Daughter Of The Forest (67 page)

There was a little pause. “You understand,” said Lady Anne diffidently, “that your sister is but newly wedded to my son?”

Conor translated this for the others, and there was a flood of angry response. It was fortunate that Lady Anne could not understand the tongue my brothers spoke.

“So it’s true,” growled Diarmid.

Padriac was incredulous. “Why bring it up now? She can’t mean—”

“Marriage?” Cormack spat this out. “What sort of marriage would it be, between a helpless girl and some great brute of a Briton?”

“It seems probable,” said Liam coldly, “that this marriage was never consummated.” They were talking as if I were not even there, as if these things were to be dealt with in the manner of a campaign strategy. I felt my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment, but at the same time I was angry. They should leave Red out of it. None of this was his fault, none of it. But nobody was asking me for an opinion.

“Our sister is young,” Liam continued, “and the fellow has been away, in search of a lost brother. Besides, I cannot believe Sorcha would willingly consent to such a thing. It is a bond which can be readily undone, I trust.”

Conor translated for Lady Anne.

“I can’t speak for Hugh,” she said tightly. “You will have to ask him.”

“We will,” said Conor, grim-faced.

After a while Lady Anne, stifling a yawn, made her excuses, and we were left alone, save for the two men who stood outside guarding the door. I let Padriac pour me more wine, and I accepted a piece of bread, though I had no stomach for either. The room felt strange, as if it were floating around me in some dream. I knew if I did not eat or drink, I would be unable to ride out at dawn. Finbar was sitting on the bench by the window, looking out, and I took my small meal over and settled beside him. Outside, the wind had died down completely. You could just see, in the darkness, a faint glow from the ashes of the fire, still smouldering in the courtyard. If they rode back tonight, I would see them from here.

I know how it feels, dear one. As if your heart were torn in two. I feel your pain
.

I took a deep breath. Another.

Finbar?

I know how it feels. As if you will never be whole again
.

I reached inside my dress, where I wore two cords about my neck. One held my wedding ring; the other, the amulet that had once been my mother’s. I left the one, and took off the other.
This is yours. Take it back. Take it back, it was to you she gave it
.

I slipped the cord over his head, and the little carven stone with its ash tree sign lay on his breast. He had grown painfully thin.

Show me the other. The other talisman you wear
.

Slowly I took out the carven ring, and lifted it on my palm for my brother to see.

He made this for you? Him with the golden hair, and the eyes that devour?

Not him. Another
. Images were strong in my mind; Red with his arm around me like a shield; Red cutting up an apple; Red kicking a sword from a man’s hand, and catching it in his own; Red barefoot on the sand with the sea around his ankles.

You risked much, to give your love to such a one
.

I stared at him.
Love?

Did you not know, until now, when you must say goodbye?
Then he let me look into his mind. Pictures, no words. There was a reedy shore, a place of shelter and serenity. There was a tiny white beach, and a stretch of tranquil lake water. On it swam a beautiful swan, her neck proudly arched, her eyes clear and bright. Beside her, two downy young ones but half fledged, dipping and splashing in the water.
I too have said my farewells
. The image faded. My brother’s face held nothing but a distant, remote sadness.
I had a little time. More than you have had. But I fear the cold, and the wolf, and the long loneliness. More than I can tell you, I fear for them
.

He, too, had made a terrible choice. A swan mates for life. I reached out and took his hand. In the end, there was no choice. The seven of us were one; and each was a part of the seven. We must always be there, one for another.

Time plays cruel tricks. That night, it seemed to pass very slowly, as I stood watching by the window for his return, with Finbar silent by my side. Once before, he had soothed and comforted me all through an endless night; had exhausted all his strength in doing so. Now he simply kept me company. My mind showed me Red bleeding, injured, exhausted, spurred on by hate; seeking his uncle through woodland and across ford and up and down the dark hills of Harrowfield. More than anything, I longed to see him ride safely back into the courtyard. And so I stood and waited, watching the last embers of the great fire fade and die. And I thought, is Finbar right? Can this be love that twists and tears the heart so? Does love give nothing but the power to hurt each other? Is this what makes the simplest touch blend longing and terror in equal measure? Whatever this is, it feels like a mortal wound. And suddenly it seemed the night was passing quickly, so quickly. For soon it would be dawn, and we would slip away from Harrowfield by secret paths, and home across the water. Soon it would be time to say goodbye. I could not tell which feeling was stronger, the fear that he would not return in time, or the dread that he would.

When they did return at last, it was with little ceremony. There were no blazing torches, no beating drums. Just five men riding out of the dark in single file. The first was Ben, a black hood not quite concealing his flowing blond hair. Then another, clad also in dark clothing to pass unseen in the night. This man led a horse on which a captive rode awkwardly, his hands bound behind him. There was, nonetheless, an arrogant turn of the head, a set of the shoulders that suggested defiance. There were heavy bruises on his face, and blood ran unchecked from a gash above the brow. They had found Lord Richard.

“That man’s days are numbered,” said Cormack, as my brothers moved to stand behind me. “He will be accounted for six times over.”

“And more, I would say,” said Liam, watching the horsemen draw closer. There were lamps hanging by the entry downstairs, and their light fell on the faces of the four men escorting the prisoner. I let my breath out all at once. For there he was, riding last, right hand loose on the reins, left arm across his chest in a sling. His face was as pale as the linen wrapping around his arm and shoulder, his mouth set in a grim line. He was sitting very upright in the saddle. As they passed beneath our window, he looked up, and looked away again. Then they were out of sight.

I felt sick, and as if I would burst into tears at any moment; and yet drained, as if I would never be able to weep again. Confused, and frightened, and—and why was my heart thumping so fast, as if I had run a race? I knew what I must do, and say. I must get it over with, and then go. That was all. That should not be so difficult.

The door opened, and it was Ben, striding in, making his way straight over to me with never a by-your-leave. There was a sharp metallic sound, and suddenly a number of weapons were pointing in his direction.

“All right, all right,” he said, raising his hands in mock submission. “I’m not staying long.”

“We will not get far this way,” I said crossly. “He’s a friend.” Cormack scowled, but Liam made a sign with his hand, and they moved back slightly.

“Jenny,” said Ben, looking at me closely. “Are you all right?”

I managed a nod. Why was it so hard to speak? There was a fresh bandage on his wrist, and his jaw was bruised.

“What—?”

He gave a crooked grin. “In present company, an explanation might not be wise. Let’s just say, it’s as well I went off looking for him when I did. Managed to make myself useful in a tight place. Not that he thanked me, of course. Half killed me for leaving you here alone, that was all the gratitude I got. Sure you’re all right?”

“I thought—I thought you—”

“Me, doubt you? Not for an instant. Well, perhaps for an instant. Then I used my head. The way you and Red look at each other, where was there any room for another? Had to be a different explanation. But Richard shut me out, nobody could get near you, the place was bristling with Northwoods men. In the end, I went after Red.”

“Tell us,” said Conor, “what will be done with this man, Richard of Northwoods?”

Ben glanced at him appraisingly.

“My brother Conor,” I said. “He is fluent in your language.”

“So I see. Lord Richard is in custody. Alive, and in passable health. I had some difficulty convincing your husband that due process should be followed. The alternative was very tempting, when at last we caught up with his uncle. But there are questions to be asked. Red tells me Simon talked a lot, on the long ride home from the monastery where he was found. He has not forgotten quite all, and he remembers more each day. It seems Richard has had a finger in many pies. In the end, Red was persuaded we must wait, and hear his answers. But I have never before seen him so angry, not even on the day John died; I have never before seen him lose sight of his good judgment.”

“His anger will pass,” I said. “When I am gone, he will set all to rights here; he can receive answers and dispense judgment, without fear of error.”

“Gone?” said Ben. “What do you mean, gone?”

“We have requested safe passage to the coast; we leave at dawn,” said Conor. “You surely can have no wish to see us linger here where our presence threatens to disrupt your household. We are sworn enemies; your people’s wonder at our sudden appearance will turn soon enough to resentment and fear. I understood you believed this too and that an escort was to be arranged.”

Ben looked around the circle of angry faces, and then at me. “Well, yes,” he said. “That’s true. But—”

“He cannot imagine,” growled Diarmid, who had followed the drift of this conversation well enough, “that we would think of leaving our sister behind?” The room seemed to grow suddenly colder, as Conor passed on this message.

“I—well, it may be stating the obvious,” said Ben, “but he is her husband, after all.”

“Husband?” Conor’s voice cut like a dagger. “What sort of husband is this, that we have not seen hide nor hair of the man, since Sorcha came close to death by fire? Is he afraid to show himself, having failed utterly to provide our sister with protection? How can such a one claim the title of husband?”

Ben was not easily intimidated. “He has his reasons,” he said calmly. “When we first met your sister, she was sick, and starving, and terrified. Lord Hugh saved her life. Jenny was never coerced into coming here.”

“Jenny?”

“When we found your sister, she could not speak. She could not tell us her name. This is the name she was given.”

“And also the name of Harrowfield, it appears. Well, she will keep neither for long,” said Conor. “Is our escort arranged? Dawn approaches fast.”

“All will be ready,” said Ben. “We have a boat at a secure mooring, and a man to take you across. The ride is half a morning; more, perhaps, for you. Simon is seeing to it, and he will escort you there.”

“No, I will take them,” a voice interrupted.

All turned to look at the man in the doorway. He was standing upright with difficulty, his face gray with the pallor of extreme exhaustion. There was fresh blood on the bandage, near the shoulder.

“Don’t be a fool,” said Ben quite sharply. He strode over and tried to take Red’s arm, but was shaken off with some violence. Around me, my brothers shifted. Cormack fingered the blade of a dagger. Liam folded his arms. Diarmid bore a thunderous look.

“With respect, my lord,” said Ben, apparently mindful of the delicacy of the situation. “You should let your brother handle this. I will go too, if you believe you cannot yet trust him. How can you ride to the coast and back, when you have scarce slept these three days or more?”

“I am her husband. I will take them.”

I could not look at him. The voice was bad enough; distant, formal. It chilled my heart.

“Husband,” said Conor carefully. “Yes, we heard about that. A less than impressive job you’ve made of it, for all your last-minute heroics.”

Red was silent.

“Did you see her,” Conor went on, “when she was hungry and dirty and cold? Did you watch her as she stood silent before her accusers, as she heard the filth they spoke of her, the lies they told? Did you see her when she wept in the dark, when she waited and watched as your uncle built her funeral pyre? Did you? What kind of husband were you then?”

There was a short pause.

“Are you finished?” asked Red quietly.

“Ask him,” urged Liam in our own tongue, “ask him the nature of this marriage; if he has laid his filthy barbarian hands on our sister. Ask him!”

But Conor was not what he was for nothing. He had not, after all, misjudged his opponent.

“Just tell me,” he said, “whether my sister is free to go. Do you plan to hold her to any promise, any commitment she has made to you?”

“Do you hold a wild creature once it is healed, and ready to fly home?” asked Red. “Jenny makes her own choices. She knows that she is free to go. She knows she need only tell me, when it is time.”

Conor spoke to his brothers, quietly, in our own tongue.

“What about our safe conduct?” asked Liam, while Conor translated. “I want us to be away at dawn, or before. There is little time left.”

Red’s response was softer still. I had heard this tone before.

“First I will speak with my wife alone. Then we leave, with all you request. It won’t take long.”

Conor passed this onto the others.

“Out of the question!” snapped Diarmid.

“Alone? I think not,” said Liam grimly.

“Who does this man think he is?” demanded Cormack. “He has no claim on Sorcha, and he knows it. Tell him to bring horses, and we will make our own way. There are no bargains to be struck here.”

“We cannot allow this,” said Conor gravely. “You understand, after what has happened, our concern for our sister’s well-being. She will not leave our sight until we quit these shores. It has been three full years since we last had our human form. Three years of silence and suffering for her. Now she is returned to us, we will not part with her, or risk her safety, even for a moment.”