The moment that he saw his daughter was safe and he handed her to one of his men to care for, with the man none other than Ruaidhrí, who took to comforting her with a great deal of joy. To say that he had grown fond of the lovely Augustine was to understate the profoundness of his earnest feelings. The young woman, though, was to stare once her tears had cleared in part thanks to his and Seonag's efforts, at the newly arrived knight who had come to her rescue.
Casimir's killer was to, when he had caught his breath, dismount from his horse, with Pierre staring at him. The reason was not hard to see, given that the man wore upon his tabard and hauberk the emblem of the house of Arvois.
"I had not thought that Casimir might prove to be Vifombre when first I heard the rumours of Vifombre, I am sorry to have frightened Augustine in such a manner… father," the man said as he removed the helm that had hitherto hidden his identity if briefly so.
"Alexandre? But how could it be?" Pierre wondered as he stared at his son, in wonder as the younger man smiled back at him, his dark hair and bright eyes a younger mirror of sorts of those of his father. "How came you to be here?"
"I have returned from the south, where I served for a brief time with the King of Vaugrimmée, and becoming filled with longing for home, I began my return but stopped in Armand. It happened, though, that my old friend Mathieu, who had saved my life from brigands in the lands of Follarin, departed earlier than I arrived here sooner. I did, however, send on ahead of me, a Knight I had met during my travels and with whom I had fought alongside in a series of tourneys, Salomon was to go on ahead also. Hearing of rumours, months I had also sent for Master Wiglaf, who sent Marculf, so that, believing there was still time, I delayed at the King's Court in Armand. I only regretted not having introduced the two of them sooner," Alexandre explained at some length, whereupon he continued when he saw how dumbfounded his audience was. "I arrived, though, to find everyone gone save Mathieu-"
"Do you mean to tell me that Havion there sent for you?" Pierre asked incredulously. "Did you know who Casimir was the whole time?"
"Non, I had no notion of it and was stunned to receive the news, I had simply hoped to surprise you, father, as I knew it was the anniversary of your- of Vifombre and had thought to surprise you in the midst of the jousts!" Alexandre blurted out all at once, visibly embarrassed and shamefaced at how poorly his plans had gone through.
In all, they were soon all laughing or otherwise throwing themselves against one another full of emotions, most notably the Comte and his daughter, who were to each in their turn embrace the prodigal son. They had awaited his return for such a long number of years that neither of them could quite believe their newfound good fortune.
Soon discussion turned towards the dismantling of the château, of the need to properly see to the cadavers within it, and to the tending of the wounded. While Pierre saw to all of this with the assistance of his son and the man's friends, Augustin, who had hitherto been so stalwart in the face of the bandits, began to shake.
Suddenly, fear caught up with him and left him little more than a shaken, trembling wreck of a man, one who almost took to tears. It was, however, only with the utmost effort that he did not, even as Salomon grumbled good-naturedly about him.
"Do stop that, he has had a terrible ordeal, sir," Seonag reprimanded the man she had taken such a fancy to before she turned to him, along with Augustine, who also sought to reassure him. "You were of great service!"
"She is right good, sir, why I have never seen a man leap into battle with greater resolve," Salomon agreed only to mutter under his breath, "After myself and my father, of course."
Yet Augustin remained unconvinced even as the two ladies cast irritated glances upon the irrepressible Knight, who remained confused by their displeasure.
"I only regret to have been of little use at this time, Madame, I suppose I really and truly am much too much of a coward to be of any use at such times!" Augustin remarked plaintively, ducking his bearded face away, for shame at how little he had done when Casimir had held Augustine hostage.
Everyone stared at him, dumbfounded.
None of them had ever seen so humble a man. Never had they ever heard of one who might refuse the remotest praise, or honour as he had.
It was with a hearty laugh that Pierre remarked to him, as he made his way over to them, having been relieved of his myriad duties by Alexandre, "You peasant, what is your name? I know you told me, yet I quite forgot in the heat of things."
"It is Augustin, sir," Augustin replied as he fell to one knee.
"On your feet, on your feet, good sir, as I will not have a man of such quality and valour kneel before me, never again! I had heard tell that you were the bravest man of all those who fought to free my daughter and her friend." Pierre remarked to him, at his most solemn, whereupon he knelt before the man who had begun to rise to his feet, and begged him to the astonishment of all. "I have lost on this day almost a dozen knights, each of them brave men. I will have need of new men to take their place and honour their posts as knights and guards. Augustin, you bear the same name as that of my father, this shan't be a coincidence. I would ask of you, will you do me the honour of letting me knight thee?"
"I could not accept, I am hardly worthy!"
"Augustin, would you really dishonour me so, by refusing me the honour?"
"Of course not, my liege! I would be honoured and flattered to serve thee!" Augustin declared passionately, at which time his liege threw himself back onto his feet and embraced him with a howl of joy.
Though the large woodcutter was to kneel, receive the sword of the Comte upon each shoulder, then the man's slap, what he and all others were never to forget was the dignity and valour of Augustin.
As Ruaidhrí looked on enviously as his friend was congratulated, he also noticed, if absently so, how Salomon and Mathieu were not participating in the celebration. The two could be seen near the walls, in the midst of a heated discussion with Marculf.
Though they had just learnt that the three shared a friend in common in Alexandre, it seemed none of them were any more fond of one another than they had been at the beginning of the tourney. Yet there was an intensity rather than anger that could be seen in the faces of the two men. After a time, Marculf nodded his head with an air of resignation to Salomon, who, pleased, gave a cry of joy, embraced the Ogre and hurried off. Disgruntled by this, Marculf, glaring at Mathieu, shook his head, muttered something, and then nodded a few times and dismissed the Knight, who turned and left, also looking no less pleased if slightly more guarded about it.
The only hint it might concern him was when Marculf met the gaze of the youth. The look in his eyes was full of resignation and regret, the likes of which had not been there since Ruaidhrí was refused entry into the Order of Auguria as his apprentice. The boy saw how lonely Marculf was, and while he wished to go to him, he instead turned away to go congratulate Augustin.
*****
The celebration that followed was one of the grandest that the siblings had seen in some time. It was a grand affair that Pierre and his wife Gisèle threw themselves into, with the grand hall in which they lived open to all. It was coloured in laurels, lilies (a flower considered sacred to the people of Arvois), and ribbons of every colour, but most noticeably the crimson that had in recent decades become associated with Arvois. Peasants and knights moved freely from farms, villages, and castle, and between them as wine flowed, food such as bread, meat, and fish was spread throughout the land. Laughter and joy were also not in short supply, as the Comte and his family celebrated with such eagerness that it soon proved infectious among the people.
The news that Alexandre had returned proved undeniably contagious as more than one peasant who had grown up having to endure his and his brothers' myriad pranks came forward to pay their respects. Seated in the place of honour to his father's right, and with the over-awed Augustin on his other side (the woodcutter was so amazed that he could hardly speak), the heir to Arvois laughed often and drank deeply.
Across the table from him, seated with Augustine at his own side, Mathieu, ever stern, watched the other young man with a hint of disapproval, "You are drinking too much again, Alex. It is unseemly."
"And you, Mathieu, are too stern as always, you act so much like your father, I might almost think you are him, so do stop fretting!" The older knight reprimanded cheerfully with a wide grin, before he turned to his sister and father, "You see what I have had to endure for the past three years? Mathieu is always reprimanding, always complaining, and never one to smile or to celebrate, not even when young women would approach him!"
"Really?" Augustine asked with a great deal of interest, only to flush scarlet when she saw the expression on her brother's face change, as he paid a little more attention to her and Mathieu.
"What? Now it seems as though there is a tale to tell here," he remarked with keen interest of his own.
"A tale we would happily tell if you might take some time to eat, and listen to what we might have to say," Pierre teased good-naturedly, a smile decorating his lips.
Encouraged to do just that by Alexandre, the Comte soon threw himself into an explanation of all that had happened since Casimir's return as Vifombre, with some assistance from the likes of Gisèle and Augustin.
The celebration soon became a considerably more exciting affair, as men traded many more tales, and people bustled all about throughout the night. It was to go on well into the night, until such a time that many such as the daughters of Pierre and Gisèle were sent off to their rooms. Even Alexandre excited as he was to have returned home and eager to spend time with his friends, was to beg for permission to depart to his bedchambers.
It was just as the celebration began to die out that Seonag and Ruaidhrí made their way from the interior to the courtyard in search of Marculf. The two of them looked about in increasing frustration with the pair thinking at first to look for him in the local pub before Salomon, ever faithful, reported to them. "I just spoke with one of the squires; he is in the stables."
"Oh, he very nearly left without us!" Ruaidhrí exclaimed, alarmed at the thought, and privately horrified that his friend should once more leave on an adventure without them. What he also suspected was that his friend sought to slip away without alerting them.
The pair hurried towards the stables, ducking past Mathieu, who sought to grab the attention of Ruaidhrí, only for the boy to promise to meet with him in a moment, after he had met with Marculf. To the surprise of both of them, the Knight looked pleased and was to encourage them, in the warmest of tones. "Do hurry, I just spoke with him once more, about your future, Ruaidhrí."
"My future?" He asked dumbly, startled at the warm tone that had been there, since the raid and the eagerness in the other man's voice.
"Oh yes, I have never before seen such bravery from one so young, and- well, it would be better for you to hear it from him. I will await you in the morning in my pavilion," Mathieu remarked to the bewilderment of the boy, who flustered briefly, forgetting what it was they were doing.
He very nearly demanded from the other man what he meant, but was hurried along by Seonag, who was bowed to as befitted the proper greeting to a lady. The two burst into the large stable where more than two dozen horses were to be found, hay a-plenty, and of course, near the rear of the stable, stood the tall six-foot or so figure of Marculf.
In the midst of guiding the horse from where it was stabled, he was to halt suddenly with a startled look in his eyes when he saw them standing therein the opening of the stable. The bridle in hand, he seemed to hesitate in a rare show of doubt and uncertainty. After a moment, he encouraged the horse forward so that he might greet them.
"Where are you going, in such a hurry, Marculf?" Seonag asked of the sorcerer, who stopped if only for a moment.
His face was to twist itself into a brief expression of surprise before it became impassive once more, "I have received a new request from Alexandre, on behalf of the King of Gallia. He has need of someone to investigate the disappearance of one of his Archdouvains. The man who baptized his sons has gone missing in the south, said to have been swallowed up by the sea of the river Dard. Master Wiglaf has communicated via letter to Alexandre, he thinks me suited and better placed to look into it, as he has been summoned himself to investigate a mystery in Ériu."
"Oh, so we must leave for the south? Will we be travelling alongside Sir Salomon?" Seonag asked hopefully, only to turn a bright crimson that resembled her hair when he looked at her appraisingly.
"I must leave, and yes, I intend to travel alongside him, as far as Armand before he carries on further south, and then west to his home," Marculf replied quietly as he tested the horse's bridle and reins, only to sniff in satisfaction when he saw that they were ready.
"Must we say farewell so soon to Augustin, Mathieu, and… Augustine so soon?" Ruaidhrí complained almost flushing red as he mentioned the last name.
"And Salomon, I-I should not like to separate from him so soon, as that," Seonag added for good measure, though her brother wrinkled his nose at her and rolled his eyes. He was always annoyed when she became smitten with a man. However, he could not imagine how different this time was from all the rest.
Marculf studied him once more, and then her. He sighed before he spoke to her, "Seonag, ever since you have come into my service, I have striven to be as a brother, or some other relation of yours."
"And you have always done right by me!" She added hastily, "When you first took us in, I know it was expensive, and that we hardly ever worked, and I was not always grateful-"
"I was not going to say all that, now be quiet, fool girl," He hissed impatiently, before reining in his Ogrish temper, "But I have no further use for you. You are a woman grown, it is long past time you go."
The words took them by surprise. Both siblings stared at him, as this was the last thing they had ever expected to hear him say.
Fierce and short-tempered at the best of times, Marculf was an Ogre who had taken them in when they were orphaned servants in the distant castle of the Kings of Norwend, with ill grace. He had, however, softened over the years and become ever more fond of them; they had thought so that talk of their leaving his house, so to speak, had petered out years ago.
"You wish me to go?" The hurt in Seonag's voice was unmistakable.
"I wish to set you free," Marculf told her, as he took her face now in his long-fingered, long-nailed green hands. "Go. I cannot fathom, as I am neither of the race of Men, nor a woman, the passion you feel for that boastful fool. However, he has already approached me."
"Approached you? Whatever for?"
"Your hand," Marculf murmured quietly, staring her in the eye.
"Her hand…? But you said nay, correct?" Ruaidhrí asked of him, stupefied and a little angry, while Seonag gaped at the Ogre.
Marculf glanced at him for but a single moment before he addressed the young woman once more, "Seonag, I am not blind to the sacrifice you made two years ago. When Xin offered you his Empire, and to make you one of his concubines, you said no."
"He loved his Empire more than I," Seonag replied hoarsely, as she had loved Xin and had thought he had felt the same, so that when he had chosen to wed for politics, it had deeply wounded her.
"Indeed, however, now you have met Salomon, and you are rapidly growing into a spinster." Marculf told her bluntly as was his way, "Therefore, go now, be married, be merry, and do stop following me as might a puppy. It has not done you any good, nor will it continue to do me much good from this day onwards."
The words might have been spoken harshly, might well have wounded another more sensitive woman, yet not Seonag. At one time, they might well have, she thought now, she only wondered at the tenderness in his gaze, at the manner in which he held her cheeks.
She wept then, clinging to him as she had as a little girl to her father. Seonag knew that Marculf hated displays of emotion of this sort. He had never experienced them as a child since the death of his father, and after he was torn from his mother to serve Wiglaf as an apprentice, in the Order of Auguria. Because of this, even as she wept from the force of her emotions, uncaring that others looked on and were worried or curious as to the cause of her tears, she expected to be thrust from him at any moment.
To her surprise, she felt a hand pat her on the top of her head, and another clumsily touch her shoulder.
Seonag would never forget this, for as long as she lived. Nor would she forget the regret and the reluctant sorrow in Marculf's dark eyes as she pulled away from him.
"There now," He said, voice hoarse and raspy, "You have ceased with this womanish display, now do go thither back into the keep and find Salomon."
A smile on her lips, she embraced him once more, then released him and, turning to leave, she stopped mid-step to ask him, "Will you be present for it? The wedding, I mean?"
"Do not ask stupid questions," He retorted gruffly.
Smiling, for she knew full well what that response meant despite the harshness in his voice, turning to study the furious Ruaidhrí, she beckoned him forward. "Do come along, Ruaidhrí, I wish you to be present when I deliver Marculf and my answer to Salomon's request!"
"Must I be?" Ruaidhrí grumbled irritably.
Casting now a glance towards the youth, Marculf, taking the boy by the arm, made to pull him away after him, "Seonag, I should like to speak with your brother alone for a moment. It will not be long."
A knowing glance between them, and a slight nod of her head later, and she was gone, leaving the two of them alone. Dragging the reluctant boy from the courtyard to outside, it was thence that Marculf directed them towards the fields to the north of the keep, where the tourney Pierre had held mere days ago had been held. The seats had been undone, though the pavilions remained, as a great number of the knights had not yet left, due to the celebration of Alexandre's return and the hurried marriage that was planned for Augustine and Mathieu.
It was as they walked towards the empty fields, Marculf addressed his charge, "Ruaidhrí, you know that Mathieu has plans after he has wed Augustine to return to Havion, do you not?"
"Aye," the youth retorted glumly, a part of him liked Mathieu now that he knew the Knight was not Vifombre, even as he felt unhappy about the wedding.
"It will not be easy for you, but you will forget about her in time, in a manner," Marculf told him, guessing at his thoughts and innermost secrets.
The boy turned a vivid shade of crimson, only to look away, embarrassed. "Is that what the two of you spoke of?"
"No," Marculf replied, only to add when he noticed his sceptical expression, "Well, in a manner of speaking, yes, but also no."
Ruaidhrí stared at the Ogre in amazement.
The reason was not hard to understand; he had known him many years and had never seen him stumble for words in quite this manner. Though Seonag could vividly remember their parents with perfect clarity, he could not. It had always been the two of them, and then Marculf had arrived in Norwend, his staff glimmering and flashing with light and fire and thunder. He had soon been forced to take them on as his charges, wherefore they had travelled the world with him, never leaving his side save for on the briefest of occasions, such as when the sorcerer would decide to visit Korax, the Order of Auguria, or when the siblings would decide to visit Norwend.
Eloquent and masterful by nature, the Ogre never stuttered and never hesitated where words were concerned, so that to see him behave so was strange to the youth.
"What we spoke of, Ruaidhrí, was the possibility of you not returning to Bretwealda with me." Marculf continued, if in a more subdued manner than was the norm for him, "He spoke of taking you on as his squire, and I gave it some thought-"
"What? Squire? But what about you? And our adventures!" Ruaidhrí exclaimed, interrupting the Ogre, who never liked to be interrupted.
"Do come to your senses, Ruaidhrí! You are growing too old for such things," Marculf bellowed furiously, interrupting the boy who stared at him, stunned to hear him raise his voice so. "You must find your place in the world, but for that, you must have a trade, and here is one presented before you by one of the finest Knights of Gallia! It is either him or Salomon, but the latter would prefer to enjoy his nuptials while the former already holds you in high regard."
"He does?"
"Yes, why do you think he made the offer? He came to me, and I approved and told him I would speak to you." Marculf retorted, still furious, "You think this offer is made to just any youth? How many would kill for such an honour? Such a privilege? Life will not be kind to you; it is not kind to any boy who becomes a man, and yet here is a kindness being extended. Therefore, you must take it up, especially since magic has been denied you."
This last reminder was one that made Ruaidhrí flinch. Even Marculf seemed to regret his words, as he at last sighed and, running a long-clawed hand through his long dark hair, he seemed to search deep within himself for some answer, some means to make the boy see sense.
At last, it was Ruaidhrí who spoke up, murmuring, "I had thought we would not speak of that."
"We must, it has loomed not unlike a storm-cloud over us," Marculf replied wearily, "The day you were tested and it was determined you did not have the Gift, I did not know what to do. I had hoped to someday make you my apprentice, but the Norns have determined it is meant to be otherwise."
Ruaidhrí felt his lower lip quiver and his eyes moisten with tears, ones he attempted to swallow only to wipe furiously at them. "I want to be a sorcerer!"
"But you cannot be, and never will be." Marculf reminded him gently, "Therefore, it must either be the life of a monk, artisan, or knight. Mathieu is a good man; he will care for you and train you as though you were his own."
Ruaidhrí nodded his head; at last accepting what he knew had been said more than two years prior. It had been a blow that had sent him reeling and left him angry beyond measure, yet now, as the anger bled from him, he felt a strange sense of gratitude.
It was not gratitude for the fact that he would never be a sorcerer, but at Marculf's words. "You said that you wished to take me on as your apprentice?" At those words, the Ogre froze, only to glance away almost shyly with the boy smiling ruefully if wetly. "Thank you Marculf."
The sorcerer sighed and nodded his head, never one who was really at ease with emotions of any sort. It was, however, as he stared at the distant trees that he said to him, in a quiet voice once more, "Master Wiglaf once told me, each man must make himself as the oak. He must, in time, plant his roots into the soil beneath him, if he is to survive the winters of life."
"Master Wiglaf is very wise, I will miss him," Ruaidhrí replied earnestly, as he stared at the distant oaks.
"And your answer? To Mathieu?" The curiosity in the Ogre's voice was unmistakable, as was the concern.
"I think… if I cannot be a sorcerer, like yourself, Marculf, I should like to be a knight like your namesake, the Half-Burnt Knight," Ruaidhrí replied quietly, looking across the fields to the forest. The future he realized might be akin to that forest, full of trees and shadows to get lost in; however, for the first time in years, it was also like the fields in that it was bright and open.
As Ruaidhrí looked up from the fields and the woodlands, to meet the moved eyes of his friend, who was both pleased and reluctant to let him go. Yet he felt even more confident in his choice, as he gazed upon the sorcerer, who quietly signalled for him to return to the celebration.
Across the many years they had spent together, and over the many others they would spend together that lay ahead for their friendship, it was that moment that he remembered best: The moment when Marculf had let him grow from boy to man. When Marculf had cut him loose and let another take his place as mentor and teacher, even as he continued to embody once more what it meant in his eyes to be wise and kind. It was for that reason, as much as any other, that Ruaidhrí loved him, and would continue to love and cherish him, as a child might their father or uncle for the remainder of his days.