Then the Sea Raiders had landed a small force near Seven Willows. Fighting men were gathered to oppose them. All men knew that Bane was a great fighter and a rider was sent to him. He told the man to leave his property. 'When the sea raiders attack my land I shall kill them,' he said. 'And I will ask no help from you.'

Dislike became open hatred then, and men talked of how he had killed Forvar and the two friends of Fiallach. 'He is a mad dog,' they said. 'He should be driven from the land.'

A delegation went to Braefar, urging him to take action. Braefar, while agreeing that Bane was a disgrace, pointed out that he paid his taxes promptly, and those taxes were used to fund Connavar's army. 'He has broken no law,' said Braefar, 'and paid weregild to the men he slew after his mother's death. However, if you wish to sell him no feed for his cattle, no supplies for his men, no shoes for his horses, that is up to you.'

This they did, and Bane was forced to send for supplies from the Pannone to the north at far greater cost. Even so, his venture thrived. When lung blight destroyed half the king's herds, and reduced many farmers to near poverty, Bane's cattle escaped the disease. People were then forced to buy from him, and his prices were high.

The saddest part of all, for Banouin, was that he knew most of the people who hated Bane were good people, with kind hearts. They were reacting to a man who wanted nothing to do with them – much as they had once reacted to Banouin. Bane no longer helped with the barn building, or attended the feast days, or joined the hunts, or trained with the militia. His every action was seen – mostly accurately – as a slight on the Rigante as a whole.

Under pressure from their families, most of the young men who worked for him had quit his service, and he now employed outsiders, Wolfsheads or runaways: men who – like Bane – wore no cloak of allegiance. Bane's cloak was black, and without adornment. Not once had he worn the chequered blue and green colours of the Rigante.

Banouin shivered. The winter cold was seeping through his boots and leggings. He stood up and stamped his feet. 'I should not hate the winter,' he thought. When it is gone war will come.

Jasaray would come from the south, and King Shard of the Vars had gathered more than three hundred ships, ready to lead an invasion in the north. The days of blood were drawing near. And here I sit, thought Banouin, worrying about the lost souls of an earlier conflict.

'Morrigu!' he shouted again.