“You once told me you knew the reality of rule.”
“I have something the Vaich does not,” said Jor. “Experience.”
“And what would matter most to you? Praise and power? Strength or servitude? Would your halls be full of feasts and festivity, or would you plot behind thick walls? If I told you there was a great blight to come upon this country, what would you say in reply?”
“Do you know of such a blight?”
The druid hesitated. His eyes drifted back to the Vaich, still at the center of the room. He laughed and drank and flirted; his mind absent and absolved. If the druid was to believe he was placed there for a purpose, then perhaps this, too, was intended. He had seen the king on the battlefield of his dreams. Yet, his heart was torn between want and worry, between knowing and wild uncertainty.
“Forgive me," said the druid. “I know little of you.”
Jor nodded towards the Vaich. “And you know more of him? If there is something you wish to tell me, druid…”
“It is nothing, only a passing fret.”
The man’s face filled with recognition, and his voice grew quiet. “I know what plagues you, and you are far from alone here. It is a belief that stirs your thoughts, and belief that chains us all. Kings should bebuilt, not granted.”
“And what should a good king do?” whispered the druid. “Listen? Act?”
“He should understand both. And know when to do either.”
“A rouse!” cried the men.
“A dance!” cried their ladies.
“It appears you are required elsewhere,” said Jor. “We shall speak again, soon?”
“Yes,” said the druid, but was not certain he wanted to. Regardless, he came out to meet the applause. There were so many smiling faces, red with drink, and they looked at him in elation. It was disquieting, but he could not turn from it.
This day is not for you.
“The lady of the house leads the step,” said the Vaich, facing opposite him. “Though I will lead if you are unfamiliar.”
The druid raised his arms into position and tapped his toes upon the stone. “You shall lead me?” he questioned.
“Of course. You are a druid. What do you know of feast hall etiquette?”
The lute trilled and the drum started.
“You speak of the steps,” said the druid. “Where do you think your kin learned them?”
The music began and they circled each other like wolves on prowl.
“I thought your people cared not for pleasure?” asked the Vaich.
They swept aside, brushing at the shoulders.
“What you see as pleasure…” said the druid, allowing the king to spin him round. “We call respect.”
“And what do you respect?”
“Not you, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The Vaich laughed. It was drowned out by the music. The lairds and their ladies came out to join them and they all fell in line, like golden legions in preparation of battle. The music swelled and out they went, gliding across the stone. The room spun around them, with them, and they bowed.
“You are a surprisingly good dancer,” said the Vaich as they met once again in the center.
“All that is surprising is you keeping your own two feet.” The druid was spun again and clapped his hands. “Isthismadness?”
