I tried to roll over and found I was not alone. Bramble lay beside me, curled up in a tight ball. She too had been bathed and her hair was snow-white. Her injured paw stuck out stiffly, neatly wrapped in a clean, white bandage. Other bandages covered the wounds on her shoulder, flank and ear.
"I told you we would make it if we stuck together," I said but the words seemed to melt in my mouth and what came out was unintelligible.
Bramble opened one dark eye to stare at me then sniffed and went back to sleep. I laid a hand gently against her back, finding comfort in the warm body beside me. Then I too slept.
21
Diarmuid
WHEN I NEXT woke, my head was clear and the pain in my ankle had subsided to a dull ache. My stomach rumbled with hunger and my tongue felt fat and furry.
I lay on a wide bed, starched white covers tucked firmly around me, the fabric smooth and fine beneath my fingers. The patch of warmth by my hip was Bramble. A plump, stuffed chair was drawn up to a hearth containing neatly raked coals. A wooden dresser bearing jug and basin stood beneath a window. Someone had opened the curtains since I last woke but all I could see was a patch of leaden sky. This must be Owain's home but I had no idea where it was or how far we had travelled in the cart.
A woman entered my bedchamber. She was perhaps a five or six summers older than me. Her dark hair was neatly tied back and her work dress was immaculate. She looked me over, her gaze critical.
"You are awake." Her voice held no warmth. "How do you feel?"
"Hungry."
She laid a cool hand against my forehead. "The fever has broken at last."
"I had a fever?"
Her eyes narrowed. "You were very ill. Don't you remember?"
"I thought I was just hungry."
Her forehead wrinkled and she pursed her lips. Obviously I had said something incredibly stupid.
"I will apply another poultice to your ankle and strap it again. Then you may see if you can get up. If you can make your way to the dinner table, it will be far less trouble for me."
The doorway darkened and Owain entered. His plain face broke into a smile.
"Hello," he said. "How do you feel?"
"The fever has broken and he's hungry," the woman snapped.
Owain's face briefly registered hurt although his eyes said clearly he worshipped this woman.
I finally remembered that I had passed out without introducing myself to Owain. "My name is Diarmuid."
The woman frowned at me again. "So it would seem."
"This is my Maeve, my wife," Owain said quickly. "She has been caring for you."
"And it's not like I didn't already have enough to do, is it?" Maeve had a glare each for Owain and I. "Between keeping the household running and you trying to get me with child, I don't have time to spare as it is. And then you bring home a half-dead stranger and his dog and expect me to nurse them."
Owain flushed. "They needed help. Couldn't leave them on the side of the road."
"I don't see why not. They weren't your responsibility."
Owain hung his head and looked away.
"Can I have some water?" I asked, an awkward witness to their argument.
Maeve filled a mug from the jug on the dresser. She stared up at the ceiling as she held it out and I fumbled to take it from her. Owain came to my rescue, taking the mug in his big hands and holding it gently to my mouth. Water ran down my chin as I gulped. He didn't comment, only wiped my face with a towel. Maeve was gone by the time I had drunk my fill.
"Let's get you up and see how you feel." Owain helped me to stand. He guided me across the room towards the window, his strong arm a sturdy anchor around my waist. "A few steps, no more, eh."
With the first step, I realised how weak I was. My knees buckled and my legs shook and it was only Owain's strong arms that kept me standing. My ankle was still tender but I could put some weight on it with Owain's support. I barely managed six steps before I could go no further, panting from the effort of even so little. My heart sank. It would be some days yet before I resumed my journey and the dark of the moon drew closer with every night I delayed.
"Bed now," he said and carried me back. "You should rest. I'll come get you at dinner time."
Then it was Bramble's turn. Owain held a small wooden bowl up to her mouth and she lapped thirstily. He gently stroked her hip, well away from her injuries, and she looked up at him with an expression of gratitude. It seemed even she knew how close we had both come to death. When Owain left, Bramble and I curled up together again and I drifted back to sleep.
The bedchamber was darker when I next woke. My mouth was dry again and my stomach grumbled loudly. My head was clearer and for a few moments, I thought perhaps we could resume our journey on the morrow. That hope was dashed when I tried to get out of bed for I was still too weak to do any more than sit up alone.
When Owain returned, he smiled broadly and I couldn't help but smile back. There was something about him that made me like him very much. More than that, I trusted him.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
Before I could respond, Bramble hauled herself up with a bark.
Owain laughed. "Well then, Bramble. Let's take you downstairs for dinner." He lifted her, his large hands careful to avoid her injuries. "I'll be back for you in a moment," he said over his shoulder.
When he returned, Owain scooped me up, lifting me as easily as he had Bramble.
"Don't want to do too much yet," he muttered. "Best that you rest."
"I have to continue on my journey."
"In a few days."
He carried me down to the dining room and deposited me on a wide, stuffed chair. The furniture was solid and elegantly carved and the walls were draped with fine embroideries. I had taken Owain for a simple farmer but clearly he was something more. Bramble nestled in a thickly-padded basket beside my chair. Her eyes were bright and alert. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted in from the kitchen and my stomach growled so hard it hurt.
"What occupation do you have, Owain?" I leaned down to stroke Bramble's head. She leaned into my hand.
"Oh, this and that." He busied himself with settling into a chair across the table from me.
Maeve bustled in with a platter before I could ask further and dropped it onto the table with what seemed like unnecessary force.
"Good evening, Maeve," I said. "Thank you for looking after us."
She huffed and straightened the platter. "It's not like I don't already have enough to do."
Owain cleared his throat apologetically.
"We really appreciate it," I said. "I don't know what would have become of us if Owain hadn't come along when he did. We couldn't have made it much further."
"You were almost dead when I found you," Owain said cheerfully. "Wouldn't have lasted another night. Either of you," he added with a glance towards Bramble.
She flicked an ear at him and held his gaze.
"Thank you, Owain," I said. "And I'm sure Bramble would thank you also if she could talk."
"Oh she talks in her own way." He dragged his gaze away from Bramble.
Maeve's scowl didn't budge as we ate. Owain said little but every word irritated her and when she spoke, it was usually to remind him how much more difficult her life was with him in it. Owain tolerated her criticisms with gentle shrugs.
The meal was lavish and I ate with gusto. Roasted hen, winter root vegetables, rich gravy. Thick slices of brown bread. A sweet honey that reminded me, with a pang of homesickness, of Silver Downs. Bramble ate from a bowl of choice selections of chicken and vegetables. Owain must have filled the bowl himself. I couldn't imagine Maeve going to that effort.
Maeve barely ate but merely picked at a piece of chicken and then reduced a slice of bread to crumbs on her plate. I would have felt uncomfortable about eating so much when she had so little if it weren't for Owain who had second and then third helpings of everything.
"Thank you for your hospitality," I said to Maeve.
"I hope I won't have to intrude on you for much longer."
Maeve looked up briefly from the growing pile of crumbs. "I suppose you can stay another day or two."
"Nonsense, Diarmuid," Owain said. "It'll be at least a sevennight before you are well enough to leave."
Maeve glared across the table at him. He lowered his gaze but didn't retract his words.
"I'll wait until morning before I make any decisions," I said. "But I'm sure I'll feel much better by then."
Maeve rose abruptly and left. Her voice came from the kitchen although I couldn't make out what she said. Directing the servants, perhaps. Owain pushed back his chair, scooped up Bramble's basket in one arm and helped me to rise with the other. I leaned heavily on him as we went into the next room where a small fire blazed with a merriness it alone seemed to feel. I sank down into an oversized chair, its thick padding cushioning my body comfortably. My legs trembled from the short walk and my ankle throbbed.
Owain positioned Bramble's basket close by his chair where she would feel the fire's warmth and then sat down with a sigh. Bramble stretched out and rested her chin on her paws. Dishes clattered loudly from the direction of the kitchen. Someone was taking their feelings out on the crockery.
"I'm sorry if Bramble and I being here is causing problems for you," I said.
Owain shrugged. "She's always like this. Doesn't like me much, I'm afraid."
"Then why did she handfast with you?" I regretted my rudeness the instant the words left my mouth but Owain didn't seem bothered.
"I made her father a generous offer. She preferred someone else."
"She resents you."
"Thought she'd come around. See I wasn't so bad. But it's been three summers. She still hates me and we still have no heir." He stared silently into the fire for a while. "Not much I can do. And it's not a bad life we have. I know I'm a simple man but I do all right. We have everything we need."
I looked around the room, which was generously appointed with heavy wooden cabinets, plush chairs and thick rugs. Dark drapes covered the windows, keeping out the early spring evening's chill. It was clear Owain did better than all right.
"I'm sure I won't need to stay a sevennight," I said. "A day, maybe two, and I'll be well again. I can't afford to delay any longer."
"Can't rush these things. And there's Bramble too."
We both looked down at the little terrier curled up in the basket. She gazed up at us, her eyes already drooping.
"She might not be well enough to come with me." The words hurt but I had to do what was best for Bramble, not for myself. "She lost a lot of blood and it's going to be a while before she can walk properly."
Owain nodded and returned his gaze to the fire.
"Would you… Could I… That is, if she can't come with me, can she stay with you?" I finished in a rush, wishing I had found a more elegant way to say it.
"Sure." Owain spared Bramble another quick glance. "If she wants. Mayhap though she wants to stick with you."
I looked down at Bramble to find her sitting up and glaring at me. Curiously, she appeared to have taken offence at my request. How much of our conversation had she understood? Surely it wasn't possible for a dog to recognise more than a few words. Come, sit, eat. But still, the look she gave made me want to hang my head in shame.
"I'm not saying I want to leave her behind," I said quickly.
Owain mumbled something that might have been agreement. We sat in silence after that, each occupied with his own thoughts, and I noticed he dropped a hand down to stroke Bramble gently on the head.
Bramble no longer seemed sleepy. Although she lay down again, she continued to glare at me. I kept my gaze firmly on the raven in the fire and pretended I didn't see the hurt in Bramble's eyes.
22
Diarmuid
I WAS PITIFULLY weak from my illness but each day I grew a little stronger and my ankle a little more sound. I passed my recovery time mostly lying in bed, talking to Bramble, and worrying about how many nights remained until the next full moon. I didn't see much of Owain after breakfast each day but every evening he came to carry Bramble and I downstairs for dinner. After we had eaten, the three of us would laze in front of the fire. Maeve always absented herself after the evening meal and I wouldn't see her again until breakfast.
"Didn't expect her to make it," Owain said one evening, referring to Bramble who was sprawled on his lap, head draped over his knee, seemingly asleep. "Didn't expect either of you to make it actually."
"She's tougher than she looks," I said.
Bramble opened one eye to glare at me.
"I don't thinks she likes me much," I added with something of a laugh. Bramble might glare and huff at me but every night she slept curled in a warm ball against my side.
"Her wounds were festering." Owain stroked Bramble's back with a gentleness unexpected in one so large.
"I didn't realise." Guilt filled me. If only I hadn't rationed the water. If only I had cleaned her wounds more thoroughly. Perhaps they wouldn't have become infected if I had looked after her properly.
"Her ear won't heal right." Owain's hand touched the bandaged ear ever so gently. "There's a piece missing. Maeve stitched it best she could."
"At least she's alive. I wonder what happened to her before she found me."
"Boar."
I looked at Bramble with new respect. "She's so small. I can't imagine how she could fight a boar and survive."
Bramble huffed although she didn't deign to open her eyes. She didn't have to. I already knew the sound was directed at me. I could hardly reconcile the white terrier curled up on Owain's lap with the blood-soaked creature who had first slunk towards me in the woods. Her injured paw was still bandaged. The bones weren't broken but the paw was badly bruised and the large gash from which so much blood had oozed was healing slowly. She still refused to put any weight on that paw but she moved around easily enough on three legs. Her other wounds — ear and shoulder and flank — were still red and inflamed.
There was time yet for Bramble to heal though for I was still weak and tired easily. I ate everything Maeve put in front of me and often, with Owain's insistence, had seconds, but still my clothes hung more loosely than before and my face, when I caught a glimpse of it in the wash bowl, was gaunt and haggard.
I relaxed into the comfortable chair, basking in the fire's warmth, and tried not to notice the raven flickering in its depths. Fatigue crept through my body, leaving my limbs heavy. Soon I was yawning enough for Owain to decide it was time we all retired. He banked down the fire and we headed upstairs.
As Bramble and I lay in bed, thick blankets pulled up over both of us, the sounds of an argument between Owain and Maeve reached my ears. Were they arguing about us? Maeve made it clear at every opportunity that our presence was an inconvenience. I would have probably left by now, even as weak as I was, if not for Owain's quiet insistence that we stay. He and Maeve had a strange relationship. She clearly disdained him. He suffered her harsh words with nothing more than a resigned shrug and an occasional sigh. Bramble shifted beside me and I wrapped an arm around her.
"I wish I knew what they were saying," I murmured. "I bet you can hear every word."
She draped her head across my arm. The stiff hairs on her chin tickled my skin.
"Are you comfortable? I hope your wounds aren't bothering you too much."
A soft sound, almost a sigh.
"Do you think I can do this, Bramble? If the witch is Ida, do you think I can find her? Do you think I can really destroy her?"
Bramble stirred. She was listening.
"I wonder sometimes. I don't know whether I'm strong enough. I have no idea what I'm doing or how to destroy her. I only know I have to do it or… or die trying."
It was the first time I had dared voice this thought. Perhaps Ida would hold the same power over me that she had over the villagers of Crow's Nest. What if I abandoned my quest merely because she told me to? What if she forced me to do awful thing
s? Or if she killed me?
"I wish I knew what she was doing," I whispered. "We've been here too long. More than a sevennight. The closer the dark of the moon comes… I'm scared, Bramble. I feel so alone. I know this is my fault and I have to be the one to fix it, but still…"
She huffed at me.
"Yes, I know you're here. But it would be nice to have someone I could talk to."
Another huff and then she disentangled herself from my arm and rose. She wiggled out from under the covers, moved to the end of the bed and lay down again, her back to me. I had left the curtains open and her white hair shone in the moonlight that peeked through the window.
"Don't be like that."
No response.
"Bramble, please."
A huff.
With a sigh, I sat up and reached for her, nestling her once again under the covers and in the crook of my arm.
"I'm thankful to have you. I don't know what I'd do if I was all alone."
I prattled to her for a while, telling her how lovely she looked with her shiny white coat and her big unblinking eyes. Likely she didn't understand anything I said but it soothed me if nothing else. Eventually the stiffness left her body, she draped her head over my arm again, and I knew I was forgiven.
My words tapered off and I closed my eyes. How would I ever sleep alone again? Perhaps I wouldn't have to. Perhaps Bramble would be well enough to come with me, and we would somehow defeat Ida, and then we could go home together to Silver Downs.
I drifted off to sleep with my mind full of Bramble running across the grassy fields at home, sitting beside me as I created my tales, and curling up next to me in bed every night.
23
Ida
HE COMES. I feel it, in my bones, in my blood, in every breath I take. He and I, we are one, even if he doesn't know it. So now he comes and I understand his intent: to destroy me.
Muse Page 11