‘No,’ she answered, with a smile. ‘Sometimes – though not often – a man will die ahead of his time. A chance arrow, a fall from a horse, a plague or a sickness. All that is certain is that if your break your geasa you will die on that day.’
‘I see. So, with a geasa and ten silver coins I could buy a pony.’
‘It is always best to avoid mocking what we do not understand,’ she told him, sternly.
Banouin was instantly contrite. ‘I am sorry if it sounded like mockery. I am feeling light hearted and full of warmth. But I promise you I would never sneer at Rigante customs. I love your people, and their culture. But I was talking to Ruathain about geasas and he told me his: Be not the king’s shield. He was laughing about it, since the Rigante have no kings.’
‘Ruathain is not my concern at this time,’ she told him. ‘I did not make his prophecy. Do you promise me you will remember the lion?’
Banouin placed his hand on his heart. ‘I promise you,’ he said.
Reaching out he took her hand. ‘Now will you stay here with me until I leave next week?’
‘That would cause much talk in the settlement.’
‘We could walk the tree together,’ he said softly, still holding her hand. The words hung in the air.
‘Marriage is not a commitment to be made light heartedly,’ she said.
‘No, it is not.’
‘Tell me why I should,’ she whispered.
‘Does it need words?’ he asked, moving in close, his fingers stroking her face.
‘It always needs words, Foreigner.’
He kissed her cheek, then lightly brushed his lips across her ear. ‘I love you,’ he told her.
‘And I you,’ she replied. ‘We will walk around the tree.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
the WIND WAS PICKING UP, THE CHOPPY WAVES BENEATH THE SMALL
ship causing it to rear and judder. Connavar gripped the bow rail and stared back longingly at the chalk cliffs. Gulls wheeled and banked above the ship, filling the air with their screeching cries. Conn glanced up, his thoughts venomous. He found the noise wearing on his nerves. The deck lurched beneath his feet and his fingers tightened on the rail. His stomach heaved. A sailor ambled past him and grinned. Conn felt like burying his fist in the man’s face, but to do so would mean letting go of the rail.
Banouin appeared alongside him. The little merchant was wearing a heavy coat of sheepskin and carrying a baked loaf of cheese bread. Ripping off a chunk he offered it to Conn. The youngster shook his head.
‘Best to eat. Otherwise you’ll be spilling your guts over the side,’ said Banouin. Reluctantly Conn accepted the bread and took a bite. It tasted of ash and bile. Slowly he chewed and swallowed. The white cliffs were smaller now, the gulls wheeling away to return to the land. Conn wished he had wings so that he could join them. ‘Keep eating,’ ordered Banouin. Conn finished the bread, and was surprised to find that his stomach was settling. He glanced at the sky. It was the colour of iron, and in the distance he could see storm clouds.
‘How long before we reach Goriasa?’ he asked.
‘Four . . . five hours.’
Conn shivered. Banouin walked across the flat deck to where the twenty pack ponies and two mounts were tethered, and pulled
Conn’s pale blue cloak clear of the ties at the back of his saddle. Returning to the youngster he lifted it over his shoulders. Conn smiled his thanks and clipped it in place with the fawn in brambles brooch Riamfada had made for him. Behind them Conn’s steeldust gelding whinnied in fear as the ship lurched once more. Releasing the rail Conn staggered over to where the pony was tied and stroked its long nose. ‘You are just like me,’ whispered Conn. ‘Neither of us has been on a ship before, and neither of us likes it.’ Feeling the confident touch of its rider, the gelding calmed down. Conn patted its neck and moved back to where Banouin was now sitting on the deck, out of the wind. Crouching down, Conn joined him.