Daughter Of The Forest (60 page)

The shirt grew. It was surprising how much I could get done if I forgot about the pain, if I slept only when utter exhaustion forced it, if I kept going in light and dark. Whether love or fear drove me hardest, I could not say. But the shirt took shape as day followed day, and night followed sleepless night, as the breezes that blew in my little window took on the scents of autumn. Leaves burning. Fruit boiling in the preserving pan. River mists rising in early morning chill. There were sounds, too. Men unloading root crops to be stored in the barn. It was harvesttime, and I had been at Harrowfield almost a whole year. Women arguing. Cart wheels on the gravel path. One morning, a lone horseman riding out very early. It mattered little. It seemed, now I was locked away, the household had reverted to its peaceful old routine. As if I had never been. For I had seen nobody, since that one visit from Lady Anne; nobody but my guards and Lord Richard. Perhaps I was forgotten.

The waiting could not last forever. There came a day when I heard the sound of well-shod hooves in the courtyard, and jingling harnesses, and men’s voices. And that afternoon, when Richard came, it was to gloat. The bishop’s representative had arrived at last, and it was time for me to account for myself before a formal hearing. That would take place tomorrow, and then…Richard was elated, almost beside himself with glee. I thought, why does he hate his nephew so much? That was what it was all about. The feeling of power excited him, that was certain, but there was a particular gleam in his eye, when he spoke Red’s name, that I thought bordered on madness. He made a mistake, that day. Carried along on the tide of anticipated victory, he said too much.

“Let’s talk about fire.” He watched slit-eyed as I bound the shirt’s hemline with awkward, fumbling movements of needle and thread. Sometimes my fingers grew numb and it was hard to make them obey me. “If you have the right materials, you can do interesting things with fire. You’d be surprised who I learned that from. So would your father, my dear.”

For a moment I froze.

“Ah! Touched a nerve, did I? So we guessed right. She thought it must be you, when I gave a description. Want to hear more?”

I moved the needle under, over, through. Another stitch. And another.

“Won’t tell him that, of course. The learned father. Doesn’t need to know, does he? Your guilt is plain; we need add no more fuel to that fire.” He gave a sort of giggle. It was not a pleasant sound. “Joke in bad taste, sorry. Anyway, as I was saying. Had a very interesting time on my recent trip to your homeland, young woman. Lost a few men; that was unfortunate. Failed to secure the outpost I wanted; that was even more regrettable. But once I have the resources of Harrowfield at my disposal, there’ll be no stopping me. Minor setback. That was all. Put it behind me. The information I got, that’s a different matter.”

He leaned forward, eyes intent.

“Ways to make a hot fire. Ways to make a very special fire that consumes a body, leaving only bare bones behind. I’ve seen it employed. He showed me. One of your own kind; but he’s a man after my own heart. Astute. Battlesmart. Decisive. No false ideals about Eamonn. He’ll trade in what you want, if it suits him. Men. Arms. Information. If you’ve got something he wants, he’ll give.”

I was hard put to it to go on working, and I did not succeed in keeping my face calm. Eamonn. Eamonn of the Marshes? Doing deals with a Briton? I could scarce believe it. Both my father and Seamus Redbeard had considered Eamonn one of their staunchest allies. Hadn’t he been wed to Eilis? Who was playing games now?

“We’re not all like Hugh, you know,” went on Richard studying my expression. “Full of pompous ideals and half-baked do-goodery. If we were all like that, it wouldn’t be just the islands that would be lost. Your kind would be swarming all over us like vermin, and nothing would be safe; it would be the end of the civilized world. Believe me, it’s men like myself that hold the land secure so Hugh can potter about with his chickens and plant his precious oaks.”

I was staring at him now, not even pretending to go on working.

“Made the bargain of my life, this last trip. Told you before about that woman, didn’t I, remarkable woman, didn’t give her name, but she was a friend of Eamonn’s, hand in glove they were, and she’d been particularly interested in you last time we spoke. Told me that story, about the children of Sevenwaters and how they mysteriously disappeared.”

My heart was thumping. Woman? What woman? Surely he could not mean Eilis?

“I made an offer then. Said if you were Colum’s daughter, I’d accept payment for your safe return. Payment in land, preferably. A nice little parcel between the forest and the coast. Colum wouldn’t like that. But they said he’d gone half crazy, looking for the girl. Maybe he was crazy enough to give me what I wanted. It was worth a try.”

I was finding it difficult to breathe.

“She took the message back to Colum, that first time. Extraordinary woman. Mane of auburn hair, delectable figure, quite enchanting. Eamonn certainly seemed to think so. Wasn’t paying much attention to that pasty little wife of his. Anyway, she was kindness itself. Said she’d convey my offer, and gave me a couple of her own men to escort me back to the coast. Still got them. Sound fellows. Silent, and handy with a knife, or their hands. So, I went back this time expecting a pretty good response from Sevenwaters. I was optimistic. Not only would I get you out of my way, I’d gain an advantage I never hoped for. Colum’s always been the hardest nut to crack. Not one for negotiation, not even with his allies. Position of strength. Everyone’s afraid of him. But this was different, I reasoned. Only daughter, and all that.” I waited while he polished his fingernails and held his hand out, studying them. He was playing with me, savoring every moment.

“Why would a chieftain of Erin sell out to such as me, you wonder? What was in it for Eamonn? He wasn’t letting on, not fully. But he had an interest in you, and in your father. Don’t forget, it was in his house I first heard the tale of Colum’s sons, how they vanished one day with not a trace left behind. Seems I’m not the only one interested in a little—expansion. Colum’s lands may be ripe for the picking, in the very near future. And Eamonn has a few tricks I could use in the field. I have men, and with the resources of Harrowfield I can arm them better than any other band of fighters, on either side of the water. What couldn’t we achieve, between the two of us?”

You’re a fool, I thought. A power-crazed fool. Eamonn is merely playing with you, and so is the lady Oonagh. Once they have what they want, they will discard you like the peel of an onion. In this game, you are the merest beginner.
But what did my father say?

“Well, this visit really surprised me,” he said expansively. I’d left the men to get on with it, and traveled as I usually do, very discreetly, to visit my ally on his own territory. Marshlands. Endless peat bogs. Desolate spot. No wonder he wants to expand southward. Still, it’s easy to defend. Anyway, I got there safely. She was visiting again, the redhead, stunning woman. But Colum had knocked back my offer. Daughter or no daughter, he wouldn’t budge. Said if she chose to go and live among foreigners, she was no daughter of his. She’d made her bed and could lie on it. And if I thought he’d even consider giving away his hard-won land for such a feeble reason, I must be even more stupid than the rest of my kind. That hurts, doesn’t it, witch? Don’t put your hand over your face, you can’t hide that fetching little tear trickling down your cheek. Yes, it looks as if they don’t want you back. Not that I can blame them; you’re hardly the most appealing sight right now. Well, I was pretty disappointed, I can tell you, coming back empty-handed. But then the lady made me a counteroffer. Asked a lot of questions about you first. Had you any allies here, how were you spending your time, what were you telling folks about yourself. So I let her know about Hughie boy, how he was hot for you, but you weren’t playing, not yet; how you’d lost your voice, so you couldn’t tell secrets; how you spent your time wrecking your hands with your witch work. I could tell she didn’t like my answers, but she believed them all right.

“That was when she made the offer. I’d get information, very special information, about Colum’s movements for the autumn and the winter, enough to make taking that bay a certainty. Enough to give me the foothold I needed. In return, all I had to do was remove you from the picture. She even told me how to do it. Oh, she didn’t mind me playing with you first. She understood that’s part of the fun. An irresistible part. But make sure, she said, that the girl burns and her witch’s work burns with her. That’s the only way you can destroy a sorceress. Hot fire. Eamonn had the wherewithal to make it, and he showed me himself. First you buy a nice little cargo of bluestone, ostensibly for dyeing, you understand? Costs more than a few head of your best cattle, that does, but worth it. Well worth it. You grind it down in a mortar, very fine, until you get a powder that looks as harmless as dust. You mix it with an oil of the best quality, fit to anoint a bishop’s brow—amusing piece of irony, that. Then you’re ready for business. It doesn’t take much of your mixture, sprinkled over the faggots, to set up a nice blaze. Colorful, too—the green is especially pretty. It flares. It’s hot. It’s hungry. But Eamonn, he’s not content with that. He prepares his wood in advance, leaves it soaking, eating up the mixture until it’s full to bursting. Then he dries it. You should see that, when the flames lick at it. I brought home an interesting load of small ash logs, last time I paid my friend a visit. I plan to use them in the very near future. That was what the woman told me, after all. Do it soon, she said. Destroy this girl soon. You must do it before…tell me, my dear, how many of these shirts have you made?”

I sat extremely still. I was afraid to breathe.

“Let’s have a look, shall we?” He rose in a single fluid movement and laid his hands on my basket. “Not that I believe in magic, myself. But still, I made a promise. How many have we, four, five?”

I sprang to my feet, and my hands went out, clutching desperately at the basket, but I had grown weaker than I realized and he brushed me aside like some troublesome insect.

“One, two, three, four, five. We have been working hard, haven’t we? And most of another. Well done, little sorceress. Still, there’s not long now. I shouldn’t think I’ll have much difficulty complying with the lady’s request. Make sure you do it before the girl finishes, she said. Gather them together, the little sorceress and her work. Burn them together. And bring me back a report, she said. I want a full description.” He smiled at me. “Neat conclusion, isn’t it? Tidy for all of us. Hugh would approve. He always liked a tidy life.”

Go away. Go now, before shock and fear and loathing overwhelm me. Go now, before rage makes me try something foolish. Breathe, Sorcha. In, out. In, out
.

“Tidy in every particular. Well, almost. The witch girl dies; the valley is saved. Elaine marries Hugh. Richard of Northwoods establishes his outpost on the far shore. Eamonn of the Marshes adds a nice little stretch of forest to his territory. The mysterious red-haired lady gets her wish. We all live happily ever after. Pity about Simon. He’s the one piece that doesn’t quite fit. There could have been a handy spot for that boy under my command, if he’d been able to learn a little discipline. Good skills in the field. Somebody taught him well. But he got too inquisitive for his own good. Overheard what was best kept silent. Saw something he shouldn’t. Couldn’t be trusted with what he knew. Interested, aren’t you?”

I could not bring myself to pick up my work again, but remained crouched by the basket, my arms stretched over it in protection.
Go away
. His presence contaminated the very air we breathed. And yet, I needed to hear the end of his story. The end of this particular truth.

“Unfortunate, it was. Own nephew, and all that. But I knew the boy; straight back to his brother, it would have been, and out with the information. And even Hugh couldn’t have ignored that. For as you know, our kind don’t mix with yours. Sworn enemies. Chalk and cheese. But he’d seen me, and heard me, with Eamonn’s man. Heard who knew what? So I had to issue an instruction for him to be—removed. Silenced. Eliminated. Fortunately, I have a man who’s expert at these things. Problem was, I left it just a little bit too long. Big mistake. The boy up and vanished. Went off on his own, who knew where and why? I expect he thought he’d be some sort of hero. Simon was always like that, acted first, thought afterwards. Of course I went after him, had to be seen doing the right thing, close kin and so on. Besides, with what he knew, every moment he was out there was one too many. Fruitless search; and when I got back, they were all dead. Every one of my men. Severed limbs, shredded flesh. Scattered bones in the mud. Every last one. Take years to build up my special force to that level of skill again.”

His tone was bitter. I thought, this is the measure of the man, that he values his people merely as tools in his quest for power.

“Colum. It had to be Colum and his sons. The elusive, evasive warrior lord, who seemed to be able to sweep his opponent’s pieces from the board whenever he chose, and disappear as silently as he attacked. Colum of Sevenwaters. No wonder so many men hate and fear him. I came to the conclusion Simon had been captured, and had squealed. Who else could have revealed my men’s position? The boy turned out as weak as his brother, all bravado on the surface, no iron underneath. Handy enough with a sword or a bow, or with their fists; but you can’t rely on them when things get tough. Wouldn’t you agree? Where’s Hugh now, when you need him? Hasn’t exactly rushed back to rescue the little wife, has he? Got better things to do. Whatever they are, and I’d dearly love to know what they are. Well, I came home. Reported to my sister, your boy’s lost. Nobody knows where. That part was true enough.

“Bit of a worry when Hugh went off looking for him, some time later. As if he didn’t believe what I’d told them. I was worried about that small piece of information that might just get out, assuming the boy was still alive somewhere. Thought maybe you knew something about it; why else would my nephew drag an Irish brat home with him? I wanted to make you talk. If you were kin to Sevenwaters, it was important to make you talk, before you blabbed the truth to my nephew. I thought that. But I couldn’t get near you, he guarded you like some precious jewel. I watched you. After a while, I began to change my mind. You’ll never talk. The boy’s fooling himself, if he thinks so. You’re a girl; girls scream when they’re hurt. They cry when they’re upset. Girls don’t hold out for days and moons and years with never a squeak out of them. You’ll burn without uttering a sound. And I will take immense pleasure in lighting the fire, my dear. A slap in the face for Colum. He may not want to pay for your return; I understand that. But he won’t like the tale I send back for his ears only; of how his daughter perished by a very special kind of fire. That tale will keep him awake at night.”