to breathe deeply. “The air in your lungs will keep you afloat,” he promised. “When you need to breathe out, do it slowly and evenly, then breathe in swiftly.”
At the end of the two hours Riamfada was exhausted but almost deliriously happy. He had for five strokes moved himself through the water. Under his own power he had propelled himself forward, Connavar swimming alongside.
His new friend carried him from the pool, and the two youngsters sat in the fading sunshine, allowing the warm air to dry their skin.
“This has been the greatest day of my life,” said Riamfada. “And I was wrong. Even if I never come here again, I will always treasure it.”
“You will come again,” promised Connavar. “Not tomorrow, for I have many chores. But the day after, if the weather is fine, I shall call for you.”
“I do not care about the weather,” said Riamfada.
“Very well, then, whatever the weather.”
They arrived at Riamfada’s house just before dusk. Both Gariapha and Wiocca were waiting in the doorway, their expressions full of worry. But they smiled when they saw the happiness on their son’s face.
“I swam,” he told his father. “Truly. Didn’t I, Conn?”
“You certainly did,” agreed his friend.
Through the weeks that followed Riamfada’s swimming grew stronger and stronger. Once carried into the water, he would roll to his back and power himself out into the center of the pond. The tight and aching muscles of his upper back were eased by the exercise, and as his strength grew, so, too, did his appetite, and he began to put on weight.
“It’s like carrying a small horse,” Connavar said one day as they neared the last crest.
Riamfada was about to reply when he looked down and saw that other youngsters were already in the pool. His heart sank. “Take me back!” he said.
“Why?”
“I don’t want anyone else to see me.”
Connavar lifted him to the grass, then sat beside him. “You are my friend, and you are as brave as anyone I know. If you want to go home, I shall take you. But think on it for a moment.”
“You cannot know what it is like,” said Riamfada, “to be less than a man. The shame of it.”
“You are right, my friend, I do not know. But I know that we both like to swim, and there is plenty of room in the pool.”
Riamfada sighed. “You think me cowardly?”
“I think it is up to you,” Conn said, with a smile. “I make no judgment.”
Riamfada looked into his friend’s face. Conn was not telling the truth. He would be disappointed if forced to go all the way back. Riamfada sighed. What was one more embarrassment in a life of shame? “Let us go down and swim,” he said.
Connavar lifted him. He did not place him on his shoulders but carried him in his arms. As they neared the pool, one of the young men there climbed from the water and strode out to meet them. He was tall, with deep-set dark eyes.
Riamfada felt Conn tense at his approach. “Who is he?” he whispered.
“Govannan, the smith’s son.”
The other youths also moved from the pool. Govannan halted before the pair.
“You must be Riamfada,” he said. “I am Govannan. My friends call me Van.” He held out his hand. Riamfada shook it. One by one the smith’s son introduced the others. Then he shivered. “It is cold once you are out of the water. We’ll talk again in the pool.” Turning, Govannan ran down to the water’sedge and dived in. His friends followed him, and they swam to the falls, clambering out to run up the rocky path and jump back into the pool from a jutting boulder.
“They made me welcome,” said Riamfada.
“Why would they not?”
“I noticed he did not speak to you.”
“We are not friends. Now come, let us swim. I do not have too long today. I am meeting Wing for a hunt. Mother says she will need meat for at least six game pies in time for Samain.”
“I do not eat meat,” Riamfada said, as Conn set him down.
Conn stared at him. “Meat makes you
At the end of the two hours Riamfada was exhausted but almost deliriously happy. He had for five strokes moved himself through the water. Under his own power he had propelled himself forward, Connavar swimming alongside.
His new friend carried him from the pool, and the two youngsters sat in the fading sunshine, allowing the warm air to dry their skin.
“This has been the greatest day of my life,” said Riamfada. “And I was wrong. Even if I never come here again, I will always treasure it.”
“You will come again,” promised Connavar. “Not tomorrow, for I have many chores. But the day after, if the weather is fine, I shall call for you.”
“I do not care about the weather,” said Riamfada.
“Very well, then, whatever the weather.”
They arrived at Riamfada’s house just before dusk. Both Gariapha and Wiocca were waiting in the doorway, their expressions full of worry. But they smiled when they saw the happiness on their son’s face.
“I swam,” he told his father. “Truly. Didn’t I, Conn?”
“You certainly did,” agreed his friend.
Through the weeks that followed Riamfada’s swimming grew stronger and stronger. Once carried into the water, he would roll to his back and power himself out into the center of the pond. The tight and aching muscles of his upper back were eased by the exercise, and as his strength grew, so, too, did his appetite, and he began to put on weight.
“It’s like carrying a small horse,” Connavar said one day as they neared the last crest.
Riamfada was about to reply when he looked down and saw that other youngsters were already in the pool. His heart sank. “Take me back!” he said.
“Why?”
“I don’t want anyone else to see me.”
Connavar lifted him to the grass, then sat beside him. “You are my friend, and you are as brave as anyone I know. If you want to go home, I shall take you. But think on it for a moment.”
“You cannot know what it is like,” said Riamfada, “to be less than a man. The shame of it.”
“You are right, my friend, I do not know. But I know that we both like to swim, and there is plenty of room in the pool.”
Riamfada sighed. “You think me cowardly?”
“I think it is up to you,” Conn said, with a smile. “I make no judgment.”
Riamfada looked into his friend’s face. Conn was not telling the truth. He would be disappointed if forced to go all the way back. Riamfada sighed. What was one more embarrassment in a life of shame? “Let us go down and swim,” he said.
Connavar lifted him. He did not place him on his shoulders but carried him in his arms. As they neared the pool, one of the young men there climbed from the water and strode out to meet them. He was tall, with deep-set dark eyes.
Riamfada felt Conn tense at his approach. “Who is he?” he whispered.
“Govannan, the smith’s son.”
The other youths also moved from the pool. Govannan halted before the pair.
“You must be Riamfada,” he said. “I am Govannan. My friends call me Van.” He held out his hand. Riamfada shook it. One by one the smith’s son introduced the others. Then he shivered. “It is cold once you are out of the water. We’ll talk again in the pool.” Turning, Govannan ran down to the water’sedge and dived in. His friends followed him, and they swam to the falls, clambering out to run up the rocky path and jump back into the pool from a jutting boulder.
“They made me welcome,” said Riamfada.
“Why would they not?”
“I noticed he did not speak to you.”
“We are not friends. Now come, let us swim. I do not have too long today. I am meeting Wing for a hunt. Mother says she will need meat for at least six game pies in time for Samain.”
“I do not eat meat,” Riamfada said, as Conn set him down.
Conn stared at him. “Meat makes you
Similar Books
