promise of the dawn. Fiallach splashed his face then rubbed wet fingers through his long yellow hair. He stared for a moment at the Druagh mountains, tall and proud against the lightening sky. This was good land, he thought.
Few people were stirring at this early hour. Pulling on his boots, Fiallach strolled through the settlement, back down to the feast area. The remains of the food had been gathered, and not a scrap remained. This was good practice, for had it been left to lie it would have encouraged wolves or bears to move down into the settlement.
‘Good morning,’ said Gwydia, walking from behind the smithy. Fiallach turned. Her dark hair was bound now, and she was wearing a dress of sky blue, and a woollen shawl the colour of cream. Like him she could only have enjoyed around two hours of sleep, and yet she looked fresh, her eyes bright.
‘You are abroad early,’ he said.
‘I always rise early. I like this time of day, watching the sun clear the mountains.’
‘So do I,’ he said. ‘Will you walk with me a while?’
She smiled and, unselfconsciously, took his arm. Together they crossed a bridge and strolled out of the settlement and up into the high meadow. In the distance Fiallach could see two eagles soaring high against the backdrop of the mountains. ‘It would be nice to be an eagle,’ she said, ‘don’t you think?’
‘I have never considered it,’ he admitted. But the thought was a fine one: spreading wings and flying high above the earth. They continued to walk, then paused to watch the sunrise light the land.
Fiallach stood silently, feeling Gwydia’s small hand in his own. He felt strange, then realized, with sudden shock, that he was at peace.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked him, suddenly.
‘That I am an angry man,’ he replied, without thinking. The words surprised him.
‘What are you angry about?’
He smiled. ‘At this moment I do not know, for the anger is gone.’
‘It is hard to be angry when one has seen the sun rise,’ she said.
‘It seems to be true,’ he admitted. ‘I wonder why?’
‘Because it makes us feel so small and insignificant. It has been rising for ever, and will rise for ever, no matter what we do or do not do. All our problems are as nothing to the sun.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I see that. I never saw it before.’
She laughed. ‘You never watched a sunrise?’
‘I have never watched one with you.’
She blushed. Taking her hand he raised it to his lips and kissed her fingers. For a moment they stood very still, then she took his arm. ‘Come down to my home,’ she said, softly. ‘Mother will be preparing breakfast.’
‘Could I be the right man for you?’ he asked her.
Her dark eyes looked into his own of bright blue. ‘You had best speak to my father,’ she told him.
‘I shall. But I need to hear it from you.’
‘You are the right man,’ she said. ‘I knew it last night.’
‘You know that I am almost thirty-one. You do not think me too old?’
‘Foolish man,’ she said, with a smile. ‘Come and see my father.’
Nanncumal the smith was a dour man, but he smiled widely when Fiallach told him of his desire to wed his daughter. With Gwydia in the house, helping her mother set the table, Nanncumal and Fiallach had walked to the smithy. Nanncumal stirred the ashes to life in the forge and added fresh fuel. ‘She is a fine girl,’ said the smith. ‘Strong, loyal – a little too quick with her wit, though.’
‘You seem unsurprised, sir,’ said Fiallach.
‘She told us last night. I was only worried that she might be disappointed.’
‘Last night?’
‘The ways of women, young man, are completely beyond a man’s understanding. She came home more excited than I have ever seen her. Said she had met the most wonderful man. I got up in the night and saw her sitting by the window. I asked her what she was doing. She said she was watching for you. I have never known her like this. To be honest, it is good to see. She has turned down several fine young men. Said she was waiting for the right one. You treat her well, now.’