Dreamer's Pool (11 page)

9

~ORAN~

T
he wait seemed endless. It mattered not the least that I had seen the maps, that I knew the distances. I understood that even if they changed horses every few miles and were favoured with exceptionally fine weather, Flidais’s party could not arrive at Winterfalls until some weeks after Father’s reply to Lord Cadhan reached its destination. It was a long ride. Flidais was a young lady, not a warrior. She would need to take her time over the journey, despite the urgency suggested by her father’s last communication. I knew I must be calm and wait. But I could not. I strode from place to place, from task to task, until Donagan took me aside, sat me down and suggested I should exercise better self-control.

‘If you keep on this way,’ my friend and servant said, ‘you know what will happen.’

‘What?’ I heard the edge in my voice, and moderated my tone. ‘I have no idea what you mean, Donagan.’

‘My guess is that someone will report back to the queen, and that your mother will descend on Winterfalls to check on your health. If she does not like what she sees, she may decide to change the plan. To receive Lady Flidais at court instead, or to move here and take charge of your household herself. The queen will not be impressed if she believes you . . . unhinged.’

‘Unhinged!’ I shouted, leaping to my feet. My gaze met that of the painted Flidais, whose sweet image had changed me forever. I saw in her eyes that she still loved me, but that she thought I was being just a little ridiculous. ‘I’m sorry,’ I made myself say. ‘It’s just so hard waiting. Everything’s ready, or will be, the house is prepared, the arrangements are progressing, and there’s nothing for me to do but stamp about the place getting in everyone’s way.’

‘How about a ride?’ Donagan said. ‘Perhaps as far as the wood, or further if you like. The weather’s good; we may as well make the most of it. We could go through the village, see how the local folk are faring. They like it when you do that. Unusual for a prince perhaps. But you’re not like other princes. That, no doubt, is why Lady Flidais warmed to you.’

Winterfalls settlement lay just beyond the southern boundaries of my home farm; the main road to Cahercorcan ran through the village. We rode there, just Donagan and me, thereby breaking my father’s rule about never going anywhere without at least two guards in attendance. As a man settled in his own household and soon to be wed, I considered it unnecessary to abide by such rules. Besides, both Donagan and I could hold our own in a fight, should it come to that. Not that the local people were likely to attack either of us, since we were long known to them as summer tenants of the royal residence. I had known since I was a child that the place would one day be my home and that these would be my people, since it was customary for the prince of Dalriada to live at Winterfalls from his marriage until such time as he became king.

I’d never been over-fond of formality – that was one reason I did not want Flidais to go to Cahercorcan, a place bound by etiquette, precedence and protocol – and I had made it my duty to get to know the folk of Winterfalls well, to understand their daily lives, their work, the things that were important to them. Sometimes that meant disregarding the rules for princely behaviour that other folk – my mother, for instance, or Feabhal – set such store in. I wanted to be as good a leader as I could be, and it seemed to me folk would not follow a leader who knew little of them.

That made our ride through the settlement slow-paced. Folk came out to greet us, to ask questions, to congratulate me on the forthcoming betrothal, for everyone knew Lady Flidais was on her way north. The women, in particular, seemed almost as excited about this as I was. Many expressed delight that the ritual was to take place here at Winterfalls, not at court. I realised I would need to arrange things so the folk of the settlement and the farms could be present, if not for the ceremony itself, then most certainly for the celebrations that would follow. A bonfire, I thought, and dancing. I spoke to Fraoch the smith, who was accustomed to exercising his well-muscled arms not only in the crafting of iron goods, but also in playing the bodhran at weddings, fairs and festival days. He knew which musicians were the most skilful and the most reliable; he knew which dances folk would like best for such an event. I spoke to Iobhar the brewer, Deaman the baker and Scannal the miller. Iobhar gave us mead, Deaman gave us a wheaten loaf, and Scannal asked me to have a word with his grandmother. She told me a wise woman had moved into the old cottage out by Dreamer’s Wood, and that folk said she’d a sour temper on her, but could give a body a cure for anything.

This was something of a surprise. The wise woman must be a very recent arrival, or someone in my own household would have made mention of her. There was a physician at Cahercorcan, of course, with several skilled assistants. But Cahercorcan was a good twenty miles away. There was no healer at Winterfalls, either in my own household or in the village. There had not been for a while. I remembered the cottage as damp and deserted, its previous inhabitant dead and gone so long ago that only the very oldest folk remembered her name.

We thanked the people for their gifts, wished them good day and rode on, letting our mounts have their heads once we were clear of the settlement. On our own we were not master and servant, but simply friends. The day was fair, the air clear, the sun warm. With my body stretched and my mind occupied, I felt at ease for the first time in many days.

‘Black Crow save us,’ remarked Donagan, pulling up his horse as we crested a rise some time later and looked down toward Dreamer’s Wood. ‘Someone’s wrought a minor miracle.’

I rode up beside him and saw that this was true, and that the someone was in plain view, tying down thatch on the refurbished roof of the old cottage. A big man. A very big man, moving about with the ease of a lad.

‘Who is that?’ I asked, not recognising the fellow.

‘I don’t know him,’ said Donagan. ‘Maybe this wise woman brought him with her. Whoever he is, he’s transformed the old place, from the looks of it.’

Without further discussion we rode down the hill and headed toward the cottage, which might almost have been an entirely new construction, so thoroughly had it been repaired. The work extended to the garden, where the crumbling dry-stone walls had been set to rights and the tangle of weeds cleared. A freshly dug patch of earth lay ready for winter vegetables. The pathway had been swept clean of leaves, and there were garments flapping on a line. As we approached, I saw a flash of red, and thought perhaps someone had slipped away under the trees behind the cottage.

The burly thatcher spotted us and made his way down his ladder. His movements were deliberate, unhurried. Nonetheless, by the time we had drawn up our horses on the path, there he was, feet apart, arms folded, waiting for us. The fellow stood head and shoulders above the tallest man I’d seen in my life. He had the look of a fighter, the head shaven, the nose crooked, the eyes small, the neck and shoulders bullish. His was a face only a mother would think handsome. He said nothing at all, simply stared at the two of us.

I glanced at Donagan, and he dismounted.

‘Good day,’ my friend said. ‘My name is Donagan. This is Oran, Prince of Dalriada; I am his servant and companion. We heard the cottage was newly occupied. A healer, they’re saying in the village. A wise woman.’

The giant grunted in response. It could have meant
yes
,
no
, or
Move away before I do you an injury.

‘Winterfalls is the personal holding of the Dalriadan heir,’ I said, feeling sure my most princely tone would fail to impress this person. ‘This cottage is in my gift.’ And when the man still failed to find words, I added carefully, ‘That means it’s up to me who lives in it.’

He stirred now. ‘What are you saying, that Blackthorn can’t stay here?’

‘
My lord
,’ muttered Donagan.

The giant gave him a look.

‘You address Prince Oran as
my lord
,’ Donagan said.

‘It’s all right, Donagan,’ I said. When facing a man who could probably kill me with a quick flick of the wrist, being addressed with proper respect seemed unimportant. ‘May I ask your name?’

‘Nobody’s stopping you,’ said the giant, shifting his feet a little.

Another silence.

‘May I speak with your mistress?’

The man’s jaw tightened. A pulse beat in his temple. ‘You mean Blackthorn? She’s off gathering herbs,’ he said. ‘
My lord
.’

‘Keep a civil tongue in your head,’ said Donagan, his tone icy. ‘You’re speaking to the prince of Dalriada.’

I got down from my horse. The district did need a wise woman, and the lady had done nothing amiss, save possibly absent herself rather than engage in a conversation with me. ‘We’ve interrupted your labours,’ I said, giving the very big man a smile. ‘You’re doing a fine job with the thatching, that’s clear. And the rest of this – is it all your work? The place looks transformed.’

The giant spoke. ‘What you said. About the cottage. Blackthorn can’t stay here without your say-so, is that the sum of it?’

‘
My lord
.’ Donagan looked about to explode.

I ignored him. ‘That is the sum of it, yes; even a tumbledown ruin generally belongs to someone. All these lands are mine. But I didn’t say the wise woman couldn’t stay. Only that I would like to speak with her.’

‘You can speak to me.’

‘Not without a name, at least.’

‘Grim.’

‘And you are her servant?’ At the expression on his face, I added, ‘Brother? Husband?’

He narrowed his eyes at me. ‘Travelled here with her. Fixed the place up for her. I look after her. That enough for you?’ After what seemed to me a carefully judged pause, he added, ‘My lord?’

‘Thank you, Grim. You don’t expect Blackthorn back soon, then?’

‘She’s her own mistress. She’ll be back in her own time. My lord.’

‘You say you travelled here – where did you come from?’ If this Blackthorn was going to stay in the area and tend to my folk, I’d need to know at the very least that she could do a good job of it. If she’d left a position elsewhere, there must be a reason.

‘South.’

I held his gaze, playing him at his own game.

‘Laigin,’ Grim added eventually. ‘I’ll tell Blackthorn you came by. You want to check on her, ask the folk she’s been tending to. They seem happy enough. My lord.’

For him, this seemed a long speech. At the end of it he glanced, not too subtly, toward the ladder.

‘Thank you, Grim. You’ll be wanting to get on with your work.’

A grunt.

‘Please ask Blackthorn to come to my house one day soon, at her convenience. There’s certainly a need for her services in the district. But best if the matter’s put on a more formal footing.’

‘Formal?’ His eyes narrowed again. He balled his hands into fists. Substantial fists. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Nothing you need concern yourself with.’

‘What does it mean,
my lord
?’

Donagan took a step forward; I halted him with a gesture. ‘I like to be sure my folk are adequately compensated for their work, and that they carry out that work as well as they can. No more than that. It may also be useful to Blackthorn to know our procedures for airing grievances and settling disputes. A monthly open council, held on the day of full moon, which you are both welcome to attend.’

Another grunt. Grim’s distrust was written all over his plain features.

‘You’re surprised that I take an interest in my people’s welfare?’ I asked. It was a wonder Blackthorn had found any work here at all, with this bristling mastiff on her front doorstep. But she’d been doing her job and doing it well, if the word in the settlement was correct.

‘You ask a lot of questions,’ Grim said. ‘My lord.’

‘That’s because I want to hear the answers.’

‘Never met a prince before. But the way I see it, too much power twists a man. Leads him down dark ways. No reason to trust you, my lord. What you’ve said is that you’ve got power over Blackthorn. You can turn her out of here when you like. Make her do your bidding. Her and me, we don’t like that.’

‘You can’t speak to the prince that way –’ began Donagan.

‘Ask Blackthorn to come and see me,’ I said, keeping calm. ‘Come with her if you wish. Not all princes are the same, Grim. If you mean well at Winterfalls, you’ll be treated well.’ I let my gaze run over the cottage again. ‘There should not only be work in these parts for your . . . companion, but for you too, I’m certain.’

‘I’ll tell her.’ Grim turned away, heading for the ladder. The set of his shoulders suggested an anger far deeper than his words had conveyed.

Donagan seemed about to say something.

‘We’ll ride to Dreamer’s Pool,’ I told him, mounting my horse. ‘Sample the food and drink we were given. Then home.’

We followed the little track that skirted the wood. The cottage and its surly minder were soon out of sight behind us. Not far along the track, another narrow way branched off under the trees, leading to the heart of Dreamer’s Wood, and this we followed. The place was as eerily quiet as ever. Even the birds seemed muted here, as if they dared not lift their voices. The only sounds were the gurgling song of the stream that ran alongside the path and the whisper of the wind in the trees.

Folk said there were fey beings living in Dreamer’s Wood, though nobody had ever seen one. They said it was a place where remnants of an ancient past still lingered. It was no wonder people skirted the wood, entering only if they had to. The village folk feared what they did not understand. They feared magic, and the fey were known to be full of magic.

As a child, I had wanted to believe every word of this. It had never occurred to me to fear Dreamer’s Wood. The place had drawn me, and when we had stayed at Winterfalls I had spent long mornings sitting in the mysterious shade, dreaming of old tales and hoping a fey being would appear and perhaps engage me in conversation. Later, when my father had appointed Donagan as my companion, I’d ceased those solitary vigils. Donagan had been tolerant for a boy of that age. But I had known he thought my fancies childish. Besides, I had never once seen more than hedgehogs and rabbits in the wood.