Gunnar Thorvaldsson, long-time Seansailear (Chancellor) of Ireland, is no more.

In full armour, with all his weapons, Gunnar's body lies at rest in a Viking dragon ship, laden with fineries from his shire as well as timber. There is a gentle evening breeze towards the sea and the sun just about to set. With a nod I give the command, and the sail of the ship is unfurled, and the rope attaching it to the port severed.

Silently and majestically the ship glides with its solitary, deceased passenger towards the sunset.

On the shore there's a bonfire, giving light and warmth to the group that has gathered to see Gunnar off on his final voyage. A dozen arrows have been set in the ground next to it. I lit the first one, pull it, and send it flying in a fiery arc to the deck of the ship.

Farewell, old friend. May your spirit find its way to where fallen heroes dwell.

I set the bow aside for the next to give a parting prayer or thought for Gunnar.

Robert stood at her shoulder as Seighin ordered Gubnnar's funeral ship to be launched. He stood numb with disbelief as she she fired the first flaming arrow into the ship. Gunnar had been the first to greet him when he came to this land. He had been the one who had elevated Robert to the peerage of Ireland, making him Larla of Desmond.

Gunnar had been both someone to admire and rely on. A brave warrior, a wise statesman and a true patriot. That he was now gone... Robert shook his head and sighed heavily. It was a blow for the country indeed.

Picking up the bow, he fitted an arrow to the string and dipped the pitch covered head into the flames. He tensed his muscles and pulled back, hard, then released. The arrow flew high, straight and true. Robert watched as more flames licked the wood and started to smoulder. He watched as the smoke billowed along with the sails. Fare thee well, Gunnar Thorvaldsson, may you feast with honour amongst your peers in the halls of your gods. and may the Grace of God be with you too. My Lord.

Not caring what any might think, after all they would soon be married, he slipped his arm around Seighin's waist and pulled her close, his cheek resting against her hair.