Heir to Sevenwaters (6 page)

“What in the name of the gods is this?” I hissed. “How dare you manhandle me?” As soon as he let me go I’d bolt back inside and tell Johnny just what kind of mistake he’d made in hiring this uncouth bully.

“Planning to rush in and tell on me?” Cathal murmured. “You won’t do that. You wouldn’t want to spoil your sister’s wedding party, would you? Now listen. A good girl like you doesn’t dance all night with the same man unless there’s some kind of promise between them. I don’t believe there’s any such undertaking between you and Aidan. Take my advice. Leave my friend alone. Appearances can be deceptive, Clodagh. He’s not for you.”

This
was the reason he had seen fit to assault me in public? It defied belief. “Finished?” I asked, squashing the urge to ask him what he meant or to make the obvious retort that it was none of his business whom I danced with.

“Clodagh!” Aidan’s voice came from not far away, its tone concerned. “Clodagh, where are you?”

“He’s smitten,” Cathal said, removing his hands abruptly from my arms. At that moment something stirred behind him, a shadow, a figure perhaps twenty paces away, hardly more than a slight disturbance in the many shades of gray between here and the gates. I blinked and it was gone. “Make sure you’re not,” Cathal went on. “There’s nothing but harm in it. Now you’d best go before my friend gets entirely the wrong idea. Ah, Aidan, there you are. We thought we saw something, a little stray dog maybe, but it’s gone.”

“A dog.” Aidan’s tone conveyed complete disbelief. His sunny smile had vanished. His eyes judged first Cathal, then me.

“Excuse me,” I said, and passed between them with my chin up and my heart thumping. I headed straight for the house, collecting Eilis on the way. I did not report to Johnny or to my father. Cathal was right: I would not spoil Deirdre’s party by making accusations against one of my cousin’s trusted warriors. I would simply stay out of both men’s way. Cathal was devious. Everything about him set me on edge. I had liked Aidan when he came to Sevenwaters last spring, and I liked him even more now. But I had not liked that look of jealousy and doubt in his eyes. Let the two of them sort this out between them, whatever it was. For now, I had had quite enough of men.

CHAPTER 2

O
n the day of Deirdre’s wedding, the household at Sevenwaters also observed Meán Earraigh, the ritual for spring’s balance point. Ciarán had taken no part in the previous evening’s festivities, but he emerged to help Conor conduct the rite. This druid uncle of my father’s was tall and pale, with hair of a deep fiery red and intense mulberry-colored eyes. Ciarán was a man who seemed solitary even when in company. Although he was Conor’s half-brother, he was much younger, of an age with my father.

Meán Earraigh was one of my favorite feasts. Down on the grass by the lake shore we marked out a circle with leaves and flower petals. There the ritual was celebrated, with family and guests joining the chanting and the sharing of mead and herbs. We bade farewell to winter and greeted the new season’s warmth and promise. Sibeal played the part of the maiden, wearing a circlet of blossom as she danced in the circle. She was exactly the right age this season, just barely come to her monthly bleeding. She danced without awareness of self, her dark hair rippling down her back, her eyes distant, her features gravely composed. For as long as her part in the ritual lasted she was not a reserved girl of twelve, but the embodiment of the goddess in her youthful, budding form.

Alongside my sister danced the young son of one of Father’s freemen, representing the sun in its nascent power. The whistle and drum, the reed pipe and harp set my feet tapping, though the pace of this measure was contemplative. Conor made an imposing figure in his white robe and golden torc, with his snowy hair bound into many small braids. He watched the young dancers with pride, but there was a shadow over Ciarán’s features, as if the pair’s very freshness and innocence touched a secret sorrow in him. The dance drew to a close. The boy put a sheaf of spring flowers in Sibeal’s hands, representing the burgeoning growth of the season, and she dipped a little curtsy.

Unlike some of his Uí Néill kinsmen, who had turned to the Christian religion, Illann was steadfast in the old faith. This had strengthened his suitability as a husband for Deirdre, and it meant the hand-fasting that followed the spring ritual could be conducted with a full druidic ceremony. I had never thought Deirdre especially beautiful; to do so would have felt a little like admiring myself—vain and wrong. But my twin looked lovely today, her happiness shining from her face, the green gown perfectly setting off her bright eyes, her hair tumbling over her shoulders from the ribbons that caught it high at the back. She was a perfect young bride, and admiration lit Illann’s eyes as the two of them joined hands before Conor, promising to love, trust and be truthful to each other until death sundered them forever. Deirdre’s happiness made me happy. But I could not stop thinking of going to bed tonight all by myself in our chamber, without my twin to say good night to. My mind was full of the long months stretching ahead with not a word from the sister who had been closer to me than anyone else in the world.

All too quickly the hand-fasting was over, the celebratory mead and cakes were consumed, and we were bidding Deirdre and her party farewell, for they were to ride to Illann’s home at Dun na Ri straightaway. Most of our guests were also leaving. The way through Sevenwaters forest was not easy, especially for folk who were unfamiliar with it, and Father had arranged for the visitors to travel out together with an escort of his men-at-arms. In view of Mother’s delicate state of health he was keen to return the household quickly to its former peace, though he had not said so publicly. So I hugged Deirdre and said goodbye, and neither of us shed tears, but as the riders headed down the path and under the trees I felt a little part of me being torn away.

“You know, Sean,” said Conor, who was standing close to me, “I’d enjoy sitting awhile over some of that very fine mead, the stuff you didn’t get out while our guests were here. Johnny, perhaps your young bardic fellow might be prevailed upon to play for us, something soothing, and we can reflect a little on the passing of time and the changes that lie ahead for us all. Ciarán, will you stay?”

“Thank you, but I will not.” Ciarán had his cape on and his staff in his hand, ready to depart. His awkwardness in family gatherings was easy to understand, for he was the son of Lord Colum of Sevenwaters by his second wife, a sorceress descended from a twisted branch of the Fair Folk. Until a few years ago my sisters and I had not known he existed. Then suddenly he had been there among the druids, a member of the family we’d never been told about. It seemed he had overcome his dark legacy, for he was now expected to be chief druid after Conor.

Ciarán inclined his head courteously to my father. “Farewell, Sean. We have shared some momentous times, both painful and joyous. I hope your daughter will be happy with her new husband. Farewell, Aisling; the gods walk with you and your child.” With that, he was gone.

“Uncle Conor’s right, Father,” said my eldest sister, Muirrin, who had reached Sevenwaters just in time for the ritual. “What better occasion could there be for that special mead?”

“I haven’t seen Eilis for a while,” Mother observed. She was leaning on Father’s arm; coming outside for the ritual had tired her. “And where’s Coll?”

“I’ll find them,” I said. I’d seen the children disappearing in the direction of the stables as soon as the ceremony was over, and I feared for their best clothing.

Eilis and Coll were not in the stables. They were not in the yard outside.

“Down yonder, my lady,” said one of the grooms, gesturing toward the lake, which could be glimpsed through the open gates. “They’ll be safe; they had one of Johnny’s men with them.”

A fresh breeze had got up and I was cold in the light wool gown I had worn for the wedding. I hesitated, wondering whether to run inside for a shawl. Best not; Eilis and Coll couldn’t have gone far, and the sooner I brought them back the less opportunity there would be for Mother to start worrying.

I headed along the lakeside path, expecting to spot the children at any moment. It was only when I reached a place where the track split into two, with one branch heading uphill into the forest, that I began to feel uneasy. This was surely too far. I couldn’t see any trace of them along the shore ahead. Could they have gone up under the trees? The two of them knew quite well that they were expected to be in the hall for the rest of the afternoon. Something was wrong. Something didn’t add up.

I stood at the fork in the track, unwelcome memories of yesterday’s strange experience crowding my mind. If someone could get close enough to the house to follow me between the hawthorn and home, what was to stop that same someone from abducting my sister and cousin from right under the noses of the family? What about the shadowy figure I’d half glimpsed last night when Cathal had pulled me out of the dance? I shivered. What now? Run back home and fetch a guard? Or go on in the hope that I was not too far behind the children to catch up? If I wasted precious time getting help we might lose them altogether. Besides, what if they were just around the next corner and nothing untoward had happened? I’d be worrying my parents for no good reason. With a sigh, I set off up the track into the forest.

I climbed for some time, long enough to get quite warm. As I went I called out, “Eilis! Where are you? Coll!” but my voice lost itself under the encroaching trees. The only answer was the shrill cry of a bird high above. I hauled myself up a steep rise. My best shoes were coated with mud and the hem of my embroidered gown was seriously the worse for wear. My heart was thumping, partly from effort, partly from a growing fear. My little sister was only nine. She trusted people.

Footsteps behind me, down at the foot of the rise. “Clodagh?” The voice was Aidan’s.

Relief washed through me. “Up here,” I called back. “I’m looking for Coll and Eilis—I think they went this way.”

“Wait for me, then.”

He was up in a flash and beside me, and I was blurting out a half-explanation of my fears. “. . . and the groom said one of Johnny’s men was with them, but I don’t know which—”

“Cathal, I think. One of the maidservants saw him heading off with the children. Johnny suggested I come after you and make myself useful. It may not be very safe for you to be out here on your own.”

“We do it all the time,” I said, for that was true, though I was beginning to think Aidan’s caution might be justified. “This is our home, after all. And the forest has . . . well, it has uncanny methods of keeping out enemies. Outsiders simply lose their way, even if they think they’ve memorized the paths. Come on, we’d best keep walking.” Cathal, I thought. What was that man up to? There was definitely something wrong about him. If I found Eilis and Coll—
when
I found them—I would make it clear they must have nothing at all to do with Cathal from now on. How could Eilis have been so foolish as to go off into the forest with him?

“Eilis!” I shouted again as we came out into a small clearing, and this time there was a reply.

“Over here!” My sister’s voice was shaky.

She was in a grove of massive oaks. From the foot of each mossy bole a tangle of heavy roots clawed out. The network of thickly leaved boughs high above cast a mysterious dimness over the place. Beneath one forest giant sat Eilis, blowing her nose on a linen handkerchief. Her eyes were red and she had scratches on her hands and face.

“What happened?” I asked, keeping my tone calm as I put my arms around her. “Has someone hurt you, Eilis? Where’s Coll?”

“I climbed down by myself,” Eilis announced, the assurance of her words undermined by a noisy sniff. “All the way. But Coll’s still up there.” She glanced upward; above her, the trunk of the oak towered into the sky. “He’s stuck. When I was safely down, Cathal went back up to get him.”

I followed Eilis’s gaze. If my cousin was in this monstrous tree, he was beyond the place where the canopy blocked my view. My heart bunched up tight; my palms went clammy. The thought that my little sister had been up there made me want to be sick.

“Misguided fool!” Aidan was frowning as he came up beside me. “How dare he cause you such distress? Still, there’s no cause for alarm. Cathal is an excellent climber. He will bring the boy down safely.”

“But it’s so high!” I made myself take a deep breath. “Eilis, you and Coll must have known this was too dangerous. How on earth did you get up the first bit? That bough is a grown man’s height from the ground. You may be a good climber, but I know you can’t reach so high.”

“Cathal helped me.”

There was a brief, intense silence, punctuated by the sound of something moving about in the tree high above us.

“Cathal helped you,” I said flatly. “So whose idea was this?”

“We wanted to climb trees. Cathal said he’d take us. He said he knew a good place. He was being nice, Clodagh. Don’t look so angry.”

“I’m not angry,” I said through gritted teeth. High above me I could see two human forms now, each no larger than a joint of my little finger. Cathal came first, long legs moving with the confidence of a spider’s from one branch to the next. Just above him was Coll, and I could see how Cathal was showing him where to put his feet, where to grip.