Requiems for the Departed by Garry Kilworth

Author:Garry Kilworth [Kilworth, Garry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Morrigan Books
Published: 2010-03-10T05:00:00+00:00

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Before dawn, Avitus woke to the sound of a settlement in uproar. He grasped his sword and jumped up. Cotric, at his feet, curled up in terror and called upon Christ to protect them. The noise came closer, up the hill and towards the hall. There was a hammering on the doors, and shouts came from within and without. Avitus pulled Cotric to his feet, and brought the boy along with him to see what was happening.

Diarmait was already down at the doors. Gaius was there too, short sword ready. He put himself in front of Avitus. Then the doors swung open, and two of Diarmait’s men came in, dragging a third behind.

It was no attacker, come to burn the place, to kill the men and take the women and cattle. It was Rónán, and, even in the gloom of the rush lights, Avitus could see that the young man’s hands were stained darkly with blood. Cotric began to whisper to Avitus what Diarmait’s men were saying. “After he saw you, he went back down the hill...got drunk, it seems...then he and his father quarrelled...” Cotric broke off with a cry.

“What? What happened?”

“He took a stick...Oh!”

“And what?” He seized the boy by the arm and shook him. “Tell me!”

“Oh, master! He has clubbed his father to death.”

Avitus flinched. Gaius cursed in the darkness. “What are they saying now?” Avitus asked thickly, as Diarmait came to stand over the young man. “What do they mean to do to him?”

Cotric strained to hear the judgement Diarmait was passing. “He’ll be banished, I should think,” he said. “Yes, he’s to be branded, and then they’ll send him on his way.”

Avitus, pierced with relief, released his grip on the boy. Gaius breathed out sharply. “Is that all?”

Cotric misunderstood. “Master, he’s better off dead. An outcast, without lord or kin? Branded his father’s killer? There’ll be no welcome for him, wherever he goes.”

Their lord’s order given, Diarmait’s men made to carry it out, pulling Rónán to his feet. Then a woman called out. Turning, Avitus saw Muirín coming out of the dark heart of the hall. She was barefoot, like a servant. Quickly she came forwards, and she knelt down before Rónán. She lifted his head so that he was looking directly at her, and she spoke to him in their own language.

“She says she knew his mother,” Cotric whispered. “She says she grieves with him that she is gone and grieves that he was driven to this. She asks if he trusts her.”

Rónán nodded. Then Muirín rose to her feet, and spoke again, setting everyone around her gasping, Cotric with them. Diarmait took a step forwards, but before he could intervene, Rónán took his lady’s hand and answered her. Muirín stooped to kiss him on the forehead, and then all those gathered looked at Avitus, as if it was now his turn to speak. “Cotric?” he rasped, heart sinking.

“She told him he was halfway Roman. That he wanted Roman justice. That he should receive it.

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