'That's not true,' said Rage. 'You are what. . . nineteen? You have yet to reach the peak of your strength and power. In five or six years you will be faster and deadlier than both of us.' He laughed suddenly. 'All those young gladiators out there should rejoice that Bane is no longer one of them. Have you given thought to what you will do now? There are many merchant ventures into which you could put the riches you have made. You can become fat and lazy.'
'I'm going home, my friend,' said Bane. 'The emperor has given me two days to leave Stone.'
'So much for the gratitude of rulers, eh?' muttered Rage.
Bane shrugged. 'He is a cold man, and I should have expected no less. I'll return to Caer Druagh. I need to see the mountains, and to feel the grass under my feet. Why not come with me, show me how to run a farm?'
'Perhaps I'll visit, but Cara is to be married in four months, and I'd like to see that. I'd also like to watch a great-grandchild grow. I hope it is a boy. Girls are wonderful, but I think I need a little variety.' He rose from his seat, and drew Bane into a hug. 'You know, maybe you should find your father, and make your peace with him.'
For the first time Bane kissed Rage's cheek. Then he drew away. 'I have no father. If I could choose one it would be you.'
'That is good to hear, and I thank you for saying it. Now, before we become mawkish let's go down to the others and eat. I am famished.'
'One last thing,' said Bane. 'Will you be getting drunk tonight?'
Rage chuckled. 'Probably. I don't like to kill - even evil men like Voltan.'
Then let's drink together. We can talk about the stars and the spirits, and ramble on about the meaning of life.'
'Sounds hideous. We'll do it,' said Rage.
Snow was swirling across the plain as the young druid crouched at the foot of a standing stone, watching the wind scattering hot cinders from his tiny fire, leeching the heat away from his frozen body. Hunched against the cold stone Banouin felt the weight of failure dragging him down. Four times now in the last six months he had tried to free the ghosts of Cogden Field. But on each occasion they had ignored him and continued their senselessly ferocious battle.
The last time he had tried reasoning with the shade of Valanus, pointing out to him that Cogden was fought in bright sunlight, whereas now only the moon shone down upon the battlefield. Valanus had laughed, and gestured towards the sky. 'There is the blazing sun,' he cried. 'And the sky is blue. I have no more time for this, demon. Come, lads, one more charge and the day is ours.'
The wind died down and the shivering Banouin added dry sticks to the fading blaze. Flames licked out and he held out his hands to the fleeting warmth.
The king had allowed him this one last attempt - three weeks' leave of absence. And he had failed. Tomorrow he would have to return to Old Oaks as he had promised.
'I care for these souls,' said Connavar, 'but, in truth, I care for the living far more. The information you supply on Jasaray's troops is vital to us. No-one else has your talent, Banouin. You are the Eyes of the Rigante.'
All this was true, but the ghosts of Cogden Field were like a dagger in Banouin's soul. The land cried out to be freed of this nightly slaughter. Grass no longer grew upon the plain. Not a single weed could be seen on the dead brown earth. Banouin glanced out from behind the stone. The ghosts were still fighting, on a field of snow. Despair flowed over him.
The armies of Stone were gathering across the water, and already four Panthers - twelve thousand men - had crossed the narrow strip of sea and were camped in the lands of the Cenii. Many among the Cenii had joined the army as scouts for the campaign all knew would come in the spring - the push north into the lands of the Norvii, and then the Rigante. More battles would be fought, and more souls would continue their eternal fighting, draining the spirit from the land.
'I must find a way,' said Banouin. Brother Solstice always said that the truth had a power all its own, yet he had tried the truth on these martial spirits and they ignored it. What more can I do? he wondered.
'Morrigu!' he shouted. 'Where are you?'
There was no answer, though the wind picked up and scattered his fire. Banouin sat miserably, his sheepskin cloak tugged around him, the hood low over his face. He recalled the first time he had come to this circle of stones, with Bane. It seemed so long ago now, another time in another world. He had been heading towards his dream, and his heart had been light and full of hope.
Banouin missed Bane, and wished with all his heart that he had gone to him in Stone and asked forgiveness for deserting him. Now Bane was back in the mountains, and still he had not sought him out. He had come home rich, and had acquired land bordering the Narian Forest, twenty miles south-west of Three Streams. The land was sold cheaply, for there were many outlaw bands in the area, and the last two owners had been killed by them. Connavar had sent troops into the forest to root them out, but the area was colossal, and his men saw no-one. Many people in Three Streams had laughed when Bane bought the land, knowing that his cattle would be spirited away, his houses ransacked.
They were not laughing now. His cattle were feeding on the best grass, and not a single robber had appeared to trouble him. 'He is in league with the outlaws,' they said, and their dislike of him grew. Bane made no attempt to win them over.
Then the Sea Raiders had landed a small force near Seven Willows. Fighting men were gathered to oppose them. All men knew that Bane was a great fighter and a rider was sent to him. He told the man to leave his property. 'When the sea raiders attack my land I shall kill them,' he said. 'And I will ask no help from you.'
Dislike became open hatred then, and men talked of how he had killed Forvar and the two friends of Fiallach. 'He is a mad dog,' they said. 'He should be driven from the land.'
A delegation went to Braefar, urging him to take action. Braefar, while agreeing that Bane was a disgrace, pointed out that he paid his taxes promptly, and those taxes were used to fund Connavar's army. 'He has broken no law,' said Braefar, 'and paid weregild to the men he slew after his mother's death. However, if you wish to sell him no feed for his cattle, no supplies for his men, no shoes for his horses, that is up to you.'
This they did, and Bane was forced to send for supplies from the Pannone to the north at far greater cost. Even so, his venture thrived. When lung blight destroyed half the king's herds, and reduced many farmers to near poverty, Bane's cattle escaped the disease. People were then forced to buy from him, and his prices were high.
The saddest part of all, for Banouin, was that he knew most of the people who hated Bane were good people, with kind hearts. They were reacting to a man who wanted nothing to do with them - much as they had once reacted to Banouin. Bane no longer helped with the barn building, or attended the feast days, or joined the hunts, or trained with the militia. His every action was seen - mostly accurately - as a slight on the Rigante as a whole.
Under pressure from their families, most of the young men who worked for him had quit his service, and he now employed outsiders, Wolfsheads or runaways: men who - like Bane - wore no cloak of allegiance. Bane's cloak was black, and without adornment. Not once had he worn the chequered blue and green colours of the Rigante.
Banouin shivered. The winter cold was seeping through his boots and leggings. He stood up and stamped his feet. 'I should not hate the winter,' he thought. When it is gone war will come.
Jasaray would come from the south, and King Shard of the Vars had gathered more than three hundred ships, ready to lead an invasion in the north. The days of blood were drawing near. And here I sit, thought Banouin, worrying about the lost souls of an earlier conflict.
'Morrigu!' he shouted again.
He heard movement and stared out into the night. A horse was plodding slowly through the snow, the rider hunched in the saddle, his head hooded. The rider eased his horse into the circle of stones and flicked back his hood.
'You still don't know how to place a fire, idiot,' said Bane.
The warrior stepped down from
the saddle, tethered his mount, took a large bundle of dry wood, tied with thongs, from the back of his saddle, then walked to the far side of the circle, where one of the giant stones had cracked and fallen. Swiftly he prepared a fire against the stone. Taking a burning branch from Banouin's small blaze he lit his own, which crackled into life. Shielded from the worst of the wind the fire burned hot and bright, warmth reflecting from the stone. Bane sat down, gesturing Banouin to join him.
'I would have built it here,' said Banouin, squatting down. 'But I can see the battle from this spot, and it grieves me.'
'Are they fighting now?' asked Bane.
'Yes.'
'Let me know when it is over.'
'Why?'
'I will help you release their souls.'
'You are not a mystic. How can you help me?'
'You never did know how to talk to fighting men,' said Bane. 'I do.'
The Morrigu sent you, didn't she?'
'No. Your mother came to my farm. Asked me to help you.' He looked directly into Banouin's eyes. 'Vorna has always been a friend to me. I help my friends where I can.'
Banouin looked away. 'I am sorry about what happened in Accia,' he said.
'Pah, it is in the past. Forgotten.'
'Is that true?' asked Banouin, hope flaring.
'Of course it is not true,' snapped Bane. 'I was trying to be polite. Now tell me about this battle of souls.'
'What is there to tell? They fight eternally the battle of Cogden Field, not knowing that it is over and gone. Their spirits are trapped here, caught in a web of hatred and violence. I have tried talking to Valanus. He hears me, but does not believe what I tell him.'
'And why is it important to you that he does believe?' asked Bane.
'It is the land, Bane. It suffers as they suffer. All life is being drained from this place, like a stain that grows and grows. There must be an end to it. The dead must know peace.'
'Why should they be any different from the living?' asked Bane. 'When do we ever know peace?'
'You still sound bitter.'
Bane laughed, with genuine good humour. 'Ah, you misread me. I am no longer the man you once knew. I found a friend in Stone, a great friend, a man who risked his life for me. That changed me. I am more content now. I care nothing for Connavar and his rejection of me, nor for the dislike of my fellow Rigante. I live my own life, answerable to no man.'
'Like a leaf in the breeze,' said Banouin. 'The Rigante are your people.'
Bane shook his head. 'My people are the twenty men who work for me. And the friends who have stood by me: Vorna, Rage and Telors. The rest of you can rot and die. How is the battle faring?'
Banouin glanced back and shuddered. 'It is at its height. It will go on like this for an hour or more, then start again.' Bane added more sticks to the blaze. Banouin watched him. His hair was still long, a tight yellow braid hanging from his temple, but he had grown a golden beard now, trimmed close to the chin. He seemed larger across the shoulder.
'Mother told me that Lia was alive, and that you rescued her,' he said.
'Aye, I rescued her.'
'I am glad.'
'Well, that is good to hear.'
'Please don't hate me, Bane. What I did was cowardly and wrong, but I am trying to make amends with my life.'
'Druid's robes suit you,' said Bane. 'Men say you are a great healer and a prophet. I am pleased for you. And I do not hate you. I have no feelings for you at all, neither hatred nor love. You are just a man I know.'
'But we were friends once, weren't we?'
'I don't think that we were. Anyway, it is immaterial now. How is the king? I understand there was yet another attempt on his life.'
'Yes. Two Pannone attacked him while he was hunting. Killed his horse and wounded him. The wound was not deep and I healed it.'
'One cannot blame the Pannone,' said Bane. 'They didn't ask to be overrun by the Rigante.'
'Most Pannone believe in the king,' said Banouin. 'As do most Norvii and the other smaller tribes now under his banner. But there will always be those who yearn for the old days.'
Bane laughed. 'By the old days you mean the time when they were free to make their own decisions, and not pay taxes to a foreign king?'
'He is not a foreign king,' said Banouin. 'He is a Keltoi, fighting to preserve our ancient way of life in the face of a terrible threat.'
Bane shook his head. 'Does it not seem strange to you that the act of protecting that way of life is altering it beyond recognition? Citizens of Stone pay taxes. The Keltoi never did. The Rigante, Pannone and Norvii crossed the water centuries ago to find a land where there would be no kings. They thrived as free peoples. There were no armies. When enemies threatened every man took up arms to defend the land. There were no tax gatherers, no clerics, and a few simple laws. What freedoms do we have now? If I was to hold this conversation in Three Streams I would be arrested as a malcontent.'
'Without the unity forged by Connavar this entire land would be under the godless rule of Stone,' said Banouin.
'As it probably will be one day anyway,' said Bane.
'Not as long as Connavar lives.'
'Then may he live long,' said Bane.
The two men lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. The snow began again, heavy and fast, large flakes spluttering on the campfire. Bane lifted his hood back into place, and leaned back against the fallen stone. Banouin fed the fire, and occasionally
glanced back at the silent battle. It was nearing its end. He nudged Bane, who came instantly awake. 'Give me your hand,' he said, lying down next to Bane.
'Why?'
'If you are to help me with the ghosts, you must be as a ghost. Give me your hand and I will draw your spirit from your body.'
Bane did so, and felt a cold rush of air sweep over him, as if he had dived into a winter lake. He shuddered, and rose to stand naked alongside the spirit of Banouin.
'How do you wish to be clothed?' asked Banouin, who was apparently wearing a pure white druid's robe.
'Can it be anything?' asked Bane.
'Anything.'
'Then dress me as a Stone officer, with gilded breastplate and helm.' Even as he spoke he felt the armour settle upon him, a bronze reinforced kilt appeared around his waist, and two bronze greaves nestled against his calves.
'Where is the sword?' asked Bane.
'You think you'll need one?' countered Banouin.
The two ghostly armies began to form on opposite hilltops as Bane and Banouin strode out across the Field. Bane glanced down. His booted feet made no marks upon the snow, and he could feel no hint of the winter winds. The two spirits made their way towards the silent Stone ranks, which shimmered in the moonlight. Bane stared in wonder at the soldiers before him. They seemed to have been carved from mist, translucent in the moonlight. The sounds of faraway commands came to them.
'Panther Three form up. Rank Seven at the beat!'
A drum sounded, its slow ponderous beat echoing across the field. Bane saw the troops shuffling into formation in ranks of seven. He and Banouin continued to walk up the hill. The spirits of the Stone soldiers ignored them, continuing their battle preparations.
As Bane came within thirty feet of the first line he halted. Then he cried out in a loud voice: 'Appius, where are you?'
Now the spirits noticed him, and he felt their cold stares upon him. 'Appius!' he called again. Then: 'Oranus, where are you? Speak to me, Oranus!'
The first line parted and an officer stepped from it. He was tall and handsome, his breastplate intricately engraved, as were his greaves, helm and wrist guards.
'It is Valanus,' whispered Banouin.
'Appius!' yelled Bane again.
'Who are you?' demanded the officer, coming closer, sword in hand.
'I am Bane, son of Connavar the King.'
'Nonsense! I know Connavar. He is a young man, little older than you.'
'Appius!' shouted Bane.
'He is not here!' snarle
d Valanus. 'Now tell me what you want and why you are dressed in the armour of Stone. Speak or I will cut you down.'
'Why is Appius not here?' demanded Bane. 'Is this not Cogden Field? Is Appius not your second in command?'
Valanus stood very still, confusion in his face. 'He is gone,' he said at last.
'Gone?' echoed Bane. 'How can he be gone? The battle is not yet started.'
'He is gone, damn you! What do you want?'
'The Rigante are charging!' hissed Banouin.
Bane ignored him and kept his gaze locked to Valanus. 'Then where is Oranus?' he said. 'Is he not your aide? Where is Oranus?'
'What trick is this?' shouted Valanus.
'It is no trick,' Bane told him. He glanced at Banouin. 'Dress me as a Rigante warrior,' he said. 'Quickly now!'
Instantly the armour of Stone disappeared, replaced by a swirling pale blue and green chequered cloak, and a shining mailshirt.
Swinging on his heel Bane waited until the advancing Rigante were close. 'Connavar!' he shouted. 'Let Connavar show his face!' The charge slowed. 'Fiallach! Where are you? Bendegit Bran, let us see you! Govannan, come forth!' Bane walked to meet the advancing men, still calling out the names of their generals. The spirits slowed to a walk, then began glancing nervously around. A Rigante noble pushed his way to the front of the line.
'Why do you call for Connavar?' he asked. 'Are you an agent of the enemy? Do they seek a truce?'
'Where is Connavar?' asked Bane.
The man hesitated, then looked around, scanning the ghostly ranks. 'He is not with us,' said the officer.
'How can that be?' Bane asked him. 'This is Cogden Field. It was here that Connavar the King won his greatest victory. Fiallach rode with him, as did Bendegit Bran and Govannan.' Bane looked into the man's face. He was not young. His hair was thinning and his features showed the deep lines of his advancing years. 'Maccus also rode with them,' said Bane, remembering the stories. 'Maccus who was more than sixty, and who led a charge that broke the left wing.'
'I am Maccus. I remember that charge.'
'It was a moment of great glory,' said Bane. 'So why are you here now?'