“I can’t believe I’m getting judged by a lump of iron.” I glowered at the pot. “What would it know about bravery, it’s a cooking utensil! Arawn is just going to have to let us fight anyway, it’s not like he’s got any better options.”
“He could delay us. We’ll need Rhiannon with us if we’re going to make any progress and she’s sworn to him. Every day we wait, the chances of rescuing Cati are smaller. Besides, maybe it’s right,” muttered Belis.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I said maybe it’s right! I am a coward! I’m not worthy and the cauldron knows it.” She dropped her head into her hands. “The wrong daughter survived. Cati could do this in a heartbeat, she’s always been brave.”
I put a tentative hand on her shoulder, struggling to find the words to say.
“You’re a warrior, Belis, a veteran of the fiercest rebellion Rome has ever faced. How can you say you’re not brave? Think about everything you’ve told me!”
Belis remained slumped over. I swore under my breath and turned on my heel. I strode up to the cauldron and punched itin the side. It made a dull ringing sound where my fist hit the metal and I swore even more loudly at the impact on my wrist.
“You want bravery? Have this! And this!” I hit it again and again. It remained cool to the touch. “You want me to fight something else? I’ll do it! I’ll fight—” I scanned the field for someone who might impress the cauldron. “I’ll fight Arawn? That would be brave. Hey! Over here!”
Arawn didn’t look up from where he was hammering at the stage.
“Stop that,” said Belis, standing up. “You’re not going to fight Arawn.”
“Why not? A mighty warrior, challenged in single combat – how would that not be brave?”
“Because you’re not frightened of him.” She looked over to where the Lord of the Dead was now supervising a trio of lute players. “He might be powerful but he’s not cruel or unfair. He holds true to his oaths.”
“I could fight him anyway,” I suggested. “Just to check?”
She gave me a wan smile. “Bravery isn’t about fighting. It’s not about battles and killing and blood. It’s about being afraid, about being frightened, deep down in the marrow of your bones, and acting anyway.”
I frowned at her.
“Then what are you afraid of?” I asked.
“I—” She broke off. “I’m afraid I’ll fail and never get Cati back.”
“Well, there’s not much you can do about that that you aren’t already doing.” I tapped the side of the cauldron. Still cold. “Try again.”
“You try!” she snapped at me. I bit back a response and gave it some thought.
What was I afraid of? There were things I didn’t want to happen: I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want to feel pain and I didn’t want to fail Belis. I remembered the feeling of fear when the Romans had caught us on the beach, the metallic taste of panic in my mouth.
“Ugh, I’m worried something bad could happen to Dormath without me.” I tugged at my collar, suddenly feeling warm. “I’m nervous that a human life might be too much for me, that I’m not strong enough.” I caught Belis’s eye and winked. “I’m afraid of getting more blisters.”
I turned back to the cauldron. “Did you hear that? Now cook the damn food!”
“Almost hard to believe that didn’t work,” said Belis, a smirk breaking through her frown.
“Feel free to try something else,” I said, bridling at her words.
“Very well.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. I noticed her hands were shaking. “I was afraid to die. I was so terrified that I stole my sister’s life, tried to drag myself back from the brink by offering the most precious thing I could think of instead. I sacrificed my sister but even that great evil didn’t stop the fear. I’m more afraid than ever. I am afraid to live with the guilt. That’s why I am here because I am too much of a coward to try and make my own way.”
The fire crackled and spat as she spoke. I touched the smooth iron of the cauldron. It was a little warmer than before.
“That’s a start,” I said. “Anything else?”
“More?” Belis sighed. “What more is there to tell? And yet there are still more depths to my cowardice.”
“You have to face it,” I said, “to say it out loud.” Belis looked at me and there were tears in her eyes.
“I can’t say it,” she whispered. “I can’t watch you realise how worthless I truly am.”
