Daughter Of The Forest (32 page)

“Good,” he said. “Now rest. Rest.” He pointed to the ground by the fire, and pillowed head on hands. That seemed, suddenly, like quite a sensible idea, and I lay down, still shivering, and soon sank into a feverish half sleep in the midst of which their low voices came to me in snatches.

“You’re mad, Red. We’ve got less than a day to get down there and meet the boat. What are we supposed to do with her?” That was Ben, who had held a lantern on the shore.

“In any event, not leave her to drown,” said John. “She’ll do well enough here by morning, if we leave her a blanket.”

“I wonder what she was doing out there. Pretty strange weather for fishing,” remarked Ben.

“These are strange people,” said the older man. “I’ve heard they sometimes cast their own adrift from the shore, as a punishment. Maybe this girl offended someone.”

“She would have drowned.”

The one they called Red seemed to be a man of few words. He spoke now, more quietly than his companions. “She has a fever. More than that, she’s scared to death.”

“Well, she would be,” said Ben. “She’s one of
them
, isn’t she? That makes us the enemy. Maybe she expects the sort of treatment her own kind hand out to people they don’t fancy.”

“She hasn’t spoken,” observed John. “Nor made a sound. Perhaps not so much lacking in her wits as mute, or deaf. She looks half wild. She may well have been abandoned by her people, seeing she has a deficiency, and left to fend for herself. I wouldn’t be too concerned about her, Red. You’ve done your good deed. She’ll recover.”

There was silence for a while. They shared a bottle of water and a few strips of dried meat. A ration was left close to me, but I could not touch the salt beef and I drank only a sip or two from the cup. Then Red volunteered to keep watch, and they put out the lantern. The others rolled into blankets and soon slept. They seemed like men who had been on the move for a long time, and knew how to do things neatly and quietly. But my presence there clearly made things far from neat.

Amazingly, I must have slept for some time, to be woken abruptly before dawn, heart pounding, by some nameless dream. Even in my sleep I must hold back speech or sound, but the Briton saw me start and sit up. I suppose my face reflected the demons still lurking on the edges of my consciousness. He sat there quite still by the tiny glow of the remnant fire, watching me. I could see, now, where the name Red came from. His hair was cropped ruthlessly short, but both it and the few days’ stubble of beard were lit by the fire’s glow to the bright red-gold of autumn sun on oak leaves. His face was formidable though he was young in years, perhaps not much more than Liam’s age. The nose was long and straight, the jaw set firm, the mouth wide and thin-lipped. You would not want this man as an enemy. Further away, his two companions still slept, cocooned in blankets. It seemed he had taken more than one watch, to let them rest. The rock overhang had kept us dry; outside the storm had abated and the only sound was the dripping and running of water between the stones.

I wrapped my arms around myself, gripping the cloak with both hands. My head felt clearer and the nightmare was receding. Maybe I had enough strength to run. Maybe, when his back was turned, I could slip away quietly. They’d be glad to be rid of me. It sounded as if speed was of the essence, and from the look of him, this large young man would rather not have me around to slow the expedition down, wherever it was going. No doubt he was already regretting fishing me out of the river. I was thinking hard, gauging how many steps would take me out into the open and away among the bushes. Then he spoke, startling me.

“Better eat something. And drink.”

I stayed quite still. There was wisdom in not making it obvious I understood their language. If they thought me some sort of wild girl of the woods, some village idiot, I would be safer. I would not be much of a trophy, or worth a hostage price. After all, I was my father’s daughter.

“Mm.” He scrutinized me as I sat there, huddled in the half dark. Then he tried again, muting his voice so as not to wake the others. “You—food? You—water?” It seemed he had learned a few words in our tongue. His accent was laughable. I looked at him, and he held out a traveler’s cup. I edged away from him, for however kind his words, he was a man, very tall and broad of shoulder, big enough and strong enough to do whatever he liked to me. My fever had come down, but I didn’t seem to be able to stop shaking.

He put the cup on the ground near me, and retreated. When I failed to respond, he tried again. “You—water,” he repeated. “Unless,” he went on in his own tongue, “you feel, like me, that you’ve swallowed half the lake already. You made a good attempt to drown me, I thought.”

For an instant, a most curious feeling came over me, as if we were replaying a scene already a part of my life from somewhere long back, but subtly changed. Then it was gone, and I picked up the cup, annoyed at the way my hand trembled, and drank.

And he was right, I did feel better.

“Good,” he said, not taking his watchful eyes off me. I drank again, my hand steadier on the cup now. In a minute I would try to get up. See if I could walk. If I could run, just for long enough to get away. For the Britons had their own desperate mission. They would not waste time seeking me, they would more likely be relieved at losing their unexpected burden. Then I would…at that point the train of thought reached a blank. I was in unknown territory, without proper clothing, without food or tools or any help. And if I had understood right, a band of armed and dangerous men would be moving swiftly down on us once dawn broke. They’d said Redbeard. Could this be Seamus Redbeard, the father of Eilis? What if I were here, and they found me? There would be men there that would know me, even after nigh on two years. What then? It did not bear thinking of. There would be a swift return to my father’s house, and to the lady Oonagh. The thought made my flesh crawl. That way was all darkness and death, for me and my brothers. I was in danger from both the Britons and their pursuers. I had to get away.

“Here. Eat.” The Briton held out a strip of the dried meat, as if to a nervous dog. I shook my head. “Eat,” he repeated, frowning. His eyes were as blue as ice, as blue as the sky on a frosty winter morning. I was hungry; but not so hungry that I could stomach flesh. Then he was putting the meat back in the bag where it seemed they kept their travelers’ rations, and he was looking maybe for something else, and his eyes were turned away just for a moment. I moved fast and silently, using all the skills I had. Up, across, under the overhang, away—

His hand shot out so swiftly I barely saw it. He gripped my arm painfully, jerking me to my knees beside him. I bit back a yelp of frustration and fear.

“I don’t think so.” He didn’t even raise his voice. The others slept on. His hold did not slacken; he knew how to use the least force to cause the most hurt, that was certain. I was drawn up close to him, too close for comfort, for I smelled his sweat and his anger and I felt his breath on my face and saw the chill in his eyes. His strength and quickness alarmed me—how could I ever have thought I could get away? The fever must indeed have made me stupid. But I was angry too. What game was he playing? Why keep me here now, when they needed to move on swiftly and unencumbered?

He had hardly moved from where he sat, save to imprison my arm and hold me by him. His fingers dug into my flesh. He had very big hands. I could not quite stifle a gasp of pain, and his grip loosened, but not much.

“Damn you,” he said, still in that quiet, level voice. “Three moons and more I’ve been in this godforsaken country, searching for answers. Traveled to the strangest places on earth; followed every lead, turned every wretched stone. Put my friends at risk of their lives. And for what? Hunger and cold and a knife in the dark. There is no truth on this island of yours. Rather, there are as many truths as there are stars in the sky; and every one of them different.”

I gaped at him. Whatever I had expected him to say, it was not this.

“I could swear you understand me,” he said, looking direct into my eyes. “And yet, how could you?”

What was it Conor had said once, about me and Finbar?
The two of them are like open books…their thoughts blaze like a beacon from their eyes…
I hoped this Briton could not read me so well. It was starting to get light; I heard his companions stirring.

“You want to go,” he stated. “Where, I can’t imagine; but I suppose you have some bolt-hole near here. Perhaps to hide in until your countrymen arrive; maybe you think to watch them hack us to pieces. I did not think you one of our enemy; not when I stopped you from drowning yourself. Perhaps you really are an innocent, as my friends believe; too simple to be dangerous.”

I tried to wrench my arm from his grip. “No,” he said without emphasis. “Three moons with no answers, and now, on the last day, the very last, I find the first piece of the puzzle. And who do I get to explain it? A girl who can’t talk, or won’t. See this?” He was reaching into his pocket, and for the first time there was a note in his voice beyond the quietly conversational. “
Tell me where you got this
.”

And there it was. Simon’s little carving, the small oak tree in its protective circle and the wavy lines, which may or may not have been water. Nothing of interest in my bag, he’d said to his friends. Nothing much. That in itself had been strange enough; you’d have thought the starwort shirts were worth a comment. But it was this item that had caught his attention. “
Tell me
,” he said. “
Who gave you this?
”

And now he was really frightening me. I willed all expression from my face. Think of nothing. Let him know nothing. It was as well I was bound to silence. I was no liar; but think how the truth would sound.
It came from another of your kind. He was tortured at my father’s home, and came close to death by the hot iron. Close to death, and closer to madness. We saved him, and I tried to help him, and he was getting better, and then…and then I left him alone when he most needed me. He went out into the forest without the means for survival. Even now, the mosses creep on his white bones, somewhere under the great oaks. Birds pluck his golden hair to line their nests, and his empty eyes gaze up forever at the stars
. That was the truth.

“Damn you,” said the Briton again, “why won’t you speak? I will have this answer from you before ever I let you go.” And then the others were waking, rising in silence to roll bedding and stow gear, to check weapons and make all in readiness for a swift departure. And I thought, you will have a long wait for your answer. For you must wait until the six shirts of starwort are spun and woven and sewn together; until the day my brothers return, and I slip the shirts over their necks, and the spell is broken. Until that day, you will hear no answers from my lips. And no man has the patience to wait so long.

In the gray light before dawn, I watched them ready themselves, and marveled at the silent understanding between them that spoke of long days and nights in the field or on the run. I did not know what they were, or where they were going. They were spies perhaps, like those my father had captured and held in his secret chamber; or perhaps they were mercenaries for hire. Their watchful faces, their hard bodies, their light gear and carefully tended weapons told of long experience and serious purpose.

They were soon ready, finding time, even, to allow me a few moments’ privacy for the body’s essentials. I knew now not to try to run. He would outwit me, wherever I went. He would outwit me, whatever I tried. For now. When I returned from my ablutions, they were talking in low voices.

“…no point in arguing. If Red says we’re taking her, we’re taking her. We’ll be slow; best leave now and cover as much ground as we can before full light.”

Ben was enraged; his words came out in a sort of hiss, for they were all muting their tone. I supposed the men who sought them might be close at hand.

“This is complete folly! Forget the girl; she’ll do well enough here, and if not, what of it? Her kind are no more than savages, killers every one. How many good men have been lost in those accursed woods, or come home mere shells of their former selves? I don’t know what chivalrous impulse has got into you, Red, but I know I’m not risking my hide for her. As for you, John, your brains must be addled to let him get away with this. It’s insanity.”

Red took no notice of him, but hefted his pack onto his back and held out a hand to me. “Come on,” he said, snapping his fingers, and I stared at him. I would not be treated like some hound that would follow her master’s every bidding. “Come,” he said again, and this time he gripped my arm where he’d hurt me before, and I sucked in my breath.

“She’s got a few bruises,” remarked John. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Red.”

Red looked at him. “I do,” he said. “Now we split up, so my good friend here can’t complain about the girl slowing him down. You two will take our original path back down to the cove. You should keep ahead of them if you go now, and the boat should be ready to pick you up before they get there. With luck.”

“What about you?” inquired Ben.

“I’ll take the girl, and come around by the bluffs and down the cliff path. More dangerous, perhaps, but more direct. They’re more likely to follow you, I think. I’ll skirt the river as far as I can. If I’m not there in time for the boat, don’t wait. Cross over to safe mooring; I’ll meet you at the priory.”

“How?” said John, scratching his head. But there was no reply, and nobody was going to argue. That seemed to be the way it was. Red made the choices, and the others accepted them, even when, as it seemed to me, they were foolish beyond belief. How could a man who acted so unpredictably, who made such erratic decisions, be their leader? If it had been Liam, now, he would have consulted his men and reached a sensible compromise. Here there was no more discussion. Ben and John shouldered packs and disappeared between the bushes, silent-footed, and Red grasped my wrist and pulled me after him, back down toward the river. I resisted, tugging hard enough for him to turn back, exasperated.