‘I always thought’, said Banouin, ‘that Arian was a good woman.’
‘Stupid boy!’ stormed Vorna. ‘Did I say she was not good? I said she had a need for men – a weakness if you like. That does not make her evil. She was a good mother to Bane, and there was great kindness in her. It is my belief that she never stopped loving Connavar. Her burden of guilt was every bit as powerful as his own.’ Vorna sighed. ‘Their guilt was the same. And yet Connavar – as you said – is a great man, so he was forgiven. Arian was marked in men’s minds as the whore who caused the death of Tae. It is unjust. Even members of her own family turned their backs on her. Govannan, mainly. But her sister Gwydia never invited her to Seven Willows.’
‘Why hasn’t someone told Bane this?’ he asked.
‘For what purpose? He loved his mother, and he thinks her almost holy. He was the one person in her life who gave her complete love. It was for her to tell him – if she chose to. And she did not.’
‘It was all so tragic,’ said Banouin. ‘And it doesn’t end, does it? Arian is dead, but Bane lives on, with all the bitterness.’
‘That bitterness would not be ended merely by understanding of the truth,’ said Vorna. ‘Trust me on this, my son.’
‘But none of this was Bane’s fault,’ insisted Banouin. ‘His mother betrayed her husband, just as Connavar betrayed his wife. Bane is merely the innocent who has suffered.’
‘They have all suffered.’ She looked at her son fondly, and reached out to stroke his face. ‘Men say that there is freedom in truth. Sometimes it is true. Mostly it is not. Truth can be a dagger to the heart. When your father died, and you were born, I was torn between anguish and joy. It almost broke me. And on one day, as I looked at you within your crib, I felt as if I had been cursed by love, not blessed by it. In that one moment I wished you had never been conceived, that I had never met your father. That I had never known love at all. That is a truth, Banouin. Tell me, how does it sit with you?’
‘I can understand it,’ he said. ‘I feel no anger or hurt.’
‘Suppose I had told you this when you were five years younger, hated and despised by all the other boys?’
‘I would have been devastated,’ he admitted. ‘I would have been too young to understand.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘the child would invest that truth with a perception of its own. “My mother did not love me.” “I was not wanted.” In many ways that is what the young Bane did. Connavar did not acknowledge him, therefore Connavar hated him, and hated his mother. Connavar was an evil creature. An enemy. This is the way Bane dealt with his perception of the truth. And it haunts him still.’
‘Then there is nothing we can do?’
‘I would not say that. There is great strength in him, great loyalty and love. With good friends close by he may yet find his way. That is what we can do. Remain his friends.’
‘I will always be that,’ Banouin had promised.
The dancing shadows on the cave wall were making Banouin sleepy. He glanced out at the skyline, and saw his friend still sitting on the cliff top. Wearily he pushed himself to his feet and trudged out to join him. ‘It is a fine night,’ he said, hunkering down beside the blond warrior, his feet dangling over the cliff edge.
‘Aye, it is,’ agreed Bane. ‘Some people find the night threatening, but I love the dark. It seems timeless and calm. When I was a child, maybe five or six, my mother would take me to the Riguan Falls on warm nights. We would swim there in the moonlight. I remember that I longed to be a fish, swimming for ever. I loved those nights. When we climbed out she would light a fire, and then we would sit and eat a supper she had brought with her. After that I always felt sleepy, and she would wrap me in a blanket and hold me close, so that I slept with my head in her lap. They were the most peaceful of nights, and I never dreamt at all.’