Colman's father had been the stablemaster at Cahir Castle. Ever gentle with the horses in his charge, Colman saw his paterfamilias as a better man, more of an angel, than those would treat such beautiful animals so cruelly. One of Colman's earliest memories of his father had been him taking his son to meet a horse that had newly been acquired for the stables: a big black stallion that was gentler than a lamb. That had been thirteen years ago when Colman had been three years old. It was not unlikely that the stallion merely seemed big to him solely because of how small he was, but even then, Colman could still not help but think of the horse as a giant.
For the next three years, Colman had insisted on helping his father with the horses, even though there were already plenty of stable hands. His father would laugh and keep him close by at all times, for a horse could be dangerous just as much as a horse could be friendly. They were like people with different personalities, some kind, some mean-spirited and there was no greater example and than an old white stallion, more vicious than any dog could be and willing to bite or kick anyone who was not the master of the castle, whom often rode him.
Master Quinn had been a kind, well-liked man about Cahir Castle, loved by his family. Losing him and his mother in the same day had been the darkest day of Colman's life, so he thought, but with that day having been the violent end of a siege, the Young Poet could not help but think that there was no possible way that day could have gone any different.
"But there is…" Ruby commented. "You could have been killed as well."
Now sitting within one of the houses, Colman looked up at Ruby as she helped other women with the cooking. He could not help but nod. Indeed, he could have been killed, but why hadn't he? Did God have some part for him to play in some vast eternal plan? If so then what was that part? What part could God have possibly have had him for him to play? He was a poet, a playwright, an orator, what used could God possibly have had for him? Alas, he knew not.
Would those who worshipped other deities before the coming of Christianity have been able to figure out if their gods had a part to play for them in their plans? Who could say? They of the Abrahamic faiths were content with one god, but the paynims had many gods. If God had a vast eternal plan, then could not those paynim deities have had vast eternal plans of their own, sometimes coming into conflict with that of other deities? If that was the case, then Colman was grateful he was a Christian. It was better to wonder if he had a part to play in the vast eternal plan of one deity than the conflicting plans of many.
"Did your adoptive grandmother know anything about your natural parents, Ruby?" Colman asked. "Anything about your father?"
"She simply told me that she had found me on a riverbank." Ruby answered, taking a seat and looking Colman in the eye as she cut vegetables for a stew. "I know not if my parents were Irish or English settlers, all I know is that they might no longer live."
"They could have been victims of the Tudor Conquest much like my parents, Hugh's and even Master Gardiner's." commented Colman. It was not unlikely, there were few that Colman could name who had not lost their families to the conquering Tudor Huns. It mattered not if one's family was descended from the Gaels or from the Normans. The Tudor Huns had made no differentiation.
"I am aware of that." Ruby said, placing her knife down for a moment to wipe away a tear. "All my life I have been hoping that they might still be alive so I might find them again."
Under his breath, Colman muttered: "Not everyone is able to hope that."
Having heard what, the Young Poet had said, the Walking Girl commented: "I know, but still, I hope one day I will find them. They may be my only family left. I have an adoptive great-uncle and cousin all the way in Kilbrittain."
"Have you any thing to remember them by?" inquired Colman, taking the knife and continuing with cutting the vegetables in Ruby's place.
"A pair of baby shoes." Ruby replied, giving a smile. "It may seem strange, but I would like my own daughter to have them. If I am to have a son, I will make a pair just for him."
Smiling as well, Colman said: "I don't think that sounds strange at all." He did not think about asking whom Ruby would think her husband would be. He had no reason to believe it would be him. Wherefore would it be him? He was simply a poet, playwright and orator… He had not the bravery to be a soldier, the piousness to be a monk or even the strength to chop wood. What good was he? And one as common looking as he? No, no… After seeing Apollo why would Ruby want him as her husband?
Upon finishing cutting a carrot, Colman placed the knife down. Why was he thinking the way he was? Apollo was already married, or about to be, Colman could not remember which. Whatever the case would be, Apollo would not take Ruby as a wife, so why was he worried? Perhaps because it was of his own failings that led him to his occupations as well as his own appearance. Colman could not deny that Apollo was brave and strong and better looking than him, so perhaps… No, no, it was nothing. It was nothing at all save for his own failings and appearance.
Ruby's husband would not be him. Would not, could not, her husband would be someone braver than him, more pious than him, stronger than him, better-looking than him…
No! There had to be a chance for him! There just had to! There had to, did there not?
"Colman?"
Shaking his head, Colman looked at Ruby. "Yes, Ruby?"
"You seemed to be lost in thought. Are you alright?"
What could he say? Tell her about what was going on in his mind? Ask who she thought her husband, the father of her children, would be? Ask if there was any chance for them? No, no, he could not, he would not.
"I'm… Not sure." He could not lie to her, but at the same time he could not lie to himself. He was not alright and he knew that. Without thinking, he asked: "Do you think me a coward, Ruby?"
"Why would I ever do that?" asked Ruby, taking the knife to continue cutting vegetables herself. "You were very brave today and I know we have not known each other long, but I am proud to know you nonetheless."
Colman could do naught but nod. Yes, perhaps he had been brave. Not brave enough to be a soldier, but brave nonetheless. Did brave people have to be soldiers? Possibly not and after the tragedy of his childhood, Colman had no desire to be a soldier.
"I suppose I was brave, still I was frightened when Master Gardiner told me to be silent."
"He frightened me as well." Said Ruby.
"You had a better reason to be afraid than I did." Commented Colman, as he thought about what to say next. Alas, he knew not what to say. What could he say? Sighing, he looked at Ruby as she helped with the cooking. Like her dancing, her cutting of the vegetables for the stew was poetry given physical form. She had the grace of a deer!
A deer? Perhaps her parents had belonged to the MacCarthy clan, whose coat of arms was a great red stag.