Jack Whyte - The Saxon Shore

"Not. . . How could you know that? A shadow is a shadow."

"I don't know how I knew, but I knew—and still know—that shadow was not mine!"

Her eyes grew wide, because she had guessed at the sequel. "Whose . . . whose was it, then?"

"I swear it was Mungo Rohan!" I jerked myself erect, straightening my knees convulsively as I heard her gasp, and leaned my back against the right side of the ship's high prow, spreading my hands and feet for balance. She remained seated, her head directly beneath the tow cable, gaping up at me as I continued speaking, my eyes staring seaward. "Shelagh, I know there is no sane, logical explanation for such knowledge. And even more than that, I am aware of the gravity of all I have said. I know that by my simple repetition of these words to more impulsive ears than yours, Mungo Rohan's life would end abruptly. I know all that." I looked back into her eyes. "But, Shelagh, I know it is pure truth. Somewhere, somehow, at the depths of my being, I am convinced. I recognised that shadow beyond doubt. It was not distorted, nor altered by the flickering of the heavenly fires. It was—I was, there in that grove—Mungo Rohan, as surely as I breathe."

As suddenly as I had arisen, I dropped back down, bracing myself with one hand as I perched beside her, so that her head as she sat now was above me. "Nor is that all I know, Shelagh, although the God I revere must be shaking His head about how such knowledge came into my ken. The thing was planned. I knew, in my dream, that Kerry would come by there. I waited for him, and I knew that he would be alone. The thought was in my mind as I dreamed. Kerry would come this way, alone, and he would die, and we would have our way. We, Shelagh, for I was not alone in having plotted this death. We would have our way!"

I could see from her eyes that she believed, and was afraid to ask, and so I told her.

"Finn was the remainder of that We. Finn and I would prevail. The enemy would fail and be repelled, but in the achievement, Athol would fall— one way or another—and the Gaels would seek another king among his clan. Cornath, the firstborn son, is safe in Caledonia; Connor is crippled, hence unfit; his next-born brother, Brander, is at sea, involved in the new colonies; and Fingael, next in line after Caerlyle, would claim the King's Corona with its golden acorn points. Donuil did not even enter my mind. Fingael would rule, but I, Mungo, would be supreme."

In the silence that followed, Shelagh's face was deathly pale, her eyes filled with pain and deep, though unwilling, belief. She rose to her feet, pulling herself erect with a firm, one-handed grip upon the rail in front of her, after which she remained standing, leaning her shoulders against the taut cable, gazing out to where Feargus's galley laboured ahead of us, dragging us through the waters. She had thrown back the hood of her large travelling cloak and the wind, spilling and gusting all around her as it swirled about the prow, caught at her hair and blew it every way, so that much of the time it obscured her face and I could not observe her expression. I held myself in patience, awaiting her decision. She had immersed herself completely in what I had told her, and I had utter faith that she would know what I should do next—a knowledge completely without reason or logic, but both of those had disappeared completely with the news of Kerry's death.

My own thoughts were chaotic and, I fear, far less concerned with Athol and his grief and danger than with myself and my own reputation. No matter what I did now, I was thinking, I would be ill-regarded once the word was spread that I had dreamed this thing and then put credence in my own imaginings, perhaps enough to cause the death of high-placed enemies. I had no doubts that I was not the only one who had noticed Fingael's plain distaste for me—or Mungo's, for that matter. Added to that, the rumours that had caused my brother Ambrose deep concern back at home in Britain would be strengthened immeasurably by this development, and I could see no way of avoiding that. The word would spread. Tales of scandalous doings and supernatural deeds knew no borders or boundaries. Sorcerer, men would call me, and they would retell the tales of Merlyn's strangeness, whispered since his youth. Worse than that, however, was the concern caused by my new knowledge of the penalties for such abilities among Athol's own people. Possession of the Sight earned banishment. It mattered nothing that the curse I bore was born in me without my wishing it, or that I would be happy to abjure it. I was accursed. The mere suspicion of such abilities as mine would place me beyond the bourne of ordinary men.

I must have made some sound of distress, because Shelagh swung to face me. "What?" she asked. I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders, unwilling to be a cause of distraction to her. She looked away immediately, her eyes moving speculatively to where Donuil stood with his companions by the rail, farther along the deck.

"Donuil will know what to do," she murmured, almost to herself. "We must tell him, immediately."

"Tell him what, Shelagh? That I've had a bad dream? He wouldn't believe it. I wouldn't either, were I he."

"He will believe it, after I have talked to him." We were both looking at Donuil now and he glanced in our direction, as though aware of it. Shelagh beckoned to him. "Leave me alone with him for a while, Caius. I need to make him listen."

Donuil and I passed each other with a nod and I took up his place with Dedalus, Liam and Rufio, where the talk was of the death of Kerry, the morning's attack and the timely arrival of Brander from the north. Much of these speculations passed by me unheeded, since my mind was fastened on Donuil, Shelagh and the truth revealed to me.

After an interval that seemed like hours, I heard Shelagh call my name and I made my way back to where they stood by the prow. Donuil watched me approach, his open face troubled. Shelagh wasted no time, but it was to Donuil that she spoke first.

"Tell me, my love, would this man, Caius Merlyn Britannicus, ever lie to you, do you think?" The question clearly took Donuil unawares, because his eyes went wide and he blinked, but there was no hesitation in his denial.

"No! How can you even ask that, knowing what I have told you?"

"Because I want that knowledge freshly stated in your mind before you listen to what he will tell you next." Her eyes met mine. "I have told Donuil all about myself—my dreams, I mean—and he believes me, although the idea upsets him. I also told him of our talk the night he and my father went to search for Rud."

"You have such dreams, Cay?"

I nodded. "Aye, infrequently, but I do."

"And you believe their. . . power?" The word came to him with difficulty.

"Not fully, and not willingly, until today."

He frowned, and Shelagh interposed herself between us, pressing against him, snuggling under his arm beneath his cloak, pulling him with her into the narrow angle formed by the rigid bar of the tow cable and the right half of the prow itself, artfully distracting him before he could say whatever had occurred to him.

"I have told him nothing of today, Caius," she said, once they were settled there. "That's your task. Tell him now."

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was paying us attention, and then leaned towards both of them, resting one hand on the rail and the other on the cable, so that the three of us were curtained from the rest of the ship by the spread of my cloak. There is no privacy aboard a galley. Then, keeping my voice low, I repeated my tale to Donuil.

His face drained of colour as he listened, and his mouth changed into a tight-clamped, lipless line. When I had finished he did not even question me, but stared off, over my shoulder, fury smouldering in his eyes.