Genonn had collected Lee and was heading for the gate when he heard his father calling. The boy had his head down, surly, boredom evident in his stance. I am not responsible for this boy, he seethed, even though he knew it was no longer valid. Genonn brought Lee into the druidic center and had assumed responsibility by doing so. He still wanted to walk through the gatehouse, ignoring the old man. Oh, what he would do to be out in the forest, on his own. But he could not be on his own. Not anymore.

Leave him here while we decide what to do with him. There was a mien in Dornoll’s eyes which he had not liked. Leave him here so I can rid myself of the opposition to Abradruad, was more likely to be the true meaning. Dornoll might appear as a gentle soul, but she was a druidess. She would be no less of a schemer than the rest of her caste. Genonn had seen it before. He would not forsake the boy nor leave him to the cruel ministrations of those capable of, well, anything. He had brought Lee into mortal danger, even if the youth was unaware of it.

Sighing, Genonn stopped. Despite a deep desire, he could not ignore the man who gave him life. He might not respect his politics, but Kathvar was his father. So, he turned and walked back, saying over his shoulder, “Wait there, Lee. I will only be a moment.”

“Where will you go?” the old man asked as they stopped on the path, facing off as though about to join in battle.

Genonn had not given it any thought. His intention before Kathvar’s question was to escape. He had not thought beyond the gates. His father’s words prompted a spontaneous decision. The best way to protect Lee would be to prove his claim. “In search of Niamh and Conall. Conall was there at the battle of Glencree, so could provide some insight, I think.”

“Conall was besieged in the hostel. What the old woman claims happened outside, in the forest.”

“You heard Taidle. Conall will recognize the boy. He knew him well.”

“I would not be so sure.”

“I have to try, Father. I brought this boy into danger. It’s up to me to prove his claim.”

“I wish you would stay. We have much to discuss,” Kathvar said, standing with his hands gripping his staff as if he would fall without its support. He was forever trying to create an aura of frailty. Only this time, there might be some truth in it. His eyes had dark bags under them and showed a level of pleading Genonn had not seen before. And there was something else in them Genonn could not fathom.

“I know you had plans for Cú Chulainn, and I am sorry they did not work. Truly, I am. However, I am not sure what you think we have to discuss–”

“Please, Genonn,” Kathvar interrupted. “I know you do not trust me, but I am only doing what is best. Have only done what is best.”

“Best for who?”

“I will wait for you in the sacred circle at midnight. Please come.” Kathvar sighed, turned his back, and retreated, leaving Genonn staring after. The sacred circle at midnight. Why not go to the hostel and discuss it over a cup of mead?

“What did he say?” Fedelm asked, joining him on the path.

“Where did you spring from?” Genonn asked.

“I was sitting outside my roundhouse and saw you talking. What did Kathvar say?”

Genonn could see Fedelm was also suffering. Her hair was wild, as if she’d been pulling on it. Her red eyes were born of many tears. Despite her appearance, she was still beautiful.

“He wants to talk to me. He would not say what about. I have no time to stay in Caer Leb and listen to nonsense. If I delay, they will put this Abradruad on the throne. Who is he, do you know?”

Fedelm shook her head. “I met him once, briefly. I think you might benefit if you listen to your father.”

Watching her, Genonn wondered what she might gain by siding with his father. She had an open face, not trying to hide anything. He felt a blush of shame at the thought.

“Why do you say that?”

“We had time to talk. I think you should give him a chance to explain.”

“What did you talk about?”

“That is for your father to say. Will you do it, Genonn? For me?”

He looked over towards the forest, sure she was using her charm as a weapon, but he could not see any malice in her. She seemed genuinely interested in his welfare—or perhaps the well-being of his father. It did not matter. The truth was she would not benefit by convincing him to stay, so she was not thinking of herself.

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“If I do this, will you take care of Lee? I am afraid for him.”

“Why?”

“I am not sure the boy should be left alone. He seems somehow...” he hesitated, unsure how to express his feelings. Eventually, he placed a finger on his temple.

“Touched,” Fedelm realized. “I hadn’t thought. Of course. I’ll watch over him.”

They approached the youth who had recovered from his earlier nerves. Lee was once again curious and fascinated by his surroundings. It was as though he had no interest in the High Kingship. Genonn found himself wondering if he had noticed the resemblance before or after Niamh’s remark.

“Lee, please go with Fedelm. She will feed you and find you a bed.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have some business to attend. We will leave tomorrow.”

“Oh. Am I not to be High King, then?”

“That is yet to be decided.”

***

Genonn stared from beyond the light. Kathvar was nervous, as though something he dreaded was stalking him. It was as if he feared his life, wringing his hands and staring straight at Genonn several times for long stretches as if he could see him, only to turn back to the fire. Genonn was finding it hard to accept that Kathvar was afraid. It was absurd. The man had never been scared of anything.

Why am I hiding in the dark? He is just a lonely old man. Realizing his foolishness, Genonn walked into the firelight. “I hope you have good reason to keep me in Caer Leb, Father; I hate this place.”

“Ah, Genonn, I thought you were not coming.”

“I am a man of my word.” Unlike others, I might mention.

“Thinking I am not, no doubt,” Kathvar said knowingly.

Genonn stared into the darkness and wondered how his father managed to read minds. It was a skill he would give his sword arm to attain. He chuckled at the irony and shook his head. “What are you laughing at?”

“Why am I here?”

“Please, Son, sit. We have much to talk about.”

“I did enough talking in the feast hall earlier. I am done with it. Action is required.” Someone needs to work for the good of the Five Kingdoms instead of just talk about it and then do what is best for them.

“Meaning?”

“Something must be done. Is the meaning not plain, Father?”

“But what can be done? What action can any of us take? I know you feel the Council made the wrong decision, but do you really believe this boy’s claim?”

Before replying, Genonn pondered the words. Lee could not prove his claims, but that did not mean they were false. Conall and the old woman might sway the Council, but no one knew where they were. He thought about the trip from Dún Dealgan to Caer Leb. He thought about the things he would have expected a prince to know. But in the end, he kept coming back to the same thought. It could just be trauma driving the true memories out of Lee’s head.

Again, he tried to recall who suggested the likeness. “I do not know, Father. I am divided. I will take the boy with me and see if I can discover the truth.”

“Where would you begin?”

“I will search for this Niamh. Whatever the truth may be, she will know it.”

“Do you not think the boy knows?”

“I have my doubts, truth be known. I think she told him he is High King, and he believes her. He is very immature. Not, I think, wholly with us. Anyway, she will know for sure, so I shall find her and demand proof.”

“And will you take Fedelm?” Kathvar asked, his eyes seeming to twinkle in the dancing light.

“I am sure she has better things to do than follow me around the Chualann Mountains searching for an old woman.”

“Yes, I agree. Like her keen interest in Bradán. Had you noticed?”

“Of course not,” Genonn snapped. “Why should I care? I hardly know the girl.” He wished his father would get to the point. All this talk about Fedelm could not be why the old man asked him here, could it?

An owl hooted close by, startling him. Could it be the Crone, Bhéara? She often took the form of an owl. If it was her, was she here to defend honor or because someone was about to travel on to Tír na nÓg? He felt a shiver between his shoulders, followed by the feeling he was being watched. Kathvar was once more staring into the dark. The tenseness in his face belied the lightness of his earlier words. He is afraid of something. That is not just a reaction to the owl hoot.

“Are you well, Father?”

“What? Oh, yes. I think I am feeling a little old for the first time.” Genonn could not stop a snort. As far back as he could recall, Kathvar had been old. He often wondered if his father had been born with a grey beard. “My talking of the girl is no coincidence–”

“I did not think so.”

“Are you going to keep interrupting me? What I have to say is hard enough without your constant interruptions.” Genonn shook his head. “Good. We traveled a long road. We discussed a great deal. One of the topics was what happened in Ráth Droma–”

“Not this again,” he said, standing and walking away to lean against a stone and stare down at the settlement, with his back to the fire and his father. With his back to the same old argument. “Must we always return to the same tired topic?”

He waited for his father’s angry response but instead heard strange night noises: the flittering of an owl, a slight thud like it had dropped its prey somewhere in the dark. He remained steadfastly refusing to turn back, expecting a tirade and surprised when it did not arrive. The Tuatha would forsake him before he yielded.

Let him gloat with the same old disdain he favors. Let him treat me like a child, as he always does.

Time stretched out. The owl hooted. Eventually, Genonn could stand it no longer.

When he turned back, he could see Kathvar’s head was tilted, his mouth open slightly, and his eyes staring at him. At least his right eye was staring. His left eye was strange. An effect of the light, perhaps.

“Say it, Father, you know you want to.”

But his father said nothing. The shadowing created by the flickering light began to clear, allowing reality to take form. The eye was no longer there. In its place, the fletch of an arrow.