The Last Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (27 page)

Bridgit could hear a child crying. She wanted to stay asleep but years of springing out of bed when she heard Kerrin call had conditioned her too well. Her eyes snapped open and she tried to roll out of bed – only to find she was lying on the cold, wooden floor. How had she got down here?

She sat up, blinking sleep out of her eyes, to see she was not in her own home but in a strange room with a wooden ceiling, wooden floor and wooden walls, one of which was curved strangely. An iron-barred window high above let in a little light, but barely enough to see. For a long moment she stared around, bewildered, then everything came back to her in a rush and she felt as though she would be sick.

But the child was still crying and she could not stand that. She could hear it was not Kerrin. She was not sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She wanted to know where Kerrin was but she also wanted to think he was safe, sitting at home with Fallon.

“Who is it? Are you all right?” she called, shaking her head to clear it. Everything felt fuzzy, as though she had woken from a long, deep sleep. She rubbed her face, trying to scrub herself awake, and became aware it was not just one child crying but several.

She peered around and the vague shapes on the ground resolved themselves into figures. She recognized several of them, friends of many years, who were lying as if stunned. But there were also more than a dozen children, all of them between one and seven years of age. Some were wandering around, some were lying next to the sleeping women, while most were sitting and crying. The ones making the most noise were the four youngest children, the babies born this summer. They lay on the floor beside their mothers, who were also asleep.

She looked around desperately but could not see Kerrin. She was torn between relief, hope he had escaped their captors and fear that he was somewhere worse.

Bridgit reached out and grabbed the arm of the nearest, a little girl perhaps five years old, who was wandering around, tears streaming down her face. She looked vaguely familiar but Bridgit could not place her face or name. “Wait, little one,” she said gently, going down on one knee so she was at the child’s level. “Where’s your mother?”

“Don’t know!” the girl wailed.

“Sssh!” Bridgit gathered her into her arms and hugged her close. “Come here, all of you! Come here and we’ll have a song!”

They hurried over, hearing a reassuring voice, and she sat them down in a circle, which was soon joined by all the other children as well. She picked up one of the babies and had the oldest of the children collect the others. All were used to helping younger brothers and sisters and soon sat rocking the babies and soothing them. Bridgit glanced over at her sleeping friends, but none of this noise seemed to be disturbing them. This was not a normal sleep. Bridgit caught sight of a familiar face, Devlin’s youngest, a cheeky boy called Will, who was sitting on the outside of the circle.

“Will!” she called, and he jumped a little to hear his name. “How long has your mam been asleep?”

“She was like this when they brought her on board. You all were,” Will said softly. “You were the first to wake up.”

“On board? So we are on a ship?”

“Aye. A huge one.” He nodded.

Bridgit smiled for the benefit of the children. It was obvious they were on a ship, so obvious now that she felt foolish for not seeing it earlier. But maybe there had been something in the bag they had pulled over her, for her head felt thick and woolly. “Well, I’ve always wanted to ride on a big ship, so this will be fun, won’t it?” she said brightly. “Now why don’t we sing a few songs while we wait for everyone to wake up?”

She led them through the familiar songs, getting them to clap along until they were lost in the singing and the rhythm, not thinking about anything else. But she could not stop thinking. At first her thoughts were of Kerrin and Fallon, how she would probably never see them again. It was all she could do not to burst into tears at that thought. Only the presence of so many children stopped her from doing so. If they saw her crying they would start and then it would be impossible for any of them to stop. Then she began to reproach herself. She had brought this on them, with her dark thoughts about the ship and her nameless fears in the night. And if only she had agreed to move from Baltimore they would be in Lunster or even Berry right now, rather than caught up in this. How could she have been so foolish? How could she have been so selfish? And had she succeeded in hiding Kerrin? Was he even now somewhere on the same ship, crying for her? She tried to tell herself she would be able to tell that and she felt he was still free, and with Fallon, but she could not trust her feelings with something this important.

“Are you all right?” Will asked.

She realized she had let the song stop and looked down to see a sea of children in front of her. How many times had she dreamed of such a thing? That she could look out and see all the faces of the children she had lost through the years? These were not her children but they were lost and, as if she were their mother, they were all depending on her. The babe in her arms looked up at her and she smiled down at it.

She bit down on her dark thoughts ruthlessly, pushing them to the back of her mind, just as she would do if Kerrin were there. “I am fine. Just thinking of the next song to sing,” she said briskly and began again.

They joined in and she forced her mind on to other things rather than dwell on her loss and misery. They needed her. And not just to keep them occupied until the other mothers woke up. This was not the whole village. This was not even close. This was a group of the new mothers, the older mothers, and not all their own children. Where were the younger mothers, the older kids and the elderly – not to mention the few men who had stayed behind? And why had they been split up?

“I’m hungry,” Will said, as another song finished.

Bridgit opened her mouth to distract them with another song, only for the rest of them to begin to complain like a flock of chattering chicks.

She raised her hands. “Be silent and I will see about getting you something,” she said firmly. “Anyone who makes a noise will be going hungry.” She was not sure if their captors would provide anything but it seemed likely. They would not have gone through all the trouble of keeping them alive and getting them aboard only to let them starve. She handed the baby she had been cradling off to a girl, who balanced the child assuredly in her lap.

They all sat up straight as she walked around their prison until she found the door, a solid chunk of wood without a handle. She used her elbow and her heel to bang on the door until a hatch was pulled back and a pair of eyes stared in at her.

“The children are hungry. Bring food and water,” she commanded.

There was no reply from the other side and the hatch slid shut again.

Bridgit fumed quietly for a few moments, waiting to see if there was any movement, any sign that they were agreeing to her request. But perhaps they were going to use hunger as a weapon. If you were hungry, you were less likely to make trouble. Except that did not apply to her. She turned back to the children, who were waiting expectantly. “Will, fetch me one of your mother’s shoes,” she commanded.

She had only been wearing light leather slippers when Caley began growling. But Riona had taken the time to slip into sturdier footwear, boots with a wooden base. Will hurried to obey and she patted him on the head before taking the shoe from him. She began thumping that on the door again, keeping up a solid rhythm. But this time when the hatch slid open she said nothing, instead she rammed the thick shoe through the gap, connecting with the eyes behind in a solid blow.

There was a shout of pain and the eyes dropped away, letting her look out – although there was nothing much to see, just darkness. And she could not hear much beyond what sounded like curses in a different language. She gripped the shoe tighter, expecting to have someone open the door and storm inside to take retribution, but nothing happened other than someone slamming the hatch shut. Still, she could hear people talking on the other side. Then everything went quiet.

“What’s happening?” Will asked.

“Ssh!” Bridgit rounded on them. “Not a word from any of you. Remember, I have a shoe and I am not afraid to use it!”

They sat up straight at that, not daring to look at her.

She turned back to the door when she heard bolts being drawn back. It swung in and she stepped back, drawing herself up, preparing to fight whoever came in. But nobody did.

“Come,” a voice said, in a heavy accent.

“Where?” she asked, proud of the way her voice was slow and steady.

“Come. Or else.”

Bridgit nodded and turned to the children. “Wait here until I get back with food. Keep the singing going. Anyone who is crying when I come back will have me to deal with,” she said briskly, and then strode through the door.

It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust, for the passageway was far darker than even the dimly lit cabin they had been in. Three men stood in front of her. One had his hand pressed over an eye and was glaring hatred at her from the other, while the other two looked more curious, although one had a black hood like the one that had sent her deeply to sleep dangling from his left hand. All three were swarthy, with short dark hair and dark beards and moustaches cropped close to their faces. She had never met one before but she recognized them from descriptions she had read. These were Kottermanis.

“What are you doing attacking villages like this?” she demanded. “Turn around and take us back!”

But they showed no sign of understanding her. The one with the hood pointed down the passageway.

“Follow,” he said, his accent thick, mangling the Gaelish word.

She nodded slowly and accompanied them down a long passageway, past several barred doors, to a ladder leading up. The ship was not making much movement but still she found it awkward to go up the ladder. At the top, the sun was shining brightly and she had to squint for a while until she could see where she was going. One of the men took her elbow to guide her but she threw off his hand and blinked until she could look around her.

It was hard not to gasp with surprise and horror when she saw clearly the deck of the ship. It was huge, easily three times the size of the Duke’s ship, which had been the biggest sailing vessel she had ever seen. It made the small trading vessels the Gaelish used look like children’s toys. The deck seemed to stretch on forever and there were not two but three big masts, all laden with sails. And, whichever way she looked, she could not see land.

“Come!” her taciturn Kottermani guide repeated, shaking the hood at her, and she followed him aft, past staring sailors, up another series of steps, to a small deck where an awning had been rigged to keep the sun off a richly dressed man who sat in a decorative chair, a series of servants around him.

Bridgit was used to bowing before nobles and this man certainly looked like one. His nose was hooked and powerful and his eyes piercing, and he glared at her when her guides bowed low and approached him. They spoke rapidly in their own language and Bridgit doubted they were paying her compliments. But she was also sure most of this was an elaborate display. They were going to make some sort of point, perhaps use her as an example for the others, and she glanced around her carefully, wondering whether it might be better to try and race for the side of the ship than undergo pain and humiliation. Then she remembered the children waiting for her below and decided to wait and see.

One of her guards shoved her in the back and she whirled on him, ready to fight, only to see him pointing behind her. She turned again to see the noble beckoning to her.

She had no doubt they would drag her over if she refused, so she threw her head up and strode forwards, stopping perhaps three paces away when one of the servants raised a hand in warning.

One of her guards placed a hand on her shoulder and thrust downwards, trying to make her kneel but she threw off his hand and rose again. She braced herself, waiting for a blow, but the noble held up a hand this time.

“I am Prince Kemal, heir to the Elephant Throne of Kotterman and firstborn son of the Emperor. You bow to your own petty nobles, so why do you not show me respect – especially when I hold your life in my hand?” he asked carefully, his Gaelish almost without accent, his voice smooth and good-natured.

Bridgit’s mind raced. Was Kerrin somewhere else on the ship? Had they found him? She had to find out. Kerrin would have told them who he was and who she was. If she pushed hard enough they would produce him and try to use him against her. If he was free, and with Fallon, then she could take more risks – although she still could not do anything to harm the other children of the village. Yet she instinctively knew that this man would not respect weakness. He had any number of people willing to fall to their knees before him. Only by being different could she protect her people.

“If you had come to my village as a guest, I would have done you honor,” she said. “But you came like a thief in the night, stealing me and my friends. That does not warrant my respect.”

Prince Kemal smiled, showing white and even teeth. “And the fact I merely have to give the signal and you and your villagers would all be dead does not make you fear? Does not make you wish to obey my every command?”

“If you wanted us dead, we would already be dead. You have another plan for us,” she said with a shrug.

Kemal’s smile did not falter for an instant, although he began to stroke his carefully prepared beard. Unlike the other men, his cheeks and jaw were clear of hair; only his chin was bearded, and this adornment stretched down towards his chest.

“Indeed. Most of you will become slaves, of which the Empire is always in need. But there are some who I have not made my mind up about. The older women, such as yourself, and the younger children, neither of whom will find much of a market in Kotterman. The ones with newborns are worth something, although the babies are not.”

Bridgit kept her face impassive, understanding now why that room was filled with only a selection of women and children from the village. Already she had begun to think of those children as hers and there was no way she was going to let them come to any harm. “I have a better idea,” she said.