At last Ruad fell asleep, but his dreams were of fire and blood and Knights in crimson armour hunted him with knives of cold steel. He awoke sweating in the pre-light of dawn. Gwydion slept on, as did the household. He sat up and added tinder to the ashes, stirring them and blowing the flickering embers to life. Brion awoke and stared down at his sleeping wife. He kissed her lightly and her eyes opened.
‘It was true,’ she whispered. ‘I am healed.’ Ahmta sat up. ‘There is no pain.’
‘When I woke I thought it was a dream,’ Brion said, cupping her face in his hands.
Ruad grinned and rose from the floor. ‘Good morning to you both. You slept well, I trust?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Brion, sliding from beneath his blanket and standing. ‘I promised you breakfast and you shall have it — eggs, bacon, and I shall borrow ale from Dalik.’
A low metallic growling came from outside and Ruad ran to the door and opened it. A small crowd had gathered silently to examine the hounds, and one man had tried to prise a golden scale loose. As Ruad appeared the crowd fell back. Brion ran from the house and swiftly explained the presence of his visitors, and the magic they had wrought.
Within an hour the news had spread to settlements nearby and a larger crowd had gathered — many of them sick, or with boils, or deep cuts, or swollen joints.
Ruad woke Gwydion. ‘You had best eat, my friend. I fear you have a busy day ahead.’
For most of the morning Gwydion plied his trade on the porch of the cabin, receiving payment in copper and silver coin, goods — a battered knife and two hatchets, three blankets, a small sack of flour, a side of ham, a barrel of ale, a pair of boots, a cloak, two chickens, seven pigeons and a silver ring set with a black stone — and occasionally just the promise of food and a bed for the night should he desire it.
By noon the old man was exhausted and he sent away the fifteen or so who were still waiting, promising to see them tomorrow. He gave the chickens and the ham to Brion and then Ruad, he and the family enjoyed the small barrel of ale.
‘Had I known my powers would be so great here, I would have come five years ago,’ said Gwydion. ‘The Green is easy to find, and very strong.’
At dusk a rider came to the settlement. People hid behind locked doors, watching the man from behind barred shutters as he reined in his stallion before the house that boasted the three golden hounds.
‘Ollathair!’ he called. ‘Come forth!’
Ruad opened the door and stepped into sight. The man looked familiar, but his face was hard to see, for he wore a helm and though the visor was up the sun was behind him.
‘Who calls for Ollathair?’ Ruad asked.
The man dismounted. ‘One who knows him well,’ said the rider, approaching the Armourer. All colour fled from Ruad’s face as he recognized the workmanship of the battered helm and the grey eyes of the Once-Knight.
‘Manannan?’ he whispered. ‘It cannot be!’
‘It is Manannan,’ said the Once-Knight. ‘It is the traitor, Manannan. I have no right to ask this of you, but it would be pleasant if you would remove this damned helm. I fear the beard within the neck-plates is strangling me to death. I have worn it for six years.’
‘How did you get back?’
‘I never went. As Samildanach beckoned us forward, something inside me snapped. Fear swept through me like a storm, and I turned my horse away into the shadows.’
Despair struck Ruad anew. ‘Then you do not know what became of them?’
‘No. Will you help me?’
‘I cannot, Manannan. If I could, I would do it in an instant. But the spell I cast was to protect you in the inferno beyond the Gate and the Gate is the key. All spell-locks were made to be undone the moment you passed back through the Gate.’
‘What are you saying? That I am doomed to die in this metal cage?’
‘No,’ said Ruad softly. ‘I am saying you must pass the Gate and return.’
The Once-Knight staggered as if struck. ‘Pass the… alone? When I could not do it surrounded by the finest warriors in the world? Impossible!’
‘You would at least know the fate of your friends. You might even find them and bring them home. The gods know how they are needed now.’
‘And that is the only way for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let me inside, Ollathair. Let me sit and think.’
CHAPTER SIX
The country estates of the Lady Dianu covered six hundred acres, at the centre of which was a wooded valley. On the high ground to the west, some twelve miles from Mactha, was the old castle — derelict now, but still used by the local villagers for the May Dance and for open-air banquets in the summer. Beside it was the New House built by Dianu’s grandfather and boasting forty bedchambers, a central hall, two libraries and a lower hall with sleeping quarters for sixty slaves.
The windows were wide and the house had been built without concern for defence. At present only twelve servants were in residence, and the two upper floors were closed.
On the ground floor in the main, circular library, Dianu and her sister Sheera were meeting with the merchant Cartain, who had arrived in the night, travelling alone with false papers.
‘You must leave now,’ Cartain snapped. ‘Why do you not understand the danger? Okessa has been researching your family records. Believe me, there will be troops on the way.’
‘Errin would have warned me,’ said Dianu. ‘Have no fear, Cartain. Take Sheera and the two Nomad servants. I will meet you in Pertia Port.’
The sun was shining through the open window and Dianu moved to the sill, enjoying the scent of the roses below. The gardener waved at her.
‘I think we should listen to Cartain,’ said Sheera. She was dressed in riding buckskins, wearing tight well-fitting trews under a brushed hide tunic.
‘I do not think it becomes you, sister, to dress like a man,’ said Dianu. ‘Whatever will the servants think?’
Sheera shook her head. ‘You still think he is coming, don’t you? You believe that Errin will surrender his status and his lands to journey with you to Cithaeron? Well, he will not. Cartain has risked his life to help us escape. I think your attitude is selfish — and very foolish.’
‘I have five men waiting in the woods, my ladies,’ said Cartain. ‘If we leave now, we can be in Pertia Port in four days. Much of your wealth has already been shipped. You achieve nothing by delaying your departure, Lady Dianu, but you risk much.’
‘I do not believe the risk is as great as you say,’ Dianu maintained, smoothing the front of her white silk dress. ‘But very well; you go ahead with Sheera. I shall follow tomorrow, I promise you. I will need to pack, and I have ordered five wagons to be delivered here.’
‘Ordered… are you mad?’ hissed Cartain.
‘How dare you use that tone with me, sir! You think I would leave here without my mother’s heirlooms?’
‘This was to have been a secret departure, Lady Dianu. How secret will it be when it is known — as known it will be — that you have ordered five wagons?’
‘The people of Mactha have been loyal to my family for generations, Cartain. They will say nothing.’
The merchant shook his head and turned to the taller sister. ‘Will you travel with me now, my lady?’
‘I will, Cartain,’ she agreed. Sheera rose and walked to her sister. ‘I think you are wrong, Dianu, but I hope to see you in Pertia Port.’
‘Safe journey,’ said Dianu, leaning to kiss her sister’s cheek. ‘I will be several days behind you. The wagons will be slow-moving.’
‘Might I ask,’ enquired Cartain, ‘how you intend to protect this valuable cargo when you pass Groundsel’s realm?’
‘I have hired soldiers to escort me,’ Dianu told him.