fact to cheer me. Now please leave us.'
'You won't kill anyone, will you?'
'Do I seem so savage to you?'
'There is a savage part of you, Connavar.'
'Aye, there is. But there is also a gentle side. I hope to show it to you.' He walked away from her then, and he and Parax continued on their journey, coming at last to an open area with a grazing meadow beyond. The ponies were there, tethered to a rail, and three men, Farrar among them, were sitting on a blanket, playing dice bones.
They looked up as the two men approached, then climbed to their feet.<
br />
Farrar walked towards Conn. 'Your ponies seem—' he began. Conn smashed a hard left into his face, that crushed his lips, spraying blood over him. An overhand right clubbed him to the ground. One of the other men pulled a knife, but Conn stepped in close, slapped the knife hand away, and struck him with a right cross that sent him spinning to the grass. The third man backed away.
'I've only just come here,' he said. 'I don't have anything to do with whatever it is that has angered you.'
'Then get you gone,' said Conn.
The man turned and sprinted away. There was a barn close by. Conn strode to it, returning with two lengths of rope. Moving to the unconscious men he tied their hands behind their backs. 'What now?' asked Parax.
'Now the fun begins,' said Conn, coldly. Farrar groaned. Conn hauled him to his feet. 'Wake the other one,' he ordered Parax. The old man knelt by the fallen man and nudged him several times.
'He'll sleep for a week,' he said. 'I think you've broken his jaw.'
'There's a well behind the barn. Draw some water and douse him with it.'
'Fiallach will kill you for this,' said Farrar, through bleeding lips.
Conn ignored him and waited for Parax to return with a bucket of water. He drenched the unconscious tribesman, who at last began to stir. Parax helped him stand. He swayed groggily, but kept to his feet.
'Now let us go to the hall,' said Conn, mounting his pony.
As they rode through the settlement a crowd began to gather, and by the time they reached the Long Hall word had reached the Lady Llysona, who was standing in the square, Fiallach with her.
'What is the meaning of this?' she asked, icily.
Conn slid from his pony and offered her a deep bow. 'I am sorry to bring you sad tiding, my lady, but these men stole our ponies, and I apprehended them. As you are aware the penalty for such an offence is death by hanging. However, as is my right as a free Rigante, I demand trial by mortal combat. I will kill these two men, and that will be an end to the matter.'
'You'll kill no-one, you whoreson!' bellowed Fiallach.
'Yes, I will,' said Conn, quietly, 'for that is Keltoi law, and no-one, not you, you arrogant pig, nor the lady you serve, can go against it.'
Sword in the Storm Page 30