Child of the Prophecy

by Juliet Marillier

  Johnny looked at me calmly, and back at Darragh. “You heard the lady,” he said. “We need warriors here. I think we cannot employ you, unless you have some other skills.”

  “I can play the pipes,” Darragh ventured. “And I’ve a good hand with the horses. Warriors need horses.”

  “Not this time,” said Johnny. “This venture is by sea. You might find work in the stables, on the landward side, if you proved yourself.”

  “No.” Darragh’s voice was raw with feeling. I stared at him in amazement. Couldn’t he see how impossible this was; how foolish he was being? Had he lost all his common sense? “That’s not good enough. I want to be over there on the island. I can learn to fight. I’d work hard. You seem a fair sort of fellow. Give me a chance, at least.”

  Johnny looked him up and down. “I don’t think so,” he said.

  “Too much of a fine lord, are you, to have a tinker’s lad like me in your band? I’m not ashamed to be the son of a traveling man. I’ll prove my worth.”

  “At Inis Eala,” said Johnny, who was now regarding Darragh very closely indeed, “we care nothing for a man’s father. It is what he himself has to offer that counts. How far have you come?”

  “From the west. From Ceann na Mara.”

  “I see. You are persistent. Still, as my cousin here says, you are not a fighter; and a source of music, while desirable, is not one of my major priorities. Are you sure there is nothing more you can do?”

  Don’t say it, Darragh, I willed him.

  “I can swim,” Darragh said. “A bit.”

  “So I’ve heard,” said Johnny smoothly. “Well, I’ll have a think about it. I may be back here before the spring is over. If you’re still in these parts, we might talk again.” And he turned on his heel and headed off down to the curragh, where Brenna was supervising the stowing of her precious bundle. I followed my cousin blindly, making myself breathe slowly, forcing myself not to look back. It had been cruel, maybe; but it was the right decision. Darragh could not come with us. He must not.

  The men had to pull harder on the way back, against an incoming tide, and we made more gradual progress. My mind was troubled, my heart heavy. Foolishly, what seemed to distress me most was that I had not bid my friend goodbye. I could at least have managed a kind word, I thought; the clasp of a hand or a little kiss on the cheek. It would have been better never to have seen him again, than to meet thus and part so soon with no farewell.

  The men were rowing hard, their backs to the island. They were still managing a conversation of sorts.

  “Pigheaded sort of fellow,” observed Corentin.

  “You’d need to be crazy to try it,” Godric grinned. “Against the tide and all.”

  Johnny wasn’t saying much. He was simply gazing back across the sea, the way we had come, with the same carefully calculating look on his face as I had seen, often, on his father’s. I recalled his saying once that he was a sound judge of a man’s character, or a woman’s. I watched him, and felt myself grow cold with horror as the meaning of the men’s words hit me. I twisted around and looked back.

  Somewhere between our small boat and the retreating shore, a dark head bobbed in and out of view in the choppy waters. Sleek as a selkie’s, it came up for air, then disappeared in the dark trough, to surface once more after a heart-stopping, immeasurable wait.

  “You did say he was a good swimmer, I recall,” observed Johnny. “Just how good, I think we’re about to find out.”

  I clutched Brenna’s arm in terror. What about the sea serpents? What about the biting cold? And hadn’t Coll said nobody had ever done this?

  “Johnny,” I said in a small voice. “It’s a very long way. You wouldn’t—?”

  “All men must pass a test. Still, we could hardly let your sweetheart drown, could we? Besides, we need him. Halfway, maybe, or a little more. He’s already come farther than any of us could manage, and his progress is steady. We might ship oars by the rocks out yonder and let him catch up, I think.”

  “Fellow can’t wield a sword; hasn’t the stomach to kill a man,” growled Gareth. “Maybe he can swim, but what about after?”

  “Just a liability,” grumbled Corentin, hauling on his oar.

  “He can learn.” Johnny’s tone was level. “He said so, didn’t he? And we have the best teachers, on Inis Eala.”

  It felt like forever. The tiny, doggedly swimming figure grew smaller, and the waves grew higher, and the air colder as we moved farther away from the shore. Every crest seemed topped by long clutching fingers; every trough shadowed by menacing monsters of the deep, long-toothed, slippery, strangling. I do not know what my face showed. Johnny glanced at me, and his mouth quirked a little, but there was concern in his eyes and something like surprise. Brenna held my hand and said, “It’s all right, Fainne. We’re nearly level with the rocks. They’ll wait for him there.” Gareth glowered. Corentin was tight-lipped. Godric and Mikka had a bet on whether they’d be fishing an upstart tinker from the water, or a corpse. I could feel the ache all through my head, so hard were my teeth clenched. I clutched Brenna’s hand tight, and kept my eyes on that distant dot of black as it appeared, and was lost, and appeared again. Perhaps she did this, I thought. Perhaps Grandmother brought him here, and now she means for me to watch him drown, so she can show me the price of disobedience. She means to show me how foolish I was, to think myself strong enough.

  “Your young man is very brave, Fainne,” said Brenna as we came level with the rocks, and Johnny ordered the lads to hold the boat still against the tide.

  “Very stupid, more like,” I muttered, but she was right, of course. He came on steadily, as if he did not know the meaning of fear, as if he did not understand the limitations of a mortal man. Despite my terror and my fury, I was so proud of him I thought my heart would break with it. “And he’s not my young man.”

  “No?” queried Johnny. “Well, one thing’s certain. It’s not the prospect of lessons in swordsmanship that drives him thus.”

  We waited; the men used the same technique they had been perfecting at the point, a balancing of the oars on either side which held the curragh tolerably still against the pull of the incoming tide. They kept their distance from the rocks. The wait seemed endless, but was maybe not so long; the dark head became less like that of a sea creature and more identifiably that of a man, and the strong rhythmic movement of thin brown arms could be seen through the swell, and the pallor of the face, and the dark eyes filled with grim determination. Then, at last, he reached the boat, and was hauled in and dropped unceremoniously at my feet, white, shivering and quite unable to utter a word. The men shifted their grip on the oars, and pulled for home.

  There were tears there, somewhere, but I could not shed them. Tears of joy, tears of terrible sorrow, tears of fear and of frustration. I unfastened my thick shawl and wrapped it around his trembling shoulders.

  “How dare you frighten me like that?” I hissed in an undertone. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

  Then he leaned forward, just a little, and put his head against my knee, and I heard him whisper through chattering teeth, “D—d—don’t make me say g—g—goodbye again.”

  The most powerful sorceress in the world could not have stopped my fingers moving, at that moment, to touch his cold cheek and rest there for a heartbeat of time. I saw a crooked smile curve his lips; and then I took my hand away and closed my eyes tight. I would not look at him; and yet I longed to, I yearned to look and look and store it all up, like a treasure hoarded for bleak times ahead. I wanted to warm his chill hands with my own, to hold him close in the circle of my arms until the shivering stopped. I wanted to watch the color return to his frozen features, and to see the sweet smile and the merry eyes. I wanted what I could not have. It was my great weakness, and if I did not quell it now it would be my own downfall, and Darragh’s, and the ruin of the great campaign of Sevenwaters. It would be the triumph of Lady Oonagh over all that was right and good. In my wanting, Grandmother
had the perfect tool with which to manipulate me. I could not let this happen. Somehow, I must make Darragh understand. So I kept my eyes shut, and knew with every single part of my body just where he sat, and how he looked, and felt the need to have him stay, and the need to have him go, tearing me in pieces.

  From the moment Darragh set foot on the jetty at Inis Eala, shivering and bedraggled, he was a man with a reputation. One does not easily escape the effect of such a display of strength and courage. These folk liked that. It was something they understood. And they liked him; who could fail to do so? Whether it was the lack of pretension, or the crooked grin, or the willingness to learn, within a few days he was everyone’s friend. Even Gareth and Corentin admitted, grudgingly, that the fellow was a hard worker. He’d need to be; there was a lot to be mastered, and not much time. Johnny expected miracles, maybe.

  It was as well for me that Snake took personal charge of educating a traveling man in the arts of combat, for it meant Darragh was out of my sight for the best part of the day, concealed behind high walls, and all I learned of his progress was from suppertime talk. I made sure I sat away from him at table. I kept my eyes on my platter, or maintained conversation with Brenna or Annie, to the exclusion of all others. Though I longed to look at him, I did not. Though I longed to speak with him, I made sure there were no opportunities.

  The weather began to clear and the season to change. Imbolc was past; it was almost spring, and I needed to act quickly. I found Johnny alone one morning, looking at maps in the hut we used for scholarly pursuits. It was early; Coll was not yet abroad.

  “Johnny?”

  “Mmm?”

  “I need to tell you something. Ask you something. It’s important.”

  He looked up, eyes narrowed. “What is it, cousin?”

  “D—Darragh. He should not be here.” I spoke furtively, glancing around me; foolish, that was. If my grandmother chose to look, she could see, I had no doubt of that. “I want you to send him away.”

  Johnny raised his brows. “I’ve a job for him. Certainly, your friend is somewhat lacking when it comes to the finer points of combat; all the points, to tell true. But he’s learning. He’s willing and clever. He’s quick, and light on his feet. I need him, Fainne.”

  “Please,” I said, furious to hear how my voice cracked. “Please send him home. Darragh is not a warrior. He doesn’t have it in him to kill. Please, Johnny. You can find another swimmer. This is—it is really important.” I lowered my voice. “It has an importance beyond what is—apparent.”

  He looked at me for a moment.

  “It is a momentous mission, and its unfolding may be beyond what any of us can comprehend,” he said gravely. “My own part in it may be both more and less than what folk hope for.” There was a sadness in his eyes which I did not understand.

  “What do you mean?” I asked him, startled out of my own dilemma by his words.

  “A man might think it easy, to have a destiny laid out for him since birth; a grand and glorious path, the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy, no less; the deliverance of his people’s sacred ground. Folk see it clear: the battle won, the Islands restored, and the heir returned to Sevenwaters to guide and protect his people, when it is his time. That, I have known since I was no more than an infant.”

  “But it’s not so plain, is it?” I ventured, recalling what I had been told by the Old Ones, in snippets, and never really understood. “Winning a battle is not all of it.”

  Johnny gave a nod. “So I believe. There is a part of this untold, a part which does not match the expectations of these good folk; not at all. The path is not all glory. My mother sees death for me, though she will not say so. I see something that is like a death, but is not so; something far from the straight path of the warrior. Who can say how this will unfold? It frightens me.”

  “You, frightened?” I found this hard to believe. “But they all have such faith in you. Not a single doubt.”

  “I never had the freedom to choose my own future,” Johnny said. “That is a loss to be regretted. But I will do what I must. I will win the battle, and face what comes after with my eyes open. Your Darragh, now, he is a man who goes his own way. And the way he wants is this one, Fainne. Would you deny him that?”

  I bit my lip. “He doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand what it means. He wants to help me, or to protect me, and he keeps on following me, and he doesn’t realize that’s the worst thing he can possibly do. He must go home, Johnny. Please send him away.”

  Johnny stared. “You have changed since he came here,” he said softly. “I would almost think you might weep, as you plead for this man. But it is his choice, cousin, and not yours. I respect a man’s choice. Besides, we need him. There must be five swimmers; we have only four with the strength and endurance to undertake what is required. Myself, my father, Sigurd and Gareth. It was indeed a miracle that delivered this tinker’s lad to our door. I cannot do as you ask.”

  I felt misery descend on me anew. Who would help me, if he would not?

  “Fainne.” Johnny’s tone was gentle. “I seldom lose men; my forces are unsurpassed at what they do. And I would hardly place a fellow with barely one season’s training in my front line.”

  “It’s not that, though that is part of it. It’s—it’s—” I could not tell him. I could not say, if you let him do this, she will put him in peril and then…and then…I do not know if I will have the strength to go on. I do not know if I can bear it. It may be proven, after all, that I can be no more than my grandmother’s creature.

  “You see visions?” he asked me. “Shadows of things to come, as my mother does?”

  I shook my head. “No. But I have heard warnings, and—no, I cannot tell you. I should not have spoken thus. I see you will not help me.”

  “My instincts and my training tell me my decision is a sound one,” Johnny said. “I would not risk a good man if it were not necessary. Now here is Coll, and I’d best be away before I find myself set tasks with stylus and wax, never my favorite occupation. Farewell, cousin.”

  I spoke to the Chief, but it was not much good, for the only argument I could use with him was Darragh’s inexperience as a warrior, and how little help he might be to them on land, for all his strength in the water. And, that I would rather he did not get himself killed quite yet. The Chief listened gravely, and then told me Snake was very pleased with the lad’s progress; for a skinny fellow, he’d good strength in the arms and a knack with the staff, and he was not at all bad in unarmed combat, either. Maybe that was something you learned on the road. As for sword and dagger, those needed work, but there was still time. When I tried to protest, the Chief said this was Johnny’s decision, and he trusted his son’s judgment. Besides, wasn’t it what the lad himself wanted?

  There was one last possibility. Liadan was in the infirmary, grinding something pungent with mortar and pestle. There was nobody else about. Empty pallets awaited victims of warfare or domestic accident or seasonal ague. Strings of garlic hung from the beams above her; jars of herbs were stored on neat shelves.

  “Fainne!” she exclaimed in surprise as I came in. “I did not expect you.” She wore her customary dark gown and plain overtunic, demure as a nun’s garb; her hair was caught up in a linen band, but curls escaped over her pale brow. She frowned.

  “You are come, no doubt, to ask me to send this young man home?” she asked as she resumed grinding the reddish powder in her bowl.

  I stared at her. “Is no business private here?” I asked.

  My aunt smiled. “We do talk to one another, Fainne. That’s usual in families. Besides, Darragh came to see me.”

  “He what?”

  “He’s very worried about you. And I know you are anxious for his safety. Darragh offered a solution which I might be prepared to support, if you agreed.”

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I asked anyway. “What solution?”

  “That the two of you leave here together and travel quietly back to Kerr
y. You will preserve him that way; and he will have what he came for. You will both be well gone before this campaign commences. Safe.”

  “Safe?” I echoed with some bitterness. She was watching me closely, green eyes very intent. I hoped she was not reading what was in my mind. “That would not be safe at all, Aunt. It won’t do. I must be here; I cannot return to Kerry. But Darragh must go. He does not belong at Inis Eala. He was never meant to be part of this. He just—he just put himself in it, uninvited. That’s what he does.”

  “It seemed a sensible suggestion to me,” she said mildly. “Darragh argued his case well. He loves you, Fainne. Can you not see that?”

  “It’s not love,” I snapped. “It’s just—it’s just stubbornness. The boy doesn’t trust me to look after myself. He doesn’t understand what’s good for him and what’s not. He never has.”

  “And what about you?” Liadan asked. Her hands had ceased their work and now rested on the table before her. “Is it love that makes you so eager to see him gone, when he has risked his very life to be by your side?”

  “Our kind do not feel love,” I muttered, knowing as I said it that this was a lie. “It makes life too complicated. It—it stops you from doing what must be done. Like my father. Love ruined his life.”

  “He has a daughter,” she said softly. “I imagine he feels great pride in you, my dear. You are clever, accomplished and—subtle, like him. And you’re as bonny as Niamh was, in your own way. And as headstrong. Ask Ciarán if he regrets that he ever met my sister, before you dismiss love so lightly. Set it aside, and you will not live a life, but only the shadow of a life.”

  “Anyway,” I said, not wishing to take this any further, “Johnny won’t let Darragh go. He says he needs him.”

  Liadan sighed. “If you were prepared to go as well, I would speak to Johnny.”

  I shook my head. “I must stay here. I can’t go home.”

  “Yes,” she said wearily, and sat down on the bench. “I suppose I knew that; still, I wished to try. Darragh’s a good lad, Fainne. He does not deserve this.”