“How was that?”
“The rest of the dead man’s family were sworn to avenge his death. Not just his immediate family - his father and brothers - but all of them, all of their family including second and third cousins. They would all have to hunt Ciaran down and kill him - even his own family, who he hardly knew anyway. He was a prince, destined to rule, but his killing of Coivin meant that he was an outcast, a renegade, and with every hand in the kingdom turned against him.” He knew every detail of my life, up to the last that Ieuan saw of me, when he helped me escape from Erin.
“What became of him?”
“He escaped to Alba and disappeared into the woods.” He would have added more, but Gruach turned to me. So Ieuan had not filled him in on my subsequent adventures. A small mercy.
“It seems that this man may have been truly noble, if he gave up everything for the sake of a girl of no account. Do you think it’s a true tale, Magister Anselm?” I hesitated before answering. I tried my best to be calm. I had put my old life behind me and I didn’t like to be reminded of it.
“Tell her, Anselm,” the King said softly. “Tell her it’s true.” I cleared my throat.
“It’s a tale that was once known throughout Erin, my lady, but I don’t know if they still tell it. Like all such stories, it becomes embellished with time but the facts of the matter are much as King Owain related: it concerns two Princes of Donegal, as he said, and the one did kill the other in a fight over a young girl. She was not of no account, however: she was the daughter of one of the chieftains of the kingdom, and there would have been problems if the rape had occurred. I can tell you,” I continued, “that the killer didn’t think of it as a noble deed. It remained a murder in his own mind, no matter what others may have said.”
“And did he ever reappear from his hiding-place in the woods of Alba?”
“Prince Ciaran never returned to Erin, my lady.” True, but far from the whole truth.
“It still sounds like a story concocted to impress young men, Owain. You’ve told me that you admire this man for his sacrifice and that you would like to think you would do the same. You’re usually kind and thoughtful although you’re in a fey mood today. But I believe you think too much of the greater picture to do as this man is said to have done. You would get guards to restrain the rapist, but by then it would be too late. But even so, Anselm says she was not of no account. Perhaps his was a politic crime, to save the kingdom from strife.”
“I think Ciaran would have done the same had she been a serving-wench. What do you think, Anselm?” I was saved from having to answer by the Queen, who stood to go. I got to my feet as well.
“No, enough. Would he do this, did he do that, might he have done this. Were he here, this legendary, noble man, he could maybe answer but he isn’t, so I’ll leave you to your speculation, gentlemen.”
“You can have your answer, Gruach. He is here.” said Owain. I implored the King to go no further - but he was, as Gruach had said, in a fey mood.
“Where? Is he one of our guests? One of the drunken rabble from last night?”
“He’s before you now!” He was grinning in excited triumph. “This monk is - or was - Prince Ciaran of Donegal.”
Gruach regarded me carefully. She had been told a story of a vigorous young man, skilled in swordsmanship, who had killed his bullying cousin and fled on horseback into exile. To her eyes I was no more than a harmless middle-aged monk.
“Is this true?” I didn’t say anything straightaway. She became insistent. “Is it true, Magister Anselm?” I had to answer.
“Gruach, I forsook that life and renounced it when I became a Christian. It’s an agonising memory. I thought that no-one but Father Ieuan and some of my brothers at Iona knew of my background, but he hasn’t been quiet, it seems. I don’t think that killing my foster-brother was a noble act no matter what the circumstances. It was murder. I bear the guilt still today. It is not something I am proud of, in any way. I beg you, I beg you to say nothing of this to anyone, any more, not anyone at all. It would distress me greatly if you did.” She regarded me without speaking. Her eyes were steady, she looked deep into mine and I felt as if she searched my heart. It was an uncomfortable examination. For a moment longer, she examined my face steadily, then she made a low curtsy to me.
“You can trust me, my lord.” She corrected herself at my look. “Anselm. It is a revelation to me that nobility does still exist in this world. And good to know it, as there has been no evidence of it recently. Owain,” she turned to her husband, “with your silly little game you’ve upset a man you claim to admire. And he’s our guest. Is this how we are to treat our guests in future? None will come if we do. You should make amends, and do so as soon as possible. I hope that he will be better cared for in our house in future. Anselm,” she turned to me again, “it is an honour to meet you. I hope you will forgive us our poor hospitality. For now, I bid you good day but I hope we shall meet again soon. You are welcome in my house. Good day, my lord.” She bobbed the minimum possible curtsy to Owain and left the room.
Her husband stood, open-mouthed at the scolding he had received. I was feeling sick to the stomach for the second time that day, and the sun was barely over the horizon. I asked Owain’s leave to sit down. He allowed it immediately and his mood changed, from silly triumphalism to contrite concern in seconds. He apologised profusely to me for the upset, and went on doing so for so long that I began to find it irritating, and asked him to sit down and leave me be. I was fine, or would be if given room to breathe and a moment to catch my thoughts. The silence was too much for him and he started babbling again.
“Anselm, I’m so very sorry. Gruach was right, it was a game I was playing with her but I never thought to upset you and I see I’ve done it, I honestly thought you wouldn’t mind, Ieuan told me about you and held you up as an example to be admired and cherished by anyone who would be noble, the Prince who sacrificed all when he had nothing to gain. If it had been me I wouldn’t have boasted about it but I would’ve been proud, I honestly didn’t think you’d mind.”
“But it wasn’t you, Owain,” I said, when the young man paused for breath at last. “I’ve put all that behind me, the power and riches and influence that could have been mine. The way I’ve chosen has no need of these things and I believe the final reward will be the greater for it. That tainted life is in the past, for ever - or I’d thought it was. But now my past leaps out to confront me.” I shook my head. “Maybe it’s a lesson: teaching me that I can’t shut out what I was and what I did.”
We sat then, the contrite King and me. At length, when I’d collected myself sufficiently, I spoke again.