‘Has it happened to you?’

‘No. I have been lucky.’

Her face down, she seems to be pondering what I have said.

‘How is he your friend if he doesn’t speak? He must speak for you to know him.’

‘That is a good question. I knew him years ago, years before he arrived on the island. His name is Andalus, General of Axum, a very powerful man. Years ago I was very powerful here too. You would have been born soon after I left and stopped being Marshal of this settlement. Between us we brought peace. We had known long years of war. But we ended it because we could see that it was of no use. We ended the senseless deaths of thousands of young people.’

I look at Elba to see if I am going too far but she has her back to me and does not turn around.

‘This was more than twenty years ago, twenty-two years in fact since I last saw him. Our two groups were at peace. We had promised to take care of our own and never to go to the other’s territory. Never. So I thought I would not see him again. And then he turns up on the island. It got me thinking.’

The girl asks, ‘What did you think?’

‘I began to wonder if we were about to go to war again. Don’t you think it’s strange that my friend should turn up in Bran territory after promising that neither he nor his kind would ever come near us again?’

At this point Elba turns around and says, ‘That’s enough stories.’

Amhara says, ‘I would like to hear more.’ She looks at Elba, who gives in easily.

‘Alright. A bit longer,’ she says.

I continue, ‘There was another reason I came back.’

‘What was that?’

‘He and I were powerful men, with ideas that suited the time. Some didn’t like them, said the ideas were barbaric. They tried to stop us.’

‘Were they right?’

I don’t answer. Instead I say, ‘I’ve come back to try and fix things.’ I look at her mother when I say this.

Elba puts down the plate she was holding. ‘She’s too young, Bran. Amhara, no more questions.’

The child stares at me from across the table, ignoring her mother.

After a few moments she says, ‘I would like to see your friend.’

‘Your mother has seen him,’ I say.

‘Have I?’ She seems to forget her instructions to Amhara.

‘Yes. At the kitchens. I came in with him.’

Elba furrows her brow. ‘I don’t remember him, sorry.’

‘He was sitting opposite me. You have also seen me with him in the town.’

She shakes her head. ‘I am sorry.’

I am surprised. He is not a forgettable sight.

Elba turns to Amhara and says, ‘Now it is bedtime. Say goodnight.’

The girl ignores her. She looks at me and says, ‘She’s not my mother, you know.’

Elba drops a pan and rounds on her. ‘You are not to say that.’ Her voice is a breathless whisper. ‘What did we say?’

Amhara looks at the table. She has a scowl on her face. ‘Well, you’re not. You just pretend to be.’

‘Off you go! Goodnight.’

Amhara walks away without a word.

I smile apologetically at Elba. For a moment I do not know what to say. I want to ask about what Amhara said, but Elba speaks first. ‘The child is overly imaginative. I wish you wouldn’t go putting ideas into her head. The story of Andalus and you is a good one, very creative, but should not be told to a little girl.’

‘It is not a story, Elba. It needs to be told. And people need to listen.

And I don’t believe someone can be overly imaginative. Without ideas, visions, we may as well be dogs.’ I surprise myself with this outburst.

Elba says nothing.

I cede, ‘But yes, perhaps a story of impending war is not one to be told to a child before bed.’

She nods her head. ‘I am going to dish up. I have some wine,’ inclining her head in the direction of a cupboard. ‘Would you pour some?’

We do not talk much after that and the silences are slightly uncomfortable. I want to talk about Amhara’s comments, about Elba not remembering Andalus, but I take care to avoid making her angry.

Towards the end of the evening though, I tell her about my earlier talk with the Marshal. I notice she does not look at me or pass comment throughout. ‘What do you think?’ I ask eventually.

She looks straight at me. ‘I think the Marshal is right. And I don’t think you should concern yourself with these stories anymore.’

This takes me aback. ‘Right? Right about what?’

‘Just right. Right about everything. Our first Marshal was Madara.

A great man, albeit a violent one. He was a saviour to some, a beast to others. But whatever he was, he is dead to us. We have moved on. You should not concern yourself with altering names.’

I do not know what she means. ‘No. You are incorrect. We have to acknowledge these alterations. We have to find the persons responsible.

I can see that the torpor of life here means that people seem to accept whatever stories they are told because not to would be too much trouble.’ I have been banging my fork on the table. She covers my hand with hers and holds a finger to her lips.

‘You’ll wake the child.’

I nod. ‘I apologise. But Madara is a fiction, a made-up person, a character in a play.’

Elba gets up, just as she did last night and goes to stand by the window. ‘Have you heard of the legend of Bran? You must have since your name is Bran. We tend to know things that are close to us.’

‘I have.’

‘Then you will know Bran too was once a great king. He ruled in a time when no one can remember, when no one can remember having been told of. He ruled a kingdom located somewhere in the east. Somewhere. Head east and as soon as you see the flowing rivers, soaring mountains and fruit falling off trees, you will know you are there. They say strange creatures live there.’

She pauses. ‘He came to power at a dangerous time for his people.

They were weak. But he defeated all who came before him. He went looking for neighbours to destroy. He protected his people, made them strong, made them rulers of all others. Then one day he died. He was shot in the back by one of his own marksmen. An accident. They pulled the arrow out but that was what killed him. He bled to death and his blood soaked into the ground of his beloved land.’

She talks as if reciting something memorised.

‘The people were frightened. Their saviour was gone. They took a knife and cut off his head. They took it to the edge of the kingdom, the shoreline. They placed it on a stake facing out to sea. The glare was so terrible, so frightening, it warned off all invaders. His country was never conquered and it became a peaceful place without him, with just the memory of him.’

‘Are you saying that is what has happened to me?’

Elba scoffs. ‘No. It is just a story. Something that happened. That might have happened.’

I go over to join her at the window. I hesitate, then put my hand on her shoulder. To my surprise she tilts her head, so her cheek is resting on my fingers.

‘What did she mean?’

‘Who?’

‘Amhara. What did she mean when she said you weren’t her mother?’

She stiffens beneath my touch.

‘She is approaching a difficult age.’

‘Still, what did she mean?’ I am aware I risk antagonising the only person who has taken an interest in me but the truth is more important.

Elba pulls away and turns to face me. ‘She meant nothing. What do you mean asking such a question?’

‘Who is the father?’

‘I told you.’

‘Is she mine?’

Elba hesitates, then laughs. She steps back. She laughs again. It is a shallow laugh.

I continue. ‘She isn’t your daughter, is she?’

The smile disappears.

‘She ’s Tora’s daughter. When I first arrived I noticed it but I’ve only just realised I did. I saw Tora in her. I see myself in her too.’

Elba’s eyes flicker. Her lips move but she says nothing. She simply stares.

I reach out and take hold of her arms. ‘Tell me what is going on.