Dreamer's Pool (46 page)

‘Thank you, Mistress Blackthorn,’ said Flidais. ‘You are so kind. I’m sorry I judged you harshly when you first came here.’

‘I’m used to it,’ I said, rising to my feet with my mead barely begun. ‘Now, if I may, I’ll leave you to your deliberations over the wedding gowns. Who did the embroidery on the yellow tunic? It’s very intricate.’

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ said Flidais with a crooked smile. ‘It was Ciar.’

39

~ORAN~

B
lackthorn’s unlikely plan fell into place with a curious ease. It was as if a force beyond the human had sprung into being, sending us hurtling toward what might be triumph or catastrophe. It sent my mind back over old tales of wonder and enchantment, and the price that could be exacted if a man or woman meddled unwisely with nature’s mysteries. I did not feel in the least wise, only strung tight with the knowledge that if this succeeded, my Flidais, my own, dear Flidais, would be returned to me on the night of full moon.

I managed to dissemble. So much hung on this, I could not afford to make the least blunder. So, when Flidais – Ciar – came to me in private and told me, with blushes and hesitation, a very strange tale about Dreamer’s Pool, I heard her out. Then I told her, gently, that I feared it was no more than an old wives’ superstition, and that she should not get her hopes up when she was likely to be disappointed. Later, she came to me again, and when she put her arms around my waist and leaned her head against my chest, I made myself stroke her hair and speak words of tenderness. I told her I had not been myself lately; that the added responsibility of a marriage, and perhaps children, on top of my role as heir to the throne, had for a little while felt too weighty to bear, especially since my falling-out with Donagan. I told her I was sorry, and kissed her on the lips. And I felt such a confusion of emotions that I wondered how she could possibly believe my lies. But it seemed I played my part well enough.

As for Donagan, he listened to me, which as much as I had hoped for. He listened while I told him the old tale of the brothers and the boar and explained what it might mean, and he listened while I told him what I had not told Blackthorn: the shameful and bitter story of how false Flidais had come to me by night, twice, and how I had let desire be my master. When I was finished, he said, ‘I know,’ and poured me a cup of mead. And when I asked him to come with me on the night of full moon, and to arrange horses for four, and explained what he should say if anyone asked why we were riding out at such an hour, he said he would do it. He did not tell me whether he believed the plan might work and I did not ask. I simply accepted what he offered and felt my heart ease a little.

It was as well there were no grave matters to be heard at the council, for my mind was leaping here, there and everywhere. Donagan helped, as did Aedan, keeping the proceedings moving along, asking the questions I forgot to ask, making suggestions when I had none. Ciar sat beside me, demure in a gown of russet brown with her hair in a plait down her back. She smiled and nodded, contributing little. The mood was muted, and the council concluded early.

Our departure for court in the morning would require a great deal of work. I let the folk of the district know that after the next council we would have a feast, with music and dancing. We provided mead and oatcakes, then sent them all home. The folk of the household busied themselves with packing up and preparing for the journey. They were too busy to think of asking awkward questions.

The most difficult moment, for me, was encountering my aunt, with Bramble, in the hallway. Aunt Sochla asked if I was planning to take the dog with me to Cahercorcan or leave her here at Winterfalls.

‘I know Lady Flidais has lost her enthusiasm for the creature,’ she said. ‘If you prefer, Bramble can ride along with me and I will house her with my other dogs. It will be a shock to her at first, I imagine, but she’ll cope. Bramble may be happier there, Oran. Your father’s court is full of hunting hounds and the like. And Flidais . . .’

It was as much as I could manage not to gather Bramble up and hug her close, bear her away and open my heart to her somewhere in private. Which was, in fact, not so very different from what I had already been doing from time to time, before I knew anything about her true nature. ‘Thank you, Aunt,’ I said. ‘We’ve decided to leave Bramble here until we return. Aedan and Fíona will make sure she’s looked after. She has many friends at Winterfalls, don’t you, lovely girl?’ I bent down to caress her soft head. She licked my hand. Her bright eyes seemed to me full of knowledge; of truths that could not yet be spoken. If tonight’s endeavour did not work, if it was a disastrous failure, my heart would shatter in pieces.

‘Very well, Oran.’ I could see Aunt Sochla was disappointed. ‘If you change your mind at any time, just let me know. I always have room for one more. Especially a well-behaved little soul like Bramble. It really defies belief that . . .’ She let her words trail off. ‘Ah, well, I have a great deal to do. And the morning will be chaotic. It might be best if Bramble went to Aedan and Fíona’s cottage tonight, don’t you think? The departure is sure to disturb her. Why don’t you take her now?’

‘Of course.’ Whether my aunt sensed something odd, or whether this was another of those turns of events that made me suspect uncanny interference in our affairs, there was no doubt it was convenient. ‘I will. And . . . thank you for being here this last while, Aunt Sochla. Your presence has provided a welcome dash of common sense. And you have been kind to Bramble.’

‘Kind but firm,’ my aunt said. ‘Makes them feel safe. Does wonders for their behaviour. Goodbye, little one.’ She turned on her heel and walked off without another word. I suspected my formidable kinswoman was holding back tears.

I broke my promise to Blackthorn. I went to my bedchamber, with the dog at my heels, locked myself in, and sat on the edge of my bed holding her. Stroking her. Whispering to her of what was to come, and how she would need to be very brave, and how I knew she would be when the time came. Explaining that she would have to leave me now, but that soon we would be together again. For the rest of our lives. Perhaps she understood my words; perhaps she retained her human awareness while she was in canine form. If she could not understand, she was at least soothed by my tone; her neat, small form was warm and relaxed against me. ‘Soon,’ I murmured. ‘Soon this nightmare will be over.’

Then I sent for Grim, and he took her away.

Before dusk, we rode out to Dreamer’s Wood; Ciar and I, Donagan and Mhairi. All of us were quiet. The day was chill but dry, and the fields were fading to purple-grey in the last light. The horses’ breath made little clouds in the freezing air; the sound of their hooves was muffled on the muddy track. It seemed to me the others might hear the pounding of my heart, which felt like the wild drumbeat of a charge to battle.

‘Are you warm enough, Flidais?’ I asked.

‘Fine.’ She was wrapped in a thick woollen cloak with rabbit fur around the hood, and looked utterly charming, her cheeks pink with the cold.
Let this not fail
, I prayed.
Let Blackthorn not be wrong about this.

The wood lay in stillness, shadowy, forbidding.

‘We’ll tie up the horses by Mistress Blackthorn’s cottage,’ I said to Donagan, who knew every part of the plan.

‘Nobody home,’ he observed as we rode up to the little house, which had been expertly repaired and looked, against the gloom of the wood, almost reassuring in its neat homeliness. ‘Never mind. Should be enough light from the moon, and I don’t imagine you’ll be very long.’

‘Who knows?’ I said, attempting a smile. ‘Let me help you down, Flidais. Careful now.’

The next part was awkward. Blackthorn had told me where to go, and both Donagan and I knew the wood well enough to find the place. But with our purpose being so intimate, it did not seem quite right for me to suggest that he and Mhairi come with us all the way.

‘I’ll walk you in, my lord,’ said Donagan, staunch as ever. ‘Don’t want to leave you and the lady in the wood all alone; doesn’t feel right. Mhairi and I can wait at a distance, down by the water. I have a flask of mead to keep the chill out.’

‘Thank you, Donagan.’ Ciar was nervous now; when I offered her the support of my arm, I could feel her trembling. ‘All right, my dear?’ I wondered at my own capacity for deception.

‘Mm. Only, being here brings back that day. When Ciar was drowned. This is a strange place.’ And, after a moment, ‘We don’t need to go down there, do we? Where they brought her out of the water?’

‘No, my lady,’ said Donagan. ‘There’s a much better place up on the other side of the pool. It’s sheltered and grassy. Let me show you.’

It was dusk, and as we climbed the path the full moon appeared beyond the network of bare branches, casting a cool light upon us. An owl gave a sudden eerie call, disturbing the quiet of the wood. From further off, another answered.

‘This place scares me,’ said Ciar.

‘My lady,’ put in Mhairi, who had been unusually quiet, ‘you need not do this now, tonight.’

Ciar turned on her. ‘Don’t think to tell me what I should or should not do! Why would I come all the way out here only to lose my courage and go running off home again? Keep your opinions to yourself!’

‘Through here,’ Donagan said, parting some foliage to show a narrow pathway. Ahead lay the place Blackthorn had chosen, a soft patch of greensward amid the proliferation of ferny undergrowth. ‘I will lay my cloak down here’ – he did so – ‘and, my lady, you might wish to pass your own cloak to Mhairi. And we will leave you in peace awhile.’

The moment was here; the wood seemed to tremble. Ciar and I stood side by side on the sward. The others had retreated to the path. Night was descending fast; the moonlight on Ciar’s perfect features – Flidais’s features – turned her to a silver goddess.

‘Ciar!’ said someone softly from behind her.

‘What?’ Ciar turned, then sucked in her breath; she had just given herself away.

Blackthorn stepped forward from the shadows, sombre-faced. She was clad in a voluminous woollen cloak. She put me in mind of some old goddess of the wood, come to deliver judgement.

‘What are you doing here?’ Ciar’s tone was shrill. I put my hand on her shoulder and she started, looking up at me. ‘Oran, what is this?’

‘We know the truth about you,’ I said. ‘That you are Flidais in outward appearance only; that when you went swimming in Dreamer’s Pool that day, you were somehow changed. Your response when Mistress Blackthorn called your name is proof in itself.’

‘What can you mean? That’s nonsense! It’s ridiculous!’ Then, to Blackthorn, ‘I never trusted you! I knew you were up to something! I knew it the moment you and your big oaf came to live in the house! You’ve lied to me, haven’t you? That story about the wood and what it could do for me, you made it all up just to get me here! But why? Why?’

Over on the path, Mhairi burst into tears. ‘Ciar, just tell them the truth! This has gone on too long. Please put a stop to it.’

‘You accuse me of lying, Ciar,’ said Blackthorn with commendable calm. ‘And yes, I did tell a story to bring you here tonight. But you have spun a mighty web of lies. It’s time to start telling the truth, as Mhairi so wisely advises. Much of it we’ve guessed already. And I imagine that if you are not prepared to tell us the rest, your maidservant will do it for you.’

‘This is rubbish! What do you think this is, some fairytale?’ Ciar tried to wrench away from my hold, intending I knew not what – it would hardly do her any good to run. ‘Let go of me! It’s not true!’

‘Then tell us what is true,’ I said. ‘Perhaps Mistress Blackthorn has it wrong. If that is so, you should have no trouble agreeing to put it to the test.’

‘Put . . . what do you mean?’

‘There’s an old story about Dreamer’s Pool,’ Blackthorn said. ‘I heard it from the travelling folk not long ago.’ She told the tale she’d shared with me when first telling me of her plan, a story about a pair of brothers and a prize boar. ‘So, you see, we know how to reverse the charm,’ she added at the end. ‘It should be easy.’

‘No! You can’t do that!’ Ciar was struggling now; I had her by both arms, but fear can give a person strength, and I was hard put to hold her.

‘Let me, my lord.’ Here was Grim, walking in from the other side, closing his great arms around Ciar. Perhaps realising how futile it would be to fight against such a giant, she became still, save for her hard breathing.

‘Tell us your story, Ciar.’ Blackthorn’s tone was level, but the look on her face would have struck fear into anyone. ‘Do as Mhairi suggested; she, at least, has the wisdom to know this pretence can go on no longer. If the prince himself knows you are not Flidais, then how can you continue with it?’ After a moment she added, ‘It must have been frightening for you, that day. It must have seemed impossible, unbelievable. And yet there you were.’

‘You can’t prove anything,’ Ciar snapped. ‘Try telling that story and folk would only laugh at you. Look at me, I AM Lady Flidais! Nobody would believe you!’

Donagan and Mhairi had moved in closer. All of us were on the sward, above the waters of Dreamer’s Pool. If Ciar was strung tight, so was I. I could hardly believe we would go ahead with what Blackthorn had planned. It felt something akin to committing murder. Even as the longing to have my Flidais back filled my heart, the knowledge of what must come lay like a cold stone in my belly.

‘We don’t plan to tell the story,’ Blackthorn said calmly. ‘If we do as the man in the tale did, with his brother and the boar, there will be no need for anyone else to know.’

‘You can’t make Ciar go into the pool again.’ Mhairi’s voice was hushed with horror. ‘It’s not like the man and the boar. Flidais is dead, drowned. There’s no changing back.’

I made to speak, but Blackthorn gave a little shake of her head.

‘We have a plan,’ she said. ‘But we want Ciar’s story first. Whatever happens, whatever we do, it should be based on truth. There’s a powerful magic here. Only a fool mixes lies and magic. Ciar, tell us. What happened that day?’

Ciar stared at Blackthorn, her chest heaving, her eyes wild. She said not a word.

‘Mhairi, why don’t you tell us?’ Blackthorn asked after a little pause.

‘After the drowning,’ Mhairi said in a wisp of a voice, ‘she told me –’

‘No!’ Ciar’s voice was like the crack of a whip. ‘I forbid you to speak! Have you forgotten what I said?’

A silence, then.

‘No,’ said Mhairi, lifting her chin and straightening her shoulders. ‘But I’m not covering up for you any longer. After I’d helped you for so long, ever since you told me on that first night what had happened to you, when I said Mistress Blackthorn was sure to work out the truth soon, even if Prince Oran didn’t, you said you’d send me straight back to Cloud Hill in disgrace if I didn’t do what you wanted. You said you’d tell everyone I’d stolen your silver bracelet – the one Lady Flidais’s mother gave her when she left home. You said you’d make sure nobody would ever give me a position again.’