‘Like a babe,’ he answered, sitting down alongside the man. Maccus had been in the skirmish twenty years before where Arna lost his eye. It had been a ferocious fight against a large group of Sea Raiders. Maccus himself had killed the leader, a giant of a man wielding a long, double-headed axe.
‘So,’ said Arna, good naturedly, ‘you think this child a suitable leader for the Rigante?’ Connavar laughed with genuine good humour. Maccus smiled.
‘Young body, old head,’ he replied. ‘And better him than a senile old fool like you.’
Arna grinned widely. ‘You’re not so young yourself, Maccus. You recall that bastard with the axe?’
‘I do indeed.’
‘Think you could take him now?’
Maccus thought about it, recalling the awesome power of the man, and the mound of Rigante dead around him. ‘No,’ he said, sadly. ‘No, I couldn’t.’ Arna looked crestfallen.
‘Of course you could,’ he insisted. ‘You’re only as old as you feel.’ Maccus gazed into the chieftain’s one good eye, and saw fear there. Age makes fools of us all, he thought.
He forced a smile. ‘Aye, you are right. It might take me a little longer now, mind.’
Arna chuckled. ‘Never give in, Maccus. That’s the secret.’ He fell silent for a moment, and Maccus tensed, knowing what was coming. ‘I was sorry to hear about Leia. She was a fine woman.’
The hurt began again, starting in the pit of his belly and moving up to tighten his throat. ‘Thank you,’ he said. A young woman appeared alongside him, laying a bowl of thick fish soup on the table, and a plate of fresh-baked bread. Maccus thanked her, broke off a piece of bread and began to eat.
It was mid-morning before he and Connavar left Snake Loch to begin the journey home. The ponies were still tired from the day before, and they rode slowly along the mountain trails.
They stopped to rest their mounts at noon, and, sheltered from the wind by a huge boulder, they lit a fire. ‘Arna spoke very highly of you,’ said Connavar. ‘Said you were the finest of men.’
‘He was always given to exaggeration.’
‘Told me how you won the battle by killing the leader.’
‘It wasn’t a battle, Connavar. Just a skirmish.’ Maccus wrapped his cloak more tightly around him and lifted his hood over his short-cropped, receding hair.
‘Why did you not wish to be laird?’
Maccus had known this question would come, and he still had no real answer to it. He shrugged. ‘I thought of it. Maybe ten years ago I would have fought for it. I don’t know, Connavar. That’s the truth. Leia used to tell me I was too quiet, that I didn’t enjoy the company of men or women. It wasn’t really true. I just preferred hers to theirs.’ He glanced up. ‘What about you? Why did you wish to be laird?’
‘I have seen the evil to come,’ said Connavar. ‘I have to fight it.’
‘A driven man. I see. Perhaps that is my answer also. I am not driven. And I am looking forward to riding the high country and returning to the cabin we built.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When you choose your own First Counsel.’
Connavar laughed. ‘I want no-one new, Maccus. I will need you to guide me.’ Conn’s comment shocked the older man, and he was surprised to find that his heart lifted. He had not realized how good it felt to be needed.
‘What about Ruathain?’
‘In some ways he and I are too alike. We are impulsive. No. Will you stay?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll need time to think on it.’
‘Good enough.’
‘I’ll be fifty in the summer. And already my bones are beginning to ache.’
Connavar added wood to the fire. ‘You were kind back there, to Arna. The man is terrified of growing old.’
Maccus nodded. ‘He was a bonny fighter, and like all young men he never believed that it would end. The old to us were a race apart. I think, in some ways, we believed that people chose to grow old. We were young, we were mighty, and we were mighty stupid. The years stretched out ahead of us, full of promise. We sat often at night complaining about the old men who ruled us. They were tired, worn out, timid. We talked of all the things we would do when our day came.’ Maccus laughed with genuine good humour. ‘Now I glance across at the young men sitting around campfires and I know what they are saying. As to Arna, it might have been different had he had children. Without them a man feels that death is a true ending.’