Daughter Of The Forest (66 page)

I found my voice, with some difficulty.

“It’s all right,” I croaked. “Lady Anne means no harm. And—and I would like, very much, to be clean and warm again. Please.”

“It’s not the lady I’m concerned about,” said Conor. “What guarantee have we of your safety, once you step outside that door? How can you have any trust in these people, after what was done to you tonight?”

“Conor.” I stood up shakily, clutching at Lady Anne’s arm. “I’m tired and dirty, and I promise I will be back soon. I have lived here almost a year; a long time. This is the closest thing I have had to a home since we left Sevenwaters, and I have farewells to say. I know it is hard for you to believe, but these people have been—kind to me, in their way. And as you say, I have had a strong protector, who is still here. I will not be harmed.”

“Then Liam shall go with you, and stand guard.”

“No. These people know me. You must not leave this room; they are still angry and confused. Please, Conor.”

“After what Sorcha has done for us, we are scarcely in a position to say no to anything,” put in Padriac.

So I went with Lady Anne, along a hallway of curious eyes, as far as a square, neat chamber where Megan was already busy with hot water and rosemary oil and clean towels. She was a little shy this time, as if the wonders of the evening had distanced me too far for comfort. She took her time washing my hair, and later, as I tried to comb out the tangles, she held up the blue dress in dismay.

“Oh, dear! I’m afraid this one’s beyond repair. You’ll never wear this again.” She bundled it up, as if to discard it to a rag heap or even to the midden.

“No!” I whispered. “No…”

Megan turned her head, brown curls bobbing.

“This gown is mine,” I managed. A sweet smile spread over her features.

“You can talk now,” she said in wonderment. “Your voice is just as I thought it would be. But this gown must at least have a good cleaning. Leave it with me; I’ll do what I can, and get it back to you safely.”

“No,” I insisted. “There’s no time.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lady Anne, who had been sorting linen on a side table.

“My brothers,” I said, wincing as my comb caught on another knot.

“Here, let me do that.” Megan took the comb from my hand and began, expertly, to separate the strands of my neglected hair. At least the oil had removed the small crawling things.

“They’ll be wanting to leave at first light,” I said. “I have to be ready. I’ll need my boots; and I will take this gown, at least, when I go.” I had not many possessions. I did not care what I left behind, but for the blue gown marked by water, and fire, and blood. Three things were precious: this gown, and Finbar’s amulet, and my wedding ring.

Megan’s face was a study in confusion.

“But—but what about Lord Hugh?” she said straight out, heedless of Lady Anne. “The young men, your brothers, I can see why they might want to go, and fast; you’ve only got to hear what folks are saying around the house. They’re best out of here. But you? You can’t just leave. What about him?” Then she blushed, and dropped her eyes. “Not my place, I know. Sorry.”

“Indeed.” You could not tell, from Lady Anne’s voice, what she thought on the matter. “Jenny, I must leave you for a little. My son—my younger son—is returned; I have not spoken with him alone yet. A few moments. I’ll come back for you soon. Please wait here for me.”

“Did you see?” asked Megan as the door closed behind her mistress. “Simon, Lord Hugh’s brother—he’s here, large as life, when they all swore he was dead, killed by the—well, they did say that, and yet he’s back. Lost his memory, apparently; can’t recall anything since the time he left here with Richard’s men. Lord Hugh found him in some monastery, out-of-the-way place, an island I think they said. Lady Anne was dying to talk to Simon, but couldn’t go, not until she attended to you. And what with Lord Hugh’s injury, and all…”

“Megan…” I touched her arm; it was hard to get back into the way of using words.

“How bad is—is he all right? Did they stop the bleeding, did they—”

“Still in one piece,” she said, looking at me sideways. “But they rode out again straight after, him and Ben and one or two more. Lord Hugh had his arm in a sling, and a strapping on his shoulder. Looking for his uncle. Stayed around just long enough to get patched up, that was all. Master Simon wanted to go with him, eager for it, but Lord Hugh wouldn’t let him. Told Simon to take charge here instead. That way his mother could see him before he went rushing off again. Are you really sure you want to go home?”

The question caught me off balance.

“It’s best if I go,” I said. “I am not one of you, and I never can be.”
What if the wound starts to bleed again? What if he finds Richard and…Why didn’t someone stop him?
“I have brought nothing but trouble here. Now it’s over. It’s time to go back to the forest.”

“Did you ask Lord Hugh what he thinks about that?” Megan’s glance was sharp as she fastened the wrists of my clean gown.

What if he is too weak to ride, what if his enemies lie in wait? What if he does not return, before it is time for me to go?

“Did you ask him?” She smoothed my hair back and tied it with a ribbon to match the gown, the soft blush pink of an autumn rose. An impractical shade.

“This is what Lord Hugh would want,” I said. “I don’t belong here, and my brothers need me.”
And he will forget. Once the doom is lifted from him; perhaps even now. Perhaps even from the moment he took his arm from where it held me safe, and put the mask over his face again
.

Megan raised her brows at me as she began to clear away bottles and bowls and cloths. “Perhaps you should ask Lord Hugh when he comes back,” she said. “I wouldn’t be in Richard of Northwoods’s shoes tonight, for anything.”

When we returned to the parlor, things had changed. The best wine and wheaten bread had been provided, with cold roast meats, and Lady Anne herself was cutting wedges of cheese. I looked quickly around the room, but there was no sign of Red, or of Ben. My brothers looked slightly more respectable, though their long tangled hair and fierce eyes sat oddly with the neat plain clothes they now wore. Father Dominic had gathered them around him, by the window, and he spoke with them quietly. Finbar stood at the back of the group, silent. With Conor’s translation and a range of gestures, the others seemed to be managing quite well. I saw knives in my brothers’ belts. It had been risky, I thought, allowing them weapons. Whose idea could that have been? Perhaps nobody had dared to refuse.

Leaning on the hearth, there was another man; the tall, golden-haired man who could not be Simon, and yet, incredibly, must be Simon, for at his feet Alys stood quivering with joy, her tail wagging so hard it seemed the two halves of her body moved in opposite directions. A dog does not make mistakes, not when she has waited so long for her master’s return.

How do you read a person’s face, when his past has been wiped away? Simon was older; in the three years since I had last seen him, he had grown from a boy to a man. He had the same straight nose and strong jaw as his brother, but the mouth was more generous, the eyes less guarded. There were no scars on neck, or ear, or well-muscled arm where the shirt was rolled above the elbow. And yet, how could that be? Did he remember nothing? I glanced over at my brothers. Intent on the priest’s words, they showed not a flicker of recognition. That was just as well. Simon’s bright eyes were as innocent and merry as a child’s; his expression quite without guile.

“Simon,” said Lady Anne, “this is Sorcha, of whom I spoke to you. Sorcha is—is—”

“Red’s wife,” said Simon, looking past his mother, and straight into my eyes. I saw his face change. He too had worn a mask, and for the instant that he let it slip, I knew that whatever he had forgotten, he had not forgotten me.

“Sorcha. That name suits you well,” he said quietly. “I had not thought my brother would wed a woman of Erin.”

“It was not…he did not…” My heart was thumping. He knew me, I was certain of it. And if he remembered me, he remembered my brothers, and…but then how could he stand there, smiling, with them so close? Where was the frantic, damaged boy I had struggled to nurse back to some semblance of sanity? The boy without hope, who clung to my tales for survival through the nightmare of pain and shame? And why did this man bear no scars?

“You did a remarkable thing tonight,” Simon went on. “It is almost past the understanding of our people, that such a transformation could be possible. For now, they dwell on the wonder of it; by tomorrow, some will dismiss it as a trick of the light, and others tuck it in the back of their memory to be brought out only as a tale for their grandchildren. And there are some, I’m afraid, who may start to think again of sorcery.”

“You need not fear for your brother,” I said with some difficulty. “I will not remain here to be a burden to him. We had—we had an agreement…”

“Interesting,” he said softly. “What agreement was that?”

I was saved from reply by Father Dominic, who now rose and came over to greet me. Lady Anne, glowing with happiness at her son’s return, had barely listened to our words.

“Young woman,” said the priest, “your brothers have told me something of your strange story. Come, be seated and take some wine. You still look pale; you are not yet recovered from your ordeal.”

I sat; and at once, my brothers closed in around me, so that the protective circle was back in place. Diarmid was watching Simon, and the look on his face said, the only good Briton is a dead one.

“Richard of Northwoods,” said Father Dominic. “The man did wrong here today—well, I suppose it is yesterday, since we are past midnight. I made it quite clear to him that it would be—unwise—to rule in this young woman’s case without hearing all the evidence. And when we spoke in private together he expressed agreement. It was most unfortunate that I was called away before I had time to explain what we intended to the folk of the moot. For Lord Richard to announce a guilty verdict in my name as well as his own was not only a lie, but blatant misuse of the authority vested in him. To enact the penalty so swiftly smacks of something more sinister. He must be called to question for that, at least; and possibly also for other matters.”

“In all the excitement, it appears he slipped through the net,” said Simon, sounding very like his brother. “But he will not get far. I, too, have matters to discuss with my uncle. Though much of my past seems lost, some things I do recall. He has many questions to answer.”

“My elder son has gone tonight, with his men, to bring my brother back,” said Lady Anne. “This has been a matter of some distress to me, as you may imagine. I knew, when I rode out to fetch you today, that it might come to this. But I cannot expect my own people to act with integrity and courage if I do not show an example.”

“Well spoken,” said Father Dominic, and his eyes on her were compassionate. “I will take a keen interest in Richard’s answers. Tell Lord Hugh to send for me, when his uncle is found. I was shocked that a man in a position of such authority would act so; such abuses of power deserve a swift and firm response.”

“Indeed,” said Conor. “We, too, have heard tales, and are learning more. If this man is responsible for the charges against our sister, and the cruel treatment she has received, he has made deadly enemies today. To put it bluntly, his future prospects appear to me both limited and unpleasant.”

“Due process should be followed,” said Father Dominic mildly, looking around the circle of grim-faced, tight-lipped warriors. “Meanwhile, you should rejoice in your deliverance, and your sister’s selflessness.” He turned to me, smiling. “My dear, your story is one of great courage. Were you not already wed, one so strong in the virtues of patience and faith would have been welcomed into our community of holy sisters. Your example would have shone indeed, a light among lights.”

I could think of nothing to say. I took a sip of wine, and tried to ignore the way Simon was looking at me.

“Your brothers are angry,” the priest went on. “They are bent on revenge for what was done to you. For what was nearly done. But that is not the way. It is best if they leave here, and leave swiftly. There should be no more blood shed, no more hatred in this place.”

I nodded. It was becoming clearer every moment that again, there would be but one path for me, but one choice.

“You seem sad. You have done a wonderful thing, child. Rejoice, for you are among the blessed of the Lord. And rest. Your rest is well earned.” He got up. “I, too, find myself more than a little weary. Lady Anne, I will avail myself of your good hospitality tonight, if I may. Alas, I am a little too advanced in years, and too generous of girth, to ride so far, so fast without suffering for it. We must all rest, and reflect on the wonders that the Lord bestows. Wonders indeed. In the morning, I will speak to the folk of Harrowfield and tell them something more of this tale of suffering and redemption. There is much to be learned from it.”

It was Simon who escorted the good father away to rest, with Alys yapping about their ankles. I closed my eyes for a moment as my brothers moved around me, talking in quiet, purposeful voices, planning, preparing. They would not rest tonight; not with so much ahead. So they spoke of horses, and arms, and boats. And they spoke of my father and of the lady Oonagh. They talked of vengeance. It all seemed so unreal; like another world. Perhaps, if I sat here very still, hardly breathing, they would forget about me altogether; and then I would not have to say good-bye.

“Our sister,” said Conor. “Has she many belongings to be packed and made ready?”

“I will arrange it.” Lady Anne’s response was very quiet. “She has little. My woman will pack her things and bring them here. Sorcha’s very tired.” There was a strong note of disapproval there.

“Nonetheless,” said Conor, “we must depart at dawn, for the sake of this household as well as our own safety. Your good priest intervened just in time, I fear. As your son said, it would not take long for the mood of your people to turn sour again, and put our lives in danger. Once we are gone, you can, with your sons’ help, put all to rights here. These have been strange times for all of us.”