The Forbidden Land (5 page)

The platters of roast meats and vegetables had been taken away and now the servants were carrying in plates of honey cakes, sweetmeats and dried fruits. The jongleurs had gathered around the frail form of an old woman, who had been carried into the centre of the room on a chair all carved and painted with leaves, flowers and birds. Her hair was white, her oliveskinned face a mass of wrinkles. The hands which rested on the carved arms of her chair were bent and twisted as birds’ claws. On her wizened breast hung many necklaces of amber stones, some as big as eggs, others as small as teeth.

Finn’s eyes widened a little in surprise. She recognised the old woman. She was Enit Silverthroat, a great friend of the Keybearer Meghan NicCuinn. Finn had last seen her at Lucescere five years earlier, singing for the Rìgh and Banrìgh. It was said she could sing birds to her hand and people to their death. It was a rare privilege indeed to hear Enit Silverthroat sing.

Softly the musicians strummed their guitars and clàrsachan, the fiddler raised his bow and the cluricaun lifted his silver flute to his mouth. As music spilled melodiously across the grand hall, the loud hum of conversation died away. Then Enit began to sing and an awed silence fell upon the audience.

Although her voice quavered in places, and once cracked mid-syllable, it was so poignant with longing and sorrow, so rich in cadence and experience, so pure and melodic that involuntary tears rose in the eyes of many. Finn heard a stifled sob and saw that her mother had raised one hand to shield her eyes, and that Brangaine was bending close over her, comforting her with a gentle hand. Finn herself felt a pang of regret that she had to struggle to repress.

At last her voice trailed into silence and the crowd applauded wildly. There were tears on Enit’s face and the black-eyed girl bent to kiss her withered cheek. The old woman smiled a little and lifted her crippled hand to pat the girl’s smooth brown cheek. The jongleurs began to play a much-loved ballad and the young man with the crimson cap again led the singing.

He was very handsome, with tousled dark curls, dusky olive cheeks and an impudent smile. Finn could feel his attraction herself and noticed how all the court ladies were smiling and fluttering as he wooed them with his words of love. Even Brangaine was blushing a little, somewhat to Finn’s surprise. Her cousin’s face was usually very pale and serene, her mouth set in a rather melancholy droop. No anger or passion ever seemed to ruffle that calm exterior. To see her responding to the amorous glances of a jongleur made Finn grin.

Everyone clapped and cheered as he finished with a flourish and there were calls for more. Only Gwyneth seemed immune to his charm and Finn felt troubled as she saw how pale and unhappy her mother looked. For a moment she wanted to fling off the cloak of invisibility, reassure her mother that she was alive and well, and beg her forgiveness for being so stubborn. She fought back the urge and let herself enjoy the music.

It had been some years since she had heard such skilled musicians. In Lucescere her best friend had been a fiddler who had played with just the same verve and passion as this young fiddler, though without his polish and poise. They even looked rather the same, though Jay had been thin and pale and undernourished, while this young violinist was tall and brown and laughing. Dressed in a forest-green doublet and satin crimson breeches with a feather of the same colour stuck in his cap, he was playing his fiddle with immense skill and animation, so that many in the audience began to beat time with the handles of their eating knives.

Then the cook got up and began to dance a jig with the butler, showing all her petticoats and her thick, blue-veined legs. With shouts of glee, many others among the audience began to dance also, some leaping up onto the tables. The fiddler played faster and faster, and the dancers whirled round giddily. Laughing, the young juggler led a dancing procession round and round the grand hall until everyone was on their feet, everyone but Gwyneth, alone and pale in her great chair, and the crippled old singer, alone and swarthy in hers. Even Finn was dancing, although she knew any misstep could cause her unmasking. The black cloak swirled around her as she spun and hopped, and one hot, sweaty body after another cannoned into her, much to their confusion. As Finn danced she thought to herself,
this fiddler’s got magic in his fingers, just like Jay …

A suspicion stole over her. She remembered that Jay had been apprenticed to Enit at the Tower of Two Moons, to learn what she knew about the songs of sorcery. She twirled her way towards the fiddler, who bowed and scraped in the centre of the jostling crowd as if he stood in the eye of a storm. At last she was able to come close to his side and look up into his hazel eyes. Just then his bow faltered and he looked about, saying hesitantly, ‘Finn?’

Jay gratefully accepted a goblet of mulled wine from one of the serving maids and stood back against the wall to watch Nina dancing. With her orange velvet skirts swirling up to reveal slim brown legs, she spun and swayed around the room, holding the audience spellbound. Jay sipped his wine and examined the crowd closely, looking for Finn. He had seen no sight of her, even though he could have sworn he had felt her close.

Suddenly he felt fingers tugging at his sleeve. He glanced down and saw a hand reaching out from behind the tapestry hanging on the wall. It was small and finely made, but rather grubby. He bent a little, trying to see who it was attracting his attention in such a surreptitious manner. Finn frowned at him, her finger to her lips, then beckoned him closer.

‘Meet ye in the hall outside,’ she whispered.

Jay swallowed down his wine thoughtfully, then made his slow, unobtrusive way round to the door and out into the corridor.

Finn was waiting for him, hopping up and down on one foot in impatience. She was dressed in a beautifully made riding dress of green velvet, its divided skirt splattered with dried mud. The white frill at her throat and wrists was also rather dirty and dangled from one sleeve where she had caught it on a nail and torn the lace. Her long brown boots were scuffed and muddy.

‘Ye do no’ look much cleaner than ye did in the auld days,’ he said critically. ‘Though at least your clothes fit ye properly now.’

‘Och, dinna ye start!’ Finn cried. ‘Who cares about clothes? We’ve much more important things to talk about!’ She looked him over critically, then said, ‘Though look at ye, fine as a proud laird’s bastard!’ She flipped his crimson feather with one finger.

Jay pushed her hand away, colouring hotly under his tan. ‘I was disappointed indeed when I did no’ see ye at the high table with your mam. What are ye doing skulking about behind tapestries?’

‘I dinna want anyone to see me, o’ course. Why else?’ Suddenly she threw her arm about his shoulder, reaching up to kiss his lean cheek. ‘Och, Jay, it is glad indeed I am to be seeing ye! It has been so long syne I last saw ye! What are ye doing here? Did ye come to see me?’

‘Aye, o’ course,’ he replied, though his cheeks burnt even hotter. ‘We came here on purpose, to ask ye … But, Finn, this is something Enit will be telling your mam about later. Ye will hear it all then. I shouldna be out here talking to ye now, we’re in the middle o’ a performance! They’ll all be wondering where I am …’

‘Canna they do without ye a while?’ Finn cried. ‘I have no’ seen ye for so long—can ye no’ bide here wi’ me a wee and tell me what ye’ve been doing all this time?’

‘But we shall have audience wi’ ye after the performance,’ Jay said, a little bemused. ‘We can talk then.’

‘I may no’ be able to,’ Finn said with a theatrical groan. ‘I have escaped my prison to see ye—if they catch me they’ll lock me up again and I may no’ be able to escape again.’

‘Whatever can ye mean?’ Jay cried, considerably startled.

Finn sighed. ‘I’m a prisoner in my own home,’ she said sadly. ‘Ye wonder why I must sneak around and hide behind tapestries, but if anyone saw me they’d drag me away and lock me up and put such heavy guards upon me that I’d never be free again.’

‘Ye canna be serious! Do ye mean ye’re kept locked up in a dungeon?’

‘Well, it’s no’ exactly a dungeon … but I have been locked up—and fed nothing but black bread and cheese—wi’ the meanest set o’ guards ye could imagine, as stiff as if they’d had pokers shoved up their arses.’

‘But why? What have ye done?’

‘Naught! Well, no’ much. I punched my cousin right in her smirking mouth, but she deserved it. The slyest, sickliest, most double-faced sow ye’ve ever met! Ye should’ve seen it, Jay. She went head over heels and smashed a vase and all the court ladies screeched like hens in a whirlwind. It was grand!’

‘And they locked ye up for that?’

‘Aye, is it no’ unjust?’

‘Well, happen banprionnsachan are no’ supposed to punch each other,’ Jay said rather uncertainly.

‘As if I care a jot for that! I’ve never met anyone who more deserved a good pummelling than Brangaine. They should be thanking me instead o’ locking me up and trying to make me apologise. Jay, I hate it here. Naught ever happens and they want me to learn to sew seams and sit with my hands folded and listen to the hens quack …’

‘I think it’s ducks that quack, no’ hens.’

‘Who cares? I just want to get away from here and have adventures. Can I no’ go away with ye? I’d love to travel about with the jongleurs and perform and sing songs. I bet ye have adventures all the time!’

‘We’ve had a few,’ Jay agreed with a smile in his voice. ‘But that’s why we’re here, Finn—to ask if we can take ye wi’ us …’

Just then they heard the door behind them open. Music and laughter spilled out with the blaze of light. Finn looked about frantically, then opened the lid of a chest and leapt inside. Jay turned as the handsome young jongleur looked out, his guitar in his hand.

‘Jay, what do ye do? Why are ye out here all alone?’

‘Sorry, Dide—I’m just coming.’

‘Are ye no’ well?’

‘Nay, I be grand. I’ll be along in a wee bit.’

Dide nodded his head, though he looked puzzled still. He shut the door again and Jay looked round for Finn, who was peering out from the chest, which she had opened just a crack. ‘We’ll talk again later,’ he whispered, and went back into the great hall.

Finn clambered out of the chest, her cheeks burning hot with excitement. Jay had come to take her away!

Anxiety suddenly chilled her. If only she had not angered her mother! Gwyneth might well forbid her to go.
Happen I’d best apologise to Brangaine now and get it over and done with
, she thought.

She walked back into the noisy hall with her heart pounding and her palms prickling with sweat, making her way through the crowd towards the high table. Her appearance caused the court to murmur in surprise, but her mother did not notice, leaning her cheek on her hand and staring without seeing into the depths of her wine glass.

Finn was struck by how wan her mother looked, with shadows under her beautiful green eyes and in the hollows of her cheeks. She knelt by her side and seized her limply hanging hand in hers, saying sincerely, ‘I be sorry, mam! I do no’ mean to trouble ye so!’

Gwyneth started upright, knocking over her glass. ‘Fionnghal! How ye startled me! Where have ye been? We’ve been searching for ye everywhere. I was sure ye must’ve fallen to your death.’

‘Nay, I would no’ fall,’ Finn said indignantly, then tried to soften her tone, saying, ‘I’m just grand, mam, as ye can see. I’m sorry to have worried ye and I’m sorry I punched Brangaine, though indeed she deserved it!’

Gwyneth was mopping up the spilt wine with her napkin. She said distractedly, ‘What am I to do with ye, so wild and reckless ye are?’

Finn opened her mouth to cry, ‘Let me go with the jongleurs,’ then swallowed her words. After a moment’s hesitation she said meekly, ‘I do no’ ken, mam. I’m sorry ye think me wild; I do no’ mean to be. Happen it’s because I’m used to having to look out for myself and being able to do whatever I want to do. I never kent I was a banprionnsa, ye must ken.’

‘Aye,’ her mother replied wearily, looking down at her stained napkin. ‘And I must admit ye were impetuous as a wee lassie too, always getting into mischief.’ She sighed and crumpled the napkin up. ‘Still, ye shall rule Rurach one day and ye must learn some sense. Ye canna be hitting out at anyone ye dislike, or sitting down to judgement in a torn and stained kirtle. Ye shall be lady o’ the MacRuraich clan, ye ken.’

Finn again had to bite back rebellious words. She bowed her head and said nothing.

Her mother said, ‘Well, if ye are willing to make a formal apology to your cousin and promise me to try and mind your manners in the future, I suppose ye can stay and watch the rest o’ the show. It was a shame ye had to miss so much. I ken ye find Castle Rurach very dull.’

Finn knew her mother was hoping she would deny this but she could not, since it was true. So she simply nodded and sat down next to her mother. They sat in silence for a long while, watching the antics of the cluricaun, who pranced about before them, turning head over heels and kicking his furry legs in a high-spirited jig.

Then Enit sang again, accompanied this time only by Jay and his viola. The candles were sinking low and shadows gathered in the corners, twisting and flowing like dancing ghosts.