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.’