Then came the sound of galloping horses. A pony leapt over Riamfada, the rider leaning down to ram a long lance through the bear’s chest. The bear lashed out, talons ripping through the pony’s neck. The rider was thrown clear. Rolling to his feet he drew a long sword of iron. The beast turned towards him. A rope sailed over the bear’s head, drawing tight and dragging it back. The swordsman ran in, plunging his blade deep into the bear’s stomach. More horsemen galloped in. Some threw rope loops over the beast, others stabbed lances into the wounded creature. And all the while the swordsman hacked at it with his iron blade. It seemed to Riamfada that the bear would never die. It killed a second pony, but then became completely entangled in the ropes. The swordsman delivered three terrible blows to the back of its neck and it collapsed to the ground. The riders dismounted, plunging their lances again and again into the massive form.
‘Look to Conn!’ shouted Riamfada. ‘Please help him!’
The swordsman dropped his blade and ran to the fallen youngster. Riamfada tried to crawl over to him. Govannan lifted him, holding him close. ‘You don’t want to see him,’ he said, sadly. ‘He’s dead.’
‘No. No, he can’t be.’
‘If not, he will be soon. No-one could lose that much blood and live.’
Govannan set Riamfada down on the grass, then ran over to where the men had gathered around the still form of Connavar. Riamfada could see them battling to staunch the wounds. A little way to the right Riamfada caught sight of Braefar. The boy was kneeling on the grass and sobbing. He wanted to call out to him, to comfort him, but he felt powerless to make a noise within this grim tableau. A few feet away the colossal bear, still entangled in ropes, lay dead alongside the two ponies it had killed. Several of the men moved to their mounts and rode back up the hillside. Riamfada wondered where they were going. Then he remembered the dead Galanis, and his missing brothers. He began to tremble.
A woman with white-streaked black hair came walking from the woods. She was carrying a long staff. The remaining men backed away from her and Riamfada saw her kneel beside Connavar. Her skinny arm came up and it was obvious she was directing the men. Three of them lifted the wounded youngster. The woman strode back into the woods, the men following. Govannan walked back to where Riamfada sat.
‘He is alive. Barely,’said the smith’s son.
‘Who was the woman?’
‘Vorna the witch. He is being carried to her cave.’ ,
‘You should speak to Braefar,’ said Riamfada. Govannan took a deep breath.
‘What would I say?’ he countered.
They sat together for more than an hour. It was growing dark and cold as the men returned from Vorna’s cave. The other riders had found the bodies of Galanis and his brothers and, wrapped in cloaks, they were taken back to the settlement.
Ruathain emerged from the woods and walked across to where the two youngsters waited. Govannan rose and stood silently as Ruathain approached.
‘What happened here?’ asked the swordsman.
‘It was my fault,’ said Riamfada. The swordsman knelt before the crippled youth.
‘How so?’ he asked.
‘Conn could not outrun the beast while carrying me, and he refused to leave me. He stood with his knife and then attacked the bear. Govannan helped him.’ Tears fell to his cheeks. ‘I urged him to leave me and run. He is my friend and I didn’t want him hurt.’
‘He is my son,’ said Ruathain, his voice choked with emotion. ‘He would not leave a friend in peril. Govannan helped him, you say?’
‘Yes, sir. Conn faced it, then Govannan leapt on its back and stabbed it.’
The swordsman rose and turned to the smith’s son. ‘There was no great affection between you two,’ he said. ‘And yet you risked your life for him. I will not forget that. I have had trouble with your father, but you have my friendship for as long as I live.’
‘My father is a good man, sir,’ said Govannan. ‘But like me his mouth sometimes hits the gallop before his brain is in the saddle. How is Conn?’