Banouin smiled. ‘You have seen only the sword. I did not bring the bronze shield, the iron breastplate, the plumed iron helm. Nor the greaves to protect the shins, the baked leather wrist and forearm protectors, or the chainmail tunic. Most deaths in battle among the Rigante follow neck wounds, or body-piercing cuts to the heart, belly and groin. Sometimes warriors bleed to death slowly. At other times they succumb to infection and gangrene. Like all the tribespeople I have met, here and beyond the water, you fight largely without armour. You fall upon the enemy in great numbers and each battle breaks down into a thousand skirmishes between heroes. You will need to learn to fight a different way if you wish to retain your independence.’
‘You speak as if war with your people was inevitable,’ said Conn, quietly.
‘I fear it is. Not this year or next. First Jasaray must subdue his own enemies from within the empire. Then he will tackle the Perdii, or the Ostro, or the Gath. That will take several years. But – if he survives – he will come here, Conn.’
‘Will you have supplied him with maps?’ asked Conn.
Banouin shook his head. ‘No. I carry no maps any more. It is all in my head. And I will not fight again. I have seen war. I have witnessed the desolation and the torment. No. When the war comes I will hire a ship and sail to the west. It is said there are fabulous lands there, rich and fertile. Perhaps the people there will have no use for war.’
‘A weak soft people they will be,’ muttered Conn. ‘A strong man will always have enemies, and those who live on good land will need to defend it against those who dwell on poorer soil. That is the way of the world, Banouin. I may be young, but I know this to be true. The strong will always rule, the weak suffer. This is the way the gods planned it. Why else should it always be so?’
‘Do not bring religion into this debate!’ warned Banouin. ‘I have no patience for it. Let me turn this argument around. If my people come here and destroy your armies, does this mean you deserve to lose your lands? Would that be fair?’
Conn laughed. ‘Only the defeated, the luckless and the weak talk of fairness and unfairness, and what is deserved or undeserved. All I know is that I will fight for my people, and I will kill any enemy who comes to Caer Druagh.’
‘As you killed the bear?’ asked Banouin, softly.
Conn blushed. ‘That was different. I did not have the weapons to kill the bear.’
‘No difference, Conn. The Rigante do not have the weapons to stop my people.’ His words hung in the air. Conn thought about them, rolling them over in his mind.
‘When do you head south again?’ he asked, finally.
‘In three months. High summer is a good time to travel.’
‘I will travel with you. I will see these armies, and this Jasaray.’
Once the thaw was under way Vorna left the sanctuary of her cave and made the long trek down to the settlement. It was not that she was particularly anxious for company. People had never liked Vorna, even as a child. There was something fey about her, they said. Other children avoided her. Once her powers developed she was even more isolated, and the coldness in the eyes of others became fear. Even when she arrived at the homes of the sick and healed them she could sense their relief as she moved towards the door to leave.
No, it was not exactly company she sought. But after a winter trapped in a cold, grey cave, she yearned for movement and sound; the rhythmic thudding of the forge hammer, the laughter of children, the sound of hoof beats on the firm ground, the lowing of cattle, the chatter of people as they greeted the arrival of the new sun. And taste! Fresh-baked bread, hot honey tarts, sour milk porridge.
She was thinking of these delights as she crossed the bridge. The first person she saw was a crofter named Eanor, whose wife she had healed ten days before the bear attacked Connavar. He looked up from his work, digging over the earth of his vegetable patch, and smiled warmly at her. ‘Daan’s blessing, lady,’ he called. ‘Is it not a fine day?’ The greeting shook her. No-one spoke when Vorna passed by. Surprised, she merely nodded and walked on. Eanor was right, the day was fine, the sun warm, the sky clear and blue.