Ethne and Ruadh ordered the guards to release the prisoner. The former leader of the fennidi and the former Ard-Rígain pitched their voices to a tone of absolute authority. Lucius was astounded to observe the effect, even though he had been well schooled at Innis nan Druidneach and remembered vividly the lesson of fúaimm and his own voice bouncing back from the cliffs.

They walked to the round house where Ethne and Ruadh were staying and stirred up the banked hearth-fire. Ethne put the cauldron of soup over the fire to reheat, and Ruadh placed three stools in a circle. As Ethne sat down, she took one of Lucius’s hands in hers.

“You say you have no kin, but that is not true,” she began, with a lump of sadness and joy rising in her throat.

Lucius looked from Ethne to Ruadh and back. He was vibrating with questions, but he knew to wait—knew that he would hear answers that would lead to more questions.

“You have had kin all your life,” Ethne continued. “Kin that love you and that have longed for you since the day you were born. You were birthed right here in this nemed, to a woman and a man who saw their own deep love in you. Because you were the child of this holy place, you were stolen, and those who loved you thought you were forever lost, drowned at sea.”

Lucius took these ideas in, saw the images she painted, and tried to put himself into the story she told.

“Where are my kin now?” he asked.

Ethne let go of his hand and placed her own hands quietly in her lap. “I am your kin,” she said. “You are my son.”

There was no sound. No one moved.

Without disturbing the silence, Lucius knelt before her and put his hands on either side of Ethne’s face. He studied her for a long time, searching her eyes for the childhood that was stolen. He found it in the grieving she had done for her lost child, in the love she had never relinquished for him. He found it in the strength she still had to welcome him home and claim him. He stood, raised her to her feet, and hugged her tightly, then tighter as he swung her off her feet and spun her around and around. “I am your son!” he cried. “I am yours!”

All three were crying, laughing, crying, until the cauldron nearly boiled over and Ruadh had to catch it up quickly off the fire.

“I have never called anyone Mother or Father,” said Lucius. “What a strange and wonderful feel they have in my mouth. It is a taste I will never tire of.”

Finally they ate, but all the while Ethne did not take her eyes from Lucius.

Ruadh explained to Lucius that his true name was Ruadhán, and that he and Ethne had lost him sixteen turnings of the sun before.

“I thought you were the blood-son of Ruadh when I bore you,” Ethne said. “But it is obvious that you are the son of Crimthann, the Ard-Ri.” She reached out again, wanting to keep him close. A deep and terrible well in her heart, hidden over with years of scarring, suddenly stirred and overflowed. It was as if the noontime sun shone into every dark recess of her soul.

Lucius took in the story of his birth and slowly absorbed the implications. He was elated, happy to have found his family, and terrified, all at once. “Are you telling me that I am a prince?”

“Yes. You were born to me when I was Ard-Rígain, and the Ard-Ri was your father, though he had crossed to the Otherworld by the time you came into this world. Ruadh has been your foster-father from the first. He was the battle leader of the fennidi before he joined me at the Forest School.”

“But if you were Ard-Rígain, why did you leave the throne? How did Cadla come to take it?”

“That is a story yet unfolding, my son,” Ruadh said. “You were removed from us by the Cristaidi. We eventually heard the story from Albinus, a monk who felt overwhelmed with guilt when he thought you had been drowned. You see, the Cristaidi sent you to Letha in a boat to have you tutored at a Cristaidi school. They wanted to keep you from our Druid teachings and tribal ways, and planned to have you raised as a Roman Cristaide and then bring you back to the island and set you on the throne. With your bloodlines and birthright, you would be a powerful force against us. They wanted to strengthen their hold on the people, to convert them to their own god, Ísu.”

Ethne continued the tale. “You were kidnapped and taken to sea as planned, but a storm came up and the boat was lost; that much we knew, but no more. My heart was broken when they took you, and I could no longer handle the complaints of the Cristaidi and the warriors. Cadla gathered a large faction around him, and there was an election. He won, and I left for the forest, thinking only of keeping the Druid ways alive as the new religion swept through the flaith and the common people.”

Lucius was silent for a long while, gazing into the embers of the hearth. He thought of Abbott Mihael, whom he had loved as a father. Was it possible for the abbott to betray him like that? He felt a searing pain, remembering all the lonely years when he had lain on his cot, longing for a family to call his own. Forgiveness followed. Druid- trained, he knew how to move his emotions to his third eye to achieve sith.

“I can see the pattern of their thoughts. It was a logical plan, but brutal for a small boy. And it was a terrible thing to do to you, Mother.” His voice cracked with emotion.

Ruadh put his hand on Lucius’s shoulder. “How is it that you are here and under guard?”

“I came here from Innis nan Druidneach with my love, whom I intend to handfast. She wanted me to meet Gaine and the both of you. She said you were her teachers. Her name is Aífe,” he added.

“Aífe!” Ethne cried with delight. “She is as a daughter to us! We sent her to the Druid Isle to learn the finer arts of filidecht. How in all the worlds did you end up there?”

Lucius told them of his strange travels, of his long search to find his blood-kin, and of the intervention of the gods.

“You have made a great imramm, my son,” said Ruadh. “One worthy of legend and song. But where is Aífe now?”

“She went with the funeral procession to bury Gaine. We were with Gaine when she passed over, and then Martinus and his monks appeared with orders to keep me under guard. I never had a chance to explain to her what happened. She expected me to be there for the funeral. She must be very worried.”

“They will be back in a few days. That will give us time to talk and catch up and plan your handfasting,” Ethne said, already thinking of a traditional full moon rite in the circle of stones outside of the rath, just as she had performed with Ruadh so many sun-cycles before. The memory of it brought a smile to her face and a joy that she had not felt in many turnings of the seasons. Ruadh caught her expression and knew exactly what she was thinking. He reached for her hand and squeezed it, his eyes twinkling a little as he gazed on her happy face.