Making his way through the streets of Dublin, Colman thought that the possibility of Ruby loving him. Could Cupid have struck them both? He could only hope, but as Gardiner had told him, the gods of Greece and Rome had been cruel, ultimately resulting in them being replaced. Was love kind or was it cruel? Was it both? Was it neither? Was it both, yet neither? Colman had no idea, for who could possibly understand love anymore than one could understand God or the Devil? Could one understand the sea? Could one understand the seasons? The coldest winter was no crueller than the hottest summer, but even during such hardships there was kindness to be found.
Stopping for a moment, Colman wondered if he was truly poet, playwright and orator. At the moment, it seemed he was more of a philosopher than any of those three.
Noticing a man walking down the street, the Young Poet looked over, wondering who it might have been. FitzGerald returning to the community he ruled over as king, pope and God, perhaps?
If only.
Rather than FitzGerald, Colman saw Apollo Sidney walking down the street. Running a hand through his golden hair, Apollo stopped for a moment and looked at his reflection in a nearby window, before walking once more and finally noticing Colman staring at him.
"Good evening, firend and neighbour!" called Apollo. From the way he had pronounced "friend", there was no doubt about the fact that Apollo was drunk. Drunkard, womanizer, Apollo was many things and few of them were good. Upon realizing who he was talking to, the Soldier then said: "No! Not friend! Irish pig!"
Colman was tempted to call Apollo a "New English dog", but he was of the belief that though he was of the group of people that included the Gaelic Irish and the Old English, the New English were Irish as well and that an Ireland divided was not something worth having.
"You are Irish yourself, Apollo." Commented Colman. "Gaelic Irish, Old English, New English, we are all inhabitants of this isle, therefore you are Irish yourself!"
"Catholic pig then!" snarled Apollo, stepping forward and grabbing Colman by the shirt.
"I am Catholic, you are Protestant, but we are both Christian. I have reason to hate you, Apollo, but it will not be for being of a different people than my own or being of a different faith."
Chuckling, Apollo said: "I hate people for any reason and I kill people for any reason!"
"As a man who fought in Bloody Bess' host, I bet you do!" Colman uttered with a blank expression.
Slamming the Young Poet against a nearby wall, Apollo drew a dagger and snarled: "Do not trifle with me, boy! I fought at Belleek! I fought at Cahir Castle and when we got into the castle that rabble of rogues knew not what they faced! We defiled, ransacked and burned to our heart's delight!"
Noting the dagger, Colman realized he had to be careful. Apollo was drunk and a drunk man was an unpredictable man, indeed had he not gone from chuckling to his current mood in the blink of an eye? What could he say to the Soldier? Well, he could start with the obvious.
"I know." Said Colman. "I was there at Cahir Castle. You slew my parents or don't you remember doing that? Don't you remember a six-year-old boy staring up at you, terrified at what he had just seen?"
"Did I do that?" inquired Apollo, his tone as casual as if he was discussing the weather. "During the war we disposed of so many undesirables. What makes your parents so important?"
"They were my parents! The only family I had!"
Sheathing his dagger once more, Apollo casually said: "I fail to see how that is my concern. If a farmer kills a wolf, he has a nuisance gone. If we New English kill some of you Irish barbarians, it is simply some undesirables disposed of." Alas, immediately after that Apollo drew his dagger once more and proceeded to inspect the blade.
Colman had to be careful. He did not wish to be killed. He had to remain calm, he would not let his anger get the better of him.
Alas, Colman never expected that Apollo would then toss the blade aside and attack him without any provocation. Truly a drunken man in his unpredictability was the most dangerous kind.
Thankfully, Apollo still had some self-control over himself when he was drunk. With merely one punch, he sent Colman down. When the Young Poet rose to his feet, he merely said: "You hit like a child."
The countenance of the drunken Soldier turned wrathful. He prepared to strike again, but restrained himself, only asking: "That girl you were with today, what was her name again? Rachel? Rebecca? Rosamund?"
"Ruby." Colman answered. He had hoped that Apollo had noticed him there that day, though he was rather baffled that Apollo had forgotten the name of the girl whose hand he had kissed just that day? He also would have preferred that Apollo had forgotten about Ruby altogether. Why had he even told Apollo her name? Had he denied knowing her name, would Apollo have believed it? True, a drunk man was often not an intelligent man, but Apollo did not seem so drunk as to be stupid.
"Ruby…" repeated Apollo. "It sounds strange, heathenish."
"Some might sound the same of your name." commented Colman.
Rather than growing angry, Apollo could only nod. "Aye… Aye, that is true." Running a hand through his hair once more, Apollo sighed and walked off, before turning and saying to Colman: "Do not get in my way when I come to see Ruby! If you do, I will kill you!"
"I do not think she would want to see you, sir!" exclaimed Colman.
"All women want to see me!" returned Apollo.
And with that, the Captain of the Guard walked off. Where was he going? Colman was not sure, but with Apollo being drunk, he was pretty sure that the Soldier was on his way home to sleep. If one did not go home to sleep when night came, Colman knew not what manner of a person they were. A strange one no doubt, unless Apollo had a rendezvous with someone of the fairer sex, in which case he would no doubt be sleeping afterwards.
Sighing just as Apollo had, Colman continued on his way to the cathedral. That he was granted quarters there was a good thing, perhaps Gardiner would allow for the discussion of the symbol on the locket, the Triskelion, to wait until morning. Would he? How was he to be sure? Gardiner was only human and humans could be as reasonable as they could be unreasonable. Either it would wait until morning, or the discussion would happen as soon as Gardiner was aware he had returned.
Personally, Colman was hoping it could wait until the morning. Such discussions could wait until the morning. That was what he believed.
As he continued walking, a question came to the Young Poet's mind. What did Apollo mean when said all women wanted to see him? Would he resort to defilement or had he some sort of magic spell to cast on women who were not interested in him? Would that not count as defilement as well? Colman dreaded the thought. Was there magic? Was there not?
Colman knew not and in a case such as this, he hoped not.