For a moment he thought the king was going to attack him, such was the fury in the man’s eyes. But Connavar stood very still, and Bane saw him struggle to remain calm. ‘There is truth in what you say, Bane,’ he said at last. ‘And I am at fault here. Gather your men and I will speak to them. The other matter can wait until later.’
Bane had no need to gather the outlaws. Word had spread that the Battle King had come to the farm. The fabled Demonblade was among them. As Connavar strode out into the open they were huddled just beyond the front door. They fell back, and opened a path as he walked through to the firepit. Men gazed at the patchwork cloak, made up of the symbols of five tribes: the pale blue and green of the Rigante, the black of the Gath, the yellow and green of the Pannone, the blue stripes of the Norvii, and even the red circle on yellow of the southern Cenii. The cloak alone said it all – this man was beyond tribal dispute. This man was the High King of the Keltoi.
The flames from the firepit shone on his breastplate and greaves, glittering red on the rings of his mailshirt. The men stood in silence as he moved among them. Gryffe came out from the house and moved alongside Bane. ‘Gives you the shivers, doesn’t he?’ he whispered.
When Connavar spoke his voice was low and deep, but it rumbled like thunder in the silence.
‘Two days ago,’ he told them, ‘we fought a mighty battle against the Vars. Twelve thousand Rigante, Pannone and Norvii against fifteen thousand Sea Wolves. The grass of the field was red with blood, and the streams ran crimson. Great heroism was seen on that day – on both sides! Men of courage and valour, men who carried mountains on their shoulders. We were outnumbered, but we were fighting for hearth and home, fighting to protect our women and our children. That is the nature of a true man.
‘But you, my friends, were not fighting for your loved ones or your homes. You stood against a foe who was not your enemy. You fought for those who were not your kin. I was told in Three Streams that you fought for gold. I have seen men who fight for gold. At the first reverse they break and run. Yet many of your number gave their lives upon that hilltop. They did not run. They did not plead. They fought! You fought! And in doing so you saved the life of my mother, the wife and children of my brother, Bendegit Bran, and the son of my dearest friend, Fiallach. I am proud of you all, and to each of you I offer my thanks.
‘Every one of my soldiers receives payment for his services. And you on that day of courage were my soldiers. I have, therefore, brought gold for each of you. And with it I offer you pardon for all crimes committed before this day. Where is the man Wik?’
‘I am here,’ said Wik, striding out of the group.
Connavar offered his hand, and Wik shook it. ‘In two days,’ said the king, ‘I ride south to face the greatest enemy of all. I need good men, Wik. Will you join my Horse Archers?’
‘I will,’ said Wik.
‘Good man.’ Connavar raised his voice. ‘Any of you who wish to ride with us are welcome. I will supply the horses and the armour, the bows and the shafts. All I ask in return is that you bury those shafts in the hearts of Stone.’
A cheer went up, but Wik raised his arms to quell the roar. ‘It was Bane who led us, Lord King. It was Bane who held the line. What does he receive?’
‘Anything he desires of me,’ replied the king. Another cheer went up. Connavar walked back through the crowd, and into the house. Bane followed him, pushing shut the door.
‘A fine speech,’ he said. ‘It even sounded sincere. I don’t doubt they’ll now ride into hell for you. Now what was the second reason you spoke of?’