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North—the Novantae, Selgovae, Damnonii, Votadini, the Picts and the Older People—across the Great Wall of the Roman emperor Hadrian. They fought against three Roman legions and were driven back in time, but they almost reached Londinium! Evicatos was an older man then but still a great warrior. My father and my uncle rode with him on that raid. Evicatos left that spear to my father who in turn gave it to me when I left Caledonia to take service with the fianna” It was as if he were speaking to himself or to someone unseen beyond the barrow.
    "And the sword?" she asked, bringing him back to his story.
    He looked down at the fine weapon, a masterpiece of the swordsmith's craft. "A master smith came to the country of the Novantae when Evicatos was first chief of the clan. The fame of Evicatos had spread far and wide even then. This smith asked only to forge weapons for my grandfather. He wanted nothing but his food, a woman to cook for him and to sleep with him, and a place to work. He wanted no payment until he could finish his work. Then he would ask for what he wanted. My grandfather promised him that he could have anything he desired.
    "That long winter the smith worked steadily, letting no one see him at his work. Night after night the people saw the flame of his forge within his shelter and heard the ringing of the metal as he worked. At times he would leave the rath and vanish into the dense woods to the north where he would be gone for many days. When he would return he told no one of where he had been.
    "In the spring his work was done. Both weapons were magnificent. They were masterpieces of the metal smith’s craft. None had ever been seen like them. They would help Evicatos become an even greater warrior than he already was.” Calgaich's voice died away.
    "What price did he want for his work?” Cairenn asked.
    "My grandfather’s betrothed. Muirgheal was her name. Muirgheal the Beautiful. That was who he wanted.”
    It was very quiet. Cairenn dared not speak.
    Calgaich looked into the flames. "My grandfather was a man of honor.”
    "And the smith took his betrothed?”
    Calgaich nodded, staring into the flames.
    "But how did the sword of Evicatos, if it is the same sword, come to be in this evil place so far from your country?”
    "It is the same sword,” Calgaich said harshly. "Although my grandfather kept his word, the smith did not. He stole from the rath at night with the woman and the sword. My grandfather's two younger brothers trailed the smith to the north against the wishes of my grandfather. They reached the land of the Picts. Before the snow fell, the younger brother returned with the woman. His brother had paid the death price.”
    "What happened to the smith?”
    "He was never seen again. Some say the Picts slew him. Others say he fled from Albu. Some think he was not a human at all, but rather a demon smith.”
    Cairenn looked quickly back over her shoulders.
    "My grandfather took Muirgheal to wife.”
    The fire was crackling low. Shadows crept back into the chamber from the galleries where they had been lurking. The slow dripping of the water seeping through the roof of the barrow could be plainly heard.
    "She bore my grandfather's first son more than a month early,” Calgaich continued quietly.
    "Your father?”
    Calgaich nodded. He placed the sword on the altar and then stripped off his tunic and trousers. He stood there naked except for a thin breechclout that concealed his strong and full manhood. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the crisscross whitish welts on his back. At one time in his life he had been lashed to within a hair's breadth of death. Calgaich hung his trousers and tunic on the edge of the altar to dry. She could see welts and scars beneath the mat of curling, reddish-golden hair on his chest, and she knew these did not come from the bite of the many-tailed cat. Her eyes widened as she noted the bluish tattooing in a curious interwoven pattern on his chest and upper