Tethra’s heart was aching to see Devorgill and the children again. Devorgill had left, over sixty-day cycles ago, to see Mags and Fillan in Athlethan, to see how their schooling and training was going. She had missed them dreadfully and decided she needed rest.
She was due back in Rochad at any time along with Findtain and a fresh regiment of trained Riangbra warriors and horsemen.
An alarm rang out across Rochad. Tethra hurried to climb the wall of the city. He saw the gates open as the first of a line of horsemen bearing the flag of Athlethan entered the city. There were two people to a horse on about half the horses. Tethra ran to the gate, to the first of the warriors he saw. “What has happened?” he asked. The rider looked at him with a stony face and abject exhaustion but seeing the general before him he managed to demount and salute. “A battle,” he said, “we were ambushed, they are coming.”
“Where is Findtain?” what about Devorgill?” asked Tethra quickly, his eyes scanning the men that were still arriving through the gate. “I do not know,” the soldier said. “Go and get cleaned up and rest, you have done well,” Tethra said encouragingly, patting the man on the back.
Tethra ran through the horses and men, some were hurt badly, and help was beginning to arrive as the people of Rochad mobilised to help these men. He ran outside the walls and along the long line that was still snaking along the road, from out of the distant forest. Devorgill and Findtain could not be seen.
Finally, Tethra reached the end of the column and looked up the road. Maybe he had missed them, and they were safe back in the city. One of the riders saw Tethra and came over to him. Tethra’s heart fell. The man was covered in blood. “We tried” he said. “Tried? what did you try?” asked Tethra anxiously. The man shook his head morosely. “They came hard and fast, we held them back for two days, but they overwhelmed us, and we have retreated.” General Findtain and lady Devorgill were not far behind us, they were the last to leave, making sure no-one alive was left behind.”
Tethra saw a horse that had bought out one of the helpers from the city mounted it and urged it up the road at a full gallop. He rode fast for several moments, his heart in his mouth. Finally, he came to a clearing and there were two horses walking slowly, a man slumped over the saddle barely staying upright and Devorgill alongside him still upright in the saddle. He sighed with relief and dismounted running over to her helping her off the mount and holding her tightly. She began to cry. “Help Findtain,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m okay.
She climbed on Tethra’s fresh horse, while Tethra mounted Findtain’s ride and supported him as they made their way slowly back. Findtain was very weak from lack of blood.
Back at the city Tethra placed him in an infirmary bed, the surgeons patching his many cuts across his, body. A black arrow had broken off in his arm and there was black bruising around it. The surgeon called for the herbalist as he suspected poisoning, one of the cruel practices of the men of the black city, to poison their arrows so they could incapacitate more soldiers on the enemy side, Amerghin knew these ways and had put it to good use. A warrior that was hard to kill and survived the battle would die after the battle if one managed to hit him with poison anywhere on the body.
Tethra left Findtain to the care of the doctors and went to find Devorgill. When he found her, despite her own wounds, she was helping in the makeshift hospices around the city and when Tethra went to her he found she was exhausted, barely able to take a step, but managed to find the energy to help anyone who was still waiting to be healed. She scurried about making them comfortable, wrapping bleeding wounds with bandages and handing out food.
Tethra marvelled at her energy and care of the warriors. He touched her arm gently. “My love, please come and rest.” “No,” she said, “so much to do.” But having stopped to talk to Tethra, she was suddenly overcome, and she collapsed into his arms. Tethra carried her back to their home, she was lapsing in and out of consciousness, smiled at Tuatha’s concern for her, as if she was already old and frail. “My love”: she exclaimed. As Tethra gently placed her in the bath and washed the dirt and blood from her skin. She slept as he finished and carried her to her bed where she slept till late the next day watched over by a sleepless Tethra.
The healthiest of the men who had returned were taken straight to the elders and the king to give a debrief on the status of Amerghin’s forces. The report was not good. He had spent the last four cycles amassing more men from the outer world and the Black city.
Many had joined him, greedily imagining the wealth they could take from the people of the West. But many of them were shocked at the ferocity of the Rochad Horsemen and some had been seen deserting Amerghin, their desire to stay alive and to be able to come in behind the battle and loot the abandoned cities that they thought would be conquered.
The forces were still so great in number that, nothing could stop them. They had so many fighters they could keep up a constant turnover of troops to attack the Rochad horsemen and fight them till they were too exhausted to lift a sword. Findtain had decided to retreat before they were overrun because his men needed sleep and recovery. He had protected the rear with five of his best men who had fought till the last and died, protecting the tail of the retreating forces. Their horses meant they could make it back to the city a day ahead of Amerghin’s army who were now resting and ready to march on Rochad the next day.
They had lost fifty men and twenty horses in the last battle. Sixty men and forty horses would not be able to battle for at least a week. That left five hundred and twelve horsemen who could defend the city. Four hundred highly trained warriors of Athlethan, trained by Cathabad, the one who had trained Tuatha and Ruad. Plus, the five thousand strong, general army of Athlethan, still well trained, there were five thousand farmers who could hold a sword and they had always been armed and ready to defend their farmland.
“The men of Dun-emain should not be far away” said Tethra. They had left Dun-Emain when Tuatha had arrived there. The whole city had heard the news and spirits were lifted when they heard Tuatha had reached the North. “We could do with their help that’s for sure” replied Fernmaige.
The three brothers Fernmaige, Uthecar and Dubthach, Caer Omaith’s brothers were frantically preparing the city, advising the generals on their roles in the upcoming battle. The king, Ethal Anbaul was to ride out with the Remaining Rochad who could fight to face the first onslaught. This would raise the morale of the warriors and people of Muinremar, to see their much loved, old king still prepared to defend them. It was the tradition of the kings of Muinremar to fight in all battles and die on the battlefield. Fernmaige often thought about this and knew his father was old, that this may well be his final battle.
Tuatha’s father, King Aillel Findabair, would stay to oversee the city in case the fighting came to the streets, he had defended it from attack when he was a boy and knew the best defence to take if it ever happened. The battle of Rochad was about to begin. The last defensive stand before they retreated to the city of Athlethan.
That night was tense. Many could not sleep, even if they tried.
King Ailell arrived suddenly where the battle plan was being finalised, he spoke urgently and distinctly to the gathered generals and Kings. “We must not stay here; we must evacuate this city. All wounded and sick, anyone without a weapon must leave and go the city Athlethan,” he said. Some thought his heart was not in the fight or that his mind had finally gone. The consensus was that Rochad had held against any attack before. There was no way Amerghin, and his army could take it in one go. They could retreat through the mountains at any time if needed. But King Aillel had just spoken with General Findtain, for he had awoken from his sleep briefly. “Go” he said hoarsely, “leave…now!” and had then fallen back into unconsciousness. There was no way King Ailell was ignoring the advice of his general. During the last hours of the night an enormous effort was made to move all the people that lived there out onto the road to Athlethan. By the time Rochad was attacked, they would be safely on the way to the walls of Athlethan. After that there was nowhere to go. It was essential this battle was won or at least the enemy slowed, discouraged, and depleted.
The night dragged on for the sleepless and seemed short for those that did because it was just before sunrise that the attack began.
Black on black as the dark armour and black horses came out of the blackness. The sunrise was delayed by smoke from fires that were lit, and then green wood was placed over the roaring fires.
The roar of their voices and feet coming toward the city was overwhelming on the senses. The city wall was renowned for being impenetrable. Armies in the past had been held off for days because the wall was surrounded by massive granite boulders, smooth and round, not close enough together to jump from one to the other. Even if you could, you would be alone and vulnerable, being targeted by archers. The road through the boulders was narrow and visible from the wall where archers could easily defend. Tethra had ordered boulders to be stacked behind poles that would collapse if dislodged and fall on anyone coming through the narrow entrance. It was set so cleverly that the enemy would have no idea the traps were there.
They watched from the walls as the enemy reached the boulders and the path to the gate. They didn’t stop but began to scramble through gaps and cracks in the boulders.
Then the giants came, and they were carrying a massive wooden wall. They stepped up on the boulders and held the wooden wall, built from logs, up in front of them. Behind them men carrying stones and giants carrying boulders began to place them between the large boulders filling the gaps. Then the smaller stones were placed on top.
“They are making a bridge through the barrier,” said Fernmaige. “Fire on the giants, stop them!” Arrows began to be fired at the wall, but they could not get past it. Some tried to set it on fire, but the logs were green. They could do nothing but watch as the wide bridge was built toward the wall.
The gate was under attack too and the enemy that were trying to get to the gate were stacking up and almost blocking the path to the gate. They continued to scramble over the fallen bodies.
As the light grew, the hordes could be seen stretching over the plain out past the city walls.
By the afternoon, the stone bridge had been built halfway across the boulders. They were not just building it across the boulders, but it was sloping upwards toward the top of the wall.
“We must stop the advance, we are helpless to stop them, we must do something,” said Tethra, “Who is with me?” Fernmaige, Uthecar and Dubthach came forward, as did their sisters, Devorgill and Caer Omaith and thirty of Athlethan’s warriors, trained in Riangbra.
The king of Enna Aignech arose off his seat. I will come too, he said.
“No,” said a tall dark-skinned, black-haired woman, “you cannot, we need you.”
It was Morann, Devorgill’s Cousin. Her mother was from the west, from the people of Dun Cluana and had married the kings brother. She had been trained in the palace as the kings bodyguard and was next in line as the chief steward of the kings guard.
“It is time, I am getting old, I want this to be my last battle and I wish to avenge the loss of our city. Call Fernmaige, I have chosen him to be king of Muirthemne in my stead.” Arrangements were secretly made to make Fernmaige king on the event of his death.
Morann wept loudly when she heard that he had chosen to fight. She loved her uncle and feared that he would die in this coming battle. It went against her instincts that came with her job. She tried to reason with him. Trying to convince him to not waste his life. “At least let me come with you,” she pleaded. “No,” the king replied, “I need you here. Fernmaige will need you. I won’t die, my niece, I have survived many battles. I have lived through many battles; I will not die this time either.”
As night fell the dark army rested. Fires could be seen stretching across the plain.
“We must also prepare as well to finish their bridge before they do. Then we can use it to launch a surprise attack on them the following morning,” said Tethra. The three brothers were impressed by Tethra’s foresight, and they ordered large, wooded platforms to be made, that would be placed across the unfinished gap. They would be swung into place by large cranes that would be wheeled into place during the night. They could quickly be removed on retreat from the attack.
Uthecar was one of the few familiar with the Labrinth under the city. It was full of traps and wrong turns. Deep in its recesses and deep holes there were the bones of those who had gotten lost in the past.
“Follow me closely” he said hoarsely, “Do not lose the person in front of you.”
He led them through carved through the rock under the city to a gate that was a cleverly hidden entrance, difficult to find. The gap to climb out from under a boulder was difficult to squeeze through and it took a good twenty minutes for them all to get out of the hole and into the clearing in the middle of the large rocks. “We will wait till morning” said Uthecar, “Then we attack.” The exit from the boulders was a narrow winding path between the giant sarsens. They would quietly exit under cover of darkness and attack the wall as the enemy began building again. “I will do some scouting,” said Dubthach, disappearing into the darkness. He climbed to the log wall and found the two giants sleeping behind the wall. He dispatched them silently and cut the ropes all the way through that were holding the wall together. He then went to the camp and noticed they had no guards on duty. He went back to Tethra and told him. Tethra motioned to the thirty Riangbra warriors and they quietly went into the enemy camp, going from tent to tent, silently dispatching anyone they came across. By the time people were waking up and preparing for another attack, Tethra and the thirty Riangbra warriors had killed a thousand soldiers and were safely in the small rock clearing. A few minutes later an alarm was blown in the camp and voices began to get louder and more alarmed. “We have created some problems for them I think,” whispered Tethra to those nearest him. They quietly chuckled, a brief respite from the serious nature of the situation.
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They could hear the clink of armour and weapons get louder as soldiers began lining up at the wall. They were eager and furious at the stealthy attack but managed to quietly line up.
“We attack now” said Tethra, “They are still getting ready, and we need the element of surprise.”
They appeared from the boulders and quietly crept up the line of soldiers. Some were already carrying rocks to add to the growing bridge when they pounced.
Riangbra warriors do not shout when they attack, it was silent and around ten soldiers did not know what happened. It created great confusion as the soldiers who began to realise, they were under attack started shouting the alarm, but their voices were cut short, they died as they were shouting. The attackers had reached the tents and men were still emerging, unsure what was going on. The warriors used the shadows to hide as men ran past, they struck like invisible scorpions and then merged back into the early morning shadows. From the enemy perspective it looked like magic. Men dying as they ran for no reason. Tethra came upon two giants with massive hammers. They must have had bad eyesight, because didn’t know what had cut their Achilles tendon. As they fell Tethra took off their heads.
The light grew and the soldiers began to see what was attacking and called for the others to come and re-enforce to their position.
Tethra blew a short trumpet blast ordering a retreat to the path and the boulder behind their back as there was a danger they would eventually be surrounded.
When they got back to their own lines, the enemy had formed ranks.
A black mass of soldiers began to come toward them bristling with shining swords and spears. The first line charged, and they easily defended, holding it back.
“This is a test,” shouted Tethra, they are watching how we fight. Form up.” They lifted their shields and formed a barrier as the next two rows of enemy soldiers launched at them. They crashed into their shields swinging huge swords and hammers, but the shield wall held. The men behind Tethra found gaps in the shields pushing their swords through, wounding and maiming the enemy soldiers. Then more came and they continued to defend in the same way. Before long there were many wounded and groaning soldiers lying in from of them. Then it came like a large crowd pushing hard on a wall. Tethra knew what was going to happen. He gave a shout, a sign to his men to retreat up the road to the gate. But it was too late. As they retreated a heavy wall of bodies hit them like a hammer. Men pushing on the backs of their fellows. Not caring for the men in front and the same behind them. Being trampled by more bodies on top of them again. Tethra groaned, there was no honour in this type of battle, sacrificing the lives of warriors to gain ground. Tethra and Fernmaige just made it into the narrow path to the gate, but King Magach was knocked over. Tethra saw what happened and cried out for support as he leaped at the wall of enemy soldiers.
As he did so, he groaned, for Morann had disobeyed the kings command to stay back in the city and he saw her also becoming overwhelmed by the advancing enemy, she fell backwards and frantically tried to slide backwards away from the avalanche of bodies that threatened to overpower all those on the front line, just from the sheer mass. Tethra’s brave rally managed to slow the push as fearful soldiers resisted the push from the rear for a few moments. He and Fernmaige killed the soldiers around Morann, managing to help her pull herself out of the crush of bodies. But there was nothing they could do to save king Magach. He was gone. Morann got to her feet, covered in mud, and retreated, furiously cursing, and angrily crying at the loss of her king and uncle. Her teeth were gritted, and tears washed through the black dirt on her face giving her a fearsome countenance.
There were soldiers being crushed by the weight of the push behind them, screaming and groaning, terrible to hear. A trumpet blew and the soldiers retreated. Those who had not been crushed slowly getting up as the other soldiers untangled themselves from each other.
The soldiers that were in the narrow path kept coming though and Tethra and Fernmaige were still fighting right up to the gate. The enemy lost even more men as they were fired upon with rocks and arrows from the wall above. The gates opened and the warriors ran through, and the gates were slammed shut. Some enemy soldiers got through and were captured. Before long there was a retreat called and slowly the enemy moved back, dispersing, and clambering away, over their dead and wounded comrades. Some stopping to help those still alive to their feet.
Tethra also commanded a retreat, and a ceasefire was called so the wounded could be taken away in safety. Finally, the muddied and dead body of the king was found, it was carried unceremoniously away by the enemy soldiers.
Fernmaige was on his knees when Tethra went to him. “I lost him, the king is dead,” he groaned, “there is no way he could have survived that.” “We don’t know for sure,” Tethra replied. “He may be only captured.”
When the news of the loss of King Magach spread through the city, there was a loud cry of grief that arose and fell as the news spread. Morann wept loudly and would not be consoled. She furiously resisted the attempts to calm her and tend to her wounds.
Then the fell news came. The head of the king had been put on a stake at the path to the gate. Fernmaige became furious and wanted to take his men back out to avenge his father’s brutal disrespect. But Tethra reasoned with him till he agreed they would indeed avenge him in the next planned battle.
The effort had not been without a reward. The Warriors had recorded their kills and noted the dead being carried away, they had destroyed more than two thousand of Amerghin’s forces and five giants that day. This did not include those who had died in the crushing attack against the walls. But estimates by unofficial observers had it at a further two thousand.
Amergin was enraged, when he heard the news of their losses and the uncontrolled attack, he lashed out killing ten men in his vicinity. Ruad, calmly looked at Amerghin, “Master, let me avenge you. I wish to attack the city under cover of darkness and make recriminations for this cowardly attack.” Amerghin stopped his violent outburst turning to Ruad with a scornful look. “You are not ready,” he sneered. He had expected an easy victory. But they had laughed in his face. “We will attack immediately; they will not recover, and they have lost their king.” He ordered the attack. Again, the soldiers began to pick up rocks, fresh giants were placed at the log walls and so began the assault once more. The giants picked up the wall and moved it forwards, attempting to advance once more. The makeshift wall strained, the ropes holding it together broke, and it collapsed. Immediately the giants fell with arrows in their eye sockets. Then the soldiers holding rocks were targeted and fell where they stood. There was a cheer from the walls of Rochad. Dubthach had told them to be ready. When Ruad saw this happen he quickly ordered the second wall he had ordered to be made in case this happened. So, a few moments later, the rock path had resumed construction.
The mood of the people of Rochad was reserved. They no longer felt like fighting. But they kept watch on the walls, turning over the watchers and keeping the army fresh and well fed from the stores in the underground labyrinths.
They watched as the path across the barrier grew closer. At last, they were able to get an angle on the giants and the rock carriers. Several giants fell till they build an extension on the wall. They set up barriers along the path, so the rock carriers were protected. They tried to shoot the arrows high and drop them down on the carriers, but Tethra ordered it to stop because the arrows were wasted. But they harassed the workers whenever they could.
It took two weeks, and the day drew closer where the distance of the path could be spanned with their timber bridge. Late in the night they prepared for it to be quickly put in place in the early hours of the morning, two mornings away.
That evening Fernmaige was proclaimed king of Muirthemne. The people of the city cheered and for a short time there was good news and a lift in hope for the people of Muirthemne and Athlethan. But Dubthach and Uthecar were furious. “Why were we not consulted?” said Uthecar. I am the oldest.”
“You know it is the choice of the king who succeeds him,” said Fernmaige. “Yes, but why did he not tell us?” stated Uthecar. “We do not support you as king.”
Fernmaige was not shocked, his brothers were expected to react this way. They had all harboured a desire for power and Fernmaige feared they would begin fighting against him there and then. He spoke to them with composure and soothingly, but they reacted out of fear. Uthecar spoke angrily, “We are not going to win against Amerghin. When Father died, we had planned to prevent this loss that is coming to us. Amerghin has already promised us peace and power if we step back. He will allow us to have land for our people, without this sacrifice we are only going to suffer.”
Fernmaige looked at his brothers, they had lost their desire to destroy the dark lords grip over the Deep Lands. Their desire to live, was greater than their desire to die for their people. He could understand their fear, hope seemed far away. He spoke with them, trying to encourage them and to dispel their fears.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, tears flowing from his eyes. “Brothers,” he said, “why have you listened to him?” We can and will do this. The prophecy of Riangbra foresees it.”
“Witchcraft and childish nonsense, we can prevent this coming death,” said Uthecar, interrupting him before he could continue. “We will talk with Amerghin. We can prevent this disaster from coming on us.”
“Please do not do this,” pleaded Fernmaige. “He will not be merciful on you; he will kill you.” There is no way he will allow you, the descendants of the king to live.”
“No one wants war, it’s easier to talk and come to an agreement than this,” motioning with his hands over the city and the army outside the walls. “You will see,” said Dubthach confidently.
Caer Omaith wrapped her arms around her cousin. They were like sisters yet un-alike in so many other ways. Morann had always loved Ruad, he had been kind to her in her loneliness as children. He could be cruel to others, but she knew there was some good in him. Ruad became gentle and calm when she was near him, and this gave him confidence and clarity of mind. She was the only source of light in his life. All others were darkness and the darkness had to be eliminated. The blackness in his mind was where the control that the dark lord had over him was based.
“Why do you have to leave?” asked Caer Omaith.
“I hate this war and all this death” Morann whispered, tears forming in her eyes. “I believe Ruad can change, I know he loves me, and I want to talk with him, I know I will not be harmed. I do fear for your brothers though, I will plead for their lives, but if this is to be their end, I must accept their fate and focus on Ruad.”
“I do not understand your feelings for him, but I accept your choice” said Caer Omaith. “I do believe we will see each other again when all this is over.” The cousins wept and embraced. Caer Omaith sobbed as Morann, her grim and remarkable cousin, left on her sole quest that seemed so impossible and dangerous. She did not understand that her choice would play an integral role in events toward the end. Morann’s destiny was an important one.
As they left, Fernmaige and Caer Omaith cried. Their brothers and cousin climbed down the walls and walked with a white flag down the path toward the army of the Dark lord. They were grabbed by the soldiers and taken away out of sight into the middle of the camp. Fernmaige went back and waited for news. He had some hope they would succeed, but deep down he knew there was no reasoning with Amerghin and most definitely not the dark lord Sennol.
Fernmaige awoke from a restless sleep and stumbled up the steps leading to the wall atop the gate of the city. He looked to where his Fathers head was still on the stake surrounded by soldiers, who were now very alert. He rubbed his eyes. There were two more stakes each side of it. On them were the unmistakable golden locks of his two brothers’ heads. He screamed loudly with sorrow and anger. The Soldiers standing around heard it and jeered toward him. Anger flared in his face. He had never felt anger like this. It filled him with a resolve. He would end this. He stormed over to Caer Omaith. Her tears had dried, and her anger was a fire under her eyes. She did not need to talk to her brother. “Tomorrow, we attack” he said. Do not tell anyone. I have command of the generals. We will not sit in here anymore; we will drive them back to the hole they crawled from under Sennol.”
PART II – RUAD AND MORANN
News of the capture of the two brothers came to Ruad and his smile grew. He remembered the cruelty of these two boys when they were children and looked forward to giving back the pain, they had caused him.
He strode into the tent, eager for revenge. He saw them bound to poles in the ground alongside a dark featured and beautiful woman. When their eyes met his heart stopped.
“Morann” he gasped. When he saw that she was bound and gagged, and a look of ferocity was in her eyes.
Ruad ran to her and cut her bonds. She fell toward him, her legs asleep from the tight ropes. He caught her and carried her out of the tent and into his own tent. Her head against his neck, he dared not look at her face, the fury was still evident.
When she finally regained her circulation, she stood and faced Ruad who sat quietly, not daring to look toward her. Nothing else made him like this, he was shivering and fearful, a strange sensation.
Morann stood there in a rage, “look at me Ruad” she said.
She was terrifying to look at when in a rage, her beauty caused Ruad to desire her, but he also feared her.
He looked up at her and she slapped his face hard. His head turned to the side. He left it there, not daring to move. Then he felt her hand caress his face where she had slapped him. He could not remember the last time he had felt tenderness. All his life he had only experienced violence and hurt. The slap was forgotten but the shame remained.
He slowly turned his head back and looked up at her, she still had a beautiful anger in her eyes which only made him more fearful, he didn’t realise till later that the fear was in fact, love for her.
She pulled him up and embraced him, his chest felt like it would explode. He felt out of control, he could command and entire army, but this was outside the realm of his experience.
Her voice had changed, and she became gentle. “Oh Ruad,” she whispered. “Why?”
He could not speak. He had spoken to the dark lord and been punished but he feared to speak before this woman whom he had only known as a kind girl in his childhood but now stood before him, dressed like a warrior, and having him enthralled at her fury, then her ethereal grace and beauty.
“Oh Ruad, I know you are better than this, I know you have chosen this path. It cannot be undone, and I accept this. I want to help you find good amid all this evil. I will stay with you and together we will get through this.”
The calmness that Ruad felt in her words and presence made him realise what she said was true. He couldn’t stop the inevitable war as the powers driving it on were too powerful and he resolved to use his power and influence to prevent the cruelty of the dark lords’ forces. He vowed in his heart to make sure captured warriors were kept as prisoners and not killed if he could convince Amerghin and the dark lord himself. Such was the love he had for Morann, niece of Magach, late king of Enna Aignech.
Ruad cried in her arms, sobbing with a mixture of remorse and relief at the serenity Morann had brought to him from her presence.
Morann looked at him on her knees and refused to feel pity. He had chosen wrong, and he was suffering from it. She lifted him to his feet and held him, slowly his arms that were hanging at his sides lifted to her waist as his breathing relaxed. Before long he was holding her tightly. Finally, he pushed her slightly away and courageously and with some shame looked into her eyes. “I have always loved you Ruad,” Morann said. “I know we are destined to be together, despite what may come in the future, make me your wife.” Ruad’s eyes widened in disbelief at her words.
“H...h…how can you want me? I am unworthy of you in every way.” He groaned uncertainly.
“I cannot offer you security or safety. Every man here wants my position. I fear for you, they will not respect you like I do.”
Morann looked deeply into his eyes and smiled. “I trust you” she said simply. “I will be your wife from now till it is made official from my brother the king and forever after! All I ask is that you save my brothers.”
Morann gently pushed him back onto the couch and together as one they shared their love and deepest thoughts and fears long into the night, till Ruad was called away and Morann slept soundly in hope of better times soon to come for them both and the twins she already carried deep inside her, close to her heart.
Ruad went back to the tent where Morann’s cousins were prisoners. But they were gone, his heart fell as he hurried to the centre of the camp where cheering men could be heard. It got louder as he approached. There he could see Amerghin standing on a mound holding up the heads of Morann’s family. He felt sick and ran back to Morann and fell at her feet. “It’s too late,” he sobbed, fearing she would no longer want him. He felt her hand gently on his head, he looked up and saw sadness on her face. “They knew what they were doing. They were brave, hoping to reason with Amerghin but also knew the chances were high that they would be put to death.” Together they cried in each other’s arms, Ruad consoling Morann for losing her family and Morann comforting Ruad for feeling like he had let her down. Hope flared in her heart to see Ruad in this way, but she knew there was a long way to go.
As time went on Morann was allowed to roam freely within the camp and came across a tent she had seen a tall woman coming and going from. She introduced herself, wanting the company of a friend in this camp of dark dangerous looking men who were too scared to touch her. The woman was non-other than Queen Dagemar, wife of Amerghin and mother of Laegaire. She did not even know who Laegaire was but after hearing this woman’s story, shed tears with her because no one had told her, and she knew not of what had happened to her daughter. She took Morann into her heart and they became firm friends and a support for each other, in the middle of evil and difficult times.