Den of Wolves

by Juliet Marillier

  I halt with my back to him, like a well-trained dog.

  ‘You’re in deep water, Grim, deeper than a man like you can possibly understand. I don’t know what you and that woman of yours think you’ve discovered, but if she’s been spinning wild stories to my daughter she’ll pay a heavy price, and if you –’

  It’d be so easy to put my hands around his neck and squeeze hard. There’d be a count of five in it, before he went limp. I make myself breathe. I don’t turn around. ‘Got my breaking point,’ I say, trying to sound calm. ‘And that’s Blackthorn. Maybe you didn’t understand, before. You threaten her, you deal with me. And you’d want to do better than those two lads for bodyguards if that happens. Don’t say her name again, Master Tóla. Don’t even think of it.’

  ‘This is over,’ he says, cold as cold. ‘No word of this discussion, here or anywhere, understand? I don’t want to have to warn you again.’

  ‘Right,’ I say. Mustn’t understand how easy I could kill him. Or how angry I get when folk insult Blackthorn. Or why. Well, he wouldn’t know that. Nobody does but her and me and Mathuin’s thugs.

  ‘I need the job finished,’ he says. Voice is shaking a bit. Maybe I scared him. ‘I must have the heartwood house completed. Until that is done, we will be plagued by ill fortune. When the house stands true and perfect in every detail, I will be all too glad to part ways with you. Now go.’

  I leave without another word. The two lads are outside the door; they move back to let me pass. I bid them good night.

  Walking back up to the barn in the rain, I wonder why he wouldn’t just get rid of me. There’s got to be someone else who could take the lead with the build. I just insulted the master, laid hands on him, more or less told him he was a liar. So maybe he’s keeping me not because I’m a good worker, and not because I can watch over Bardán, but because I know too much. Maybe I should turn round and head for Winterfalls right now, even if it’s night and rainy and I’d be leaving Bardán on his own. But I’m tired, and there’s a light up in the quarters and a meal waiting. And if I left him without a protector I’d be making a liar of myself. Said I’d teach my own daughter to be kind, didn’t I? Kind and honest and good-hearted. And the way to teach a little one is to show her how it’s done. Leaving the wild man, running away, that wouldn’t be kind or good-hearted. So I head straight on to the barn. Calmer now. Thinking of a baby girl, not Tóla’s daughter or Bardán’s, but mine. The one I might have, some day. I can see her, crouched down beside me in the garden. I’m showing her which ones are the weeds. She finds a worm; squeals with excitement. Big smile on her face; little hands all muddy. Hair like a bright flame.

  35

  ~Blackthorn~

  ‘I’m astonished,’ Prince Oran said, ‘that you believed this information might somehow discredit you in my eyes or in my wife’s. I know from experience that you are courageous and trustworthy. The story you’ve just told me only strengthens that opinion. It appals and horrifies me. Sadly, I imagine that there might be many such accounts from folk under Mathuin’s rule, were those people not afraid to speak out. I know Flidais would agree with me if she were here. You could have told us this much earlier without any fear. Indeed, that knowledge would have aided our planning.’

  It had been hard getting the truth out. Telling the tale in all its ugliness had been like peeling off a layer of skin. At least Oran had not expected me to do it before a large audience. There were only four of us in the council chamber: the prince, his indispensable companion Donagan, Ségán and me. And while I could have wished the Island men’s leader not to be present, the fact that he knew my story already made it easier to speak. Still, I felt as exhausted as if I had run a long race. When Donagan poured me a fresh cup of mead and passed it over, the cup shook in my hands. ‘I’m glad now that I wrote it all down. It felt like a risk. But from what Ségán said, it can be used in some way. Can you tell me what is planned?’ My stomach was tying itself in knots, waiting.

  Oran glanced at Ségán.

  ‘We can give you limited information,’ the warrior said. ‘There is an enterprise planned, yes. One of which I know you will approve. Secrecy is essential to its success. You’ll have to take a great deal on trust.’

  ‘Almost everything, from the sound of it. If you’re using my testimony, you could at least tell me where and for what purpose. I’m good at keeping secrets.’

  ‘That a woman does not break under torture does not mean she can afford to risk capture a second time,’ Ségán said, sending a chill through me. ‘We want you alive and well to provide this evidence in person. That will be far stronger than offering the written account alone. It could be discounted as a fabrication.’

  My heart pounded. I thought I might faint. ‘So you are bringing him to justice? And you’re giving me the chance to speak? Where? When?’

  They exchanged glances again, as if to say, How much can we tell her? The wait was unbearable. ‘Please,’ I said. ‘Please tell me this is happening at last.’

  Oran was looking especially solemn. ‘You will have the opportunity to speak, yes,’ he said, making my heart lurch. ‘And soon. You may not know much about the Island men, what they do, the kinds of tasks they are called upon to perform. What we plan lies well outside the accepted rules for bringing a miscreant to justice, especially when that miscreant is a person in high authority. This mission will remain secret even after the goal is accomplished. The fewer people who know the details, the better the likelihood of success. And the safer for all involved.’

  I tried to take this in. A raid? An assassination? But that wouldn’t require testimony. And while I would shed no tears if Mathuin were killed, his death alone would not satisfy me. Nor, I was sure, would it be enough for his other victims. He needed to be brought to account for his crimes. Brought to account, if not publicly, then at least before his peers. ‘There should be justice,’ I said, picking my words with care. ‘Not only justice done, but justice seen to be done.’ What about the High King? He was hardly likely to sanction a secret mission that broke all kinds of rules.

  ‘All those who should know, do know,’ Oran said. His mouth was set unusually grim; his eyes made me think of a winter sky. ‘All those who should be consulted have been consulted and have given their approval.’

  ‘Morrigan’s britches,’ I murmured, making Donagan smile. Unthinkable. The High King knew about this, whatever it was. I wondered if the Island men might have magic on their side. A druid to advise them. Someone like me, only a lot more powerful.

  ‘Mistress Blackthorn,’ Ségán said, ‘you’ll need to travel. And it will be at short notice. We’re taking certain precautions in order not to draw any attention. There will be no massing of folk, no riding in numbers. You’ll go with one of our men, perhaps two. And soon. That means we need you in this house, ready to depart, unless there is a life-or-death call for your healing services in the immediate district of Winterfalls. Make sure you go no further. The timing is tight; we’ve kept it that way for a reason.’

  ‘I see.’ What question could I ask that he might be prepared to answer? What was most important? ‘Grim,’ I said. ‘He must come with me. You know why. You’ve read the document.’ Conmael was another matter; I would think that problem through when I was on my own. One thing I knew: no vow, no promise, no threat of dire consequences was going to stop me this time.

  ‘Would Grim also be prepared to testify?’ Ségán asked.

  ‘You’d have to ask him. I don’t think he would want to speak before an . . . assembly. But he would want to be present. And . . . it would be easier for me to do this if he was there.’

  ‘I concur. Grim should be part of this,’ Oran said. ‘It should be simple enough to arrange. I understand he’s still working up at Wolf Glen. He’d best come back here until it’s time. How soon can we get a message to him?’

  ‘I’ll send someone,’ Ségán said. ‘We’ll get a mes
sage there in sufficient time for him to ride with you, Mistress Blackthorn.’

  The mission, the longed-for chance had driven Cara and her problem right out of my head. Now it returned, and along with it Bardán and the whole difficulty at Wolf Glen. ‘You might need to word it carefully,’ I said. ‘Make sure Grim knows it’s vital for him to come back straight away.’

  All of them were staring at me now, as if I were talking nonsense.

  ‘Would not a message that you needed him here be sufficient?’ Oran asked, brows lifted.

  ‘Usually, yes.’ Before Wolf Glen, before the wild man, such a message would have troubled Grim so much that he would have leaped on a horse and galloped all the way back. Or run all the way, if there had been no horse. But now . . . ‘He’s promised to stay up there night and day until the job is finished,’ I said. ‘If he knew what this is about he would come, certainly. But you can’t tell him. I understand why. Couldn’t I go to Wolf Glen with an escort and talk to him?’

  ‘No,’ the three men said together.

  ‘I’ll word the message precisely,’ Ségán said. ‘My messenger will take a spare horse and ask Grim to ride back with him.’

  It was already late in the day. Prince Oran had arrived home in mid-afternoon, with a small number of Swan Island men and Donagan. Flidais and little Aolú had not come with him; they were staying at court. For their own safety, I assumed. I felt for Flidais. She went everywhere with Oran; it would be hard for her, knowing he was going into danger. And she would be party to the secret, I was sure. Not only were she and Oran close, but Mathuin was her father’s enemy. It was not his crimes against folk like me that had sparked this venture, but his armed attack on Lord Cadhan. Though it seemed both Oran and Ségán believed my account would make a difference. If I’d been readier to trust, if I hadn’t let my old fear stop me from telling Oran my story, maybe this venture could have happened far sooner.

  ‘Master Tóla won’t be pleased if Grim walks off the job,’ I said. And Bardán would be on his own again, just when I had told Cara she might be his daughter.

  ‘The message should bear my signature,’ said the prince. ‘Master Tóla can be as displeased as he likes, but if he has any common sense he won’t refuse a direct request from me.’

  ‘Am I allowed to know how long we might be away? I will need to tell Emer, my assistant. There’s nobody else to do my job while I’m gone.’

  ‘Not long,’ Ségán said. ‘The journey there requires an overnight stop and a change of horses. You may be away for as few as four or five days. Master Tóla will surely be content to grant Grim leave for such a short period. Not that these things are ever entirely predictable. Something as simple as an unseasonal storm can cause a delay. We’ve built in a little time, but not much. That’s why it’s vital that you be ready to go when we give the word. We’re waiting for a signal before we move. I can’t tell you more.’

  ‘I understand. What do I tell Emer?’

  ‘You can leave that to me, Mistress Blackthorn,’ he said. ‘We’ll inform her after you depart. Does Emer need a key to enter your cottage? Any particular instructions?’

  My heart sank. Emer was very young; what if there was a terrible fire, or an injury requiring an amputation, or . . . I must not dwell on what might go wrong. The folk of Winterfalls settlement were practical. Emer’s brother, Fraoch the smith, was a big strong man who could hold a limb still or wield a bone saw if he had to. And Emer was not only a sensible girl, she was studious in her own way and already quite skilled. She would cope. ‘Could you tell her that if she encounters anything she can’t deal with alone, she can send for help here? Donagan, will you be staying?’

  Donagan did not answer. But Oran said, ‘Emer can certainly come here any time she needs help. Aedan will send for one of the court healers if necessary.’

  ‘Thank you.’ It was going to be hard to keep this to myself. The secret would be written all over me, in my eyes, on my face, in the way I conducted myself. Cara would see instantly that something had happened. ‘I will need to go over to Dreamer’s Wood and collect a few items from the cottage. Prepare things for Emer even though I can’t tell her about this. I will take one of the men with me, if someone can be spared.’

  ‘Let me know when you want to go,’ Ségán said. ‘I suggest getting it done tomorrow.’

  ‘You’ll have a lot to think about,’ Oran said, giving me a smile. ‘I don’t think we need keep you any longer now. And I know you require no further reminders to maintain absolute secrecy. Outside these four walls, act on the assumption that anyone could pass on what they hear to the wrong ears. Within the walls, take any concerns straight to Ségán.’

  ‘I understand. I have one more question before I go.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What happens to my written testimony? Do I bring it with me?’ It had been stored in a locked chest in the women’s quarters. I had the only key around my neck.

  ‘Far safer if you and your document travel separately,’ Ségán said, turning me cold again. ‘I will arrange for it to be safely transported where it needs to go. You might give me the key now.’

  Slipping the cord over my head, passing the key to him felt like something from a bad dream. I understood why this was necessary. But the thought of what might go wrong made me feel sick.

  ‘Thank you, Mistress Blackthorn,’ Ségán said gravely. ‘I understand why it might be hard for you to trust. But you can trust us.’

  As I walked back across the garden to the quarters I was sharing with Cara, I tried to compose myself. I tried to arrange my face in a peaceful expression. I made myself breathe in a slow pattern. But my heart was still racing, my palms were clammy, and my thoughts were whirling. What if I had to leave tomorrow, as soon as I’d fetched what I needed from the cottage? What if they insisted on going before Grim got back? What if I still couldn’t summon Conmael, and we were travelling over the border, and I was breaking my promise twice over? And how could I even try to summon him if I couldn’t go to Dreamer’s Wood without one of the Island men dogging my steps?

  I was sure Cara would read the truth all over me the moment I stepped in the door. But she wasn’t there. For a moment I stood frozen, thinking she might have broken her own promise and rushed off to Wolf Glen, evading guards and servants. She hadn’t spoken of Bardán or the past since I’d talked to her yesterday. I’d been away most of today, visiting my regular folk, old people with wheezy chests or aching joints, young women expecting babies, a man with a broken leg that was still mending. I’d ridden over to the neighbouring settlement of Silverlake to pull a rotting tooth from a man’s mouth, a job for which I could have done with Grim’s assistance, though Cúan, who’d been my escort for the day, proved an able helper. I’d come home to find that Prince Oran was back, and had asked to see him urgently. I hadn’t seen Cara since breakfast time.

  If she’d decided to bolt, she might have been gone all day. Could she possibly have left on her own and unseen, again? Under the very eyes of Ségán’s men? Gods, why hadn’t I thought to check on her at some point during the day? I should at the very least have asked Mhairi or Fíona where she was. I should have thought of it as soon as I came home. Oran’s return had put that right out of my selfish head.

  But no. I was panicking for no good reason. The lamp was burning, the cottage was warm, the fire was banked up under a blanket of ash. She’d been here, and not so very long ago. And now I saw, beside the lamp, the wax tablet with its covers open and something written there. The druid is here and he knows the story. I want to talk to him on my own. If I am very late I will sleep in the women’s quarters so I don’t disturb you coming in. Cara.

  Disturb me? Hah! I had enough churning around in my head to ensure I wouldn’t sleep a wink. And how late was she likely to be anyway? It would hardly take half the night to tell an old tale. I’d have liked to go and listen; not only would it be a welcome
diversion from Mathuin, but I was curious about the story. Still, the message was clear. I want to talk to him on my own. At least, this way, I was spared from having to pretend to Cara that nothing was bothering me. As for Master Oisin, maybe I could speak to him in the morning. Before I went over to Dreamer’s Wood. Before I made one last attempt to summon Conmael.

  All this time, I thought as I took off my shoes. All this time, and now, suddenly, it was happening. Two days’ ride at most, and surely it had to be south. That meant somewhere near the border with Ulaid. Perhaps still in Dalriada, perhaps not. But I’d be breaking my vow anyway, because I’d promised Conmael I wouldn’t seek out Mathuin. The oddest part of it was, if the hearing or council was only two days’ travel away, it most certainly couldn’t be in Laigin. Nor could it be at Tara, under the eye of the High King. We weren’t going to confront Mathuin on his home ground. So he must be coming to us.

  36

  ~Cara~

  The druid, Master Oisin, was not lodged in the men’s quarters but in one of the farm cottages, like her and Blackthorn. Once Cara got the first words out, she saw the kind look on his face and had no trouble asking if he knew the tale about the heartwood house. He did, and when Cara asked if he would tell it to her straight away, in private, he said yes, of course.

  She told Mhairi she was going to bed. Master Oisin said he would walk over to the cottages with her. But they both went to his lodging. If someone happened to see her, Cara would say she was seeking spiritual counselling. Aunt Della would have thought it more proper for Mistress Blackthorn to be present, no doubt. But Cara didn’t want anyone else to hear. The story might be anything. She needed to do this on her own, with nobody watching her. She could pass on the tale to Mistress Blackthorn in the morning, when she’d had time to think about it. Time to cry without anyone knowing, if it came to that. Except this druid, who would not judge her.

  Master Oisin kindled the fire that was laid ready on his little hearth. He was so quick and tidy that she did not offer to help. He filled a kettle and put it on to heat.