“What—” she tried again as they hurried along.
“I am going to tell Tamald what happened when Conall appeared to me. Relate what he said. See if I can get him to lift the sentence upon me. Then when I return from the fighting—if I return—ye and I can be joined as we should be. Handfasted, as is right.”
Liadan’s heart bounded—a painful surge of perilous joy. She dragged him to a halt. “That is what ye want?” she asked, gazing into his eyes.
“’Tis all I want. Liadan, ye must know that I live and I breathe only for ye.” He reached out and touched her hair very gently. “If I know ye may in truth be mine—that will gi’ me the strength to fight my way home, if aught can.”
“Aye.” She could see the power and beauty of it, and hope trembled inside her, enough almost to banish the doubt. “But will Tamald believe ye?”
“If he does no’, who will?”
They ran the rest of the way, Ardahl with his weapons and Liadan with her pack over her shoulder, and arrived at the druids’ hut breathless.
Tamald was there, the place in disarray, as if he and his companion had also been sorting through belongings to take with them, should they need to flee. The two men spoke in low,terse tones and looked up in annoyance when Liadan and Ardahl darkened their doorway.
“Wha’ is it, Master Ardahl?” Tamald asked. “Does the chief call for me?”
“Nay, not yet. We leave at sundown. Are ye coming with us?”
“Aye,” Tamald said unhappily. He nodded at his companion. “Master Reghan will stay here with the tribe.”
“Master Tamald, I would beg a few moments o’ your time. Now, before we leave. I ha’ the chief’s permission, and it is important.”
The look Tamald gave Ardahl was unusually impatient. He drew visibly on his composure before he said, “Is it somewhat that cannot wait? We are going to war.”
“’Tis somewhat I would have settled before we go to war.”
Tamald sighed. “Come.”
They sat knee to knee in the watery sunlight, the three of them. Liadan had rarely been so close to one of the priests, and she felt a measure of awe.
Yet her heart rose on the thin blade of hope. If she knew that Ardahl might be hers then, aye, she could endure anything.
Tamald had clear blue eyes that remained serene in his tense, pale face. “Master Ardahl, what is it?”
“’Tis about the sentence Aodh imposed upon me following Conall’s death. I was directed to take his place, to become Conall, for all purposes. Live out the rest o’ my life carrying his obligations.”
“Aye, so. I was party to Aodh’s decision to impose that sentence, as was Reghan. We gave it full and heavy deliberation. According to the Brehon law, it provided for the best justice.”
“And I ha’ sought to fill my place—that place. I have.” For the first time, Ardahl seemed to falter. To lose his determination.
Liadan took it up. “Master Tamald, Ardahl has done all ye asked o’ him. Guarded us in Conall’s stead. Defended and provided for us. But—he and I ha’ fallen in love.”
The priest’s eyes widened. This, he had not expected.
Ardahl said, “We wish to handfast. I would like to know before I go off to fight that I have permission for it.”
“Nay. It is impossible.” Tamald bit the words off harshly, if with regret. “Forbidden.”
“Even if my sentence was unjust? If I can prove I did no’ and would never harm Conall?”
“Unjust?” Tamald sounded offended. “How so?”
Ardahl launched into the story. Conall’s appearance beside him at Dacha, helping him to fight. Their journey in the chariot after, when Conall had told him what Cathair and Brasha had done. How they’d schemed against him for Cathair’s gain.
Tamald listened, Liadan had to give him that. He forgot his impatience and gave his full attention to the tale. She could not tell what he did or did not believe.
“And so I thought,” Ardahl concluded, “if ye could see fit to lift the sentence—”
