ground. He did not mind the jokes of the men in marching columns as he rode past, but gave them a cheery wave and a smile. 'Horses', Brother Solstice was fond of saying, 'make a man proud. Druids should avoid such temptations.'
'You don't avoid ale,' Banouin had once pointed out. 'Or uisge, or fine food.'
'Ah, but then no-one is perfect,' Brother Solstice had told him.
As he rode now behind Banouin's tall horse Brother Solstice was in more sombre mood. It was not just the news of Jasaray's army, though this was enough to make most sane men sombre. Rather it was the demeanour of the two principal generals of the Rigante, Connavar the fighting king, and Bendegit Bran the strategist. Conn had always been a serious man, deep-thinking and focused. Now he seemed strangely withdrawn, as if he carried a burden he could share with no man. And Bendegit Bran, well loved by the men for his good humour and his lack of arrogance, had become moody and short-tempered. The death of his son had hit him hard. Like his father before him Bendegit Bran was a family man, and by that Brother Solstice meant a man to whom family was everything. Bran had adored his son. Brother Solstice felt for him, but there were larger issues at stake here.
One distracted general could result in a costly mistake. Two distracted generals spelt disaster – and not only in issues of strategy. Brother Solstice could feel the growing unease in the army. Many among the Keltoi had misinterpreted Bran's grief as fear of the advancing Jasaray. This, in itself, would not affect the outcome of the battle, for the army looked to Connavar for overall leadership. He was their talisman, the undefeated warrior king who had already smashed one army of Stone. This was the man who carried the magical Seidh sword, which could cut through armour. As long as he rode at the head of the army the hearts of the fighting men would be inspired.
Connavar had always been somewhat withdrawn, and therefore the men had not noticed the subtle change that had come over him. But Brother Solstice had.
He followed Banouin through the ranks of marching men, cracking jokes with a few who mocked his donkey. By the time the two druids reached the front of the line the Iron Wolves had already picketed their horses, and the king's tent had been erected. Inside Connavar was seated upon a rug at the centre of the tent, his senior generals around him. Govannan, his hair prematurely silver, sat to his right, and beside him was Ostaran, the Gath warrior who had joined Connavar twenty years ago, following the fall of his homeland across the water. Bendegit Bran sat to the king's left. Only Fiallach was missing. He and his men were ranging far to the south, attacking the enemy supply lines.
Banouin made his report about the size and disposition of Jasaray's forces. Connavar listened, then questioned the young druid for several minutes. Bendegit Bran said nothing. Brother Solstice watched him. He was not concentrating, and his blue eyes had a faraway look. Connavar seemed not to notice his brother's malaise. Osta and Govannan cast nervous glances at him, but offered no comment.
'Anything else you can think of which might be useful?' Connavar asked Banouin, as the druid finished his report. Before he could answer Brother Solstice spoke, his voice low.
'The regiment of flying dragons may prove difficult to overcome. What do you think, Lord Bran?'
Bran blinked, his shoulders straightening. 'Yes,' he said. 'We must consider that.'
An uneasy silence followed. 'How many men are facing us, Lord Bran?' asked Brother Solstice. 'Where is their army now?'
Bran's eyes narrowed. 'Who are you to question me?' he said.
'Who am I, you insolent puppy!' thundered Solstice, his voice booming. 'We are discussing the future of all we hold dear. Twenty miles away is an enemy who will destroy our way of life, take thousands of our women into slavery, and butcher the children who are too young to be sold for profit. Who am I? I am the man who sees a general so obsessed with his own personal grief that he will bring about the destruction of his people!'
'How dare you!' stormed Bran, surging to his feet.
'You want to sit in a corner and weep?' said the druid. 'Go home. Shed your tears. Cuddle your wife. Get her to dry your eyes. And leave the fighting and the planning for those who have the stomach for it!'
Bran rushed at him. Brother Solstice made no attempt to defend himself. Bran's fist crashed against his bearded chin. The druid staggered, then placed his huge arms behind his back. Blood flowed from his split lip, staining his black and silver beard. He looked into Bran's eyes. 'Now that you have woken up,' he said, 'perhaps our leading strategist can tell us where the enemy lies, and what strength he brings to the field.'
'Get out of here, you fat bastard,' shouted Bran. 'Or I'll kill you where you stand!'
'That's enough,' said Connavar wearily. 'No-one is going to be killed here. Sit down, Bran.'
'You heard what he said to me…'
'I heard. And you should take note of it.' He turned to Osta and Govannan. 'Leave us for a while, my friends. Come back in an hour and we will continue our plans. You too, Banouin.'
Brother Solstice turned to leave with the others, but Connavar called him back. 'Sit,' he said, passing a cloth to the druid. Brother Solstice held it to his lip, and dabbed the blood from his beard.
Connavar waited until the generals and Banouin had left the tent, then turned to the still angry Bran. 'Brother Solstice spoke the truth,' he said. 'The Rigante are relying on you to develop a strategy to defeat the armies of Stone. And here you sit having daydreamed through the most vital of reports. You have lost one son – and I grieve with you. But I am the king, and all the Rigante are the king's children. I will not see my children destroyed because one of their generals could not put aside personal grief at a crucial time.'
'I can't do this,' said Bran. 'I can't stop thinking about Ru. I'll head for home tomorrow.'
'We need you, Bran,' said Connavar.
Bran shook his head. 'You taught me everything I know,' he told his brother. 'And with you at the head the Stone army will be beaten. I am sure of that.'
'I may not be here,' said Conn, keeping his voice low.
'What?'
Brother Solstice saw the shock register on Bran's face. The younger man crouched down beside his brother. 'What madness is this? Of course you will be here!'
'I hope that is true, my brother,' Conn told him. 'I have seen two futures. In one I am betrayed and die before the battle. In the other I lead a charge against the enemy. These were no dreams, Bran. The images came to my mind when I touched the Morrigu. Both are true – though I know not how this can be. What I do know is that if you leave the Rigante die. Everything I have lived for, struggled for, suffered for will be dust. You want focus? Think on that. If that is not enough do not picture dead Ruathain in your mind. Picture instead the man who sent the ring that killed him. Picture Jasaray.'
Bran bowed his head, then looked up at Brother Solstice. 'I am sorry, my friend, for striking you.'
'Forgiven and forgotten,' said the druid. 'Perhaps you should find Banouin – and listen to his report a second time.'
Bran nodded, then turned to Connavar. 'You won't die, Conn,' he said. 'You are destined to ride against Jasaray. Nothing will stop that.'
'Nothing will stop my destiny,' agreed Conn. 'Are you back with us now?'
'Aye.'
Then do as the Brother bids and seek out Banouin. We will talk more later, when Govannan and Osta return.'
Bran rose and left the tent. Brother Solstice remained. 'Tell me of these two futures,' he said.
Connavar told him of the rescue of the Morrigu, and her passing from the world. 'In the first vision I am lying against a golden rock, my lifeblood seeping from me. I know the great battle will be fought the following day. I feel despair that I will not be there to fight it. Enemies lie dead on the ground close by. Then a young boy climbs down from a nearby tree and runs into the circle of stones. All goes dark then – and I know that I am dying.'
'And the second?' asked the druid.
'I see myself on a tall horse, my armour shining bright, my helm in place. I draw my blade and hold it aloft. Fiallach is beside me. The great battle is underway and together we lead the charge down the slope.'
'Perhaps these were not true futures, merely signs of what could be,' said the druid. 'They cannot, after all, both be true. You cannot die before the battle and fight in it thereafter. It seems to me that the most obvious choice of action is to avoid circles of stone.'
Connavar reached into his tunic and pulled forth a folded piece of parchment. This was brought by messenger to me this morning,' he said, handing it to the druid.
