The warband was tired and drained from their fruitless efforts. Long they had stayed away from settlements and security, roving the wilds as was their chieftain's orders. A series of raids all along the border was what he had demanded and it was what they had delivered, but all for little or no gain. Reprisal, revenge, justice. These were the words used to give reason to this endeavour. As they did onto us, so shall we do onto them tenfold. At least those were the Chieftain's words as they set out on this trek. 

He lay there in the blackness, listening to the slow rise and fall of his breath. He knew his eyes were open but no light had yet reached the inside of his Rath. His  sleep had been solid and restful. Yet awareness, being the gift that it  was, had roused him to a subtle intent which may yet come to pass this day. With a hefty sigh he rose, big legs lifting his heavy muscular frame upright from his bed.  Stepping naked out into the darkness a cool breeze dimpled his skin as the scents of the night filled his nostrils.

The return of the rains was a welcome thing to the island, for long had been the thirst upon her. It brought a much needed relief to me, to see the heavy clouds cover the sun and feel the cool relief of the water as it fell from the sky. Before the heat broke, the sun had caused the usual greens to run to brown and from there the land itself had shown its scorched soil. Waves of heat had continued their assault on the once verdant landscape so that the meteorologists felt compelled to check and adjust their records.

There had been no harvest worthy of mention and the people grew more concerned. They had first come onto this land and found it ripe with fruits, abundant and green. Now the land was as waste and so it was that the peoples came to their wise poet.

It was he who had calmed the storms with his words and saved them upon the harshness of the waves. He who had cleared the mists which had blinded them and brought them to safe harbour. He who had stood with the Goddess of the land to hear her name, that it may be placed upon the Island.
So it was to him again that they did turn.

The Sunday sun beat and bludgeoned down upon the island. Its heat and fires remarkable for their intensity. Remarkable in that everyone was remarking about it where ever we walked. Snatches of conversation sticking to my consciousness as we navigated the crowd.

“Sure isn’t it a great bit of warmth? Won’t be needing a sun holiday this year.”

“I hope those young folk are wearing sunblock or at least using aftercare. Too much U.V. and its skin cancer, I’m tellin you.”

“Had a mate return from Spain just the other day and they are spittin that I have a better tan from staying home than they got over there. Ha!”

“This hose ban is killing my garden and the flowers. I’m out with the watering can twice a day doing the rounds, and then they go power hosing the streets and that big feckin cross in the park for yer man’s visit? Nonsense.”