Juliet Marillier - Daughter of the Forest

My father had relaxed; it was a long time since I had seen him so. Opening his house to guests had been a trial, but a necessary one, in the interest of a strategic alliance with his neighbour. Father had observed my return, and when I made myself useful chatting to Eilis’ elderly chaperone, he even acknowledged me with a nod of approval. Clearly, I thought bitterly, a daughter like Eilis was just what he wanted – biddable, soft, a sweet thing with no mind of her own. Well, I could play the part tonight, for Liam’s sake, but he’d better not think I was going to keep it up.

The night wore on; mead and ale flowed, platters of food came and went. The best was on offer: roast pig, soft wheaten bread, spiced fruit and a mellow cheese made from ewes’ milk. There was more music and dancing – the musicians had come from Seamus’ household, and made up in vigour what they lacked in subtlety. The fellow on the bodhran had arms like a blacksmith’s, and the piper a taste for the mead. Such was the noise of stamping feet, of whistling and cheering, that it was some minutes before the commotion at the great door, the clash of metal and the shouting came to the notice of our guests. Slowly the sound of revelry died down, and the crowd parted to admit a small band of my father’s men, still in their field armour and carrying naked swords. They came up to my father’s chair, and between them they dragged a captive whose face I could not see, but whose hair, gripped from behind by a large mailed fist, caught the torchlight and shone like ripples of bright gold.

‘My lord Colum!’ the captain boomed out. ‘I regret this disturbance to your festivities.’

‘Indeed,’ responded my father in his iciest tones. ‘Your business must be pressing indeed, to warrant such an intrusion. What is your purpose? I have guests here.’

He was displeased at the interruption; but at the same time his hand had moved to his sword belt. The lord Colum knew his men well; not for nothing would they risk his anger in such a way. There was an instant alertness about him that bespoke a professional. Beside him, Seamus Redbeard was slumped in his chair, smiling beatifically at nothing in particular. He might have indulged himself too generously tonight, but his host was cold sober.

‘A captive, my lord, as you see. We found him on the northern rim of the lake, alone; but there must surely be more of his kind close by. This is no hired man, Lord Colum.’

There was a violent movement, and the soldier’s voice was cut short as his prisoner jerked at the restraints that held him. People jostled for a better look, but all I could see through the press of bodies was the bright burnished gold of his hair, and the big fist of the man that gripped it, and the way the prisoner held himself tall, as if he were the only person in the world that mattered.

I ducked under a few arms and pushed past a group of whispering girls, and clambered up onto the wide stone bench that skirted the great hall. Then another precarious step onto the rim of a pillar, and I gained myself an unimpeded view straight over the heads of the muttering, craning crowd. The first thing I saw was Finbar, perched in the identical spot on the other side. His look passed right over me and settled on the prisoner.

The captive’s face was badly bruised; his nose had been bleeding and the shining curls were on closer inspection tangled with sweat and blood over his brow. Beneath them, his eyes burned like coals as they fixed on my father. He was young, and hurt, and desperate with hatred. He was the first Briton I had ever seen.

‘Who are you, and what is your purpose here?’ demanded my father. ‘Speak now, for silence will bring you no good, that I promise. We have no welcome but death for your kind, for we know of but one intention you can have in our lands. Who sent you here?’

The young man drew himself up, jerking contemptuously on the ropes that tied his hands tight behind his back. He spat with stunning accuracy at Father’s feet. Instantly, one captor tightened the rope, twisting his arms harder, and the other used the full force of a gauntleted fist across the prisoner’s face, leaving a red weal on mouth and cheek. Resentment and fury blazed from the young man’s eyes, but he set his lips grimly and remained silent. Father rose to his feet.

‘This exhibition is no sight for ladies, and has no place in this hall of celebration,’ he said. ‘It is, perhaps, time to retire.’ He swept a dismissing glance around the hall, managing somehow to thank and farewell his guests in an instant. ‘Men, hold yourselves in readiness for an early departure. It seems our venture can no longer wait for full moon. Meanwhile, we shall see what this unwelcome visitor has to tell us; let my captains come to me, and all others depart. My guests, I regret this untimely end to our feast.’

The household, in an instant, snapped back into campaign mode. Servants appeared; flasks, goblets and platters disappeared. Eilis and her ladies made a swift departure to their quarters, with Seamus not long after, and soon there were left just Father and a handful of his most trusted men. Somewhere in the midst of it all, the captive was dragged out, still silent in his blazing rage. If instructions were given to his guards, I missed them.

And in the darkened hall, Finbar and myself, one on each side, blending into the shadows as both of us knew well how to do. I could not explain why I stayed, but the pattern was already forming that would shape our destinies, had I but known it.

‘… already here, so close; this means they have intelligence enough of our positions to pose a real threat to …’

‘… eradicate them, but quickly, before the information …’

‘It’s imperative that he talks.’ This was Father, his voice authoritative. ‘Tell them that. And it must be tonight, for speed is essential in this exercise. We move out at dawn. Tell your men to sleep while they can, then check all for readiness.’ He turned to one of the older men. ‘You will supervise the interrogation. And make sure he’s kept alive. Such a captive could prove valuable as a hostage, after he’s served his purpose. Clearly this is no ordinary foot soldier. He may even be kin to Northwoods. Tell them to tread carefully.’

The man nodded assent and left the hall, and the others returned to their planning. I felt a little sorry for Liam – only just engaged, and he was off campaigning already. Maybe life was like that if you were a man, but it did seem rather unfair.

‘Sorcha!’ A whisper behind me almost made me cry out and reveal my hiding place. Finbar tugged at my sleeve, drawing me silently outside into the courtyard.

‘Don’t creep up on me like that!’ I hissed. His fingers on my lips silenced me quickly, and not until we were around the corner and he had checked carefully that nobody was within earshot did he speak.

‘I need you to help me,’ he whispered. ‘I didn’t want to ask you, but I can’t do this alone.’

‘Do what?’ My interest was caught immediately, even though I hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about.

‘We can’t do much now,’ he said, ‘but we might get him away by morning, if you can give me what I need.’

‘What?’ I said. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Poison,’ said Finbar. He was leading me quickly through the archway to the gardens. Both of us had the ability to move fast and silently over any sort of terrain. It came of growing up half wild. We had, in fact, a variety of unusual skills.

Once we were in the stillroom, and both outer and inner doors bolted, I made Finbar sit down and explain. He didn’t want to; his face had that stubborn expression it sometimes took on when the truth was painful or hurtful, but had to be told. One thing neither of us ever learned was the skill of lying.