Child of the Prophecy (12 page)
"Uh-huh. And that was why you wouldn't come out?"
"Part of the reason."
"And what was the other part?" He was frowning, his dark brows drawn together.
"I—I can't do ordinary things anymore. I can't have—friends. I can't let that get in the way. It's hard to explain. This is bad enough, going on the cart, mixing with folk, having to talk and listen and—I just can't do those things anymore. I—I can't let anyone close."
Darragh did not reply. I stared at the ground, knowing he was looking at me, but unwilling to meet the expression in those too-honest brown eyes.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"So am I," he said slowly. "Sounds pretty odd to me. You might think yourself too fine for the likes of us. But there's folk of your own kind, where you're going. Family. It'll be good for you, Fainne. They'll welcome you. Folk are not so bad once you get to know them. And—it's only right, to have family and friends around you. I don't understand how you could do without them."
I drew my shawl closer around my shoulders. "No, I suppose you wouldn't," I said. "But our kind don't have friends."
Then we turned and made our way back down the hill, and he took my hand on the steepest bits, and neither of us said a word until we were nearly under the elms and could hear Molly laughing at some joke of Peg's.
"You have, you know," Darragh said softly. "Sometimes you get friends without asking for them. And once you've got them, they're not so easy to lose."
"I'm going a long way away," I said.
"I'm a traveling man, remember?" said Darragh. "Always on the move, that's me."
The journey was long. I learned to shut out some of the noise by repeating in my head, over and over, the recitation of question and answer that Father and I had perfected during the long years of my childhood.
Who were the first folk in the land of Erin?
The Old Ones. The Fomhoire.
And who came next?
So it went, as the carts trundled along under gentle autumn rain and crisp westerly breeze, and sometimes, when we were running late, under a great arch of stars.
Whence did you come?
From the Cauldron of Unknowing.
For what do you strive?
For knowledge. For wisdom. For an understanding of all things.
The lore was all that I had to keep me going. The lore was control and direction, amidst the noisy children and the chattering women and the constant company, more company than I was likely to want in a lifetime.
Peg was kind enough in her rough way. She never asked me to help with skinning rabbits, or fetching water, or washing the children's clothes. She tried to find me a quiet corner to roll out my bedding, once she saw how I edged away from the other girls and pulled the blanket over my ears. When we stopped for a single night, we'd sleep in the carts, with a sort of awning over that gave half-shelter. The boys slept out under the trees, next to the horses. There was a smell, with so many folk close together, and it was never really quiet. Often I lay awake looking up at the sky, thinking of Father back home, and listening to the small cracklings and rustlings around me, the horses shuffling, the sigh of children rolling over in their sleep, the snores of older folk worn out by a long day on the road. At dawn they'd be up again and soon ready to be off, the packing a well-practiced, speedy process. It seemed to me we were covering a great distance, despite many stops to sell baskets, or collect a pony, or simply to visit old friends. I lost count of the days after a while. There was a time when we came down through a desolate sort of valley with what looked like small lakes at the bottom, and I managed to waylay Darragh for a moment as he came by the back of the cart where I was sitting.
"Are we nearly there?" I asked him, softly so that nobody else could hear.
"Nearly where?" asked Darragh.
"Nearly at Sevenwaters," I whispered.
Darragh gave his crooked grin and shook his head. "Scarce halfway yet," he said. "It's a long way north, and east as well, before we reach the forest. Quite different, it is, in those parts. Still, you'll get a rest soon, and a bit of fun."
"Fun?" I scowled at him, bitterly disappointed that we had so far still to go, and furious with myself for having asked.
"That's right. Best days of the year. Down the bottom, where the valley opens out, we'll be stopping a while. Resting the horses. Making a proper little camp. Not far from there, you come to the Cross. That's where they hold the best horse fair in the country. Games, races, music, plenty of food and drink, finest company you're likely to meet anywhere. Get to know some great folks there, you will." He was watching me closely. "Don't look so anxious, Fainne. I'll look after you."
We stopped by the lakeside, and the menfolk went a certain distance along the shore, out of sight. The day was not so cold, for all the autumn was passing. Not that it was ever any trouble getting the children into the water, it was washing them that was the problem. I watched as the women and older girls stripped and scrubbed the little ones, to the accompaniment of squeals of protest and much splashing. The bath gave way to a sort of water fight, and then Peg and Molly and the other girls took off their own clothes without so much as a word of warning, and proceeded to wash themselves with a shared sliver of soap and a volley of ribald comments. I looked away, feeling a strange mixture of embarrassment and envy. Things seemed so much easier for them. I did not like the water. At home, I had never swum in the sea. My baths had been taken in a small tub before the fire, and I had fetched and warmed the water myself. Always, I had performed my ablutions in complete privacy. Even Grandmother had respected that. Still, I knew I was dirty and did not smell as I would wish to, and I did have two clean gowns in my little chest. But this—this was too hard.
Peg scrambled out of the water, her body still lean and shapely for all her brood of children.
"Come on, lass," she said with a smile. "Last chance to get spick-and-span before the fair. The water's not so chill, once you're in." I - I don't know-"
"Come, child, nobody's looking. There's a little cove there, a bit more private. Not used to this, I can see. I'll keep a watch out for you." So, my cheeks hot with embarrassment, I picked my way down to the water's edge, separated from the others by a curve of shore and a few willows, and stripped off my clothes while Peg, who had donned a fresh gown and was now combing and re-plaiting her long dark hair, sat on a fallen tree trunk nearby and warned off the children if they came too close. The water was freezing. To make things worse, the bottom was soft, oozing mud, and it was easy to lose your footing. And it grew deep so quickly. I glanced over and saw the other girls swimming, brown arms flashing, wet hair like graceful weed across naked shoulders. Farther down the lake it sounded as if the boys were swinging from a tree branch into deep water. I washed as quickly as I could, using the scrap of soap on body and hair, grateful for the chance to rid myself of the sweat and grime of the journey, terrified that I might take one step too many, and plunge in over my head by mistake. Peg was looking the other way. I could be drowned before she noticed. Nobody knew I could not swim. Nobody but Darragh. To sink beneath the water, to gasp and strain and be unable to fill the chest with air, that would be a terrible way to go. It would be like ... it would be the same as ... I willed that thought out of my mind, unfinished.
When I came out Peg handed me a cloth to dry myself, and then there was Molly with a gown in her hands, a gown that was not mine, for it was a bright homespun, striped in blue and green, and over her shoulder she had a neckerchief with a little border of blue ribbon.
I stood shivering with the cloth hugged around me, barely covering my nakedness.
"I have another gown in my chest," I managed. "I don't—" "This'll be easier," said Peg in a no-nonsense sort of voice. "Good color for you, the blue. Here, put your arms up, lass. That's it."
They had everything, even a clean shift for underneath, and stockings with blue borders. When I was dressed, Peg turned me around and began to brush out my hair. "I don't-"
"There, child. No trouble. No trouble at all. What a head of curls. I've a nice bit of the blue ribbon left, from sewing those kerchiefs— Moll, see if you can find it, will you—that'll be just right to fasten the end of this plait. Your mother had a fine head of hair. Lovely color, like dark clover honey, it was."
I said nothing as her deft fingers began to plait my hair, as fast and nimble as could be, and tie it with the bright blue ribbon Molly produced from a basket tucked in the depths of the cart.
'There," said Peg, holding me at arm's length and looking me up and down. "Not so bad, was it? Now let's wash these things, and we'll be on our way. Plenty of time to dry them out in the morning. Proper camp tonight; a good fire, chance to relax and enjoy ourselves. You'll like it, lass. See if you don't."
Soon we were back on the cart and trundling on between ever flatter fields. There was a smell of the sea in the air again. The little girls had fallen unusually silent, staring at me with their big dark eyes. Maybe, I thought, they were tired out from their bath. Then one of them spoke up.
"You look pretty," she said, and exploded in a fit of nervous giggles. The others shushed her, and they maintained silence for a few moments, and then all three burst into hilarity again. And because I could not tell if she had meant it, or was merely teasing me, I said nothing at all.
It was just as Darragh had told me. We reached level ground and a fork in the track, and all of a sudden there were people everywhere, men on horseback, boys leading ponies, farmers with carts piled high, strangely dressed folk with juggling balls or colored birds in cages. There was an enclosed cart, with a black-clad fellow seated morosely in front, driving a skinny old horse. Beside them a younger man walked, and as he went he extolled the virtues of various elixirs for sale: love philters, magic potions of strength, curses to set on an enemy. "Come one, come all," he shouted with great vigor and greater confidence. "Ills cured! Fortunes predicted! Look for the Grand Master under the old oaks north of the racing ground. Satisfaction guaranteed." I stared as they made their way past us, and I wondered what the fellow had in his mixtures. A few herbs and a dash of honey? Nothing much of value, I suspected. But there were those who ran after his cart, babbling with excitement. More fools they, I thought. They'd soon be parted from what little silver they had, and for nothing.
We did not share the road long with the ever-increasing throng, but took a side way to the west, and soon reached a sheltered stretch of sward fringed by elder trees and bordered by a swift-running stream. Here we halted and camp was set up. This time the carts were fully unpacked, serviceable shelters erected, and a solid fireplace of stones constructed in the center of the open space, with room around it for folk to sit in comfort. The horses were unharnessed, then loosely tethered in the shelter of the trees, and the boys began the task of brushing them down, each in turn, and checking for any possible damage after the journey. I gathered we were to stay here for the duration of the fair, going up the road each day to do business and returning to our camp at night. I could hear the sea, a soft, persistent washing in and out of small waves.
The women and girls had a big tent now, and in this I was given
my own corner, which Peg showed me, winking. As I rolled out my bedding and checked the lock on the wooden chest, I managed a whispered thank-you, and she gave a crooked grin, the image of her son's. As soon as my things were set out neatly I made my escape, out of the tent, between the trees, and down a little track to the west. It wasn't far. A short walk on the pebbly path, between scrubby bushes, up a gentle rise, and there it was. The breakers rolled lazily in to lick at the pure, wide beach that stretched between high promontories to north and south. Farther out there were plumes of spray, and dark rocks slick with water. A great reef, it seemed, guarded this peaceful bay. The setting sun moved ever closer to the vast expanse of water, and touched the sand to pale gold. Here and there on the shore figures could be seen: two boys galloping their ponies neck and neck in a wild race along the margin of land and water; a lad on a black horse, out there swimming, breasting the power of the swell, then coming in to shore, dripping, to shake off the excess in a shower of silver. There were folk walking, a couple hand in hand, a girl bending to pick up shells.