“Sometimes,” answered Lennox amiably.
“What about the rest of you?”
“Oh, let’s have a little fun with him,” said Draig, Gwalchmai’s foster brother. “Where’s the harm? What do you think, Gwal?”
All eyes turned to Gwalchmai and his heart sank. He spent his life avoiding argument, and now whatever he said would hurt him. Layne and Lennox were his friends. Layne was stern of nature but a loyal youth, and his brother Lennox, though strong as an ox, was a gentle companion. But Agwaine was Cambil’s son and the accepted leader of the Farlain youth, and Draig was Gwalchmai’s foster brother and a boy given to hot temper and malice- bearing. Of the other five, all were larger than Gwalchmai.
“Well, what do you think?” urged Draig.
“I don’t mind,” mumbled Gwalchmai. “Whatever you think best.” He tried not to look at Layne, but his eyes were drawn to the other’s gaze. Layne merely smiled at him, and he felt the pity in that smile; it hurt him more than he could bear.
“Then let’s do it!” said Agwaine, grinning.
The plan was a simple one. Kareen had innocently told them that Caswallon planned to send his son to the meadow that morning to meet the other boys of the village. Agwaine had suggested they take his clothes and chase him back to his house, lashing him the while with birch sticks.
Now Layne and Lennox moved away from the group to lounge on the grass. Gwalchmai sat miserably on a fallen tree, wishing he had stayed at home.
He looked up as the conversation died. Coming toward them was a slender boy in a green woolen tunic edged with brown leather; his hair was red, with a white flash above the jagged scar that ran down the left side of his face. He wore a wide belt and from it hung a hunting knife. There was no swagger in his walk, but he seemed nervous. Layne and Lennox ignored him as he passed, and Gwalchmai saw the boy’s jaw was clamped tight.
He approached the group with eyes fixed on Agwaine. Gwalchmai saw that his left eye was filled with blood and he shivered.
“I am Gaelen,” said the boy, addressing Agwaine.
Agwaine nodded. “Why tell me?”
“I see from the way your friends are grouped around you that you are the leader.”
“How observant of you, Lowlander.”
“Will you tell me your name?”
“To what purpose? You will never address us directly, you are like the wolf pup you brought home-of no account to those with pedigree.”
Gaelen said nothing but his mind raced. In Ateris there had been many thieves and many gangs, but he had always been alone. This scene was no different from many in his life. There would be a little more talk, then tempers would grow and the violence would begin. The difference was that in Ateris he always had somewhere to run; he knew every alley and tall building, every rooftop and hiding place. As he had approached the group he had scanned them, making judgments, deciding which were the boys to be feared, which to be ignored. Two were lounging on the grass away from their comrades; one of these was slender, but athletically built, his face strong. Beside him was a veritable giant, bigger than most clansmen Gaelen had seen. But since they were apart from the group Gaelen ignored them. His eyes had been drawn to a small boy sitting with the others. Slight of build, with short-cropped ginger hair, he had seemed nervous, frightened. Gaelen put this one from his mind. The others had gathered around the young man now facing him. These would not act-only react. Therefore everything depended on the outcome of this confrontation with the leader. Gaelen took stock of him. His face was strong, the eyes dark, the gaze steady. And he was proud. In that instant Gaelen knew that he was facing no cowardly bully who could be browbeaten, or dominated by words. His heart sank.
Still, one thing he had learned early was that you never allow the enemy to dictate the pace of the game. “Well, don’t just stand there,” he told Agwaine, forcing a grin, “teach this wolf pup the lesson you have planned.”
“What?” said Agwaine, momentarily taken aback.
“It’s obvious that you and your mongrel playmates have already decided how this game is going to be played, so let’s be at it. Here, I’ll make it easy for you.” Casually he stepped forward and then, with a lack of speed that dulled Agwaine’s reflexes, punched the other boy full in the face, toppling him backward to the grass.
Gaelen drew his knife and leaped back as the other youths surged to their feet. Agwaine shook his head and slowly rose, eyes glittering. He too drew a knife.
“I’ll kill you for that, Outlander,” he said. His face was set and he moved forward, perfectly in balance. The other youths drew their blades, spreading out in a half circle.
“That’s enough!” said the tall young man Gaelen had seen sitting apart from the others. Walking forward, he stood by Gaelen. “In fact, it is more than enough. The joke has soured, Agwaine.” Another figure moved to the other side of Gaelen; he was enormous, towering above all the other youths.
“Do not interfere,” Agwaine warned them. “I mean to cut his heart out.”
“Move behind me,” Layne told Gaelen.
“I’m not afraid of him.”
“Move behind me!” The voice was not raised, and yet had great authority. Even so, Gaelen’s anger was so great now that he was ready to refuse. Then the giant laid a massive hand on his shoulder and Gaelen felt the power in the grip.
“Best do as he says,” said the huge youth softly. “Layne’s usually right.”
Gaelen obeyed and Layne stepped forward until his stomach pressed against Agwaine’s dagger.
“Do you really want to kill me, cousin?” he asked.
“You know I will not.”
“Then think on it. The boy did well. He knew you planned to thrash him and he took you all on; he has courage. It would not be fitting to punish him now-would it?”
Agwaine sheathed his blade. “He is a Lowlander, and I will never accept him. Neither will my friends. He will be shunned by all who follow me.”
“I’ll not shun him, Agwaine. Neither will Lennox.”
“Then you are my friend no longer. Let’s go!” he told the others. As they trooped away Gwalchmai hung back, but Draig spotted him and called out.
“I’ll see you later,” Gwalchmai replied.
Draig trotted back to his side. “You can’t stay here,” he said. “You heard what Agwaine said.”
“I stay with my friends,” said Gwalchmai.
“You’re a fool, Gwal. No good will come of it.” Draig strode off. Gaelen slid the knife back in its sheath. The tall youth with the dark hair and grey eyes turned to him, holding out his hand.
“I am Layne, son of Leofas,” he said. “This is my brother Lennox and my cousin Gwalchmai.”
Gaelen shook hands with them all. “Why did you do this for me?” he asked.
“It wasn’t for you, it was for Agwaine,” Layne told him.
“I don’t understand.”
“Agwaine is a fine friend and a brave one,” said Layne. “He acted in anger and would have regretted slaying you. He is not evil, not malicious. But he has the conceit of his father and he loves to lead.”
“I have caused you trouble. For that I am sorry.”
Layne shook his head. “You caused nothing. It was not you they were seeking to humble, but your father. Caswallon is not liked.”
“Why?”
“It is not for me to prattle on with gossip. I like Caswallon but others do not, and among the clans such matters usually end in bloodshed and family feuds. We are a violent race, Gaelen, as you have discovered.”
“Caswallon is not violent.”
“Indeed he is not. But he has the capacity for it, as you saw in the mountains with the Aenir.”
“You heard of that?”
“Who has not? My father led the hunters that escorted them from the Farlain.”
The lads settled themselves on the grass, enjoying the sunshine. Lennox and the ginger-haired Gwalchmai
