‘You must be Riamfada,’ he said. ‘I am Govannan. My friends call me Van.’ He held out his hand. Riamfada shook it. One by one the smith’s son introduced the others. Then he shivered. ‘It is cold once you are out of the water. We’ll talk again in the pool.’ Turning, Govannan ran down to the water’s edge and dived in. His friends followed him and they swam to the falls, clambering out to run up the rocky path and jump back into the pool from a jutting boulder.
‘They made me welcome,’ said Riamfada.
‘Why should they not?’
‘I noticed he did not speak to you.’
‘We are not friends. Now come, let us swim. I do not have too long today. I am meeting Wing for a hunt. Mother says she will need meat for at least six game pies in time for Samain.’
‘I do not eat meat,’ said Riamfada, as Conn set him down. Conn stared at him.
‘Meat makes you strong – especially beef.’
‘Perhaps. But a creature must die first, frightened and in pain.’
Conn laughed, but it was not a scornful sound. ‘You are a strange one, my friend. You should have been a druid. They too eat only vegetables, I’m told. It’s why they are all so scrawny.’
Braefar was growing irritated. The light would soon be gone, and he hated to hunt alone, fearing that wolves or lions would spring from the undergrowth at him. Then he saw Conn running up from the settlement.
‘What took you so long?’ he asked.
Conn grinned at him. ‘Eager for the kill, little Wing?’
‘Mother says she wants at least a dozen pigeons, and as many rabbits as we can find.’
Conn crouched down and patted the black hound, Caval. She lifted her muzzle into his hand, then licked his face.
‘You want the bow or the sling?’ Conn asked Braefar.
‘I have no preference. I’m better than you with both.’
‘You are getting cocky, my brother. It is good to see. I’ll take the bow. Caval and I will scare up some rabbits.’
By the time the light had faded and they were heading home, the two boys had killed three rabbits and five wood pigeons. It was not as many as Braefar had hoped, but Meria would be pleased.
On their way back across the first of the bridges they heard a peal of laughter coming from behind a barn. Braefar tensed. The sound was infectious, and he knew the source. It was Arian, and
Braefar understood her well enough to know that she was not alone. Worse, she was with a man. That throaty laugh was reserved for would-be suitors. ‘We should be getting back,’ he said. Conn handed him the rabbits and strode towards the barn. Braefar followed glumly.
The moon was out, and by her light Braefar saw the youth, Casta, standing with Arian. He was leaning against the barn, his hand resting on the wood just above Arian’s shoulder. They were talking in low tones.
‘What are you doing with my woman?’ asked Conn.
Surprised, Casta jumped. Two years older than Conn, he was a powerfully built young man. ‘What do you mean, your woman?’ he countered. ‘Arian is not pledged to anyone.’ ,
‘She knows I am to ask for her hand at Samain,’ said Conn.
‘I didn’t say I’d give it to you,’ said Arian, her voice more shrill than she intended.
‘There you have it,’ put in Casta. ‘So why don’t you leave us alone?’
Braefar winced. Then he cast a glance at Arian. Her eyes were bright, and, in that moment, he knew she was excited by the thought of two men fighting for her. It sickened the youngster.
‘Don’t fight him, Conn,’ he said, softly.
‘What?’
‘It’s what she wants. Look at her.’
‘Stay out of this, Wing. It is none of your business.’ Conn advanced on the older youth.
‘You have me at a disadvantage,’ said Casta, smoothly. ‘I work for your father, and if I give you the thrashing your boorish behaviour calls for he’ll send me away.’
‘Even if that unlikely event were to take place,’ said Conn, ‘he won’t know of it.’