Connavar dismounted and bowed. For a moment he stood in silence. Then he took a deep breath. ‘I am sorry,’ he said, simply. ‘There was nothing I could do.’
‘Come,’ she said. ‘Fetch a chair and sit beside me.’
He did so, first removing his sword and scabbard and laying them by the wall. When he sat she reached out and took his hand. ‘I told you a long time ago, Connavar, that there are some things even a hero cannot achieve. You could not keep him alive. There should be no guilt.’
‘There is no force under the stars strong enough to remove the guilt I feel,’ he said. ‘Not just for Banouin’s death, but for the thousands of deaths that followed it.’ He fell silent. Vorna said nothing, and the two sat quietly in the shade for a while.
The babe stirred, then fell asleep again. Vorna rose and moved inside the house, laying the child in his cot. Her back was aching and she stretched. Returning to where Connavar sat, she saw he was staring out over the hills to the south. He looked so much older than his eighteen years.
‘A merchant brought news of your fight with the evil king,’ she said. Connavar nodded.
‘It seems so long ago now, yet it is but a few months.’ He laughed, but the sound was bereft of humour. ‘Evil king,’ he repeated, shaking his head.
‘Was he not evil then?’ she asked.
‘He murdered his brother, the brother’s wife and son, and he killed Banouin. Yes, he was evil. But his deeds are as nothing to the vileness that followed his death.’ He sighed. ‘Let us not talk about it. It is good to be home.’
‘We have missed you. Who is the man with you?’
‘His name is Parax. He was among the prisoners taken by Jasaray. Now he serves me.’
‘Serves?’
‘A slip of the tongue. I have been around the men of Stone for too long. He is my companion and, I think, my friend. He will help me.’
‘To do what, Connavar?’
‘To prepare, Vorna. The men of Stone will come. Not next year, perhaps. But they will come.’
‘I know. I saw it when I had my powers. Their hunger is insatiable. And you will fight them. I saw this also.’ Sunlight fell upon the sword against the wall, illuminating the hilt. Vorna stared at it. ‘It is a Seidh blade. How did you come by it?’
Connavar told her of his flight from the town of Alin, and his encounter in the Talis woods.
‘The Tree man was the Thagda,’ she said, ‘the Old Man of the Forest. You were truly blessed. Show me the sword.’ He passed it to her and she looked closely at the hilt, the embossed head of the bear on the fist guard, the fawn in brambles on the pommel. Vorna smiled. ‘You know who made this blade?’ she asked him.
‘How could I?’ he responded.
‘It was Riamfada. On the night he died I saw his spirit moving towards the Seidh woods.’
Taking the sword, Conn looked at it with fresh eyes. ‘He promised me a sword,’ he whispered.
‘And he kept the promise. He is one of them now.’ From within the house came the sound of the baby crying. Vorna moved inside, lifted Banouin from his cot, sat down by the hearth and opened her blouse. The babe began to suckle hungrily. Conn stood in the doorway, watching the scene.
‘Is it a boy?’ he asked.
‘Yes, a boy. Banouin’s boy.’ Conn struggled for something to say, and Vorna laughed. It was a sound he had never heard from her, and it made him smile.
‘What?’ he asked her.
‘You want to say something about how he has Banouin’s nose,
or eyes. But you can’t, because all babies look the same to you. Like wizened old men.’
He grinned. ‘Have your powers returned?’
‘I do not need powers to understand the minds of men.’ She laughed again. ‘Have you seen your mother yet?’
He brightened. ‘Aye. She and the Big Man are back together. That is a fine thing.’
‘Indeed it is. Together and happy.’ She looked at him closely. ‘You are tired, Connavar. Go back to your family. Rest. You can come and see us again, if you have a mind to.’