Age of Iron by Angus Watson Page A

home in the south-west via Boddingham and accompany him, Ragnall had accepted happily.
    On the final morning of their trek, they clambered up the ford’s flag-laid slope and on past a sheepdog sunning itself on a low embankment around a small farm. Smoke from the farm hut’s fire curled up into the still morning air. The dog looked up at the two men expectantly. Ragnall smiled at it. Was there anything more pleasant than a well maintained ford, a charming farm and a happy hound?
    “Good morning, dog!” Ragnall said, tossing the animal a bite of sausage that he’d saved from breakfast for that very purpose. The dog leaped from its perch, gulped the sausage, looped around Ragnall’s horse’s legs then rubbed its back on the road in absurdly grateful abasement. Ragnall laughed his warm laugh.
    The men rode on in companionable silence. The air was soft, bright and warm. Ragnall was sure he’d never been happier. Finally he was on his way back to Anwen and his parents.
    Up from the farm, a hare sat erect in the middle of the track. It watched them approach until they were ten paces away, then shot off faster than a slingstone northwards, across a field of cattle who remained unmoved by its speedy passage.
    “A good omen?” asked Ragnall.
    Drustan smiled, stroked his beard as he often did before speaking, then said, “There are druids who’d say that it was a bad omen. You’re returning to your family and your true love, so seeing an animal that’s often in a pair on its own could mean that disaster looms.” Drustan put on a booming, portentous voice – “You too are destined to run alone!” – and laughed to himself. “But there are others who’d say that it’s a good omen. The herd of cattle represents those to whom you are returning. They are going to accept your appearance as calmly as the cows accepted the hare’s.”
    “And what would you say?”
    “That we saw a hare running across a field of cattle. It means nothing other than that the hare has learned to be wary of people but knows cattle won’t harm it, and the cattle have learned that running hares and riding men are not dangerous. Probably. Druids like to make up reasons for the way animals behave and teach them as facts, but we don’t really know why beasts do what they do. I believe the only relevance that the hare and cows have to you is that they prove your eyes work. However, I could be wrong. Perhaps Danu did send the hare as an oblique, indecipherable clue to your future, but it seems like a lot of effort for no point. Plus I have always thought that it is unlucky to be too superstitious.”
    Ragnall’s laugh was like bubbling honey. “It would be good, surely, to have some idea if Anwen and I are destined to be happy? How can I know if I will love her for ever?”
    Drustan rode on with his eyes closed. The sun shone on the bald dome of his head, lighting up his ring of woolly white hair.
    “When people ask for advice,” he said eventually, “they are usually looking for corroboration. You saw no omen in the hare and you knew that I wouldn’t either. You asked me what I thought, even though you knew already. Why? Because hearing someone state what we ourselves believe pleases us, especially when we know that others disagree. That’s why like-minded people tend to group together, even though it would be more constructive to mingle with those of differing opinions.” The old man slowed his horse as they came to a hill, then continued: “This is a little different, but also common when people think they’re asking for advice. You seek praise. You want me to say that you’re a great man and that Anwen, or any woman, would love you for ever.”
    Ragnall bobbed his head. “That would do.”
    Drustan smiled. “But I’m going to give you some real advice. When you see Anwen later, look at her face. Look into her eyes. Then use your imagination. Change her face in your mind into that of an old, old woman, wrinkled as a walnut, but