'No,' Telors told him. 'I thought my man looked too good.' He sighed. 'And he was – but he didn't have the heart. If I'd had his talent I would have been Gladiator One.' Telors slumped down to a nearby bench seat, and glanced through the doorway at the dead Polon. 'He knew he was going to die. I could see it in his eyes last night,' he said. The surgeon, Landis, entered, saw the shallow wound on Bane's shoulder, and called him through to the back room. He did not speak, but sat Bane down, and took up a crescent-shaped needle and thread. Swiftly and expertly he stitched the cut. Then, as he snipped the last thread, he looked into Bane's eyes. 'Well, lad, this is what you have chosen. Are you pleased with yourself?' 'I am alive,' said Bane.
'And eight men are dead,' said Landis. 'Eight souls cast out of the world. More mothers to grieve, more children to know sorrow. Is this a life you want for yourself?'
'No, it is not,' Bane told him. 'But we do what we must.' 'Not true! We do what we choose. And we face the consequences.' Bane thanked the man, returned to the Sword Room and removed his armour. Then he put on his leggings and tunic, and a thick fleece-lined jerkin. Rage and Telors were already dressed. 'Let us leave this place,' said Rage. 'I need to get back to the farm.'
Crowds were still leaving the stadium as the three gladiators made their way to the stabling area. They cheered as they saw Bane, who waved back at them.
Snow clouds were bunching as the three riders came in sight of the farmhouse. Cara was sitting in the doorway, a thick blue blanket around her shoulders. She threw it off and ran towards them as they rode down the hillside. Rage drew rein and dismounted as Cara flew into his arms. He hugged her close. 'I am well, princess. I am well,' he whispered.
'No more fights,' she pleaded. 'No more fights, Grandfather.'
'No more fights,' he agreed.
Bane took the mounts to the stable, while Telors, Rage and Cara went inside the farmhouse. Unsaddling the horses Bane rubbed them down, forked hay into the feed boxes then climbed to the loft and sat, staring out over the hills. He felt drained now, but not tired. Memories of the arena filled his mind: the rising roar of the crowd, the look in Falco's eyes as his blade plunged home, the soaring elation as his opponent died. And beyond it all the smiling face of Voltan.
'I will find you,' whispered Bane. 'And I will kill you.'
Climbing down from the loft he went back to the farmhouse. Rage was sitting in a wide chair, Cara on his lap. The girl's arms were around his neck, her blue eyes still bright with remembered fear. Both Rage and Telors were sitting silently, and Bane felt like an intruder. He had left them to their quiet companionship.
The fire in his room had been lit, and the room was bathed in a warm red glow. Removing his clothes Bane slipped under the covers, laying his head back on the pillow. The stitches in his shoulder were tight, the wound itching.
Pushing the discomfort from his mind he thought of Lia, and all that might have been.
It was past midnight and still Bane could not sleep. Pushing back the covers he rose from the bed. The fire had burned low, and the room was cold. Moving to the fireplace he blew gently on the coals, causing them to flicker to life, then added a few sticks. Tiny flames licked at them and once they had caught hold he added thicker chunks. The smell of woodsmoke was strong in the air, and he walked to the window, pushing open the shutters. The moon was high in a clear sky, and a chill, fresh breeze brushed across his face and chest. From the room next door came the sound of Telors snoring.
Bane stared gloomily out over the snow-covered hills. Nothing moved in the silence of the night. He shivered and pulled on a thick woollen shirt and leggings. Melancholy thoughts continued to assail him – his failure to save Lia was at the forefront of his mind, but also there was his mother's death. They both seemed connected somehow, and Bane felt a sense of guilt, like a weight around his neck. Had he been more clever, and able to master the skills of reading and writing, perhaps he would have found a way to win Connavar's approval. And, had he done so, might the king not also have been reunited with Arian? It was despair that killed her, but had Connavar come to her she might even now be alive and happy. As for Lia, if only I had taken her away, he thought, back to Caer Druagh. Or fought harder, or attacked Voltan more swiftly, then the deadly sword would not have ended her life.
Feeling the need to walk and think he tugged on his boots and draped his new fleece-lined cloak around his shoulders. Moving quietly downstairs and out into the snow he was surprised to see fresh footprints leading away towards the hills. He could still hear Telors snoring upstairs, and wondered why Rage should be walking out into the night.
The footsteps led him past the training area, and on into the hills, to a shallow cave, where Rage was sitting before a small fire. The old gladiator looked up as Bane approached. 'Would you rather be alone?' asked Bane.
'I am alone, whether you are here or not.' Rage gestured for Bane to sit alongside him on the fallen log.
'You'd have been more comfortable in front of the fire in your own hearth,' said Bane, sitting down and holding out his hands to the small blaze.
'It is a stone-built house. It keeps the world out. I felt the need to be part of the hills, to see the stars above me. You ever feel that way?'
'No.'
Rage sighed, and Bane smelled the uisge on his breath. 'You Keltoi are supposed to be close to nature, to walk the path of spirit. But you don't know what I'm talking about, do you?'
'Does it matter?'
'Probably not. Did you enjoy today?'
'Yes. I felt a surge of exultation as my enemy died. And the cheers of the crowd were like wine. I know it was not the same for you. Was it ever?'
Rage reached behind the log and produced a two-pint cask of uisge. Pulling the stopper he drank deeply, then passed the cask to Bane. 'I shouldn't have fought today,' said Rage. 'It was arrogant and wrong. I tried to tell myself I was doing it for the circus, for my comrades. Truth is I was… irritated. I once fought for Palantes. They earned a mountain of gold from my duels. Now here they were wanting a few coppers more from the old farmer's death. I should have told them to… go away. That would have been manly. No amount of false pride is worth the pain I caused Cara.'
'You hurt them, though,' said Bane. 'Killed their best prospect.'
'Pah, it will mean nothing to them. They'll find another. My pride wasn't worth killing a man for. And it certainly wasn't worth the deaths of five comrades.' He drank again, then glanced up at the sky. He almost fell from the log, but Bane caught him. 'That's where we came from,' he said, his voice slurring.
'Where? The sky?'
'Somewhere out there,' said Rage, waving his hand high. 'A wise woman – a seer – told me that. We are created from the dust of stars. A very wise woman, she was.'
'She sounds like an idiot,' said Bane. 'I was created by a lustful man who forced himself upon my mother.'
'The dust of stars,' said Rage. He gazed blearily at Bane. 'A long time ago – long, long time – a star exploded, and its dust was scattered across the heavens. This magical dust covered the earth, and from it all life was born. Fishes and… things. Trees. And when these living things die the magical dust is freed again, and makes new trees and… and…'
'Fishes?' offered Bane.
'Yes. Fishes.' He sighed. 'I felt sorry for Vorkas today. He should not have lost, and he knew it in the moment of his death. He expected me to be defensive, to try to read his movements. As my sword opened his throat his eyes changed. He looked like a child then, lost and bewildered.' Rage drank again, several deep, long swallows.
'I thought you didn't drink, old man.'
'I don't. Can't abide the stuff. Have you ever seen a ghost?'
'I think so. I had a dream when I was wounded. In it my grandfather came to me.'
'Every now and again I see her ghost,' said Rage. 'Her dress is covered in blood and she is holding a knife in her hand. She was standing at the foot of my bed tonight. I saw her mouth move, but I couldn't hear any words. Then she faded away.' He shivered. 'Getting cold,' he said.
Bane found some more wood close by and banked up the fire. 'Did you know the ghost?' he asked.
'Aye, I knew her.'
'Was it your wife?'
'Wife? I never had a wife, boy. I was a soldier for ten years, then a gladiator. No time for wives. Whores, yes.
