Authors: Juliet Marillier
Blade of Fortriu (74 page)
Talorgen and Bridei rode forward together. Sobran bore
the banner. Drustan, somewhat to Bridei’s surprise, was a whirlwind of motion, executing a number of highly efficient, unusual, and deadly moves. As a result, not a single Gael got close enough to challenge the king, although Talorgen had cause to employ his sword more than once before they cut a way through to the river, and did so with the skill and determination one would expect from a seasoned
warrior chieftain.
the banner. Drustan, somewhat to Bridei’s surprise, was a whirlwind of motion, executing a number of highly efficient, unusual, and deadly moves. As a result, not a single Gael got close enough to challenge the king, although Talorgen had cause to employ his sword more than once before they cut a way through to the river, and did so with the skill and determination one would expect from a seasoned
warrior chieftain.
Choices lay before the king of Dalriada, as with all leaders at the point in a conflict where defeat becomes inevitable. Some prefer annihilation on the field, the sacrifice of a whole army of men, to the bitterness of surrender. Some weigh the options carefully, even in the moment or two fate allows for this as their men lie dying around them, and think beyond the time of
humiliation to a future in which negotiation, diplomacy, regrouping, and new alliances may yet make victory from defeat. At length Gabhran’s decision was made, and a messenger dispatched to carry it through the turmoil of struggling men and the debris of fallen ones to King Bridei, now waiting coolly under his banner with a group of mounted warriors around him. The messenger wore a white cloth knotted
around his brow, over his leather helm, a sign that he should be allowed to go unmolested. By the time he reached Bridei and gasped out his message a stillness was creeping over the scene of battle, for the sight of the king of Fortriu waiting there, his blue eyes blazing, his gray horse proud and quiet amid the carnage, and the movement of the white-crested messenger, drew the men’s eyes down
the stream to a place where another king now waited under the red and gold banner of Dalriada, a look on his face that went beyond exhaustion into dignified resignation. At that, the hundred small battles began to cease; combatants backed off, sheathed swords, lowered spears, not without maintaining a careful eye on their opponents. The Gaels began to drift in the general direction of their original
encampment and were halted by an implacable line of Fokel’s men who had come around to block their retreat. They were surrounded. If Gabhran chose to pursue this fight to the death, he’d take every one of them along with him.
humiliation to a future in which negotiation, diplomacy, regrouping, and new alliances may yet make victory from defeat. At length Gabhran’s decision was made, and a messenger dispatched to carry it through the turmoil of struggling men and the debris of fallen ones to King Bridei, now waiting coolly under his banner with a group of mounted warriors around him. The messenger wore a white cloth knotted
around his brow, over his leather helm, a sign that he should be allowed to go unmolested. By the time he reached Bridei and gasped out his message a stillness was creeping over the scene of battle, for the sight of the king of Fortriu waiting there, his blue eyes blazing, his gray horse proud and quiet amid the carnage, and the movement of the white-crested messenger, drew the men’s eyes down
the stream to a place where another king now waited under the red and gold banner of Dalriada, a look on his face that went beyond exhaustion into dignified resignation. At that, the hundred small battles began to cease; combatants backed off, sheathed swords, lowered spears, not without maintaining a careful eye on their opponents. The Gaels began to drift in the general direction of their original
encampment and were halted by an implacable line of Fokel’s men who had come around to block their retreat. They were surrounded. If Gabhran chose to pursue this fight to the death, he’d take every one of them along with him.
There was another figure who drew the eye. As King Bridei rode forward and his escort moved with him, the men of Fortriu stared and blinked and stared again, and more than
one of them muttered a childhood prayer, for it seemed just possible that the bright-eyed, flame-haired figure who shadowed the Blade of Fortriu might be none other than their beloved Flamekeeper made flesh, he who had long valued this young king, his devout nature and his commitment to his lands and people. That this exceptionally striking-looking man seemed to have come from nowhere added weight
to the theory.
one of them muttered a childhood prayer, for it seemed just possible that the bright-eyed, flame-haired figure who shadowed the Blade of Fortriu might be none other than their beloved Flamekeeper made flesh, he who had long valued this young king, his devout nature and his commitment to his lands and people. That this exceptionally striking-looking man seemed to have come from nowhere added weight
to the theory.
Bridei reached a certain point, dismounted and waited for the Gaelic king to come to him. By his side, Talorgen now held the royal banner, and through the subsiding chaos of the battle rode other leaders, Morleo, Carnach, to join the king’s party.
Gabhran approached on foot, his standard bearer behind him, two chieftains flanking him. There was hardly a need for words. He came
within four paces of Bridei, unbuckled his sword belt and laid it, complete with weapons, on the muddy ground. He spoke briefly in Gaelic.
within four paces of Bridei, unbuckled his sword belt and laid it, complete with weapons, on the muddy ground. He spoke briefly in Gaelic.
Bridei waited. He understood well enough, but caution had ever made him less than forthcoming about his grasp of this tongue. He regretted, once again, the absence of Faolan.
“You require a translation,” someone said in the tongue of the Priteni. A slight,
tonsured figure stepped out from the ranks of the Dalriadan king’s supporters.
tonsured figure stepped out from the ranks of the Dalriadan king’s supporters.
“You!” Bridei could not help exclaiming at the sight of Brother Suibne, religious adviser to Drust of Circinn and a man who had played no little part in his own election as king. “You’re everywhere!”
Suibne smiled. “Only God is everywhere,” he said. “My place at the court of Circinn has been taken by another. A powerful
wind drew me to the west, harbinger of a great awakening to light, a new dawn of faith. The king wishes to hear your terms for his surrender. He is hoping you may be magnanimous and spare the lives of those of his men still standing.”
wind drew me to the west, harbinger of a great awakening to light, a new dawn of faith. The king wishes to hear your terms for his surrender. He is hoping you may be magnanimous and spare the lives of those of his men still standing.”
“I will not ask how you yourself walked through this battle unscathed,” Bridei told the Christian cleric, “for I know already what your answer will be. Tell King
Gabhran I’m prepared to talk. He must order his men to relinquish their arms immediately, to place them on the ground as he has done and to step back. I, in my turn, will give the command that my forces do no more than patrol the perimeter of this area until we reach agreement. Your men may tend their wounded; mine will do likewise. One false move, and we finish this not in peace, but in blood.
Be sure Gabhran understands that.”
Gabhran I’m prepared to talk. He must order his men to relinquish their arms immediately, to place them on the ground as he has done and to step back. I, in my turn, will give the command that my forces do no more than patrol the perimeter of this area until we reach agreement. Your men may tend their wounded; mine will do likewise. One false move, and we finish this not in peace, but in blood.
Be sure Gabhran understands that.”
Suibne relayed this accurately to the Gaelic leader and obtained grudging assent. A series of orders was issued and conveyed to all quarters of the field. One might have expected a certain reluctance to obey. It sits oddly when one has just been locked in a sweaty, bloody duel to the death to see that same opponent unarmed, no more than a couple of arm’s-lengths
away, and not to seize the opportunity to finish him off. The battle-cry had not long left their lips; the heat of the god’s inspiration had not yet burned down to ashes in their breasts. As for the Gaels, how could they trust that, once relieved of their weapons, they would not immediately be slain by the victorious Priteni? From an ancient enemy, a promise is hardly to be taken at face value.
away, and not to seize the opportunity to finish him off. The battle-cry had not long left their lips; the heat of the god’s inspiration had not yet burned down to ashes in their breasts. As for the Gaels, how could they trust that, once relieved of their weapons, they would not immediately be slain by the victorious Priteni? From an ancient enemy, a promise is hardly to be taken at face value.
This, however, had been only the last battle in a war that had stretched over almost a full turning of the moon. The men of Fortriu had endured a long and grueling march to reach Dalriada. As the warriors of Raven’s Well and Storm Crag, Pitnochie and Thorn Bend, Abertornie and Longwater began to spread out across the gentle slopes of the valley, bending here and there to examine a broken body,
crouching to lift a man who still seemed to have some life in him, and as the Gaels, more cautiously, moved to start the same process, it became evident that these armies had had enough. For the Priteni, weariness and anguish were beginning to seep through the elation, for their losses had been substantial; for the Gaels, survival took the place of victory as the outcome most to be wished for. They
would tend their fallen and then, gods willing, at last they could go home.
crouching to lift a man who still seemed to have some life in him, and as the Gaels, more cautiously, moved to start the same process, it became evident that these armies had had enough. For the Priteni, weariness and anguish were beginning to seep through the elation, for their losses had been substantial; for the Gaels, survival took the place of victory as the outcome most to be wished for. They
would tend their fallen and then, gods willing, at last they could go home.
B
RIDEI HAD THOUGHT, once, that the moment Gabhran knelt to him and surrendered the kingship of Dalriada would be the fulfillment of his dreams. The Gaelic king was in a weak position, with the northern part of his territory already reclaimed for Fortriu and the remnant of his army at risk of wholesale slaughter if he did not agree with Bridei’s terms. As it was, Gabhran was so calm
and dignified in defeat that Bridei wondered what the man saw in the future that he could not.
RIDEI HAD THOUGHT, once, that the moment Gabhran knelt to him and surrendered the kingship of Dalriada would be the fulfillment of his dreams. The Gaelic king was in a weak position, with the northern part of his territory already reclaimed for Fortriu and the remnant of his army at risk of wholesale slaughter if he did not agree with Bridei’s terms. As it was, Gabhran was so calm
and dignified in defeat that Bridei wondered what the man saw in the future that he could not.
The leaders of the Priteni set out their requirements. Brother Suibne rendered them into Gaelic and delivered Gabhran’s response, while beyond the small pavilion where the chieftains had gathered, in what had formerly been the Gaelic encampment, the dead and dying were tended to and the wounded patched
up as well as was possible. Talorgen had brought his household physician; at present, this man was tending to Ged. The news had come to Bridei just before this formal meeting that the chieftain of Abertornie had been sorely wounded on the field, and was not expected to survive. Carnach, too, had an expert in his party, one with skill at bone-setting. In the event, Priteni surgeons worked on Gaelic
casualties and the reverse, though not without a certain degree of doubtful muttering from the men.
up as well as was possible. Talorgen had brought his household physician; at present, this man was tending to Ged. The news had come to Bridei just before this formal meeting that the chieftain of Abertornie had been sorely wounded on the field, and was not expected to survive. Carnach, too, had an expert in his party, one with skill at bone-setting. In the event, Priteni surgeons worked on Gaelic
casualties and the reverse, though not without a certain degree of doubtful muttering from the men.
Bridei secured Gabhran’s agreement to relinquish the title King of Dalriada, and to withdraw with his Uí Néill chieftains back across the sea to his homeland. He must take, also, those of his fighting men whose role in his service was principally as warriors. The elders who controlled the various
settlements of Dalriada, the leaders who governed fortress and fishing port must all step down; any dissension and they faced exile or death. The ordinary folk, those called to arms solely for this particular war, might return to their homes and pick up their lives once more, as long as they understood the west would be under the rule of Fortriu from this day on.
settlements of Dalriada, the leaders who governed fortress and fishing port must all step down; any dissension and they faced exile or death. The ordinary folk, those called to arms solely for this particular war, might return to their homes and pick up their lives once more, as long as they understood the west would be under the rule of Fortriu from this day on.
Gabhran consulted with his chieftains
then, grim-jawed, set his sign to the document Bridei had had prepared some considerable time ago.
then, grim-jawed, set his sign to the document Bridei had had prepared some considerable time ago.
“And,” Bridei said, “it goes without saying that the practice of the Christian ritual will cease throughout these territories. Your priests will return to their homeland. The people will not observe the festivals of the new faith, nor join in public prayer to the Christian god. This must be understood.”
Brother Suibne leaned forward and spoke in an undertone to the Gaelic king, and Gabhran responded.
“Ahem,” Suibne cleared his throat. “I know you are well aware of the presence of our holy men in Circinn. The king asks if you also know that the Light Isles provide shelter for a number of Christian clerics, who are treated with tolerance and courtesy by the king there and by his people. King Gabhran
seeks assurances that the members of that peaceful community will be neither molested nor driven out. We understand the king of the Light Isles is subject to your overlordship.”
seeks assurances that the members of that peaceful community will be neither molested nor driven out. We understand the king of the Light Isles is subject to your overlordship.”
“I have no comment on that matter,” Bridei said. “It falls outside the scope of these negotiations and beyond Gabhran’s authority.”
“Then,” said Suibne, “I will inform you of another complication.” He did not wait to
consult Gabhran this time, but appeared to offer the information on his own account.
consult Gabhran this time, but appeared to offer the information on his own account.
“Go on,” Bridei said.
“What of the western isles?” the Christian asked mildly. “You wish all Gaels in residence there, and there are several hundred spread across a number of small settlements, to quit those shores entirely? Will you set up local leaders there also? Those villages, and the farms and fishing
boats that sustain them, are marginal even with the number of folk who dwell there now.”
boats that sustain them, are marginal even with the number of folk who dwell there now.”
There was a pause.
“Why do you ask this?” Bridei was cautious; he knew this man from the past. From Suibne, these could not be idle questions.
Suibne exchanged quiet words with Gabhran once more. “A promise was made,” he said, turning back toward Bridei. “It concerned a very small island, barren, windy,
of no significance at all. The old name for the place is Ioua.”
of no significance at all. The old name for the place is Ioua.”
“Yew Tree Isle. I know of it.” Bridei’s childhood lessons in geography had been extremely thorough. “A place of great beauty, I was told; wild, light-filled, remote. What promise?”
“My lord king had an approach from a certain man. From an outstanding man, Bridei, a priest whom even you, should you be fortunate enough to meet him
face-to-face, would acknowledge as powerful in faith and radiant with grace. His name is Colm; they call him Colmcille, which could be translated as ‘dove of the Church.’” There was a glow on Suibne’s unprepossessing features and a warmth in his tone that Bridei could not fail to notice.
face-to-face, would acknowledge as powerful in faith and radiant with grace. His name is Colm; they call him Colmcille, which could be translated as ‘dove of the Church.’” There was a glow on Suibne’s unprepossessing features and a warmth in his tone that Bridei could not fail to notice.
“What promise?” asked Carnach, features set. “Get on with it. You know our opinion of this faith and the damage
it has already wrought in Priteni lands. It’s divisive and dangerous.”
it has already wrought in Priteni lands. It’s divisive and dangerous.”
“Brother Colm seeks a refuge, a quiet place where he and a small group of brethren may establish a house of prayer, a hermitage, away from certain influences at home. King Gabhran has promised them sanctuary on Ioua. It’s a speck of an isle.”
Carnach hissed; Talorgen grimaced; Morleo clenched his fists.
“Ioua is not in
King Gabhran’s gift,” said Bridei calmly. “As of today, he holds no power in Priteni lands. The western isles are under my control, and I will decide who comes and who goes. Fortriu wants no more zealous Christians poisoning the minds of its good folk.”
King Gabhran’s gift,” said Bridei calmly. “As of today, he holds no power in Priteni lands. The western isles are under my control, and I will decide who comes and who goes. Fortriu wants no more zealous Christians poisoning the minds of its good folk.”
Suibne translated this, and Gabhran gave a measured, grave response.
“The king says, this great tide will hold back for no man. Not even the
Blade of Fortriu can halt it,” Suibne said. “He’s right, Bridei. If you would know what we mean, invite this priest to your court at White Hill. See him, talk with him. I know you as tolerant and open-minded, a man who frames his own opinions. Hear Brother Colm, at least. None can meet him and remain unchanged.”
Blade of Fortriu can halt it,” Suibne said. “He’s right, Bridei. If you would know what we mean, invite this priest to your court at White Hill. See him, talk with him. I know you as tolerant and open-minded, a man who frames his own opinions. Hear Brother Colm, at least. None can meet him and remain unchanged.”
“What is this fellow trying to tell us?” Talorgen was becoming restless. “He’s here
to translate, surely, not offer you his personal advice.”
to translate, surely, not offer you his personal advice.”
“We are friends of a kind,” Bridei said. “But you’re right. Brother Suibne, tell the king I have noted this request. We are done here, for now.” He addressed Gabhran direct, while the Christian translated in a low voice. “My war leader and kinsman, Carnach, will arrange an armed guard for you. He will escort you personally to Dunadd and
see to the arrangements for your swift departure from these shores. We’ve some work to do here first, men to bury, a ritual to perform, and some decisions to make as to which of your warriors will accompany you home and which may return to their communities here. I’ve no quarrel with any man who has a genuine desire to settle in these territories for good, as long as he respects Priteni law and
Priteni faith.”
see to the arrangements for your swift departure from these shores. We’ve some work to do here first, men to bury, a ritual to perform, and some decisions to make as to which of your warriors will accompany you home and which may return to their communities here. I’ve no quarrel with any man who has a genuine desire to settle in these territories for good, as long as he respects Priteni law and
Priteni faith.”
“My lord king—” Fokel was at the entry to the pavilion. His face was white and his tunic was covered in blood.
“I must leave you, my lords.” Bridei rose to his feet and made a courteous bow. “A dear friend is dying; I must speak to him while I still can. You, too, will have farewells to make. Do so swiftly. I want you out of this place before day’s end.”
GED WAS LYING
on a makeshift stretcher, the terrible wound he had sustained covered by a bright cloak laid over his torso by one of his household men-at-arms. All around him other injured warriors lay; the surgeons were working in a welter of blood and flesh. The men who were helping them were gray-faced and silent. There was little equipment at hand; they needed saws, braziers for cauterization, healing herbs.
In this land that had become a foreign country, there was only the scant supply each physician had carried in his saddlebags. The men with lesser wounds might be conveyed to a Dalriadan settlement and get reasonable attention there. Many would die here; this was the nature of a war fought on the march.
on a makeshift stretcher, the terrible wound he had sustained covered by a bright cloak laid over his torso by one of his household men-at-arms. All around him other injured warriors lay; the surgeons were working in a welter of blood and flesh. The men who were helping them were gray-faced and silent. There was little equipment at hand; they needed saws, braziers for cauterization, healing herbs.
In this land that had become a foreign country, there was only the scant supply each physician had carried in his saddlebags. The men with lesser wounds might be conveyed to a Dalriadan settlement and get reasonable attention there. Many would die here; this was the nature of a war fought on the march.
“Ged,” Bridei said, coming to kneel by his friend’s side and taking Ged’s hand between his.
“This is grievous news.” There was no point in pretense; Morleo had described the wound to him earlier as they prepared for their council with Gabhran.
“This is grievous news.” There was no point in pretense; Morleo had described the wound to him earlier as they prepared for their council with Gabhran.
“Bridei …” Ged wheezed. “Good fight, wasn’t it? Fellows did us proud …”
“They did, my friend. Tell me now, is there anything I can do for you? Messages to convey?”
Ged tried to smile, and managed a contorted grimace. “You’re a king, not … errand
boy … But Bridei … my boy, Aled … He’s only twelve, too young to take over Abertornie yet a while, and the little ones are all girls … Loura shouldn’t have to run the place on her own … Could you … ?”
boy … But Bridei … my boy, Aled … He’s only twelve, too young to take over Abertornie yet a while, and the little ones are all girls … Loura shouldn’t have to run the place on her own … Could you … ?”
“I’ll talk to your wife. We’ll put something in place for her, don’t distress yourself on that account.” Bridei could hear a change in Ged’s breathing, and see a filmy quality stealing across his
eyes. Bone Mother was a hairsbreadth away. “We’re all here, Ged,” he said quietly. “Talorgen, Morleo, Fokel, and a good contingent of your own fellows, too. They fought as you’ve trained them to do, with heart, with guts, with inspiration. The Flamekeeper breathe his warmth into your spirit, and shield you on your journey.”
eyes. Bone Mother was a hairsbreadth away. “We’re all here, Ged,” he said quietly. “Talorgen, Morleo, Fokel, and a good contingent of your own fellows, too. They fought as you’ve trained them to do, with heart, with guts, with inspiration. The Flamekeeper breathe his warmth into your spirit, and shield you on your journey.”
“Ah …” Ged breathed. “It hurts, Bridei. It hurts more than I thought
it would. Hard to draw breath … But it’s good. We won it … We won our place back … If anything’s worth dying for, I think … it’s that …” The eyes glazed and became sightless; the chest ceased its shallow rise and fall. A thin trickle of blood came from one corner of Ged’s mouth to lose itself in the scarlet and yellow and green of his covering.
it would. Hard to draw breath … But it’s good. We won it … We won our place back … If anything’s worth dying for, I think … it’s that …” The eyes glazed and became sightless; the chest ceased its shallow rise and fall. A thin trickle of blood came from one corner of Ged’s mouth to lose itself in the scarlet and yellow and green of his covering.
“Bone Mother cradle you gently, old fellow,” Talorgen
said, turning aside to wipe his eyes.
said, turning aside to wipe his eyes.
“Blessed All-Flowers bring you dreams of the comeliest girls and the brightest gardens in all Fortriu,” said Fokel, bending to touch the dead man’s brow with his lips.
“The Shining One light your pathway, until you march forward into a new dawn.” Morleo knelt and closed the staring eyes; Bridei moved to cross Ged’s arms on his chest, where blood had soaked
all through the borrowed cloak. He could find no more words. There was nothing to be done here. Ged’s men would keep a vigil, though only until dawn, for there were many to bury, and nobody wanted to linger in these parts. For himself, there were things to do yet, people to see, news to pass on. It would be a long time before he could be alone and begin to weigh this.
all through the borrowed cloak. He could find no more words. There was nothing to be done here. Ged’s men would keep a vigil, though only until dawn, for there were many to bury, and nobody wanted to linger in these parts. For himself, there were things to do yet, people to see, news to pass on. It would be a long time before he could be alone and begin to weigh this.
He found Cinioch, drew him
aside, and told him that the matter he had seen unfold between Bridei, Hargest, and the mysterious redheaded stranger was to be kept strictly secret, for now at least. He was to make sure the other men who had been with him understood this.
aside, and told him that the matter he had seen unfold between Bridei, Hargest, and the mysterious redheaded stranger was to be kept strictly secret, for now at least. He was to make sure the other men who had been with him understood this.
“Already told them,” Cinioch said. “The only thing is, I did speak of it to Uven. Had to; he was all questions about our unexpected visitor. He knows to
keep it to himself. Did you hear he killed three Gaels one-armed? Didn’t lose a single one of the wounded.”
keep it to himself. Did you hear he killed three Gaels one-armed? Didn’t lose a single one of the wounded.”
“Uven’s not lacking in courage,” Bridei said. “As for you, I heard you acquitted yourself more than ably.”
“What will you tell Umbrig, my lord?” Cinioch asked baldly. “You going to let him know the boy he sent you as a bodyguard turned out to be an assassin?”
“Hush, Cinioch. What I choose
to tell Umbrig is my own business.” Bridei saw the genuine concern on Cinioch’s face, and relented. “In fact,” he added, “I’ll be telling him the truth.” Once, before, he had come close to being slain by a friend turned foe, and he had lied to that man’s father to shield him from hurt. Talorgen had almost certainly guessed the truth, but the lie had helped him and his two younger boys to deal
with their grief more easily. Bridei would not lie this time. “But there’s no need for the entire army to know as well. I’m going to find Umbrig now. And where’s—?” He glanced around the area where the Pitnochie horses had been tethered. A number of men he knew were seated, resting, tending to minor wounds or repacking gear. Someone had made a small campfire and was cooking what smelled like porridge.
to tell Umbrig is my own business.” Bridei saw the genuine concern on Cinioch’s face, and relented. “In fact,” he added, “I’ll be telling him the truth.” Once, before, he had come close to being slain by a friend turned foe, and he had lied to that man’s father to shield him from hurt. Talorgen had almost certainly guessed the truth, but the lie had helped him and his two younger boys to deal
with their grief more easily. Bridei would not lie this time. “But there’s no need for the entire army to know as well. I’m going to find Umbrig now. And where’s—?” He glanced around the area where the Pitnochie horses had been tethered. A number of men he knew were seated, resting, tending to minor wounds or repacking gear. Someone had made a small campfire and was cooking what smelled like porridge.
“Drustan? The bird-man?”
“That, too, should be kept quiet. Is he still here, or has he flown off while we were making our terms for peace?”
“He’s up yonder, my lord. Looks as if he hasn’t the strength for any flying; not yet, anyway. By the Flamekeeper’s manhood, though, that fellow can fight more cannily than any warrior I’ve seen in the field. He’s got a rare talent. I’d like to learn a few
of those moves. For a while there, I almost thought …”
of those moves. For a while there, I almost thought …”
Bridei managed a smile. “Perhaps we all did. But this is a mortal man, in my judgment; the fact that he claims to be Faolan’s friend seems to prove it. Offer him some food, will you? He’s come a long way in a hurry to help us. Ask him to wait until I come back. I wish to thank him. And I think he has a request to make of me.”
UMBRIG
SURPRISED BRIDEI by shedding tears, and then by stating that he’d been worried all along the boy would turn bad; his father had a mean streak, and there was always the suspicion Hargest might revert to type. As for the news that apparently Alpin, too, was dead, Umbrig took that calmly. The Caitt chieftain opined that if Hargest had attempted assassination, it would be Alpin who’d put him up to
it. Umbrig suspected the two of them might have met, once or twice, during those long expeditions the boy liked to make on horseback, ostensibly to build up the stamina of newly trained mounts. The boy’s public disdain of his natural father had never quite meshed with his desire for recognition and for a place in the world.
SURPRISED BRIDEI by shedding tears, and then by stating that he’d been worried all along the boy would turn bad; his father had a mean streak, and there was always the suspicion Hargest might revert to type. As for the news that apparently Alpin, too, was dead, Umbrig took that calmly. The Caitt chieftain opined that if Hargest had attempted assassination, it would be Alpin who’d put him up to
it. Umbrig suspected the two of them might have met, once or twice, during those long expeditions the boy liked to make on horseback, ostensibly to build up the stamina of newly trained mounts. The boy’s public disdain of his natural father had never quite meshed with his desire for recognition and for a place in the world.
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