Ferox did not pay much attention, although he felt a flash of envy. The bard paced slowly around the circle of tables as he sang, and apart from drawing breath he did not pause in the tale. Tincommius’ own people welcomed the returned exile and rallied to him. His clan were not numerous, but were brave and proud-hearted and stout fighters. The gods led him to a hoard of weapons and fine swords, crafted with cunning and magic to bite through bone and armour as easily as butter. His men armed and armoured, and with Tincommius, the bravest of all, at their head, they fought and beat each of the neighbouring clans in turn, even when three joined forces to face him. Yet he was wise and merciful. Only the men who had wronged him were killed, their families enslaved or slaughtered by their sides. The rest had only to take an oath to him and serve him loyally and then share in the glory and spoils to come. His power grew, chieftain after chieftain and clan after clan swearing to serve him. The great druid – Ferox’s attention doubled at his appearance – had watched the contest for power, not taking sides, until the gods spoke to him and he came to Tincommius and guided his steps. It was the great druid who proclaimed him high king in front of all the leaders of the people. Soon clans from other tribes pledged allegiance: Venicones, Caledonians, Selgovae, even the strange Epidii of the far west. Warriors came from across the oceans to serve him. Great chieftains begged to foster his sons and offered their daughters as brides to the high king.

For a while the bard turned to praise of the men gathered around the table. He would gesture towards a man, then sing of his fame and lineage, of his great deeds and his staunch faithfulness. Some men leaped up or punched the air when they were named, while others sat impassively. There was mockery within the praise, for this was the high king’s hall and no one could be praised more than him. When the bard reached Venutius he made verses about his beautiful face and how much it had improved from the beating he had received. The chieftain of the Selgovae laughed and pointed at Ferox. Then the bard told of how the young Venutius had been walking out on the moors when a beautiful woman appeared to him, her eyes huge and brown, her naked breasts vast and milky white. She told him that she was the goddess of cows and that she loved him with a passion. Ever since all the cows of the world rushed to be at his side out of an unquenchable love. The whole gathering guffawed and Venutius took it all in good spirit and laughed with them.