It was the next day, just before the dawn as Cormac stepped out of the room lent to him, and en route to Meallán’s own chambers. As they had planned, when the youth was called out to by of all people the lady ástríer, Sweyn’s other wife.

  A primly, dignified lady, the mother of many of the Jarl’s younger children from Erling to Hrafnhildr to Hróaldr, she had an air of motherhood about her person. A sense of warmth and wisdom, women achieved only after they had had more than one child and raised them to adulthood.

  Carrying a silver candle-stick in her left hand, and dressed in a blue dress, with her hair not yet done she had visibly come in a hurry. Hurrying hither she called out to Cormac once again, saying to him, “Follow me, this way Cormac I must speak with you.”

  “But Meallán called for me to wake him, up just before the dawn,” He stammered weakly feeling helpless and as though he had to refuse.

  “This shall only take a moment, you could escape from Vargrsteinn afterwards,” ástríer interrupted though not rudely or unkindly. Taking him by the arm, up in her own arm she guided him to the stairs.

  They journeyed across the whole of the house, of the Jarl wherefore they turned to the rear of it when on the first floor. It was to the rear of the keep along the right-hand side of the rear of the building where the prison was located.

  It was there that she brought him, past the guard who sat to one side on a nearby chair, paying them nary a look. Startled by this utter lack of interest, Cormac looked to the lady who ignored his glance, preferring to urge him onwards.

  It was when they had reached one of the middle barred-cells that she at last turned her head to address, “Here he is Cormac, the man whom my family has come to shun since six months prior.”

  Curious, and full of trepidation, he had a good idea of who it was that she referred to. Looking into the cell to find a man in dark robes, with his back turned to him, kneeling before the sole opening to the outside world that the cell had, his hands held up to either side of him in prayer. He stared up out of the underground cell, for this floor was below the principal floor of the temple, with his cell cracked open to the exterior world outside the castle.

  Murmuring to himself in the northron tongue, beneath his breath the man whom all knew as Ketill, jumped a little when the lady coughed a little, turning to face them he rose to his feet slowly. Dark-haired and long bearded, his hair and beard hung down to his back and chest respectively, with his long-fingered hands as thin as the rest of him.

  “Milady ástríer, it is a pleasure to see you,” Ketill greeted full of warmth, “Have you come with food? Mayhaps some otter-meat?”

  “No, I will remember to bring it later, perhaps I shall send down Ingunn with it,” the lady said in a teasing voice, wherefore the goei flushed red with visible embarrassment.

  The joy on his face at the proposal helped Cormac to relax. This man was one who like him, was in love and this was something which he could empathise with. He felt that there was little time ere he had to depart whither to Mt-Cyril, he felt his desire begin to be replaced by curiosity.

  Turning his gaze from the matriarch of Vargrsteinn, Ketill revealed then as he fixed his eyes upon the youth. It was at this moment that it was revealed to Cormac, just how peculiar this man was, with his left-eye milky white while his right one was dark.

  There was a certain suffering that marred the surface of the pale face of the goei, a grief of some sort that was his and his alone. There was a peculiar or kind of deeper knowledge in his eyes when he set eyes, upon the youth ere he stared in amazement at him.

  “Cormac, I had not thought to see you so soon,” Ketill muttered reaching out a hand between the bars towards him, as a parched man in the desert might reach for water. “Are you truly herewith us?” When he had laid hands upon his shoulder, he let a sigh flow from his lips, with this reaction disconcerting the youth who stared back at him, in bewilderment. At the sight of this, the older man grimaced to himself, “I could understand your discomfort, Cormac. My apologies, I simply did not expect to see you before me. I have long dreamt of and seen this moment, in the past and now that it is hereupon me I have no knowledge of what to make of it.”

  This revelation was a bewildering one. Cormac had heard in the past of seers in the past, in countless tales such as those of Cassandra of ancient Ilion. To meet one was almost more shocking to him, than aught else might have been on this journey: Especially one who claimed, to have seen him in his dreams and visions, a notion that had never occurred to him.

  There were so many questions that occurred to him, at that moment. So many things he wished to ask of the other man, so that he did not at once ask any of them.

  It fell upon the other man to ask of him, “Which of your friends are asleep above us, at this moment?”

  “Meallán and Marian,” Cormac admitted hesitantly.

  Nodding several times, it was at the mention of Marian that he froze with curiosity asking him, “Who is Marian?”

  “Sister Marian, she is a friend who helped to guide us from Arduinna’s village to this place.” Cormac told him, confused he added, “Are you not a seer? Or was I mistaken to think of you as such?”

  Ketill chuckled, ere he informed him, “Indeed I am though this does not make me all-knowing. I can see, but shan’t hear or smell anything within my visions. I know your name only through having seen you with your father, and met him. It was he who revealed your name to me, as his son.”

  “How came you by your gift?” Cormac asked now, unable to stop himself being fascinated by this notion. Cassandra from what he had been told by Corin, was a woman cursed by an ancient god Apollo after she had turned him away, having no desire for him.

  Bemused by the question, Ketill told him genially, “I was not cursed if that is what you think.”

  Struck by this response, he gaped at the other man asking of him, “How did you know that is what I was thinking, I thought you could not hear in your visions?”

  “Aye I cannot, it is simply that I guessed at your thinking given I have heard of a woman of some sort from Murchadh being cursed as I was.” Ketill informed him genially, with a shrug of his shoulders, “Some such as Sadis and Hrafnhildr do tend to listen to me.”

  “And also Ingunn,” Said ástríer with a small almost girlish giggle, one that revealed the sort of lass she had once been ere her marriage to Sweyn.

  Pleased by this, the goei beamed at her with all his white-teeth, his cheeks red as Daegan’s hair, ere long he carried on with his tale. “I was born a fisherman’s son just as you were Cormac, though where you had a tendency to day-dream I competed always in contests of swimming and boating to Estrivik Island.

  It was thereon the island during a storm that I was believed lost for a time, with my boat having capsized mid-way there. The contest of boating, one that had resulted in my rivals returning home, seized by fear I prayed deeply to the gods. With one of them saving me and carrying me along the sea back home, whereupon he stayed in our home for a time. Filled with gratitude, my father and I asked of him ‘what may we do to thank you?’ at which time he answered, ‘your duty.’ After several days he returned to inform us that he had decided, to thank me by tasking me with a great duty, one of a goei. To assist me he thrust his thumb into my eye, which shocked and horrified my father though if I were honest it did not hurt.

  After that day I was blessed with a third-sight, one driven by that one-eyed stranger who I remember as the warmest, goodliest of men.”

  This was such an incredible tale, so strange and peculiar that Cormac could hardly imagine it. When he did, he shuddered to think of a man driving his thumb into the eye of another, or for one of them to do so to him.

  Seeing this brought a smile to the thin and bearded lips, of the remarkable man who stood across the bars of the cell from him. “He was not horrid, but rather sorrowful and warm lad. Duty is never easy but necessary for us all.”

  “You never regretted your new sight?”

  “No,” Ketill replied serenely, “It has given me much sorrow it is true, but life is sorrow… sorrow and love. I have had much of both, with the old man having taught me much ere his departure. For this reason I see no reason to condemn or regret, or any such meaningless gestures.”

  Great was his wisdom, Cormac mused to himself; it appeared to his mind far greater than that of Wiglaf or Wulfnoth. The question of the identity of the one-eyed stranger was no mystery, at least not to his mind though he did not speak his name. To do so, was to perform an act he feared the result of. To utter the god’s name could be considered both heresy, and to bring upon his head the gaze of such a being, one whom his father had told him once upon a time, was never wise to do.

  “Do you know how my quest shall end?” He asked in place of some of the other questions that had come into his spirit.

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  “No, I am not so farseeing as that,” Ketill admitted with a shrug, adding when he saw the disappointment upon his face. “What I do know is that you shall escape this city and shall be reunited with your friends.”

  The latter revelation cheered Cormac considerably, there were other queries he asked of the older man, who had at least fifteen years over him, yet appeared to have centuries.

  The time came though, when ástríer informed him it was time to leave. It was at this time that Ketill halted him when he turned to leave, saying to him not unkindly. “Cormac, if I may wish you the very best of luck, it is my hope that Oein will guide you.”

  “Er thank you, um brother Ketill.” Cormac stuttered unsure of how to address the other man, who smiled at his clumsiness.

  “Do hurry back hither soon, for I fear that we shall have need of your goodness, and bravery Cormac,” Ketill told him gravely, his good-humour disappearing to be replaced with worry. “I fear that the shadows may at last come, for the family whom I have come to love so very, very dearly, if you do not.”

  *****

  It was after they had left the prison behind them that ástríer, addressed him once more, “I hope you will not think poorly of Sweyn. I wished for you to properly meet Ketill, after all that Guerún and Erast said of him.”

  “He seemed gentle,” Cormac said startled by this realisation.

  “Indeed he is,” ástríer acknowledged with a small smile, “Though he is one of the most formidable of Sweyn’s warriors.”

  “Did he truly attempt to slay Guerún and Erast?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why?”

  “Only he knows the answer to that, though he claimed he wished to protect Sweyn and his kinsmen and kinswomen.” ástríer informed him with a vulnerable look in her eyes, adding hurriedly, “You must not think too poorly of us Cormac, your father did not. We may appear to have robbed him from you, but this was not our intent.”

  Cormac did not say anything.

  *****

  It was when they reached the summit of the stairs to find Marian and Meallán in the midst of a heated discussion in the middle of the hallway that the two came to a halt. The lady turned then to the youth, to inform him. “Cormac, I shall have the guards of the castle-keep let you through, ‘tis the least I could do for you.”

  “Thank you milady,” Cormac murmured moved by her kindness.

  The smile she gave him, reminded him of Hrafnhildr. It had her lightness, her girlish beauty and sincerity. Though where there was a hint of deceitfulness in hers, as though she were hiding even from herself something of the reason for her smiles and joys, this one was truer.

  ástríer he could see had once been a great beauty, so that it was not hard to see why Sweyn had fallen in love with her, in her youth.

  Mistrustful of her, Meallán was to soften his suspicion when she assured them all, “I shall send away the guards of the keep. Sadly this is all I can do for you other than direct Hr?rekr to join you outside the city.”

  “Thank you milady, we are in your debt.” He stammered pleased by her offer of assistance, to which she only chortled.

  “Oh nonsense, this latter offer is not my own but that of my husband, he is a kindlier man than what most of you think.” The sister of the Jarl of Rauergard told them, adding softly, “Though Erast has a hold over him and he flirts with conversion to your Quirinian faith. He listens far more to me, than what even Guerún or Erast realize, though at times his innate compassion surprises even myself.”

  After this startling admission one that they had difficulty reconciling, to the bear of a man who had taken them in almost as honoured-prisoners, the lady of the golden locks of Vargrsteinn hurried away. Each one of the three of them, following her with their eyes, all of them pondering the meaning of her words and the nature of their host, one whom they were all determined to re-think their view of.

  *****

  Slipping down the stairs, the three of them did not utter a word until they had left the castle firmly behind them.

  The sight of the orange of the suns hitting the ocean moved Cormac, almost to tears. He had not seen that sight in weeks, possibly a month and it was far, far more beautiful he thought, than he had remembered it.

  “Hurry Cormac, we must fly away from this place,” Meallán hissed at him, pulling at his arm as he pulled him towards the western gate of the city. “Lyr and the rest of our friends need us.”

  Nodding, Cormac trailed after him if reluctantly so, wishing at that moment that he could have remained there for a little longer. If only to engrave the sight of the suns deeper, into the fabric of his memory, so that it might remain with him until next he saw Daegan.

  It was the thought of her, the memory of her that made him push forward along with that of his father. Even as he wondered to himself, if his father had spent a lot of time staring at the suns rise and set thinking of Kenna and him. Murchadh had loved staring out at the sea and the suns.

  His heart torn by grief over his father, Cormac followed after his friends with Marian the one who wrapped a grandmotherly arm about his shoulders. “Fear not Cormac, it is well that you grieve at the same time that it is right of you to remember your duties.”

  The notion that he had been so apparent, in his sentiments embarrassed him and made him wonder if mayhaps he ought to hide his thoughts better. This was the second time that very morning, he had had his mind read, or so it felt.

  Smiling quietly back at her, he nodded his head once more to her, the two of them reached the doors of the city. It was thereupon it entering into view that Meallán drew them to a halt, with a worried grimace.

  “It is as I feared,” He said having stopped near a small long-house made of the local wood, so that it was the same colour as all the other homes of the city. The richness of the brownness of the wood was such that one could have been mistaken, for thinking that the house had grown out of the earth and its roots in it. Meallán added morosely, with a significant glance towards the entrance of the city, “There you see? There are two guards at attention; doubtlessly they will keep the gates closed if they could help it.”

  “Patience, Meallán,” Marian scolded him genially, with such utter confidence and serenity that she drew to herself from both men a stare of amazement. “The gates will open, as arranged.”

  Just as Cormac opened his mouth to speak out, and Meallán brooded, the gates began to do exactly as she had promised.

  Struck by this, they followed the giggling old maid over to the gates, the guards having by this time, moved to the towers where the chains that opened and closed the gates, to open them. The mystery of why this was the case, was to be answered by the appearance from one of the towers a skirted figure, who called down to them, just as Hr?rekr did also.

  “Cormac! Mother told me to see to opening the gates for you,” Hrafnhildr called out waving her arm to him as she descended down the steps of the tower.

  “Hrafnhildr? What are you doing up there?” Cormac asked her, having not expected to see her there.

  “I came to assist you, if in my own way,” The lady cried out with forced joy, he could see though the sorrow in her eyes at his desire to leave the city.

  Hr?rekr was visibly saddened by her words, which struck the Caled who felt a pang of pity for his friend.

  “We will wait outside the city for you, Cormac,” Meallán decided keen to step out of the city and to give him a moment alone with Hrafnhildr, in spite of his discomfort towards the notion.

  *****

  Once they were alone, the lady turned pleased to face him once more. Cormac was able to see that though she was near to the exterior of the opened gates that had spread outwards, Marian was listening in on them. An expression of keen interest upon her face, her enthusiasm sent a spike of malaise straight to his heart and stomach.

  “I had hoped that, if I could not dissuade you from this course, you may assent to the wearing of my favour, as Murchadh once told me that such is the practice in Gallia.” Hrafnhildr said as she produced from one of her sleeves a long pink cloth, with the image of a scarlet sea-drake upon it. It was a powerful image, one that the family had borne for centuries since they had first come to the Misty-Island, from across the Glacial-Sea.

  Quite why this was was a mystery to Cormac at the time, with the tale to later be told to him by Marian.

  At the time though, he was hardly convinced of the merits of wearing it. It would be a betrayal of Daegan, and this he could no more stomach than he could, betraying his father’s memory.

  “Nay, I shan’t wear it I am no Gallian,” He refused at once keen to discourage her from any future actions of this sort. There could be no joy that way.

  “But it would please me, and I truly wish for you to have it,” She attempted to insist eagerly, a bit of hurt in her voice. “Unless… unless you have already wed another.”

  “I have not,” Seeing the relief that she felt was a knife through his heart, as it was a reminder of how he had not made his intent to Daegan in the past. With such clarity, and a vision of his father in that city he understood the reason her interest in him had distressed him so. “It is not to myself that you wish to give that cloth to though. That honour belongs to another, and to pass it on to me could only dishonour him, yourself and myself, and most of all Dae.”

  Hrafnhildr stared at him for some time. His savage words had wounded her he could see, while she had been naught but unfailing in her kindness towards him during his stay in Vargrsteinn. He could not stomach her kindness if it meant taking greater advantage of it, or so he justified. Still though, at the sight of the tears that peppered her wide blue eyes, and that fell from them was as drops from the heavens. They fell freely, and in great multitude, this in spite of his wishes to avoid paining her in any ways.

  Hurrying thither away from her, after the others he left the wounded lass firmly behind him. Hopeful that should they ever meet again, she might learn from this.

  He was not his father, try as he might to be as much like him, as he could. Murchadh had had a gentle heart, and had a tendency to think that those who liked him were simply doing so out of na?ve or innocent intent. He was not a pessimistic man by nature; the man’s son could see what he could not; such innocence tended to mislead others at times.

  *****

  Rejoining the others, he could see at once that Hr?rekr was eyeing him with great interested. Evidently curious about the exchange betwixt him and Hrafnhildr, Hr?rekr would not however make clear his reasons for his interest. Meallán though appeared pleased with him, as did Marian.

  “You did what was in your heart lad,” Meallán told him, with almost paternal joy, “I can say that such refusals are never easy, and you demonstrated great strength in the refusing of that lass, because though her people take on two brides at times. Such a practice is unnatural.”

  “Aye, I could not betray Daegan, in such a way,” Cormac replied to him, adding as they made for the nearby boat that was tied to the shore near to the northern walls of the city. Turning to the old man, he asked of him, “Do you think it was cruel what I did?”

  “I can only guess, and say that my nephew has had to do much the same, as has Lyr, to crush the feelings of another for whom you bear no special love for is the height of kindness.” Meallán declared softly, “Lest we become prisoners chained to them, to inflict greater pain upon them and ourselves. Pain begets pain, love begets sorrow yes but also joy. It is best that she suffer pain now, to avoid future greater pains I think.”

  “I for one think that ye ought to focus not upon Hrafnhildr, lad. Focus your thoughts upon your duties and Daegan,” Marian said to him not unkindly, when he aided her in the climbing into the boat she added with a smile, “Thank you lad, most kind of you.”

  “Best of luck, and may Tyr guide your swords,” Hr?rekr said to them as the men picked up the oars, his own smile was bright and his eyes merry.

  “And you also,” Cormac replied clumsily, only to add a little hesitantly, “I do hope you will protect Sweyn and his kin.”

  “With my very life lad, with my very life and to my last breath!” Hr?rekr bellowed cheerily, rapping his fist against his chest.

  “As all good men do,” Marian murmured softly.

  Somewhere distant, far away from them atop the walls and towers that surrounded the city a raven crowed, ere it took flight, with the rest of its flock.

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