Dreamer's Pool (25 page)

21

~GRIM~

T
urns out she can ride, even with a blanket saddle and not much of a halter. Just as well. The two horses, I borrow from a fellow who owes me a favour. Fixed his roof a while ago, knew he was struggling, told him to forget paying. While I fetch the horses Blackthorn puts together what we need: her healer’s things, a bag of oats, a couple of blankets, a coil of rope. I’ve got a knife on me, and so has Blackthorn. That part of the plan bothers me. Knife or no knife, while I’m getting the girl out Blackthorn’s going to be on her own with Branoc. If he sees what’s up, she’ll be in trouble.

I tell her this when we’re on the road. She says not to worry, she’s faced up to worse before. If she needs me she’ll yell for help. All very good, but what if I’m halfway down the ladder with this girl when she does? What am I going to do, drop the girl and rush in to save Blackthorn? Maybe we should have gone to the prince after all, I tell her. She says nonsense, who needs men-at-arms? She’s looking at me when she says it, and I feel funny. Someone like her trusting me to do the right thing, that’s new to me. Could take some getting used to.

We ride fast. The day’s nearly half gone, and what we have to do needs doing in daylight. I start wondering if we’ve made a stupid mistake, but Blackthorn’s got her jaw set and her eyes angry, as if she might burst if she doesn’t save this girl before dark, so I just keep on riding and hope for the best. Stick to the plan, she’s told me, and we can do this. Oh, and make sure you don’t frighten the girl. Hah! Big lump like me crashing through the door of a loft, when someone’s been locked up in there for who knows how long – anyone in their right mind would be scared. And this is a little girl. I say why not change places, she rescues the girl, I deal with Branoc, and she tells me again why that won’t work.

We keep on riding. In the middle of the afternoon we go through Silverlake settlement without stopping, and here we are, down the hill a bit from Branoc’s barn, in a spot where the trees hide us.

We follow the plan. Horses tied up under the trees, healer’s bag in her hand, other supplies on my back, the two of us walking up quiet-like. I stop a bit short of the barn, keeping in cover. Blackthorn goes on. She looks as if she’s never been scared of anything in her life. This is the bit of the plan I hate – seeing her go off where I can’t protect her. Makes my gut ache. Stupid.

I sneak around to a spot where I can see the courtyard. Branoc comes out before Blackthorn can knock on his door; it’s like he’s been watching. They talk a bit, then the two of them go into the house and the door shuts behind them. Don’t like that. But it’s the way the plan works.

I wait a bit, because that’s what she said to do. Give her time to get Branoc sitting down and having his aches and pains tended to. Then I go up to the barn. Problem: the doors are bolted. Hard to slide the bolts open without making a racket. I do it slowly, inch by inch, and my heart’s doing a bit of a dance, a fast reel it’d be. I swing the doors open and I’m in. Seems a good idea to close them over behind me, so I do, but not all the way. Might need to get out fast.

Problem: the ladder’s not there. I think of calling out, but no, Branoc might hear, and even if he doesn’t, there’s what Blackthorn said about folk sometimes being too scared to ask for help, maybe too scared even to squeak. I go back outside, look around, find the ladder lying down against the wall. Fetch it in, put it in place. Think of Blackthorn in there with that man. Hope she’ll use the knife quick and hard if she has to.

I climb up. Creak, creak, every step loud enough to wake the dead. Hope the thing doesn’t break under me. In my head are the fellows from Mathuin’s lockup, the ones I couldn’t get out and the ones I did get out who ended up dead anyway. Poxy. Dribbles. Strangler, poor bastard. Frog Spawn. The other fellows down the end. Life’s cruel sometimes. I’m at the top, on a flat bit, and in front of me there’s a wall with a door in it, like there’s a storage room up here. At the front. Over the spot where the cart was, that day. Shit. Looks like Blackthorn may have been right.

This door’s bolted too, on the outside. Bastard. I stop to take a couple of breaths, not wanting to go in there with my face all hate and anger. Then I slip the bolts and pull the door open.

It’s darkish and for a bit I don’t see her. Then there’s a shaky gasping noise, and she bursts out crying. Shutters on the window; I throw them open and light comes in. There she is, just a young thing, all bruises and big eyes, and she can’t come out of the shadowy corner because around one wrist and one ankle she’s got shackles, and there are chains joining them to rings in the wall. She’s sort of crouching. Looks like she’s too tired or hurt to stand up, but the wrist chain’s too short for her to lie down. An oath bursts out of me, a bad one, then I get a hold of myself.

‘It’s all right,’ I say. ‘You’re safe now. I’ve come to get you out.’

Didn’t bring any tools; didn’t think I’d need them. Might be some down below, but I don’t want to leave her on her own. Her gown’s all ragged and dirty, and there’s a stink from the bucket in the corner. A filthy mattress against the wall, with a blanket. Guess he undoes the shackles at night. A cup, empty. Nothing else.

‘Picked up your kerchief,’ I say, moving closer, trying not to scare her. ‘Sorry we didn’t come sooner; took a while to work out.’

‘I’m Ness,’ she sobs. ‘Daughter of Ernan the miller. My dad – where’s my dad?’

Black Crow save me. She doesn’t even know. ‘It’s just me and my friend today,’ I tell her. ‘Got to get these shackles off you; hold still for a bit.’

Fellow’s done a thorough job, curse his poxy hide. Hard to get the things off without hurting her. And I’m worried about how long it’s taking, since Blackthorn’s down there with him. If he comes out before I get Ness away this could turn even nastier than it already is. I try to prise the leg shackle open with my knife, but it’s going to be too slow. In the end I take hold of the chains and haul until the rings break off the wall. They come crashing down and a shower of rubble comes with them, and it’s loud, too loud. Ness sort of falls against me, then clutches onto me, sobbing against my chest.

‘Right, let’s get you out of here quick,’ I say, wanting to cry right along with her. I don’t even bother with the blanket I’ve brought, I just pick Ness up and carry her down the ladder, rings, chains and shackles dangling and dragging. Which is awkward, but I don’t trip myself up and I don’t drop her. Inside I’m cursing Branoc with every foul word I know, and that’s more than a few.

‘He’ll come,’ Ness whispers. ‘Branoc. He’ll hear us and come.’

Just what I’m thinking, but I want to get these chains off her before we go anywhere. Feels wrong to leave them on, and anyway they’ll slow us. I put Ness down on her feet but she can’t stand up, so I sit her on a bench. I find a crowbar and a hammer. See her flinch when I bring them over. My heart’s going fast, not a dance now, more of a charge into battle. I try to take deep breaths, to slow myself down. Need steady hands for this. Girl’s been hurt enough already, got to do it right the first time.

‘Put your arm along here, like this.’ I show her, laying my forearm along the bench. ‘And hold as still as you can. Just a little tap with the hammer and this’ll be off. Promise.’

She’s scared but she does it. I break open the shackles, first the wrist, then the ankle, and she’s free. Arm must hurt a lot after being held up like that. Leg can’t take her weight. Who knows what else he’s done to her? But she smiles at me with tears dripping down her face and her nose running, and it’s the best thing I’ve seen in a while.

‘What’s your name?’ she asks.

‘Grim. Hop up, we’ll get you straight home.’ I pick her up again, thinking I shouldn’t have said that, seeing as her dad’s dead and the mill’s a ruin, but too late now. ‘Down to the village first. My friend’s a healer, she’ll fix you up. Hush now.’

I kick the shackles and chains out of the way. Go over to the door, open it a bit. She squeezes her eyes shut when the light comes in though it’s not a bright day. Next part of the plan’s tricky. Need to get her to the horses, wait for Blackthorn to walk down, then put Ness up in the saddle and take her to the settlement without Branoc noticing that someone’s been in the barn or that his prisoner’s not there anymore. He’s hardly going to come racing after us once we’re down there telling the story of what he’s done, with the girl to prove it’s not lies.

I’m holding Ness up with one arm and closing the barn door with the other when I hear him. ‘You! What are you doing?’

There’s a warmth against my leg, a smell I recognise. Ness is so terrified she’s wet herself. Branoc’s striding out his front door, red in the face, and there’s Blackthorn coming after him with her bag in her hand.

‘Done you a favour,’ I call out. ‘Cleared those rats out of your barn.’

‘You bastard!’ He’s heading straight for me, rolling up his sleeves. ‘You thieving bastard, you can’t take her! She’s mine! She’s my wife, you bonehead!’

I take a step forward and he stops walking. ‘You scum,’ I say. ‘You filth. I’m taking her away. Now. Unless you fancy a fight.’

Branoc looks me up and down, then he turns real quick, and before I can do anything he’s got Blackthorn pinned in front of him with her back to his chest and her arm twisted up behind her. She hasn’t had time to grab her knife.

‘Try anything and I break your woman’s arm,’ Branoc says. ‘Now let my wife go and back off slowly.’

‘Wife, hah!’ Under my breath I say to Ness, ‘You’re safe. Trust me.’ I look over and there’s Blackthorn looking back at me, not nodding or anything, but I know what she wants me to do. ‘There,’ I say, letting go of Ness, who staggers and collapses on the ground. ‘Now you let
her
go.’

‘One, two, three,’ mouths Blackthorn without a sound, and as I charge forward with a big roar bursting out of me, she throws herself backward, her head cracks into Branoc’s shoulder and he drops her with a curse. He bolts. I go after him, but he’s quick, and before I get to the end of the house he’s out of sight in the woods behind. And though I want to rip him apart with my bare hands for what he’s done to the girl, I stop running and come back. Blackthorn needs me here. Last bit of the plan, she can’t do on her own. Anyway, what matters is getting Ness to safety. And telling the story. The story Ness’s friend tried to tell, and nobody would believe.

22

~ORAN~

‘M
y lord?’

Aedan was at the door of my small council chamber, where I had been attempting to sort out a pile of neglected correspondence. I had no scribe at Winterfalls; up until now there had been no need for one. As the mistress of the house, Flidais should have been dealing with most of these letters – congratulations from distant family connections, invitations to hand-fastings or other celebrations, suggestions that she and I might visit one or another chieftain’s household. At present, her headaches prevented this. If she was not better soon, I would need to seek assistance elsewhere. I hardly liked to ask Donagan to do it. ‘What is it, Aedan?’

‘My lord, the wise woman, Blackthorn, is here, with that fellow Grim and a young woman from the village.’

‘Can’t you deal with them?’ Seeing the look on the face of my loyal steward, I set down my pen and stood up, realising as I did so how long I had been sitting hunched over the letters; my back and shoulders ached. ‘I’m sorry, Aedan. I know you would not have disturbed me without good cause. What do they want?’

‘The wise woman says it’s urgent, my lord, and she’s asked to see you in person. Something about Branoc the baker and a missing girl. And a murder at Silverlake.’

‘A murder! Very well, I’ll see them now. Bring them in here, will you? And call Donagan for me.’ Accusations of unlawful killing would be best heard before a witness, and Donagan was the most reliable witness I could think of. ‘And make sure there’s a man-at-arms out in the hallway, please.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

Donagan arrived just as the three of them were being ushered in, and suddenly my council chamber – not, in fact, used for formal councils, but for writing, thinking and occasionally meeting with visitors – was quite full. That was very much down to Grim, who seemed to take up the space of at least three ordinary men. Blackthorn, a woman with oddly cropped hair of a startling red, had an intensity about her like that of a wild creature caged. I had never encountered a person with such blazing eyes or such a tightly held body. She was thin as a lath and not especially tall, with a tooth missing and a face that wore its years hard. But from the moment she walked in she filled the place with her presence. Between the two of them was the girl Aedan had mentioned. I recognised her as the young sister of Fraoch the smith, but I could not recall her name. She looked as if she had been crying.

‘Sit down, please.’ I motioned to the bench opposite me, but none of them sat. ‘You are Mistress Blackthorn, I presume. Grim I have already met. And . . .’

‘Emer,’ Blackthorn said. ‘She helps me in my work sometimes. My lord.’ There was a criticism in her tone; she expected the prince of Dalriada to know his people’s names. I did, mostly.

‘Thank you, Mistress Blackthorn. I understand there’s been some trouble at Silverlake. What has happened?’

‘Trouble,’ growled Grim. ‘You could call it trouble. I might have another word for it, a stronger one.’

‘It’s all right, Grim,’ Blackthorn said. ‘We’d best tell the story.’

The three of them told it together, and a terrible and violent tale it was. The baker, Branoc, abducting the miller’s daughter and keeping her locked up for his pleasure over several turnings of the moon; the strange death of the miller on the same night his daughter was taken, perhaps not the accident everyone believed after all; Emer, the loyal friend, pleading with folk to believe her when she refused to accept that Ness must have run away with her traveller boy and her father’s savings. The truth made a bizarre and unlikely story, and it was easy to understand why so many folk had long accepted the most plausible explanation. But Emer had never believed the loyal daughter would have abandoned her widowed father.

It had been Blackthorn and Grim who’d worked out the truth, by piecing together a collection of clues nobody else had understood. And yesterday, the two of them had gone up to the baker’s loft and found the girl abused, half-starved and filthy, but alive. Too scared to call for help; chained up so she could not escape. With a whole village of folk only a short ride away, blind to the shocking truth. No wonder Blackthorn was angry.

‘Where is the young woman now?’ I asked, finding it somewhat confronting to hold the wise woman’s gaze. I was the prince of Dalriada and leader of this district; that made this appalling incident my responsibility.

‘Being tended to in Silverlake,’ Blackthorn said. ‘She can’t be moved yet. There’s a kindly couple there who are happy to house her for now.’ Her lip curled, and again I heard the unspoken message:
Now they know she’s a good girl, not a runaway.
‘Ness has some injuries. I’ll deal with those. And she needs rest, quiet.’ She glanced at Emer. ‘She won’t be her old self again anytime soon. Perhaps never.’

‘Ness will come to us when she’s well enough to be moved,’ said the girl. ‘My mam says it’s all right for her to stay. When we’re done here I’m going over to Silverlake to help look after her.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘You’ve done well, all of you. What I cannot understand is why you tackled this yourselves, just the two of you.’ It seemed Blackthorn and Grim had ridden up there to confront Branoc without any backup at all, knowing the girl might be a prisoner in his barn, and suspecting the baker might have killed her father. According to Emer, Branoc had had an eye for Ness long before this happened, but Ernan had refused to consider him as a suitor for his daughter. Ness had never thought of Branoc as a possible husband; her affections were all for her traveller lad, Abhan. Who was now very likely on the road with the rest of his folk and heading our way, knowing nothing at all of this. ‘Why didn’t you bring it to me, ask for my help? We could have sent men-at-arms. We could have apprehended Branoc instead of letting him escape. Why didn’t you raise it at the council, or when I came to the village?’

The look in Blackthorn’s eyes might have withered me where I stood. ‘Grim and I didn’t put the pieces together until yesterday,’ she said, not bothering with
my lord
or
Prince Oran
at all. ‘And we didn’t know if we were right until we got there and Grim found Ness hidden in the barn. As for Emer, she’s young, and speaking up before a lot of men can take courage. You wouldn’t understand that, perhaps. As it was, Emer didn’t know what had happened until Grim and I rode back to Winterfalls this morning. I spent the night in Silverlake getting Ness settled, patching up her injuries, talking to the local folk. Grim spent it on guard up at Branoc’s place in case he came back to fetch anything. We’ve come straight here; we only stopped to pick up Emer and let her know her friend’s safe. But don’t forget, Emer’s been trying to convince folk there was something wrong ever since Ness disappeared. Over and over. Nobody believed her. Everyone dismissed her concerns. Easier for them to believe Ness had gone to the bad. Meant they could simply forget her, put her out of their minds. Emer was hardly going to come knocking on your door and demand to be heard, was she?’

‘Emer,’ I said, addressing myself to the girl and keeping my voice gentle, ‘you are a good and loyal friend. If you found it difficult to bring this to my attention, you could have raised it with Lady Flidais. That is why she and I visit the village from time to time; to make it easier for people to speak out, if the councils are too overwhelming.’

Emer looked me in the eye, and I saw on her young face an echo of Blackthorn’s fury. ‘I did tell Lady Flidais about Ness going missing, my lord. Yesterday morning when she came to the weaver’s to talk to us. I told her the same story I told everyone, that Ness was a good daughter and wouldn’t run away or thieve from her dad; she loved him. Lady Flidais said that when I got a bit older I wouldn’t be so trusting, and that girls like Ness made their own beds. And the others laughed.’

Donagan had folded his arms and was staring out the window. I struggled for the right words; there was enough anger in this room already without my adding to it.

‘Then I owe you an apology, Emer,’ I said. ‘And to Blackthorn and Grim we all owe a great debt. The two of you took quite a risk.’

‘Sorry we let Branoc go.’ Grim spoke, not looking at me but down at the floor. ‘Would have liked to wring his neck, the bastard. Too quick for me. Be miles away by now. Took a rope, never used it. Girl had to come first.’

‘I understand that, Grim. You have all done your best, and a remarkable best it was. Yes, I suppose we will never apprehend Branoc now, though I will send men out to look for him.’

‘He’ll be off to the nearest anchorage and taking ship for Armorica, that’s my guess,’ said Donagan. ‘Leaving Silverlake with neither miller nor baker. Though that is hardly of importance, beside this. You believe Ernan’s death might be Branoc’s doing too? And the theft of his savings?’

‘I can’t see how a miller crushes himself with his own grindstone,’ Blackthorn said. ‘No matter how upset he is. No matter how much his wits aren’t on the job. His work would be so familiar he’d be able to do it in his sleep. And who was the likeliest to guess where his daughter might really have gone? He knew Branoc fancied Ness and had been told he couldn’t have her.’

‘This is a matter for the next open council,’ I said. ‘I’ll ensure Ernan’s death is investigated further before then. If Branoc is apprehended, he will be called to account for his treatment of Ness, and he will be questioned on the matter of the miller’s demise. Even if he cannot be tracked down, there’s the future of mill and bakery to be considered, and compensation for the young lady.’

‘You won’t expect Ness to come to the council, will you, my lord?’ asked Emer. ‘Mistress Blackthorn says she didn’t even know her father was dead; they had to tell her last night.’

‘I understand that, and of course she must be given time to recover. I offer you all my personal thanks. I’ll arrange a search for Branoc immediately, and guards at the bakery. Blackthorn, if any further assistance is needed, don’t hesitate to ask – Donagan will help you, or speak to Aedan, my steward. It seems the young lady may now be without any family support. We must ensure that she is properly provided for.’

Blackthorn said nothing, but I saw a question in her eyes:
We?

‘This is an illustration to all of us, to the whole community, that we should take responsibility for each other. And it begins with me.’
And with Flidais
, I thought, but I did not say it. ‘Now I’ll let you go to some well-earned rest. Emer, you are going over to Silverlake this morning, you said? How will you get there?’

‘My brother’s taking me over on his cart, my lord.’

‘Good. I hope Ness is improving.’

‘Long road ahead,’ Grim said, surprising me. ‘When you’re hurt as bad as that. Wish we’d worked it out sooner.’

‘You saved her,’ I said. ‘Don’t lose sight of that.’

Donagan ushered them out. I sent for Lochlan, my head guard, and set the situation before him, knowing he could be trusted to arrange protection for Branoc’s premises and men to conduct an orderly search of the district. I sent for Aedan, and asked him to ensure those who cared for Ness had the wherewithal to provide for her through what might be a lengthy recovery. I had not asked Blackthorn if the abused girl was with child; I hoped very much that she was not. I called Brid and asked her to spread word that the Silverlake bakery would not be in business for the foreseeable future. There would be more work for Deaman and his assistants.

When that was done, all I wanted was to escape out of doors, stride around the farm and work off the confusion of feelings that had come over me when Blackthorn told the story. At first, disbelief. Then horror. Then fury that any man would do so base a thing. Then guilt, that I had not known; that of my whole community, the folk whose leader and exemplar I was supposed to be, only Emer, a girl of fifteen or so, had stood up for her friend and refused to be silenced. Even Flidais had dismissed her concerns. Flidais, who would one day be queen.

And because I would one day be king, I did not head out across the fields, but went to find her.

‘Flidais. A word with you in private.’

I had broken a household rule and come right into the women’s quarters to find my betrothed. The attendants laid aside their embroidery and vanished away like mist under morning sun, leaving the two of us alone in the chamber where they had been gathered. Aunt Sochla hesitated in the doorway; Bramble waited by her skirts. I’d have liked my aunt to stay. With her present, Flidais would not be able to end an awkward conversation by twining herself around me and inviting me to intimacy. That did often seem to be her solution to a disagreement. But what I had to say was best not shared with anyone else.

‘Thank you, Aunt,’ I said. ‘I’m sure Bramble would like a stroll in the garden.’

‘As would I. My eyes are getting too old for fine work. Come, dog!’

I waited until the door closed behind her before moving over to the table where Flidais was standing. She had her embroidery clutched against her breast as if she were a child expecting a reprimand; did I really look so angry? The sun through the tall windows bathed my betrothed in soft autumn light. Her gown was red, her lips redder; her skin was smooth and perfect. Her long-lashed eyes regarded me with such trepidation that a small part of me was tempted to enfold her in an embrace and suggest the two of us might start again, forgetting what was past. I hardened my heart.