Lys: History

Aithne involuntarily leaned back at the torrent of information about Greeks- a people she barely knew existed. They remained in the back of her mind as a sort of sub-clan of the Romans. To hear that they knew of the One God, yet squabbled over him was near to appalling.

Almost without taking a breath between, her master switched to questioning her again.
She blinked a few times, trying to catch up to him. "Brother- for he has us call him brother, though he is older than I by many years- Brother Parthalán came riding up to our rath when I was still very young. He appeared from nowhere, going nowhere, with an odd tongue that stumbled over speech more often than not. Though in all fairness, his name proved a challenge to us. Parthalán is not his true name. It is B- ba- is a mouthful and I pity him for having it."

She sat back and drew her knees up to her chin, remembering her home. "I lived on this shore of Eire. Your people would call mine Scotti, though that is a wide name and encompasses even our sworn enemies. We are a sailing folk, but also kept cattle. Between the two, our clan is ranked high- our clan chief is a king among clans, and my father is his Bard.

"When Brother Parthalán first came to our clan, my father feared the king would try and replace him with the monk. But this did not happen, and my father learned much at the monk's feet, and put song to the words he spoke. We are still learning- Brother Parthalán says one never stops, but we worship the One God, who made all things."

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