‘I have heard the name,’ said the Fisher Laird, stroking his dark beard. ‘Ruathain the Mad Dog. Ruathain the Killer.’
‘I never killed a man who was not carrying a sword,’ said Ruathain, evenly. ‘However, be that as it may, I am here to offer blood price to the bereaved.’
‘You accept then that you are a murderer?’
Ruathain was silent for a moment, and Arbon knew he was struggling with his temper. ‘What I accept is that men died who need not have died. I’ll admit freely that when your men first raided my cattle I could have dealt less harshly with them. But I did not. Now four more of your young men are dead and I would like to see an end to this feud. I have no wish to kill any more Pannone.’
‘Nor be killed yourself,’ observed the Fisher Laird.
‘In my life many have tried to kill me. I am still here. Death holds no fear for me, fisherman. I am not here to save my life. I am here to save the lives of your young men who, so far, have shown little skill when it comes to battle. I do not decry them for this, nor wish to speak ill of the dead. It is merely a fact -a fact evidenced by their deaths. I am Ruathain, First Swordsman of the Rigante. I do not enjoy slaying untried boys.’ Ruathain took a deep, calming breath. ‘I have brought with me twelve fine ponies to offer as blood price to the families of the dead. Do I have your permission to speak with them?’
The Fisher Laird gave a harsh laugh. ‘You may be a killer, Ruathain, but I see you still respect tradition. You have my permission. Step down and enter my house. I will send for the families.’
Ruathain dismounted and removed his sword, which he handed to Arbon.
‘Wait here with the ponies,’ he said.
‘Aye, Lord,’answered Arbon, glumly.
Ruathain strode to where the Fisher Laird waited, then bowed. The Laird stepped aside, allowing Ruathain to enter the hall. Then he and his sons followed him. Arbon’s mouth was dry, his heart beating fast, but he sat quietly, assuming an expression of mild boredom. A runner came out from the hall and moved through the crowd. A little time later three women, dressed in black, entered the hall, closely followed by five young men.
Arbon waited for a while in the sunshine, then dismounted and stretched his back. An elderly woman brought him a cup of water. He bowed as he accepted it, and drank deeply. ‘My thanks to you, Mother,’ he said.
‘I am no mother of yours, you Rigante pig,’ she said. ‘But the laws of hospitality should always be observed.’
He bowed again and grinned. ‘Indeed they should,’ he agreed, returning the cup. Another woman brought him some smoked fish and a hunk of bread. Time passed slowly and the sun was beginning to set when the doors of the hall opened once more. The Pannone women emerged first, followed by the five young men, then Ruathain and lastly the Fisher Laird and his sons.
Ruathain strode over to Arbon. ‘It is agreed,’ he said, softly, ‘but I have also promised a bull and ten feasting steers for the Laird.’
At that moment a young man came running from the water’s edge. He was tall and slim, black haired and pale eyed. ‘What is going on here?’ he shouted.
‘You are too young to have a voice in this,’ the Fisher Laird told him. ‘An honourable offer has been made and accepted. The blood feud is over.’
‘Over?’ shouted the youngster. ‘Nothing is over. This butcher slaughtered my brothers. I will have vengeance.’ He swung round to the five young men. ‘How could you agree to this? Six lives taken, their blood drenching the grass. Family. Blood kin. Never to wed and sire sons, never to know joy. Are a few scrawny ponies all they were worth? Blood cries for blood. Their souls cry for justice and revenge.’
‘Be silent!’ roared the Fisher Laird. ‘Do you understand nothing, boy? Your brothers died in battle. They were not set upon in the dark, or their throats cut while they were sleeping. They faced an enemy who out-fought them. That enemy has shown great courage in coming here. A gesture of respect and in keeping with the traditions of the Keltoi. But more important even than that, boy, is the fact that I am your lord, and I tell you the blood feud is over.’