There was a sudden flurry of movement from the back of the circle, and men stepped back to allow Nuada and Groundsel to move forward. The squat outlaw leader looked down at the corpse.
‘So,’ he said, ‘that’s the great wizard. Well, he was a big help.’
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Llaw. ‘Isn’t this a little far from your normal hunting-grounds? There’s no one to rob.’
‘Yes, it’s good to see you too, Llaw,’ said Groundsel, grinning. ‘But I am here, so Nuada tells me, because it is my destiny. He spoke to the Dagda and they decided that the hero Groundsel needed to meet the wizard Ollathair. Well, I’ve met him. It was a short meeting, but that is life. I’ll be going home in the morning.’
‘Wait!’ said Nuada. ‘That wasn’t what the Dagda said, and you know it. But this is not the place or the time to discuss it. Let us bury this man, and I will say a few words for him.’
‘You’ve never said a few words in your life, poet,’ said Groundsel. The outlaw looked closely at Manannan, his eyes narrowing, then he turned away without a sound and walked back through the circle of men.
Llaw ordered Ruad’s body to be carried to the caves, and other men struggled to bear the Gabala armour. Manannan rejoined Morrigan, who had been strangely silent throughout the encounter.
The Once-Knight stared into her face. It looked sickly and pale in the silver moonlight. ‘Are you all right, Morrigan?’
‘Leave me alone,’ she whispered. ‘I must get away from here.’
‘Why?’
‘I am tired. I need… to rest. Let me go.’
‘Let us go to their camp. You can rest there. And eat…’ His voice faded to a whisper. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? You need Ambria, or… Listen to me, Morrigan, you must fight it. You must.’’
‘I will. Just leave me for a while; I need to be alone.’
‘That is what you do not need.’
She tore her arm free from his grasp, her eyes blazing. ‘Get away from me!’ she hissed, but he stood his ground.
‘I know that you only had eyes for Samildanach,’ he said gently, ‘and I was merely a friend with whom you shared your confidences. But I loved you, Morrigan, I still love you.’
For a moment more the air was electric between them, then she seemed to sag. ‘Dear Gods of Light,’ she whispered. ‘Help me!’ He stepped forward and took her in a clumsy embrace, encumbered by the armour they both wore.
‘Come with me,’ he said, and led her after the torch-lit column.
Once in the caves, Morrigan stripped herself of the armour and ate a little meat and dried fruit. Then she took some borrowed blankets and moved back into the shadows at the far end of the cave to sleep.
Many of the men accompanied Llaw and Nuada to watch the burial of the sorcerer Ollathair, and to listen to Nuada’s oration.
As they made their slow way back to the caves, one man lingered behind the rest. He was tired and he had an ache in his knee from an old injury when his horse had fallen, pinning him to the ground. He stopped and sat for a while on a storm-toppled tree.
He rubbed at the knee until the pain subsided and made as if to stand. Then he saw the woman standing close by. She was young and pale, and beautiful, her hair silver in the moonlight.
‘Best be getting back,’ he advised. ‘It’s cold out here.’
‘I too am cold,’ she said, sitting beside him and resting her head on his shoulder, her hand on his thigh. ‘But the cave is so crowded. Stay with me for a while.’ He turned towards her and ran his hand inside the blanket she held around her, sliding his fingers up across her flanks and feeling the softness of her flesh. He could hardly believe that she did not stop him… his hand curled over her breast.
Her face lifted and they kissed. The cold was forgotten as the man fumbled at her clothing.
‘I can’t believe it,’ he whispered. ‘Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. What a night for my luck to change.’
Morrigan said nothing.
And her lips moved to his neck…
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lamfhada sat with Gwydion, watching the melting snow and the small white and yellow flowers that pushed themselves clear of the ice on the meadow. The sky was gloriously blue and the sun blazed over the mountains. The old man reached out and patted the youth’s shoulder.
‘Do not despair, my friend,’ said the Healer. ‘I know there are many who disagree, but I believe our friend is now at peace in a far better place than this.’
‘He was good to me,’ said Lamfhada. ‘He took me to his home, he taught me many things. And I made a metal bird that flew. He opened the world for me.’
‘He was a good man — and he died badly. But that is not the end, believe me. You should trust these white hairs; I have seen much in the world, and I have learned.’
Lamfhada shook his head. ‘I too have learned. The evil are always strong, and they always win.’
‘You have seen only a part of the circle, Lamfhada — for that is what it is. Good and evil chase each other round and round. If you join the circle in the wrong place, you will find evil triumphant. But continue on the journey and you will see it lose, and win again, and lose… for eternity.’
‘Then nothing is ever achieved?’
The old man chuckled. ‘That would depend on how you view achievement. The winning is not important — it is the struggle that counts.’
‘What is the point of struggling against the impossible?’
‘Hold on to that thought — and examine it, for there you will find evil’s greatest weapon. What can I do, when I am so small and weak? Why should I not steal a little, everyone else does? Why should I try to be pure, when it leaves me poor and disregarded? How can I change the world? Yet all ideas, for good or evil, start in the heart of a single man or woman. From there they spread, one to one, two to two, a hundred to a hundred.’
‘You are flying too high for me, Gwydion,’ said Lamfhada, stretching his legs and rising. ‘I cannot follow all of this.’
Gwydion rose beside him. ‘Ruad was good to you and showed you a path to follow. You will show others. The more men who follow this path because of you, the greater Ruad’s achievement. His death will not stop that. But if you despair, and take another path, his life will have been diminished. That is your debt, my friend.’
‘And how do I walk this path without him to guide me?’
‘You begin by pushing all hatred from your heart, for that is another weapon of the Great Enemy. We can never beat him by employing his tactics. We can destroy his emissaries but ultimately, if we do so with hatred, we slowly, inexorably, come to replace those we have slain.’
‘I am not a scholar, Gwydion, I am a runaway slave. Most of what you say is lost on me. Were I older and stronger, I would take up the sword and follow Llaw Gyffes. I would kill every man who serves the King.’
Gwydion looked away and spoke softly. ‘Perhaps the truth will change you. Perhaps not. Try to find peace, Lamfhada.’ The old man wandered back down the hill to where the refugees were gathering their possessions.
Lamfhada watched him making his slow way back to the caves. How could he not hate the men who had killed Ruad? Did they not deserve his hatred? He transferred his gaze to the first spring flowers. How easy for them, he thought, for when they died they merely returned to the earth, to the warmth of their bulbs, ready to grow again. Not so with men. The day of the Gold returned to his memory and he saw the old, dying stag, and felt again the joy that he, Lamfhada, had found the power to give it fresh life. But this time the joy was sullied by pain. He had never since managed to find the Gold — had he done so, he might have saved Ruad’s life.