Dreamer's Pool (36 page)

‘Why’s that?’

I shrug. ‘I can get by.’

Look on his face says he knows that’s a lie. Truth is, if we leave it I’ll be in trouble very soon. ‘Don’t want the whole place knowing about this,’ I tell him.

‘Understood,’ says Donagan. ‘Don’t trouble yourself, I’ll be discreet. I think I can do this without saying anything about tonight. Trust me.’

Funny, how things sometimes come clear all of a sudden. I guessed already that he doesn’t want to leave Winterfalls, doesn’t want to leave the prince, but for some reason he’s going to anyway. Now I see that he wants to help his friend but doesn’t know how. Maybe, deep down, he’s hoping he’s wrong and we can find answers. ‘Seems a good fellow,’ I say. ‘Prince Oran.’

Donagan nods. He picks up the poker and stirs the fire. Throws on a bit more wood. ‘The best,’ he says. ‘You heard him at the council. A fine man. A worthy leader. His modest demeanour makes some folk underestimate him.’ He falls silent a bit, and I wonder if there’s a
but
coming. I don’t say anything.

‘If he has a failing,’ Donagan says, still not looking at me, ‘it’s that he is not very . . . worldly-wise.’

‘Mm-hm.’ Not sure what he means, and not going to ask. Is he talking about women? Wouldn’t a prince be able to bed whatever woman he fancied?

‘That’s in confidence,’ says Donagan.

‘Wouldn’t breathe a word.’
Except to Blackthorn
, I’m thinking, but I don’t say it. Wonder how she’s getting on among the ladies of the house. Hardly seen her since we got here. Big crowd at meal times, both of us listening hard to who’s saying what, no time to have more than a word or two. The way it’s going, it’ll be full moon before we know it and Prince Oran will be off to his hand-fasting with no way out.

‘Big step, going away,’ I say. ‘Leaving your position and all. Any chance you’d change your mind?’

He’s holding a bit of firewood in his hands, looking at it as if he doesn’t remember why he picked it up. ‘If I thought you and Blackthorn could turn back time,’ he says, ‘or work magic, I’d say yes.’

I’ve always thought wise women
could
work magic. Seems he’s got no faith in that.

‘If anyone can fix this,’ I say, ‘Blackthorn can.’

29

~ORAN~

I
t was harder than I would have dreamed possible to maintain an air of calm. How could I go about my daily business as usual when the days seemed to be slipping by ever more quickly? The moon became a waxing crescent. It swelled toward half-full. Blackthorn did not report to me. I had done as she requested, and neither called her to see me nor sought her out. Evidently she had as yet uncovered nothing.

Grim had been put on night watch. I did not understand this, but under Blackthorn’s rules I did not question Lochlan as to why a man who was in my house as a guest would be allocated guard duty. Perhaps Grim fancied a future in my service and had asked for a trial. Or, more likely, working alongside my guards gave him a better opportunity to talk to them in confidence. I did wonder how much sleep he was getting. Had he given up rebuilding his burned cottage? That made me uncomfortable. It had been clear to me how badly the two of them wanted that job done, and done quickly.

When barely fourteen days remained until full moon and my next open council, Winterfalls had visitors. They sent a messenger to let us know when they were a half-day’s ride away: the chieftain of southern Ulaid, Muadan, his wife, Breda, and two councillors, travelling to Cahercorcan early for the hand-fasting so Muadan could spend time consulting with my father. With them came an escort of men-at-arms.

My household was accustomed to coping with unexpected arrivals. Aedan and Fíona had quarters prepared for all of them. Savoury smells from the kitchen told me Brid and her helpers were preparing a special supper. The stables stood ready to accommodate the tired horses.

I had become something of a coward where Flidais was concerned, for with Blackthorn and Grim in the house I did not trust myself to act as if nothing were wrong. I was terrified of giving the secret away, alerting my betrothed to the fact that she and her circle were being watched. So I had ceased trying to coax her out of the women’s quarters to go for a walk or a ride, or to spend time with me in the council chamber or the library. Instead, I left her to her own devices. At meal times I exchanged the necessary pleasantries with her, no more. But with Muadan’s party present she would have to sit at table and be the lady of the house, and I would have to put on a convincing show that everything was fine. More than that, indeed, with our hand-fasting so close. If I seemed unduly cool toward my soon-to-be-wife, word might get to my parents that something was amiss.

When the visitors were spotted a mile or so from Winterfalls, I sent Donagan to fetch Flidais and my aunt. They came to join me in the courtyard: Aunt Sochla accompanied by Bramble, Flidais pale but lovely in one of her blue gowns, with her hair covered by a light veil. Mhairi hovered close behind.

As the visitors rode in, I saw that among them was one I had not expected. Riding along with Muadan’s party was a familiar, grey-robed figure.

‘Master Oisin!’ It was unusual for the druid to visit twice in such quick succession; I wondered what had brought him back to Winterfalls. ‘Welcome! Muadan, greetings. I hope you had a comfortable journey, Lady Breda.’ Once my grooms had helped everyone down, I led Flidais forward by the hand. ‘You have met Lady Flidais, I believe, on her journey from the south, when you were kind enough to accommodate her party. And of course you know my aunt, Lady Sochla.’

‘And the dog,’ observed Lady Breda with a wry smile. ‘Though I would have expected that creature to be in your arms, Lady Flidais. If there’s one thing I remember about your visit, it’s that the animal – what is its name, Bundle? – refused to leave your side for a moment. I see it’s settled in well here. I hope it’s been as easy for you, Lady Flidais. Many changes for you.’

Flidais smiled and nodded.

‘Please, come indoors,’ I said, wishing my betrothed could manage
welcome
, if nothing else. ‘You’ll be wanting to rest before supper, I’m sure. Master Oisin, my steward wll make sleeping arrangements for you.’

‘Thank you, my lord. Any corner will do. I trust you are well? And you, Lady Flidais?’ The druid’s was not the quick glance that went with a casual enquiry, but a deep, shrewd gaze that examined each of us in turn.

‘Well enough, thank you,’ I said.

Our visitors dispersed, led by Aedan’s helpers to their various bedchambers or, in the case of the escort, to the sleeping quarters in the stables. Men-at-arms generally weren’t happy to have strangers look after their horses for long, even if those strangers were capable grooms. Besides, we had more room there. Muadan and his attendant were still in the entrance hall with me.

‘Some mead?’ I asked Muadan. Clearly he wanted to speak to me in private, or he would have gone with his wife.

‘And a word, Prince Oran, if I may.’

We made our way to the small council chamber. After refreshments had been provided, I had the attendants close the door, leaving the two of us on our own. Muadan’s expression told me this was a weighty matter. Not too weighty, I hoped, with time passing and the question of Flidais still unresolved.

‘I have some news from the south,’ Muadan said.

I was suddenly cold. ‘From Cloud Hill?’

‘Mm-hm. I didn’t want to upset Lady Flidais; best for you to tell her in private, my lord.’

What was coming? Her father killed? His lands overrun? A wave of shame ran through me, for my first feeling, when Muadan spoke, had not been shock and sympathy for Flidais’s family, but the realisation that if either guess was true, I was trapped. If her father had lost his battle, Flidais’s entire future would hang on her marriage to me. Her home, as it had been, would no longer exist. ‘Tell me what has happened,’ I said, setting down the cup around which my hands had fastened themselves tightly.

‘I got word through a man of mine who was in the south on unrelated business. As far as I know Cadhan and his family are safe, but I heard that Mathuin of Laois tried to make a bargain. He wanted Cadhan to cede a large parcel of grazing land in return for Mathuin’s promise to cease these border attacks. As any leader worth his salt would do, Cadhan refused him outright. And that should be the end of it, but . . .’

‘But Mathuin seldom takes no for an answer.’

‘So I’ve heard.’ Muadan frowned into his goblet. ‘I don’t like Cadhan’s chances of dealing with this on his own. But the chieftains of the region won’t want it developing into outright territorial war.’

‘Is this fact, Muadan, or only rumour?’

‘The source was reliable,’ Muadan said. ‘It’s common knowledge that Mathuin is both ambitious and ruthless. And his personal army is sizeable; he could seize not only the stretch of land in question, but Cadhan’s entire holdings, I suspect. Probably thought he was being magnanimous in offering the so-called bargain. But now Cadhan’s refused, Mathuin may feel justified in taking what he wants by force. I did hear he’d had hopes of marrying Lady Flidais, and was mightily put out when her father promised her to you.’

‘Mathuin? He’s fifty if he’s a day. And . . .’ What I had heard of the fellow suggested he would not be a fit husband for any woman.

‘Mm-hm. I think your lady may have had a lucky escape, my lord. But the betrothal can’t have sweetened Mathuin’s temper. You may have made an enemy.’

I did not especially care if Mathuin of Laois loathed and despised me. Should we ever meet in the flesh, I was fairly sure the feeling would be mutual. His lands lay far from my father’s, and the likelihood of our ever being at war was slight. On the other hand, one day I would be king of Dalriada and a senior member of the High King’s council.

‘Thank you for bringing this to me, Muadan. Please pass all the information on to my father when you reach Cahercorcan. You’ll be there before me, and so, possibly, will Lorcan of Mide. Flidais and I won’t be at court until a few days before the hand-fasting.’

‘Nobody’s going to make any moves before spring,’ Muadan said. ‘Not the kind of moves that involve men-at-arms, anyway. What goes on behind closed doors is a different matter. This marriage may bring you some challenging times in the future, my lord.’

I could almost have laughed at that. ‘So it seems. Now I’ll let you go and rest, and I’d better break the news to Flidais.’ Would this give her an excuse to develop another headache and be absent from supper? ‘Again, thank you. Are your councillors aware of the situation?’

‘Not fully. I thought it best to bring the news to you and your father first.’

‘I appreciate your discretion, Muadan.’

When he was gone, I called Flidais into the council chamber. I asked Mhairi to wait outside.

‘Please sit down, Flidais,’ I said when the door had closed behind her maidservant.

‘This is very formal, Oran,’ said my betrothed, seating herself as instructed. She was indeed pale today; had the headache come even before the bad news?

I poured mead for her and waited until she had taken a sip before I told her. I kept it simple: her parents were apparently well, but the threat from Mathuin had increased, making it unsafe for any of her party to return to Cloud Hill until we knew more. It could be that they must all stay permanently in the north.

She heard me out in silence, not responding with gasps or tears or questions. When I was finished she said, ‘I see.’ And then, ‘Thank you for telling me, Oran. It all sounds rather serious.’

This was so inadequate a response that for a few moments I could think of nothing to say to her. We sat in awkward silence, not looking at each other.

‘Oran?’

‘Yes?’

‘I was thinking we might travel to court a little earlier. Perhaps even ride on with Lord Muadan’s party. Your plan . . . arriving there only a few days before the hand-fasting . . . that will be difficult for me, as I have never been at Cahercorcan, or indeed any king’s court, before.’

‘It is not necessary to go any earlier. We will have sufficient time.’

‘But Oran . . .’ She looked at me now, with her head on one side and her lashes half-lowered over her eyes.

‘You know I must be at Winterfalls for the open council. My people need me. I explained that to you, Flidais.’

‘You think a mob of muddy-booted farmers and whining village folk more important than your own wedding?’ She was suddenly, inexplicably furious. ‘Anyone could preside over your council! Ask Donagan to do it, or Aedan! Or, if you really must be there in person, why not put it off until we return from Cahercorcan? It’s only squabbles over a patch of land or a cow or two. You are a prince, Oran.’ And, as I made to answer, she added, ‘If this is all you care about me, I might as well pack my bags and head straight back home.’ She drew a deep, shuddering breath. A tear ran down her flawless cheek.

I was a hair’s-breadth from telling her I’d be most happy if she’d do just that, and the sooner the better. But she could not go. Muadan’s news had only confirmed what I already knew. If Blackthorn did not uncover something truly remarkable – a proven plot to defraud me, or worse – I would have no choice but to go ahead with the marriage.

‘Were you not listening when I explained what Muadan told me?’ I used the kind of tone I employed in meeting with my father’s councillors, calm, firm, a little detached, though my heart was a mad jumble of emotions. ‘Even if the season allowed such a journey, you could not go. Your father is in serious trouble, Flidais. The last thing he would want was for his daughter to ride into the middle of it.’ I drew breath. ‘Why wasn’t I told that Mathuin of Laois had offered for your hand?’

She stared at me, big-eyed and silent.

‘Muadan mentioned it in passing,’ I said. ‘I would have thought you, or your father, would have included that fact in a letter.’

‘I . . .’ She dropped her gaze. Her hands were knotted together, tight with nerves. Was I so intimidating? ‘I don’t know. I didn’t think. Perhaps he – my father – perhaps he forgot.’

I did not believe that for a moment. ‘Your father showed good sense in refusing the offer. And considerable courage. The match would have been most unsuitable. But this means Lord Cadhan has angered Mathuin, and Mathuin is a man no leader would want as an enemy. The situation has implications for me and for my father. Our marriage will not please the chieftain of Laois, who has powerful friends.’

There was a silence, then Flidais said, ‘I don’t understand why you are so angry with me, Oran. I know nothing of such matters. Why would I be wanting to think about them so close to our hand-fasting? You are making my head ache.’

‘Not so badly, I hope, that you will be unable to attend supper this evening with our guests.’

She gazed at me, mute with reproach.

‘Ask Mistress Blackthorn to give you a draught for the pain,’ I said. ‘Since she is in residence here, that should be easy, provided you can overcome your reluctance to let her help you. I want you present at table tonight. We have guests.’ Would a woman afflicted by a severe headache be wanting to get on a horse and ride to court within a day or so, as Muadan’s party planned to do?

‘I will be there.’ Her voice was a small girl’s now, soft and apologetic. She had as many moods as an autumn day. The way she changed from one to the next, quick as a heartbeat, was deeply disconcerting. As I got up from the table she came around to me and, rising on tiptoes, put her hands on my shoulders and kissed my cheek. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you,’ she said. ‘I am trying my best.’ She did not step back, but stayed close, almost leaning on me. Her breath was sweet; her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She was waiting, perhaps, for a kiss in return, an embrace, a tender word or two. How little she knew me, despite those nights of intimacy.

I stepped away from her, letting her hands drop. ‘I’m glad to hear that,’ I said, wondering that I could be so cold. ‘You might make an effort to engage our guests in conversation this evening. Since you’ve met Mistress Breda before, that should not be too much of a challenge for you.’

It was as if I had struck her. Already pale, she became still paler, save for a spot of red in each cheek. Her lips tightened. ‘You speak to me as if I were not your promised wife, but a serving woman.’

‘I hope I speak to all women with courtesy,’ I said.