‘No, thank goodness. I’d not want a man to die for the sake of a bull.’ Reaching out, he took the club from Kaelin’s hand. ‘The wood has split through. When I heard the crack I thought you had broken his neck. But his pulse is strong and I think he’ll be fine. Damn, boy, there was a time I could have taken four men without help.’
They dragged the unconscious men back behind the log stack. Jaim took a ball of tough twine from a pocket sewn into his cloak. Rolling the first man to his belly he looped twine around the ankles then up to the hands, which he tied behind the guard’s back. Only when all four guards were securely bound and gagged did Jaim set about bandaging his own wound, a shallow cut to the forearm. ‘You can’t go into that paddock smelling of blood,’ said Kaelin. ‘Let us just leave!’
‘No, Kaelin. I’ve set my mind on a stroll with the beast,’ said Jaim with a smile.
Then he walked out towards the paddock. The gate was held closed by a hinged iron hoop. Jaim lifted it clear and stepped into the enclosure. Kaelin watched him from the log stack, fear causing his heart to pound. He saw the bull’s tail twitch. The animal pawed at the ground. Then Jaim spoke, his voice soft, his tone mesmeric.
“There was a time,
The old man said,
Before the Dream,
Beneath the Sky,
When bulls were born
With iron horns,
And golden eyes.’
Jaim continued to move across the paddock. Kaelin was scarcely breathing now as the big man approached the deadly horns.
‘That was the time,
The old man said,
Between the Stars,
Before the Ring,
When bulls could fly
And graze the sky
On silver wings.’
The black bull was no longer pawing at the ground, and he did not turn his mighty head as the man walked by his horns. Kaelin watched as Jaim stroked the bull’s dark flanks. It seemed as if even the wind died as Jaim spoke, and Kaelin believed he could hear a soft, distant music echoing from the stars. He blinked and watched the bull. Moonlight was gleaming upon its horns, and Kaelin’s mouth was dry as the one-eyed warrior stood beside the beast.
‘Then came the time, The old man said, Beyond the Song, Beside the Lie, When bulls wore rings Instead of wings And learned to die.’
Still stroking the bull Jaim moved completely around it then strolled back towards the gate. He stopped at the entrance and held out his hand.
‘Come walk with me tonight, my friend, On moonlit trails we’ll talk awhile, Of olden days when bulls were gods With iron horns and golden eyes. We’ll walk together to the end Of weary trails and dusty miles.’
For a moment the bull remained statue still, then it seemed to shiver, as if waking from a trance. It walked forward slowly, towards the outstretched hand. Jaim’s fingers curled around the ring in the bull’s nose, and, together, man and beast walked from the enclosure and away into the night.
Gaise Macon awoke with a start, his heart pounding. He sat up and looked around. Moonlight was shining through the open window, illuminating the leather-topped desk and the assortment of quills, ink pots and papers scattered there. The breeze had lifted some of the papers, causing them to flutter to the floor. Gaise pushed back the covers and swung his legs from the bed. As always when he woke the star-shaped scar on his right cheekbone was itching, the white, puckered burn feeling tight and uncomfortable. He rubbed the spot gently, then gathered up his papers.
Mr Shaddler had set him an essay on the warrior King Connovar, and Gaise had scoured the library for information. Much of it was either contradictory, or cloaked in ridiculous fable. Mr Shaddler had urged him to prepare his piece ‘only on what is truly known. Try to avoid conjecture, Lord Gaise.’ It was an odd assignment. Mr Shaddler would normally direct him to specific historical tomes.
In the end Gaise had employed a different method of analysis. He had removed all references to gods, demons and sprites, treating them as exaggerated representations of more human virtues and frailties. Connovar was, for example, said to have been enchanted by Arian, a Seidh goddess of mischief and torment. By her he had a son, Bane, half man, half god. It seemed to Gaise that Arian was more likely to have been a Rigante woman who bore Connovar a bastard son.