Daughter Of The Forest (73 page)

“There was—there was once a man,” he began hesitantly, who had everything. Well born, richly endowed, healthy in body and mind, he grew up as the eldest son and heir to a wide estate, whose margins were the sea to the west, and the hills to the east, whose fields were fertile and whose rivers teemed with fish for the taking.”

Conor’s voice made a grave counterpoint, rendering the words into our tongue. Finbar sat by the window, eyes fixed on nothing. He understands, I thought. Not just the words, but the meaning behind them. Finbar and I, we are the only ones who know. But Finbar’s grave features and unfocused gaze gave nothing away.

“He grew up,” Red went on, “and his father died, and the estate was his, but for a small part that fell to his younger brother. His life was mapped out, every detail accounted for. He would marry to advantage, he would expand his lands, provide for his family and his good folk, carry on the work of his forefathers. Just so is the path for many good men, and they live their tives to its pattern, glad that they may pass onto their sons a legacy of peace and prosperity.” He shifted slightly. His hands, still bound behind his back, seemed to tighten one on the other.

“Then—then things changed. An evil fell on his family, taking his young brother away and into danger. In time, it became plain that he must go forth and seek him out, dead or alive. But he loved his home, and his acres, and he believed there was no chance his brother had survived. He believed him lost forever. So he waited and waited, until there was no choice but to set out across the sea, and seek what truth he could find.”

There was a pause. Perhaps only I knew how he used it to marshal his thoughts, to force his breathing to be slow and steady, to draw deep on his will so his voice remained confident. For the others, it was still just a tale, like all the tales we told, night by night, tales comical and strange, tales heroic and awe-inspiring, the tales that formed the fabric of our spirits.

“The man journeyed far, and he heard and saw many strange things on his travels. He learned that—that the friend and the enemy are but two faces of the same self. That the path one believes chosen long since, constant and unchangeable, straight and wide, can alter in an instant. Can branch, and twist, and lead the traveler to places far beyond his wildest imaginings. That there are mysteries beyond the minds of mortal man, and that to deny their existence is to spend a life of half-consciousness.”

I saw my father nodding gravely at this point. But Liam and Conor both wore frowns and set jaws, and Donal a fierce scowl.

“One night, everything changed. He—he had cause to save a young woman from drowning; and from the moment he first plucked her from the water, half grown, half starved, half wild as she was, he knew. From that moment on, every step he took, every decision he made, would be different, because of her. She was not much more than a child, lost, hurt, and frightened. But strong. Oh, she was the strongest person he had ever met. He had cause to know it, on the difficult journey home, as she stood by him; as she healed him, although he was her enemy. As—as she showed him things that were almost beyond his understanding, so strange and wondrous did they appear. Of that, I will not tell more, for some secrets are best left unsaid.”

He bowed his head a little, took a deep breath.

“In his household she was like a wild creature set suddenly in the farmyard, like a fledgling owl in a chicken coop. With her deep silence, with the strange task she was compelled to do, working in pain and solitude under the uncomprehending eyes of his family, she filled him with a confusion such as he had never known before. He could do little but protect her; it seemed imperative to keep her safe. He did not understand what she did, but he knew, somehow, that he must help her achieve the task, if he were ever to hear her voice, if he were ever to be able to tell her…to tell her…”

I opened my mouth to speak, then bit back the words. But I must have made some small sound, for Red went very still for an instant, and his head turned. The thick blindfold cut off all sight; but he knew, now, that I was there.

“In his house, she grew and changed, but was still, unmistakably, herself. Strong, sweet, and true. Without speech, she spoke to him as no other could, straight to the heart, with her graceful, disfigured hands and her wide green eyes. Though he was often lost for words, she understood him as no other had ever done. He watched her weep over her hands, which were swollen and hardened from her work, and heard others call them ugly. He saw what others could not see, saw the power, the gentleness, and the beauty of those hands, and he lay awake at night and longed for the touch of them on his body. But she had been hurt, and terrified, and she shrank from him. He could not tell her the words of his heart. He dared not risk frightening her away, for if he lost her, he lost everything. Every day, it became clearer to him, going about the business of his house and his estate. Without her, he would have no life.”

There was a marked distaste in Conor’s voice as he translated this, but he was bound to be accurate, as there were at least three of us there who understood the tongue of the Britons. Then Conor said, “I am starting to dislike this tale.” His tone was like a knife thrust. “If this man possessed such feelings, why did he leave the girl to the mercies of his kinsman, who was both traitor and madman? How could a man guilty of such an error of judgment ever be worthy of a woman such as this peerless creature you describe?”

“With respect,” said Red, and his voice had gone so quiet people hushed each other to hear him, “my tale is as yet unfinished; you should hear me out. And it is her answer I have come to hear, not yours.”

“Let the man finish,” said my father. “For a Briton, he has a way with words. Hearing him commits us to no decision.”

“My father says, continue.” Conor’s tone was curt as he addressed Red.

“Thank you for your courtesy, my lord,” said Red in my father’s general direction. He turned back toward Conor. “You are right,” he went on. “This man did indeed have, as you relate, an error of judgment. One that still causes him to wake at night, in terror, at how close he came to losing her to the fire. At how his neglect almost cost the girl her life, and her chance of completing the terrible task that meant so much to her. He thought her secure, protected by his name and his wedding band, safe in the heart of his family. He took the risk of traveling to find his lost brother, who was also in grave danger; he returned only just in time to save her. Never had he experienced such fear as on that night; never had he heard a sound that struck him to the heart so, as her voice crying out his name, to warn him of danger at the very point when she herself was in greatest peril. For a moment, he thought—he allowed himself to think—for just an instant, he held her in his arms, and his heart was whole again. Then he let her go, for she was surrounded by strong men, by fierce protectors who were her own kin. She was safe again, and the reason for the long, cruel time of spinning and weaving was plain at last. She had sacrificed her childhood to save her brothers; she loved her family above all else, and her spirits yearned to return home once more, to the wild forest and the land of mystic tales and ancient spirits whence he had taken her. That was the place of her heart, and if he loved her, he must let her go.”

The mood in the room was subtly changing. They appreciated a good tale; and this was told with feeling, though somewhat haltingly. Janis had her eye on the teller. I heard her whisper to one of the kitchenmaids, “That’s a man and a half, that is. If she doesn’t want him, I’ll be the first to offer him a warm bed for the night.”

And then I felt the inner voice of Finbar, whom I had thought scarcely listening, so distant was his expression.
This is a good man, Sorcha
.

I know
.

Strong enough to say, in front of us all, that he was wrong. Very strong
.

I know
.

“He could not find the words to say good-bye. He faltered. He had wounded her, speaking from the pain of his spirit. He had sworn that he would not hurt her, but he had. He would have told her—he would have said, it matters not if you are here, or there, for I see you before me every moment. I see you in the light on the water, in the swaying of the young trees in the spring wind. I see you in the shadows of the great oaks, I hear your voice in the cry of the owl at night. You are the blood in my veins, and the beating of my heart. You are my first waking thought, and my last sigh before sleeping. You are—you are bone of my bone, and breath of my breath.”

His voice had shrunk to a whisper. My face was wet with tears.

“Tell him,” said Liam, “tell him that if he thinks his fine words of love will win him our sister as his wife, he is sorely deluded. Sorcha will never return to that place; she is the daughter of Sevenwaters, and she belongs here.”

Conor translated this, adding, “You’d best have left it, back then. Not put yourself to the trouble of coming all this way. Sorcha is barely sixteen years old, and subject to her father’s authority. You cannot imagine that even if she were willing, he would allow her to cross the sea and ally herself to a Briton.”

Red took a deep breath. “Indeed, such a thought was far from my mind. I would not have come, save for—but for—had she not said farewell as she did, I would not have come. But—but she had a way of—that is, I believed, there was the smallest hope, the tiniest seed of a hope, that perhaps she did—that is…”

“Is your tale finished?” Conor was unbending. “Have you more to say? It grows late, and cold.”

“I should make it clear to you,” said Red, his tone firmer. “I understand your sister cannot return across the sea. I never expected that. It was for this reason that I delayed so long before coming to seek her. Long enough to set right the affairs of Harrowfield, long enough to see my uncle duly punished for his wrongdoing, and to pass over responsibility for my house and my estate to my brother. I will not go back there. Whether Jenny will have me or not, I have said farewell to that life.”

There was complete silence. The magnitude of such a decision was not lost on any of them. Even Conor, after translating these words, had nothing to say. As for me, my mind could hardly credit what Red had said. And yet, I knew it must be the truth. His fair acres, his shining river, his flocks, and his herds, and the good folk that loved him. The valley with its soft cloak of oak and beech, birch and willow. The careful record of generations. My picture had been on the last page of that journal. The last page of the last book. He would never see his young oaks grow to shelter the wild creatures of Harrowfield. All this, he had given up for me.

“You think to stay here,” said Liam incredulously, when at length the silence was broken. “A Briton, in our household, wed to our sister, whom we cherish more dearly than life itself. You are a misguided fool.”

I turned on my brother, furious.

Wait just a little longer
, came Finbar’s silent caution, and I held back my angry words.

And then my father rose slowly to his feet.

“Untie his hands, Sorcha,” he said gravely. “Take off the cloth that binds his eyes. This is your decision, your choice. You are a woman now, and the sacrifice you made for your brothers has earned you the right to determine your own path, though it may not be to our liking.”

Liam made as if to speak, but thought better of it. Lord Colum was, after all, still master of this household. The room was filled with a silence of deep anticipation. Red had not understood any of my father’s words.

I walked over to where he sat, and I stood before him and reached around to untie the knot that held the blindfold in place. This I did with my right hand; but my left, which bore his ring, crept to the back of his neck, where the skin showed white between tunic and close cropped hair, and laid itself there as gently as it could. Red drew in his breath sharply.

“
Untie my hands
,” he said with an intensity that made me tremble. I bent down and took the small knife from him, from where I had known it would be, concealed in the strapping of the left boot, and I moved behind him and slashed once, twice, at the tight cords that bound his hands. He stood and turned, and his arms encircled me, enfolded me as if they would never let go. I felt his lips touch my brow, quite chastely, for even now he was governed by a terrible restraint. Even now, it seemed he was unsure of me. But his eyes were no longer ice-cool, no longer masked with reserve. Instead they blazed blue as a summer sky, and the message in them was plain to read, and simple to answer. I stood on tiptoe, and took his face between my palms, and drew his head down so I could kiss his tight, stubborn, unyielding mouth. I had had no practice at this art, but I managed pretty well; Padriac told me later that I had made Liam blush, which was no mean feat. It was a kiss such as I had not believed myself capable of giving; a kiss that told him straightaway what my answer was. For an instant he drew back, and he whispered, “I am not worthy of such a gift, Jenny.” But I put my fingers to his lips to silence him. “Dear heart,” I whispered back, “I would give it to you and no other.” Then his mouth came down on mine, and he showed me the depth of his passion as our lips clung and tasted, and parted as we drew ragged breath and clung and tasted again. And it was not just my own salt tears that fell as his hands stroked my hair, and drew my body closer and closer to his, so that I knew the strength of his need for me. This was the end of a long and difficult journey for us both, and the sweet excitement that coursed through every fiber of my body told me it was at the same time the beginning of a new path.

“Ahem.” My father cleared his throat, forcing us back to awareness of where we were. We turned to look around us, dazed. The room was almost empty; we had not heard the departure of all the household save Father and the silent Finbar.

“Take your man, daughter,” said my father with a little smile, though his eyes were awake with painful memories. “Find him a warm place to sleep. Time enough in the morning, for further talk.” Then he gathered his cloak around him and went out, with Finbar behind. My brother paused in the doorway, the white swathe of his single wing turned rosy gold in the candlelight; and this time he spoke aloud.