Liobhan is busy setting the kettle on the fire, finding cups. “And is Cormac coming here with his father?”
“That’s what Naithí told me. So Cormac provides our opportunity. Provided I am living in the house, taking meals with the family at the high table, and comporting myself in an appropriate manner, there’s no reason why I should be prevented from having a private conversation with my old friend at some point. I’ll tell him the truth—not only what Corb shared about Seanan’s gross remarks, but also something of my brother’s true nature. I’ll ask him to pass it on to his father in confidence. Suggest they leave with the betrothal arrangement not settled, then find a tactful way of withdrawing later.”
“Mm-hm. Ross is not likely to think the alliance with your father more important than his daughter’s future happiness?”
I shake my head. “He’d have to have changed a lot since I last met him.”
We fall silent again while Liobhan finishes making the brew and sets the cups on the table. “What if Seanan refuses to have you in the house?” she asks. “He can surely overrule Naithí.”
“He won’t. I fully expect to be sent back out here, or somewhere worse, as soon as the visitors leave. But anyone would think it odd if a son of the house, an injured son at that, was not treated as part of the family.” The brew smells good; like mint with a dash of something spicy.
“Can you do it?” Liobhan asks. “Act as if you’re all on good terms, stay calm and collected with your father and brother right there? Ross might decide to stay awhile.”
I straighten my back and square my shoulders. “I can do it. It can’t be harder than staying mute for weeks.” But it will be. Of course it will.
“What about me?”
“You stay in the house, too. Next door to me and Corb. All perfectly proper.”
Liobhan gives a low whistle. “Might have been better to leave me over here on my own,” she says. “Seanan will be watching my every move. And if not him, then Berrach or another of Seanan’s men.”
“I don’t want you over here on your own. I want you close by so—” I come to a sudden halt, not sure how I want to finish this.
“So you can watch over me? Do I seem like the kind of woman who needs protecting?”
“You seem like a comrade I care about. I would prefer you not to be in harm’s way.” Gods, how stuffy I sound! Of course I want to protect her. She’s Liobhan. She’s irreplaceable. “I want you close by so we can look out for each other,” I say. “You might even get a chance to have a word with Cormac’s sister.”
“I’m not big on sisterly advice, Dau. Especially not when she’s the daughter of a lord and I’m a bond servant.”
I think about circumstances under which Liobhan and Sárnait might become sisters and wish my thoughts had not gone down that track. The conversation is getting out of hand. “All the same, she might be more prepared to listen to another woman. Girls don’t always take notice of their brothers.”
“That’s certainly true. You’ve surprised me, Dau.”
“What, by caring about what happens to this girl?”
“By deciding to take things into your own hands. By standing up for yourself. By being prepared to act like you belong here, when I know you hate the place.”
“You realize you’ll have to do the same. Play a part. The obedient servant who never speaks out of turn. Unobtrusive. Scuttling about with her eyes averted.”
“Unless she needs to be a warrior,” Liobhan says.
“Unlikely, surely. The plan is this: I speak to Cormac when I can, you and I both keep our heads down, Cormac passes on the message, Ross’s party leaves with the matter unresolved, and we return to what we were doing before. At some later point Ross informs my father that the betrothal is off.”
“And you hope Seanan never finds out why Ross suddenly changed his mind.”
There are flaws in the plan and that is one of them. But I can’t turn my back on this. I can’t let Seanan destroy another life.
26
LIOBHAN
I thought my Swan Island training meant nothing could surprise me. But this does. Not the arranged marriage and wretched Seanan thinking he’s a suitable husband for this poor girl; that is entirely what I would expect. But Dau snapping out of his contrary moods and deciding to take control—now, that did startle me. Especially since it means pretending he’s happy to be in the house, surrounded by his unpleasant family and needing to be polite to everyone, Seanan included. But maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. Dau’s had the Swan Island training, too. He’s shown himself to be excellent at maintaining a role. The strange part of this is why he’s doing it. It’s the faint hope of a cure that’s turned him around. Gods! If we escape this place, if we get to Eirne’s realm and it turns out they can’t help him . . . I can’t bear to think of what might happen then.
Iarla’s good. Not only excellent at doing his job, but quick to understand what isn’t being said out loud, and adept at smoothing the way whenever he can. So here we are, in a capacious chamber within the main house. We have our own hearth; Dau explained to Iarla why this was important. Dau and Corb are supposed to be sleeping in the main room, with me in the anteroom, where a body servant would usually be accommodated. Since I’m the one who does the nighttime nursing when it’s required, it’s more likely Corb will take the anteroom. That way he at least can get a good night’s sleep. As it is, Dau’s ankle is almost mended and he’s been sleeping well these last few days. But in here, surrounded by all sorts of memories, it may be a different matter. Clearly best if we keep our arrangements to ourselves.
We’re unpacking our possessions, few as they are, when Seanan appears in the open doorway.
“Your brother,” I murmur to Dau. He straightens up. His face becomes a mask of composure.
Seanan strides in uninvited and halts a few paces from us. “Fine accommodation for a bond servant,” he observes, taking a good look around. “This chamber has housed chieftains and kings. I am amazed that my father approved it.”
I hold back the obvious retort. Dau is the son of a chieftain. And a son of the house. Why wouldn’t Lord Scannal approve it? I don’t say a thing, just stand there hoping I can control my features as well as Dau does his. I unclench my fists. Every time I see Dau’s brother I get an overwhelming desire to punch him in his supercilious face.
“Indeed.” Dau sounds as calm as he looks. “It is pleasing to be housed as the son of a chieftain should be, in a comfortable room with my people close by. You might pass my thanks on to our father, should you have the opportunity. I have not yet been able to do so in person.” A calculated pause. “I understand you are more or less acting as chieftain now, Seanan. Is Father unwell, that he no longer undertakes his full range of duties?”
I didn’t expect this. Wasn’t the plan to keep our heads down?
“Why would that be of any interest to you, brother?”
“He is my father as well as yours and Ruarc’s. We have been estranged, yes, but I am here now, perhaps for the rest of my life. If Father is afflicted with some malady, it would be appropriate for you to inform me of the details.”
I try to imagine myself speaking to Brocc or Galen in such a frostily formal manner, and am possessed by a sudden urge to laugh. I put a hand over my mouth and cough instead. Corb is standing in the shadows by the wall, doing his best to be invisible.
“May I sit down?” Seanan seats himself on the bench, not waiting for an answer. “Boy, shut that door.”
Corb moves with near-silent steps to do so.
“Had I known in advance that our father would approve this arrangement, I would have raised objections. The girl should not be in our house. She should not be sharing your chamber.” Seanan speaks as if I were not here. I’m watching Dau. I see him take a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’s counting to five. Maybe ten. “But it’s a sound strategic mo
ve,” Seanan adds, surprising me. “I need not go into the reasons why I do not wish you, brother, or either of your serving folk to create any disturbances while Lord Ross and his party are in this house. You will behave impeccably from now until our visitors have departed. Not one step out of line. Not one word misspoken. Do you understand me?” He’s glaring in my direction.
“Yes, Master Seanan,” Corb and I mumble together.
“You haven’t answered my question.” Dau’s voice is like a well-honed blade, cold, clear, and sharp. “What ails my father?”
A moment’s hesitation. It’s the first time I’ve seen Seanan without an immediate rejoinder. Then he says, “Are you not aware that a man’s faculties deteriorate with his advancing years, brother? There is no malady afflicting Lord Scannal but old age. It comes to us all in time.”
Dau’s response is whip-quick. “To the best of my knowledge, our father is now five-and-forty years old. Getting on, yes. But hardly a faltering graybeard.”
Seanan smiles. It’s not a pleasant look. “Indeed not. But old, all the same. Forgetful sometimes. And not only in matters such as where he set down his handkerchief or his mead cup. In important matters. He cannot rule alone.”
Don’t mention the betrothal, I will Dau. We must give Seanan no hint that it interests us. Can this be true about Lord Scannal? My parents are older than that. My father is the furthest thing from a faltering graybeard that anyone could imagine. And my mother is simply . . . herself. So much so that, looking at her, a person would think of courage, wisdom, a lively mind; never of age.
“I see,” Dau says.
“Judge for yourself when you have the opportunity to observe him,” says Seanan, rising to his feet as if about to leave. “And while we are on that topic, if you are to be in the hall for supper and mingle with our distinguished guests, you will need something better to wear.” He glances at Dau in his serviceable, well-worn clothing. He casts his eye over Corb. “I’ll send someone to assist you with that. The lad should be in the household livery. He’ll stand behind you at table; act as your body servant.” He spares a glance for me; there’s open contempt in it. “The girl will eat with the other serving folk. That gown is too short. Unseemly. You’ll wear something more appropriate in public, girl.”
“Yes, Master Seanan.” I’m wearing the clothes Miach found for me. My everyday gown is being laundered right now. And in my bag, still rolled up, is the outfit I used to wear when Brocc and Archu and I performed as a band, the russet gown with the embroidered overdress. A bond servant doesn’t wear garments like those. She doesn’t wear her hair loose and sit at the table laughing with her friends over a jug of ale. When the band plays, she doesn’t get up and dance. I remember Dau and me, hands clasped, circling each other amid a crowd of dancers. It’s like something from a different life.
“Dau,” says Seanan. His tone has changed. “You understand that failure to comply with this will result in consequences. For your boy, dismissal from this household. For the girl, punishment appropriate to her situation.”
For a moment, I might almost believe that Dau can see Seanan, such is the look on his face. His voice is very quiet as he asks, “And for me? Do you still mete out punishment to your brother?”
“I will leave the possible consequences to your imagination,” says Seanan, matching Dau’s tone. “I don’t suppose there’s anything wrong with your memory. Now I’ll take my leave of you.”
None of us says anything as he departs the chamber. Once he’s gone, Corb shuts the door. I fetch my flint and start to lay a fire; Corb fills the kettle and gets out herbs for a brew. After a little, Dau sits down on the bench. “You know what I’d like to do?” he asks.
“Might be better if I don’t answer that. I can think of a few things.” Most of them include acts of violence, and as I’ve just promised to behave impeccably, nothing of that kind is going to happen. After that little scene, it’s easy to imagine how silver-tongued that man could be if he wanted to ingratiate himself with folk like Lord Ross and his daughter. And I’m forced to admit that Seanan is a handsome man, tall, broad shouldered, golden haired, and fair of complexion. Many young women would find him attractive, at least on first acquaintance. He looks like Dau. But he is not like Dau; he is a vile, scheming bastard.
“I’d like us to dress in our best and stride into the great hall arm in arm, and after supper I’d like us to dance as if we had not a care in the world,” Dau says. “I’d like every eye to be on us and folk to say, Don’t they look happy? I’d like my family to look on and know they can’t bring us down, no matter what they do.”
Danu save us. I can’t find words. It’s possible I may have tears in my eyes. Corb is staring at Dau openmouthed.
“Have I shocked you?” Dau asks.
“A little, yes.” I clear my throat. “But only because I was thinking along the same lines myself.”
Surprisingly soon, a manservant brings the promised clothing. There’s a blue linen tunic for Corb, along with a new shirt and breeches. Dau’s tunic is a deeper shade of blue. The fabric looks rich, and the family emblem is embroidered on the breast in silver thread. His shirt is of fine silk, his breeches high-quality wool. I had wondered if Seanan planned to humiliate him by providing something inappropriate, but these look like quite princely garments. They could even be Seanan’s own; that way they’d be a perfect fit. No sign of a plain gown with a longer skirt for me. Seems I’m supposed to produce that by magic.
When it’s time for the midday meal, Corb goes to the kitchens and fetches food for the three of us on a tray. Tonight we’ll be expected to eat with everyone else in the hall. None of us is feeling talkative now.
“I suppose we’re free for the rest of the day,” I say. “I’m going to go mad shut up in here, comfortable as it all is. A walk would be good. I want to see Miach if I can. It would be too awkward—and messy—to make up your draft in here. She’ll need to do it for me.” Curse Seanan and his stupid rules! I could pick everything I need in the kitchen garden and make up the brew quite quickly in the stillroom. I wouldn’t be in anyone’s way.
When we’ve finished eating, Dau gets up and reaches for his stick—he’s dispensed with the crutch. “Maybe we’ll all go for a walk,” he says. “Strength in numbers. We might go and visit the infirmary. Corb, can you take me to the privy first? I remember where it is, but I’ll need to learn the way again.” When I don’t comment, he adds, “Liobhan? Are you coming?”
“You shouldn’t push yourself too hard. You need to be at your strongest and most alert while we’re in the house.”
“Now, that’s a first,” says Dau. “You telling me not to exert myself. I’ll employ the good judgment I learned on Swan Island. Does that answer satisfy you?”
I can’t help smiling. “It’ll do. Now who’s demonstrating relentless hope?”
It’s Dau’s turn to smile, though his has a twist to it. “Your mad ideas must be catching. Shall we go?”
I haven’t been to the kitchen garden since the day of the fire. Today is warm; I can feel a hint of the coming summer in the air. A monk is gathering herbs and two others are sitting on the low wall, deep in conversation. They fall silent as we approach. I’m not sure what the rules are, only that I know Miach has been using the stillroom, so women must still be admitted even though the monks are in residence. I murmur to Dau, telling him where we are and who else is present.
“Greetings,” he says now as we halt next to the brethren, who both rise to their feet. This courtesy most certainly isn’t for me or Corb. They must know who Dau is, though he’s not yet clad in his new finery. But of course they know: the three brothers are peas in a pod, almost. “I thought it was past time I paid you a visit.”
“Welcome, Master Dau,” the elder of the two monks says. “I am Brother Petrán, infirmarian at St. Padraig’s. This is my assistant, Brother Pól. And over in the garden is our apothecar
y, Brother Martán.” He glances at Corb, then at me, brows up. But Dau can’t see it.
“We’re Master Dau’s personal attendants,” I say. “This young man is Corb and I am Liobhan. We perform the required nursing duties, help Master Dau get about, and make up whatever preparations he needs.” Stop talking, Liobhan.
“Ah, yes,” says Brother Petrán. “I believe we have been supplying you with various materials for that purpose. Brother Martán makes our stillroom available at certain times to the young woman who prepares tonics and the like for those who need them in the house. I must say you are looking remarkably well, Master Dau.”
“Thank you,” says Dau. “We appreciate your assistance. I was hoping I might be shown around your temporary infirmary. I trust the men who were hurt in the fire are improving.”
“Of course, Master Dau. Brother Pól, will you . . . ? I will join you later.”
Brother Pól makes to usher Dau inside.
“Corb, you should go with Master Dau.” I don’t want Dau to go in there without one or the other of us to keep an eye on him. “I can wait out here in the sun and maybe have a look around the garden.”
Quick to understand what I’m not saying, Corb follows the others in, leaving me with Brother Petrán. The herbalist, Brother Martán, comes over with his basket on his arm, and we are introduced. I notice something in the basket that I didn’t know could be harvested in this garden. The sleeping draft I gave Dau in those first desperate days had a small amount of that particular fungus in it. Whoever first made up that dry mixture labeled the container with every component listed and the quantities, for which I was extremely grateful. I stopped using it as soon as I could. If you get the dose wrong you can kill your patient. If you keep it up for too long, even in a dilute form, the patient can become dependent on it. It has unfortunate side effects. The fungus itself is small and dark and has strange protuberances like stumpy toes.
A Dance with Fate Page 26