2. Aodhan

It is as if someone has struck me. The words scramble in my mind as I try to comprehend them. Home. Failure. Swan Island standard. For a moment I cannot breathe. This goal toward which I have worked for so long, taken from me. The Swan Island warriors have chosen their three new recruits, and I am not one of them. How can I return home with this news? Bereft of purpose?

Hrothgar's features soften; he knows that was he has told me is devastating. Tough trainer though he is, there is a hint of empathy in his eyes.

"I know this isn't what you wanted to hear. You're a good fighter, would be well paid as a man-at-arms or a lordling's bodyguard. But you are no spy. The bar is incredibly high here."

I nod, partly to divert my gaze so he cannot catch the hint of tears. "So, do I just take my things and leave?"

"Along those lines, yes. Remember what you promised at the start of the training program: that should you be unsuccessful in securing a place on Swan Island, you would not divulge any sensitive information you have learned here. Is that understood?"

I nod again, not trusting my voice. He is as good as asking me to forget the whole thing ever happened. Some chieftains would pay good money for some insight into the warrior band's methods and intel – not that I have been privy to much of the latter. That promise not to tell what I know was not extracted by Hrothgar at the beginning of my training, but by a tall red-headed warrior called Liobhan. She is head trainer here, but she was called away suddenly a week ago and Hrothgar stepped into her place. So, the final decision about who would join the Swan Island warriors had fallen to him. I allow myself to wonder just for a moment whether I would have been accepted if Liobhan had stayed, but I don't entertain that fantasy for long. All I can do is accept this defeat and get myself far away from this place.

Hrothgar leads me back to where we trainees have slept while over here at the Barn. He tells me that we will all share a meal this evening to say our farewells, then those of us who haven't made the cut will depart in the morning.

The mood around the dining table is subdued. Six of us will leave tomorrow and put our short chapter of hope behind us, while three will stay on as permanent members of the warrior band. It is clear who belongs to each group simply from their manner; Darragh, Maeve and Ronan cannot contain their grins, though they express genuine sadness that the rest of us have not been chosen.

I eat my meal in relative silence, exchanging an occasional polite remark with those who sit on either side of me. My mind is a mess of uncertainty. How will I explain to my family that this one skill I am good at is not enough? That flouting my responsibilities as the son of a noble household in pursuit of this dream has resulted in failure? I will not be a man-at-arms or a bodyguard; I am too nobly born for such positions. Instead I will be the overlooked second brother, the chieftain's loyal advisor.