The Forbidden Land (27 page)

When she woke it was morning. Sunlight struck through the open flaps of the tent, warming her toes. Goblin slept on her neck as usual, almost choking Finn with thick black fur. She lifted the elven cat away and repositioned her in the crook of her arm. For a while she lay still, listening to the bustle of the camp about her. She could hear heavy wagons trundling over rough ground, the neigh of horses and clink of bridles, the bleat of chickens and the occasional soft
maaaa
of a goat. Men shouted and swore, and there was the occasional higher pitch of a woman’s voice.

The tent was now empty. The pallets were all rolled and stacked against one wall, beside six small brown chests. Arranged neatly on top of the chests were a number of small haversacks, each with a blanket rolled up and strapped on top. Already the grass was springing up from where it had been flattened by the weight of sleeping bodies. Only Finn’s pallet remained where it had been unrolled. She could not help marvelling that she had slept through everyone else’s waking and packing up, and thought they must have all been very quiet and deft.

Just then a woman bent and looked through the tent flap. ‘Och, ye’re awake at last! I was beginning to think I’d have to roll ye up in your pallet and load ye on the wagon still fast asleep,’ she said with a warm inflection of humour in her voice.

‘Jo!’ Finn cried, and leapt to her feet. ‘Hell’s bells, look at ye! I would never have recognised ye.’

‘Have I changed so much?’ Johanna said whimsically. ‘I suppose I have. It’s been six years. Though ye haven’t changed at all! I thought ye were meant to be a banprionnsa now, Finn? Look at ye! Ye’re as filthy and ragged as ye used to be in the auld days.’

‘Aye, but I’ve been having adventures,’ Finn cried joyously. ‘Ye canna fight battles and almost drown and crawl through caves and no’ get a wee bit dirty.’

‘Nay, I suppose ye canna,’ Johanna said. ‘But ye’re going to come and wash up now, and put some decent clothes on, that I can promise ye.’

‘Indeed?’ Finn replied, marvelling at the ring of authority in Johanna’s voice. The beggar lass she had known had been a thin, anxious-faced girl afraid of everything. She was now a tall, strong-looking woman with rough, capable hands and a determined face. She looked as if she was afraid of very little.

‘If ye want breakfast, ye will,’ Johanna answered. ‘No-one sits down at my campfire with hands as black as a chimneysweep’s!’

‘Very well then,’ Finn answered meekly. She was very hungry indeed.

Rather to her dismay, Johanna’s idea of a wash up included a scrubbing brush, buckets of very hot water, a great deal of soap and the removal and burning of all of Finn’s clothes. Finn protested once or twice but soon found that resistance did her little good. The impression of strength Johanna had given her was not mistaken. It was not till every inch of Finn’s body was pink and glowing, including her toenails, that Johanna desisted with her scrubbing and rubbing. Finn was then given clean linen drawers and a chemise, a shirt of undyed linen, a long grey coat, a pair of grey woollen breeches that tied under the knee, long knitted stockings and some sturdy brogues to wear. She dressed thankfully in the warm, clean clothes, combed her damp curls and came out from behind the screen to present herself for Johanna’s inspection.

Johanna looked her over critically then smiled and nodded in approval. ‘Ye’ll do,’ she said. ‘Now come and eat, ’cause I havena any more time to be wasting on ye.’

Finn grinned back and followed her over to the fire eagerly. Goblin was curled up on her pack, waiting for her, having had no desire to stay in Finn’s company while so much water was being sloshed around. Finn sat down beside her and eagerly ate two big bowls of porridge loaded with nuts and dried fruit and sweetened with honey. While she ate, Johanna cooked her some bannocks on the griddle, which proved to be as light and airy as Finn had hoped.

‘This is all awfully good,’ she said. ‘I do no’ remember ye being a good cook, Jo.’

‘Isabeau the Red taught me to cook,’ Johanna answered. ‘She’s one o’ the best, ye ken. She taught me most o’ what I ken, about herbs and healing and distilling and everything. If it was no’ for her, I’d still be an orphan lass with no home and no way to support myself. I am aye grateful to her.’

Finn lay back on her elbows, wishing fervently for a smoke. Her pouch of tobacco had been ruined in the shipwreck, however, and she had not had time to steal another.

Johanna stood and stretched, saying, ‘Are ye finished? We’re behind schedule, thanks to ye, sleepyhead, so I really need to get these washed up and packed away. I need to speak to the other healers afore we ride out, and make sure they think to look out for any willow trees. We can never have enough willowbark and the porridge-heads never see a thing if it’s no’ pointed out to them.’

‘How about I wash up and ye do what ye need to do?’ Finn offered.

‘That would be grand,’ Johanna answered with relief and bustled away.

Within ten minutes she was back. Finn tucked Goblin in her pocket, picked up her satchel and followed the healer through the camp to where a squadron of soldiers were preparing to ride out. Lachlan and Iseult were both there, the Rìgh mounted on a magnificent black stallion, the Banrìgh upon a tall grey mare with a flowing white mane and tail of great silkiness. Both were wearing cuirasses of hard leather, with light leather helmets on their heads and their plaids slung about their shoulders. Upon his gauntleted wrist, Lachlan carried a snowy-white gyrfalcon that regarded the world through the slits of its leather hood. Finn recognised the beautiful hawk immediately, for Stormwing had been a gift to the Rìgh from Finn’s father Anghus MacRuraich.

Strapped to Lachlan’s saddle was a quiver of arrows and the great longbow that had once belonged to his ancestor Owein MacCuinn. He wore his heavy claymore strapped to his back so it hung down between his wings, a short sword at his waist and a dagger in his boot. Iseult was also heavily armed, with her crossbow and quiver of arrows near to hand, and a belt heavy with weapons about her slim waist.

At the sight of Finn, Lachlan raised his hand and beckoned to her. She crossed the meadow eagerly, nodding her head to Iain and Elfrida who stood by the horses’ heads, waiting to say their farewells.

‘As ye can see, we are all ready to ride,’ the Rìgh said with an affectionate smile. ‘I hope ye are well fed and rested, my cat, because we have a long, hard gallop ahead o’ us!’

‘Finn, how was Killian himself?’ Elfrida asked anxiously.

‘Och, he was no’ grand,’ Finn answered. ‘He seems very dazed and confused. I think he sometimes did no’ understand what was going on but he were so very weak he could no’ protest or fight, just let us heave him about like a sack o’ potatoes.’ She described the marks of ill-use that covered the old man’s emaciated body and saw Elfrida’s eyes fill with tears of pity.

‘Och, that be bad news indeed,’ she said. ‘Did he understand ye had come on my behalf?’

‘I be no’ sure,’ Finn answered. ‘There was so little time for explaining. He recognised the cross.’

‘Well, that be something at least,’ Elfrida said with a sigh. ‘I wish I could be coming wi’ ye.’

‘No, ye do no’,’ Iseult said coolly. ‘We ride hard, Elfrida. Ye ken ye will be much more comfortable travelling in your carriage at the rear o’ the army, with your maids to serve ye and your bodyguard to protect ye. Ye would only slow us down if ye came.’

‘Aye, I suppose so,’ Elfrida replied unhappily. ‘Well, I hope ye find him in better shape and all those who helped him too.’ She raised her hand in farewell. ‘Godspeed!’

‘Godspeed,’ Lachlan answered with a smile and a little salute.

‘May Eà be with ye all,’ Iain said, sliding his hand within Elfrida’s arm. They then both turned and walked away. It was clear from the droop of Elfrida’s shoulders that Iseult’s words had hurt her but the Banrìgh showed no sign of remorse. As usual, her beautiful pale face was calm and rather stern.

‘Aye, it is hard to believe Elfrida is the descendant o’ the bright warrior-maid,’ Lachlan said, as if Iseult had offered some explanation for her harshness. ‘She was no’ brought up to be warlike, though, Iseult; ye should no’ expect it.’

Iseult returned his gaze squarely. ‘I do no’ expect it.’

‘Then why be so cold to her all the time?’ he asked. ‘She be a sweet lass and tries hard to be friends with ye.’

Iseult gave a small shrug of her shoulders. ‘Am I cold? I do no’ mean to be. It is just she is always wringing her hands and weeping, instead o’ doing what needs to be done.’ She paused, then said with a faint heightening of colour in her cheeks. ‘All ye men think her so sweet and gentle, yet she always gets what she wants without the least effort on her part. I find it exasperating.’

‘Aye, she is bonny,’ Lachlan said infuriatingly. He looked down at the avidly listening Finn with a grin. ‘Come, enough o’ this idle chitchat. Let us make ready to ride!’

Finn grinned and followed Johanna through the rows of mounted soldiers. Apart from the Rìgh and the Banrìgh, there were the fifty Yeomen of the Guard, led by Duncan Ironfist upon an enormous brown gelding with shaggy white fetlocks and mane. Connor sat beside the Rìgh on a pretty bay pony, carrying the Rìgh’s standard. Finn stared at him enviously as Johanna instructed her to climb up into a small wagon with the court sorcerer, Gwilym the Ugly, and the other healers.

‘Why canna I ride too?’ she asked rebelliously. ‘I hate bouncing around in wagons!’

‘I dinna ken ye could ride,’ Johanna answered. ‘Besides, we havena any horses to spare.’

‘O’ course I can ride,’ Finn replied crossly. ‘I can ride anything!’ She thought rather longingly of her black mare Cinders, left in Nina’s care in Rhyssmadill along with the other horses. ‘Surely someone must have a horse I could borrow? Flaming dragon balls! How can I direct Lachlan which way to go if I’m stuck in the rear eating everyone’s dust?’

‘Ye should call the Rìgh “His Highness”,’ Johanna replied austerely. ‘Wait here, Finn. I shall speak to the cavalry-master and see if ye can borrow one o’ the cavaliers’ spare destriers. They shall no’ be happy, I warn ye. Destriers cost a great deal o’ money and are much loved by their riders. Ye had best be as good a rider as ye say!’

She went away across the field and Finn leant against the wagon, swinging her foot impatiently.

‘Hello, Finn,’ a soft, rather plaintive voice said. ‘Do ye no’ remember me?’

She glanced up, startled. Sitting right beside her in the wagon was a small, thin boy with pale gold wisps of hair and enormous blue eyes. His skin was so pale it was translucent, the trail of blue veins at temple and eyelid clearly visible. Deep violet shadows curved under his eyes, and the knobs of his collarbone stuck up rigidly at the base of his throat. He wore a small black gauntlet on the hand hanging limply over the side of the wagon.

‘Tòmas!’ Finn cried. ‘Oh, Tòmas.’

To her surprise tears started to her eyes. She leant up and embraced him fiercely, blotting her tears on the soft wool of his coat. ‘O’ course I remember ye! I just dinna see ye.’

‘I heard ye were here,’ Tòmas said. ‘They say ye were dropped out o’ the night sky by a flight o’ nyx.’

‘I was indeed.’

‘I would’ve liked to have seen that,’ he answered with a sad little sigh.

‘It was very late. Ye would’ve been asleep.’

He stirred a little, lifting his hand and then letting it drop again. ‘I do no’ sleep very well,’ he answered listlessly. ‘There are always so many sick people. I can feel their pain, even though they will no’ let me touch them all. They say I must save my strength for those who need me most.’

‘That be good advice,’ Finn said briskly. ‘Ye canna be touching everyone, ye ken.’

‘I feel their pain,’ he answered sadly.

Again there was that unexpected rush of hot tears to Finn’s eyes. She wondered what was wrong with her, that she should be so troubled so easily. It had been many months since she had felt like crying and here she was, weeping all the time like some soppy sentimental girl. She sniffed back the tears and said, even more briskly, ‘Well, ye should learn to block it out. Ye’ll be making yourself sick if ye try and heal every silly gowk that has a sniffle or a sneeze.’

‘That’s what Jo says.’

‘Well, listen to her. Jo is right.’

‘Och, o’ course I am,’ Johanna said, coming up behind her. ‘Though I have no idea what ye’re talking about. Come on, Finn, I have found a horse for ye. Ye had best take good care o’ him and no’ hurt his mouth or score his side with spurs, else ye’ll be making an enemy o’ his owner. Come, His Highness is growing restless and wants to be on the road. It’s long past dawn!’

Gladly Finn hurried to mount her horse, a big chestnut with a proudly curved neck named Harken. He was much taller than Cinders and, as Finn found as soon as she mounted, much stronger as well. He pranced and jibbed at the unfamiliar lightness of her weight and she had some trouble bringing him into line with the other horses. She hid her dismay, however, and kicked him forward so that she was near Lachlan and Iseult, both watching her critically.

‘Are ye sure ye can manage him, Finn?’ Iseult said.

‘O’ course!’

‘Very well then,’ the Rìgh said. ‘Let us ride!’

By the end of the first day, Finn was ready to weep with exhaustion. She had never ridden so hard and for so long. The horses were given their heads at every opportunity, galloping over the long stretches of meadow and through the green dales of trees. Only when the forest grew too thick were the horses reined in, and then to an uncomfortable jog that rattled the teeth in Finn’s head and chafed her inner thighs raw.

It had taken Harken less than ten minutes to unseat Finn and she had hit the ground very hard, falling from a great height and at full speed. Goblin had been clinging to her shoulder and she leapt clear, landing nimbly on her feet and then tidying up her whiskers as a shaken and furious Finn tried to catch the gelding.

Harken was too well trained to bolt but she had to remount him without the assistance of a mounting block or a helping hand, all while clutching a protesting elven cat who was not averse to punishing Finn for the insult with her sharp little claws. Aware that the healers were all watching from the wagon, Finn scrambled up with flaming cheeks, dragged the chestnut’s head around and kicked him forward, galloping in the muddy tracks of the other cavaliers who had cantered on without pause.