Midnight Falcon

'Of course, Mother.'

She sat down in her chair and took a deep breath. 'Many years ago Co

'One day, soon after, he had told Tae that he would be back at Old Oaks at around noon, in order to accompany her on a ride to a pretty lake they had heard of. But as he was riding home he saw a woman standing outside a hut built in the hills.'

'And that was Arian,' put in Banouin.

'I am telling this story.'

'But I know it already,' he argued. 'He made love to Arian, and Bane was born.'

'Listen!' hissed Vorna. 'Arian was his childhood sweetheart but she was…' Vorna hesitated. 'This must never be repeated!'

'I have already promised that. Go on.'

'She knew many men – even as a young girl. She would travel through the hills to the trade road, and she would rut with men for coin. There was a need in her that she thought no-one knew of. No-one save an earth maiden named Eriatha, who helped her abort several babes. But I knew. She was betrothed to Co

'On that dread day, when he saw her alone at the hut, all his old feelings came back. She wept and begged forgiveness. She clung to him.' Vorna sighed. 'Men are not strong, Banouin. The loins will inevitably betray the heart. Her husband was gone for the day, and Co

'Back at Old Oaks his wife was waiting for the trip to the lake he had promised. When he failed to return she asked Ruathain to take her to the lake. This he did. But on the way back a group of assassins were waiting to kill Ruathain. They shot an arrow, which missed him, and killed Tae. Co

'When he heard what had happened he lost his mind for a while. The men had come from a Pa

'Aye. Bane.'

'Yes, Bane. He is his father's son. But when Co

'I always thought', said Banouin, 'that Arian was a good woman.'

'Stupid boy!' stormed Vorna. 'Did I say she was not good? I said she had a need for men – a weakness if you like. That does not make her evil. She was a good mother to Bane, and there was great kindness in her. It is my belief that she never stopped loving Co

'Why hasn't someone told Bane this?' he asked.

'For what purpose? He loved his mother, and he thinks her almost holy. He was the one person in her life who gave her complete love. It was for her to tell him – if she chose to. And she did not.'

'It was all so tragic,' said Banouin. 'And it doesn't end, does it? Arian is dead, but Bane lives on, with all the bitterness.'

'That bitterness would not be ended merely by understanding of the truth,' said Vorna. 'Trust me on this, my son.'

'But none of this was Bane's fault,' insisted Banouin. 'His mother betrayed her husband, just as Co

'They have all suffered.' She looked at her son fondly, and reached out to stroke his face. 'Men say that there is freedom in truth. Sometimes it is true. Mostly it is not. Truth can be a dagger to the heart. When your father died, and you were born, I was torn between anguish and joy. It almost broke me. And on one day, as I looked at you within your crib, I felt as if I had been cursed by love, not blessed by it. In that one moment I wished you had never been conceived, that I had never met your father. That I had never known love at all. That is a truth, Banouin. Tell me, how does it sit with you?'

'I can understand it,' he said. 'I feel no anger or hurt.'

'Suppose I had told you this when you were five years younger, hated and despised by all the other boys?'

'I would have been devastated,' he admitted. 'I would have been too young to understand.'

'Yes,' she said, 'the child would invest that truth with a perception of its own. "My mother did not love me." "I was not wanted." In many ways that is what the young Bane did. Co

'Then there is nothing we can do?'

'I would not say that. There is great strength in him, great loyalty and love. With good friends close by he may yet find his way. That is what we can do. Remain his friends.'

'I will always be that,' Banouin had promised.

The dancing shadows on the cave wall were making Banouin sleepy. He glanced out at the skyline, and saw his friend still sitting on the cliff top. Wearily he pushed himself to his feet and trudged out to join him. 'It is a fine night,' he said, hunkering down beside the blond warrior, his feet dangling over the cliff edge.

'Aye, it is,' agreed Bane. 'Some people find the night threatening, but I love the dark. It seems timeless and calm. When I was a child, maybe five or six, my mother would take me to the Riguan Falls on warm nights. We would swim there in the moonlight. I remember that I longed to be a fish, swimming for ever. I loved those nights. When we climbed out she would light a fire, and then we would sit and eat a supper she had brought with her. After that I always felt sleepy, and she would wrap me in a blanket and hold me close, so that I slept with my head in her lap. They were the most peaceful of nights, and I never dreamt at all.'

'It is strange', said Banouin, 'how good memories can make you feel sad. I feel the same way about the Big Man. When I was young I would constantly run out into the yard to see if he was coming to visit us. And when he did I would whoop with joy and scamper off to meet him. Now, when I recall his face, and his bright blue eyes, I feel a lump in my throat. So much would have been different had he not died in that battle.'

'Perhaps. Perhaps not,' said Bane. 'I used to play that game in my head. What if…? It is a stupid game. What's done is done. It ca

'Life does seem unfair sometimes,' said Banouin.

Bane laughed. 'Aye, but there are good times. Your mother and I rescued a badger cub once. It was blind and she healed it. Then we took it back to the woods and watched it amble away to a new life. That was a grand night. I like to think that cub went on to become a fine beast, with a mate and cubs of his own. Maybe he did. Or maybe he was killed by hunters. Fortunately I'll never know.' Bane picked up a stone, and hurled it high over the cliff, watching it drop to the water below. 'I hope the sea is as calm as this when we cross,' he said.