Stepping out of the cathedral, Colman searched for Ruby. He had to find her, he had to know if she was alright. But wherefore? Did he truly love her or was it as King James had said? Was there nothing more, but attraction? No! There had to be more than that! Did not Master Gardiner tell him that Henry of Winchester and Edward Longshanks had loved their wives and had never been unfaithful to them? Could a man as unfaithful as King James have truly known anything about love? Could someone with only sixteen years on his back such as Colman himself know anything about love? Did anyone know anything?
Alas, he knew not. All that he did know was like the King of the Underworld after being struck by Cupid's arrow, he saw his Prosperina. He saw Ruby. He wished to know about her, a fellow orphan like himself and yet different. Since Apollo had slain his parents, there had been no adoptive or foster parents for him. Gardiner may have been his mentor, but he was not his father, nor was Hugh his brother. Ruby may have had adoptive family, but he, Colman, had none. Companionship, belonging to a family, those were two such things that the Young Poet wanted and it seemed that a companion, a possible love, had been scared away by his mentor.
Beginning his search, Colman wondered where Ruby could have gone. Where were her lodgings for as long as she was in Dublin?
Dublin… The blasted capital of this mistake of a nation! If Ruby would take him as a lover, then gladly would Colman join her and her people in their wandering across Eire! If only to see Cahir Castle again, that mighty fortress in Munster, where long ago the good and noble clan the MacCarthys had ruled before the Dalcassian Huns, barbarians as bad as the Norsemen, had split the land in twain!
If only to see the place where he had been born again… The place that he had first called home.
Running a ruddy hand through his short, curly red hair, Colman proceeded to ask around to see if anyone had seen Ruby. Some had seen her and so Colman was able to find directions. Though he would have to ask once more if anyone had seen Ruby, it was at least a start.
Thus, did the Young Poet's search begin, taking him through the streets of that city that once upon a time the Blond Huns that were the Norsemen had ruled. He knew Dublin well, having lived there for a decade and he found it more pleasant than having to hide on a market cart like he had after Cahir Castle had been taken by the Tudor Huns. How many market carts had it taken to get to Dublin? Colman could not even remember. It had been a decade ago… A decade since he had lost his parents, a decade since he last belonged to a family.
Whom did he blame for the loss of his family? Did he blame Apollo who had slain his mother and father or did he blame the deceased Bloody Bess whose host Apollo had served in? He was uncertain and he knew that there had been no personal reason for Apollo to kill his parents, he had simply been a member of an invading force, so was there even a reason to blame him? There was likely a reason to blame the soldier for many things, but for doing something that a member of an invading force typically did? Had it been the Gaels conquering England, would not the same thing have happened? Doubtless, it would have, but still Colman knew not if he should personally blame Apollo. Bloody Bess was seven years dead, so was he still suppose to blame her? Had Apollo even slain his mother? He had seen Apollo kill his paterfamilias, but his mother had already been dead when Colman and his father found her body with Apollo standing over it. There had been no one else, but had Apollo been the one to kill his materfamilias?
Alas, he knew not. For all he knew, Apollo had been the one to slay his mother. If not, then Colman had no right to blame him and he acknowledged that he had no right to do such a thing.
Whatever the case was, thinking about such things was not important. He had to find Ruby, he had to know she was alright.
Asking a merchant if he had seen Ruby, Colman found that the merchant knew exactly where to find Ruby. Having done business with the head of Dublin's community of Walking People, the merchant directed Colman to a certain neighbourhood in the city and so Colman went in search of the damsel he had lost and what he had found was a neighbourhood filled with panhandlers, robbers, Walking People, unfrocked priests and wastrels with only the Walking People objecting to the presence of the panhandlers and robbers and at the center of them all, presiding amongst this assembly was Brian FitzGerald, a man whom Colman had presumed until then to have been a simple beggar.
Entering the neighbourhood, a place where the city guard would never return from, Colman approached FitzGerald. Upon noticing the Young Poet, the Beggar King stared with an amused smiled as he stroked his chin.
"Brian FitzGerald, King of Thieves, Vagabonds and Beggars…" Colman began, once he three feet before the old man. "I ask to know if the head of Dublin's Walking People might know where one of his community is?"
"My boy, you were the author of that little drama this morning, were you not?" inquired FitzGerald, lifting his eyepatch that showed a perfectly healthy eye.
"The head of Dublin's Walking People, sir!" demanded Colman. "You know who I am and yes, I was the author of that drama! Do not seek to change the subject!"
"Disrespectful boy…" growled FitzGerald, leaning forward and grabbing Colman by the shirt. "Here I am King, Pope and God of Dublin! I did not particularly like that drama of yours because it was in a language I could not understand and for that you shall hang!"