Dreamer's Pool (16 page)

‘You are very brave, Bramble,’ I said. ‘Calm girl, good girl. Let’s sit and talk awhile before I take you home.’ Just as well I had come out alone. If I’d had Donagan with me, or a guard, I could not have coaxed my lady’s dog this way without being viewed as ridiculous. My mother would certainly have thought me foolish to address a creature as if it could understand me. But this was not just any creature; it was Flidais’s beloved pet. ‘Your mistress once told me she thought you were a fey dog, strayed into this world from another,’ I told Bramble, who had moved to sit right beside my leg, her tiny form warm against me. I stroked her back, gently teasing out the worst of the burrs, and she endured my ministrations with patience. ‘I do not think that can be true, or you would surely not get in so much trouble. Come, show me that front paw. Is it hurting?’

A slow process, but I got all the prickles out and ascertained that apart from a cut or two the dog was uninjured. When that was done she climbed onto my knee and settled there, curled up in a ball with one eye open. It was plain to me why Flidais loved her. I allowed myself to sit awhile, and eventually the eye closed, and I felt the small form relax into sleep. The sun rose higher; the cows conducted a lowing conversation as they went in and out from milking; the stream babbled and a small wind stirred the grasses. Contentment stole over me, and for a brief while I was at peace.

I could not stay here long; Flidais would be frantic with worry over her missing pet. Besides, it must be nearly breakfast time, and I had not told Donagan where I was going. I woke Bramble with gentle words, then wrapped her in my cloak and headed for the house.

‘Of course,’ I said to her as I walked, ‘you have provided me with a perfect excuse to visit your mistress early without seeming over-eager or intrusive. But I am a little ashamed that I thought of that, so please don’t bring it to her attention.’

What Bramble thought was a mystery, though as we approached the house she tensed in my arms, and I regretted that I had not troubled myself to contrive a leash of some kind. ‘Don’t run off now, please,’ I told her. ‘Remember the warm fire, the bone, the kind words? We’re nearly there.’ She did not seem convinced; I struggled to keep her still without hurting her, for every part of her was delicately made.

I went straight to the women’s quarters, not through the house but across the garden I had created for Flidais. The door to the writing room was locked, but further along there was another entry, and here I came face to face with one of my lady’s waiting women.

‘Oh! My lord!’ Not unreasonably, she was taken aback to see me. Then she saw what I was carrying. ‘Oh, you found her!’

‘Deirdre, isn’t it?’ I had made a point of learning their names on that first day. ‘Yes, I stumbled on Bramble while out walking. She was some distance from the house. Unhurt save for a few cuts, but frightened.’

Deirdre reached out to take the dog, but Bramble shrank away, scrabbling against my chest, thrusting her nose under my arm as if to hide.

‘Perhaps,’ I said, ‘I might give Bramble to Lady Flidais myself. I do wish to speak with her this morning. Out here, if she prefers, or indoors.’

‘My lady is still unwell, Prince Oran. I don’t know if she can receive you . . .’

I would not be fobbed off again. I fixed my gaze on the hapless Deirdre and used my princely tone. ‘I wish to see Lady Flidais now. I will keep my visit brief. I will wait for her indoors.’ I wondered if perhaps Flidais had not been told her beloved pet was missing. I did not want to cause a rift between her and her waiting women. On the other hand, they should take more care.

‘Of course, my lord.’ Deirdre stepped back to let me in. There was a small chamber immediately within the doorway, and I stationed myself there. As head of the household I was perfectly entitled to enter the women’s quarters, but it would be uncouth to go barging in on Flidais before breakfast. In my arms, Bramble hunkered down, shivering.

Time passed and I began to feel foolish. Donagan would be looking for me. I would be expected at breakfast. Guests would be starting to come in from everywhere. Why was I sitting at my beloved’s doorstep like a supplicant?

‘Prince Oran?’

The voice was sweet and soft. I rose to my feet, Bramble still in my arms, and there she was: Flidais, clad in a violet gown with a fine grey shawl over it, and her dark hair rippling down over her shoulders. My mouth went dry. I could not find any words at all. As for Bramble, she stiffened in my grasp and I almost dropped her.

‘Oh, you have Bramble!’ Flidais exclaimed. ‘Where was she?’

‘Out on the farmland. A long way from the house.’ I made to detach Bramble from my person and pass her to her mistress, but the little dog started a shrill, panicky yapping that drowned any attempt at speech. In the end I stepped back, still holding her, and she quieted.

‘I’m so sorry, my lord.’ Flidais’s pale cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. ‘This is most unlike Bramble; she is always so well behaved. Since the . . . since that terrible day, the day we arrived, her behaviour has been most odd.’

‘I suppose she needs time,’ I said. I could feel the pounding of Bramble’s heart through her whole body. ‘Many changes. A long journey.’

‘Yes, but . . . I do not wish to inconvenience you, Prince Oran. I cannot imagine how Bramble got out.’ Flidais glanced at her maid, who had come in behind her. ‘Deirdre, please shut Bramble in the sewing room, and make sure this does not happen again. She’s not to be let outside without the leash.’

With some difficulty, I passed the dog to Deirdre. Bramble gave a piteous cry as she was borne away; I felt as if I had betrayed her. ‘Please don’t worry about inconvenience,’ I said. ‘I am fond of dogs, as I told you in my letters. I’m glad to have been of service this morning. And please, not Prince Oran or my lord, just Oran.’

‘I am most grateful to you . . . Oran,’ said Flidais.

‘Is your health improved?’ I asked. ‘I was hoping you might be well enough to join the household for breakfast today.’

‘I – I am still rather tired. What happened – it upset me a great deal.’

‘Come,’ I said, ‘let us walk around the garden; this little chamber is not the best place for a conversation. Were you pleased with the writing room I made for you?’

‘The writing room? Oh, yes. That was very kind. Thank you.’

We went down the step and into the garden; Flidais slipped her hand through the arm I offered, and her touch was pleasing to me. More than pleasing. I felt a flush rising to my cheeks, and hoped she would not notice.

‘I drafted a letter to my mother last night,’ I said, ‘suggesting that we consider delaying the betrothal until you are feeling better. I don’t want to rush you. We had planned to hold the ceremony in eight days’ time, but I think that may be too soon.’ My doubts were returning, despite Flidais’s willingness to talk with me this morning. She looked unwell and sounded uncertain. Perhaps she was too well-mannered to say she was not ready for the betrothal. ‘Much too soon,’ I went on. ‘We must wait until you are quite happy with the arrangements.’

‘Oh, but what will your mother think of me?’ exclaimed Flidais, looking everywhere but at me. ‘Such inconvenience for everyone . . .’

‘You’ve been greatly upset,’ I said. ‘And the journey itself must have been gruelling. You must take all the time you need.’ I laid my free hand over hers, trying to ignore the stirring of my body, since it was entirely inappropriate to the current situation. ‘There will be a lot of folk here for the betrothal. Not as many as there will be for the hand-fasting at my father’s court, but many all the same. When my mother descends on the household things can become somewhat overwhelming. She means well.’

Flidais stopped walking, and turned to face me. She took both my hands in hers. ‘There’s no need to wait, Oran. Truly. I do feel somewhat poorly at present, that is true. But I will be myself again soon, I’m certain of it.’ Her smile warmed me, and I found myself smiling back.

‘Let us take a day or two to think about this,’ I said. She looked so frail, her eyes huge, her skin milky-pale, that it was hard for me to imagine her fully restored to herself so soon. If I hurt her in any way, I would never forgive myself.

‘But –’

‘Shh,’ I said, and laid a finger on her lips. Ah, the softness of them! I snatched my finger away. ‘A day, at least. We will talk about this again tomorrow. Now I must let you go; you’ll be wanting to greet poor Bramble, who was much shaken by her ordeal. I cannot understand how she got out. This garden is walled – I took particular care about it – and I do not imagine your little dog can jump very high.’

‘One of the women must have let her out. I will make sure it does not happen again, Oran.’ She glanced around the garden. ‘It is very pretty here. The flowers are lovely.’

‘I hope you liked my poem,’ I ventured.

‘Thank you, yes.’

‘Perhaps, in time, you will write another for me.’

Her face clouded. ‘In time, yes. Since Ciar’s accident, I’ve been afflicted by headaches, bad ones. When I try to read, my head throbs and my eyes blur. I cannot even think of writing. One of my women read your poem to me. It was very sweet.’

I swallowed a certain disappointment at her comment. ‘Headaches? That is troubling. We should seek the advice of a physician. There is a very capable man at Cahercorcan. Or you may prefer the services of the local healer, Blackthorn. Folk speak highly of her skills. You met her, of course.’

‘I don’t need a physician or a wise woman. All I need is rest.’ She glanced toward the doorway. ‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance, Oran.’

‘You are not a nuisance; don’t ever think that. You are the lady of the house here, and you must ask me if you need anything at all. Now, I am keeping you from your rest, and I see Donagan over there at the gate, with a look on his face that tells me I am late for breakfast. Rest well, Flidais. I’m happy I was able to bring Bramble home for you. I must speak to my household this morning, but I hope later I may come and read to you awhile.’ I bent to kiss her on the cheek, hoping the simple gesture of affection would not offend her. I had not expected to be so unsure of myself. Her proximity filled me with desire, yet I felt as awkward as a green lad of fourteen.

‘Farewell, Oran,’ Flidais said, and for a moment she laid both her hands against my chest, over my heart, which must surely be beating as violently as poor Bramble’s had done. ‘I will be better in time for the betrothal. I promise.’ She turned and headed up the path to the house.

‘Do you wish me to despatch that letter?’ Donagan asked as he and I walked back to the main entry.

‘To my mother?’ He must have seen it lying on my desk. ‘I am not sure whether to send it. The lady is unwell; she assures me she will be recovered in time for the betrothal, but I am in some doubt. If the ritual is to be delayed a while, I need to advise my parents as soon as possible.’

‘A while. How long?’

‘I don’t know. A few days.’ My tone was less than courteous, and I made myself take a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry. Leave the letter for now. I’ll think about it over breakfast.’

He looked at me, and in his gaze I saw what he was not prepared to say:
For a man who’s about to be married, you seem more than a little on edge, Oran.
What he did say was, ‘You want my advice? Take control. Tell everyone what’s going to happen and stick to the plan, whatever it is.’

‘Like a prince?’

‘Like the prince you are, my friend.’

After breakfast I gathered my household together as Donagan had suggested. I congratulated my folk on their hard work and praised their forbearance in a time of significant change. Nobody was in any doubt as to the challenges presented by the royal visit – that the king and queen were my parents made no difference. Winterfalls would be crammed with folk, and they’d all need to be well looked after. It would, I suspected, be particularly trying for people who were used to running an establishment with minimal interference to find their house full of someone else’s serving folk, who would inevitably bring their own ideas on how everything should be organised, and who might not take kindly to direction from, say, Aedan or Eochu.

‘My lord,’ said Aedan, ‘what about the next open council? Will you be delaying that until everything returns to normal?’

‘I don’t think we need delay it,’ I said. The councils were held at full moon, which gave us nearly twenty days until the next one. The open gatherings were important; they gave all who lived on my land the opportunity to bring their problems to me and to be heard. We held them in the main hall at Winterfalls and they were always attended by a great number of folk, some of whom, I was fairly sure, came only to catch up on the latest gossip.

Attendances had increased markedly since we’d started serving refreshments when the formal part of the proceedings was over. The settlement of Silverlake had a baker of exceptional skill. Branoc, a man born and raised in Armorica, did not bother with everyday loaves, but specialised solely in cakes. His creations were small miracles of the pastry cook’s art. In my mother’s opinion, such masterpieces were wasted on the ordinary folk who attended my councils, and the provision of them was yet another example of my being too soft in my dealings with such people. I disagreed. The refreshments allowed time for everyone to mingle and chat, to discuss openly the issues that had arisen and to come to terms with my decisions. This helped maintain a healthy, happy community. The quality of Branoc’s cakes ensured good attendances. I had tried to explain this to my mother, but she had simply thrown up her hands with a sigh, as if my ways were beyond understanding. ‘And we’ll hold the following council as planned,’ I told Aedan, ‘even though that will be very close to the hand-fasting. When Flidais and I return from court, we could have a celebration for everyone, with a bonfire, feasting and dancing.’

‘The travelling folk may be camped in these parts by then,’ said Niall, my farmer. ‘There are some fine musicians among them; you could ask them to play, my lord.’

‘And buy a couple of fine yearlings while you’re about it,’ put in Eochu.