Warriors were moving around the battlefield, seeking out injured men among the dead. Pannone wounded were carried back to receive attention. The Vars were not so fortunate. They were despatched wherever they were found.
Conn drew Bran aside. 'Where is Wing?' he asked.
Bran shrugged. 'Back at Old Oaks. He felt a strong force was needed there, in case the enemy broke through.'
'And he sent you instead.'
'Not exactly, Conn. In fact I broke his orders as well as yours. Quite a day for defiance, eh?' Bran picked up a stone and hurled it high into the air, aiming at a pigeon and missing narrowly.
'So what were his orders?'
The youngster ran his hand through his long, golden hair. 'Ah, Conn, it's not worth getting angry with him. You know Wing. He told all the warriors to move inside the fortress. I argued with him, but he would have none of it.' Bran looked away. 'He was very frightened, Conn. Anyway, I saw one-eyed Arna, the Laird from Snake Loch, riding in with his men, so I took a pony, galloped down to them and said we had orders to join you here. He had over eight hundred men with him and they were mounted on good ponies. We made it in just under two hours. Not bad, eh?'
'You helped to turn the tide,' admitted Conn. He swore, softly. 'How many men does Wing have barricaded in with him?'
'Over three thousand.'
'We could have used them here,' said Conn, his voice cold.
'Aye, but we didn't need them, did we?'
'That's not the point, Bran. I have to be able to rely on my orders being carried out.'
'But not by me, or Fiallach?' Bran laughed aloud, the sound so infectious that Conn couldn't help but smile.
'You are an insolent rogue. Now gather some men and help Brother Solstice.'
'I'll do that. But promise me you won't take it out on Wing. He can't help what he is, Conn.'
'I promise. Now go!'
As the afternoon wore on, and the injured were tended, the dead buried, three pipers arrived and began to play the Warriors' Lament, the sound causing a ghostly echo in the hills.
Govannan and his riders came back towards dusk. Govannan dismounted wearily. 'We chased them back towards the sea,' he told Conn. 'The Sea Wolves' king escaped. We thought we had him, but he led a counter-charge. He's a fighting man, by Heaven. We had to pull back. Still, we did bring a prisoner.' Govannan signalled two riders who heeled their mounts forward. Behind them, his hands tied, rode the Highland Laird. One of the riders pushed him from the saddle. The little man fell heavily, then struggled to his feet. Fear was strong upon him, but he held himself straight, and when he was brought to Conn, spat in his face. Govannan made to strike him, but Conn raised his hand and shook his head.
'Free his hands,' said Conn. Govannan produced a knife and sliced through the Laird's bonds. 'Come, walk with me,' Conn told the Laird, and strolled away to a group of boulders, where he sat, staring out over the battlefield.
'You expect me to beg for my life?' said the Laird. 'You'll have a long wait.'
'I don't expect you to beg. You are a Keltoi chieftain. What I expect from you is wisdom - and you've shown precious little of that. Had the Vars succeeded it would have signalled the end of our culture. They would have taken our lands, brought in their families, and more warriors. Your thirst for revenge blinded you to this simple fact - even as my desire for revenge blinded me. Not a day passes when I do not think of those children at Shining Water, or the women who fell under my sword. I do not expect forgiveness. Some crimes should not be forgiven. But if you want my death, send a champion and I will face him.' Conn looked at the battlefield. 'I killed some of your people, Laird. You have brought thousands of them to their deaths. And for what? What has it achieved?' Conn sat silently for a moment. Then he looked up and held the man's gaze. 'I will send a messenger to you, offering weregild for Shining Water. You will accept.'
'Why should I accept?' asked the Laird.
'Because it is right for you to do so. Understand me well. This battle could be an ending to our feud.' Conn leaned forward, fixing the man with a cold stare. 'Or it could be the beginning of a terrible war that I will bring to you. I will destroy your towns, your settlements and your ports. I will raze your buildings and sow salt in your pastures. I will hunt you down and kill you, and your whole family with you. The choice is yours. Peace or war. Make the choice now.'
'What have you done with the Pannone wounded?' asked the Laird.
'They are being tended along with my own men,' Conn told him.
'Then it shall be peace,' said the Highland Laird.
'You will swear this as a Blood Oath before the druids. Then you can go.'
'I will stay and help with the wounded,' said the Laird.
'As you wish.'
The pipers were still playing, and the sad, haunting sound filled Conn with a deep melancholy. This morning his men were fathers, brothers, husbands and sons. Tonight there were new widows and orphans, and across the land there would be a great sadness in many homes.
He saw Bran talking to Brother Solstice and moved across to join them, telling the druid of the Highland Laird's promise of peace. 'Will you take his Blood Oath?' asked Conn. Brother Solstice nodded.
'He is not a man of great honour. He may break his oath.'
'If he does I shall kill him,' said Conn.
He felt suddenly weary, and swung his gaze over the field. Torches had been lit, and a few lanterns were hanging from spears thrust into the earth. Back in the low ground between the hills he saw Ruathain sitting quietly, his hands resting on his sword hilt, his chin on his hands. Conn smiled and waved. There was no movement from Ruathain, and something cold touched his heart.
He started to run. Bran saw him and followed fast.
Conn arrived and fell to his knees before his father. Ruathain's dead eyes were staring into the distance, and on his face was a look of great contentment. In the distance the pipes continued to play. Bran knelt beside Conn, tears falling to his cheeks. ;: ;
For a while they did not touch the dead man, merely sat and watched the fading sun glint upon his silver-streaked yellow hair, and gleam upon his bright mailshirt. Then Conn sat alongside him, and drew him into an embrace. Bran sat on the other side, and closed Ruathain's eyes.
'Ah, Big Man,' whispered Conn, his eyes misting with tears, his throat tight. 'What will we be without you?' He stroked his father's hair.
The last of the sunlight blazed across the land, turning the mountains to gold.
And the pipes fell silent.
EPILOGUE
valanus stood on the hills above the dockside, watching the hundreds of commandeered ships moored in Goriasa's crescent bay. The Stone officer removed his helmet and counted the vessels. Three hundred and twenty-three. Jasaray had ordered four hundred. The general would not be pleased.
The sound of scores of women wailing drifted up to Valanus. He glanced down the hillside to see the crowds milling around the execution site. Two hundred Gath prisoners, their arms nailed to twelve-foot beams, were being hoisted high. They will die quickly, thought Valanus. As their bodies drag down on their arms their throats will constrict, denying air to the lungs. It would have been far more lingering had the general ordered their feet nailed. But Jasaray had been in a good mood since the fall of Goriasa.
He wouldn't be in such a fine mood when he learned that the traitor, Ostaran, had stolen twelve ships, and escaped across the water with almost two hundred of his followers.
'Do not think you will be safe, Osta,' whispered Valanus, his eyes scanning the horizon. 'We will follow soon.'
In that moment a cold wind blew across the cliffs. Valanus shivered. 'You could catch a chill here, soldier,' said a voice. Valanus spun and saw an old Keltoi woman, wrapped in a threadbare shawl.
'You move silently for one so old,' he said, embarrassed that she had frightened him.
'You were lost in thought, Man of Stone. Why do you stare across the water?'
'It is where the army of Stone is to journe
y,' he told her. 'We are to fight there.'
'Connavar is there,' she said, simply. 'Far to the north, but he is there.'
'You know him?'
'We have spoken. And what is it you seek across the water, Valanus?' she asked. He glanced at her sharply, wondering for a moment how she knew his name. Then he relaxed, for did not everyone now know the name of Goriasa's commander?
'I seek fame,' he told her.
'And you shall have it,' she promised. Her laughter was cold, the sound chilling. 'Oh yes, Valanus. You shall have fame.'
[THE END]
David Gemmell, Sword in the Storm
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