Son of the Shadows (33 page)

Hold on, wherever you are. Hold on

.

Back downstairs, there was no avoiding Eamonn. Before I could involve myself in conversation with

Aisling, or with Seamus's young wife, he was beside me, taking my arm to steer me to a bench, bringing me a cup of wine.

"Just water, please."

"You're looking very pale," said Eamonn, as he fetched another goblet. He sat down beside me, and his fingers brushed mine as he put the cup in my hand. "You're not taking care of yourself, Liadan. What's wrong? Why wouldn't you see me?"

I took a deep breath and let it go again without speaking.

"Liadan? What is it?" His voice was kind, the brown eyes concerned.

"I'm sorry, Eamonn. It's better if we don't speak of this. I'm quite tired. I've been for a long walk."

He frowned. "Somebody should be taking better care of you."

I had no answer for this. Amid the laughter and bustle, we were an island of silence.

"I won't accept this," he said suddenly. "You can't do this."

"Do what?" Brighid help me, I was so weary. The touch of his hand on me brought memories alive, stirred something best left asleep.

"Sh-shut me out." Eamonn was scowling, annoyed with himself. The childhood stammer had long been under control. "You owe me better, Liadan. I must speak with you alone before I go."

I drew in my breath. All of a sudden there were tears in my eyes. How could I tell him? How could I do any of it? I spoke without thinking.

"I'm tired, I'm just so tired."

His face changed. He glanced around quickly, making sure nobody was looking; and then his
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hand moved very subtly, and he brushed my cheek just once with his fingers, wiping away the single tear that had escaped.

"Oh, Liadan."

The intensity of his expression scared me. It seemed to me there was a fine line between love and hate, between passion and rage. I was saved from responding by the sound of hooves outside, by the movement of folk to the door. But as we got up to follow, Eamonn's hand was on my back, lightly, shielding me from the crowd. Soon I was going to have to tell him. Somehow I would have to find the words.

Clattering hooves. Torches smoking and flaring in the darkness. A starless sky, heavy with clouds. They rode into the yard two and two, no sign of weariness in the straight backs and proud carriage of the Ui

Neill's men. One bore his standard, white with a red symbol, a serpent curled around to devour its own tail. Then Fionn himself, broad shouldered, tight-mouthed, and beside him my sister. I had longed so much to see her, Niamh, who had teased and tormented me throughout my childhood, Niamh, who would rage at me one moment and entrust to me her deepest secrets the next; Niamh, laughing and golden, whirling around and around in a shaft of sunlight, in her white dress.

Don't you long for something that makes your life blaze and burn so the whole world can see it?

Don't you long for that, Liadan

? I had missed her terribly, and I could not wait to talk to her, long journey or not. So I moved forward and down the steps, next to Liam where he waited to greet his guests; and my sister's horse drew to a halt right in front of me. I looked up at her; and I knew in that moment that, whatever else I might say to her, I could not tell her my secret. For I stood there in my green gown, glowing with the new life I had been granted; and she glanced at me and away, and her face was frozen, her wide, blue eyes hollow and empty, quenched of their passions and hopes and wild dreams. Fionn came around to offer his hand, and she dismounted with elegance. Her fur-lined riding cloak and soft, kid boots were immaculate. Her shining hair was veiled in snowy linen and warmly hooded. She was like some exquisite shell scoured clean of its living inhabitant by a sudden storm, the lovely remnant of a creature gone forever. I took a step forward and put my arms around her, hugging her close as if to deny what I saw, and she flinched away from my touch.

"Liadan." It seemed to take a great effort of will for her to manage even this.

"Oh, Niamh. Oh, Niamh, it's good to see you."

But it was not good, it was not good at all. I looked into my sister's beautiful, blank face and felt my heart turn cold with foreboding.

Something was terribly wrong, and I could not find out what it was. Niamh was avoiding me.

She was refusing to talk, as if denying to herself that she was home. And yet, so devoid of will was her face, so empty of soul were her eyes, I found it hard to believe her capable of the effort required for such evasion.

Even when the men were gathered around the great oaken table deep in strategies, still I could not find

Niamh alone. Often I could not find her at all.

"Niamh's not looking well," observed Aisling, with a little frown. "I wonder if she's expecting."

The third night of the visit I asked Liam a favor.

"You see how Niamh is, Uncle. She seems exhausted, defeated. She cannot go on to Tara. Surely Fionn must recognize that. Ask him if she can stay with us while the men travel on."

Liam regarded me sternly. "Tell me, Niece, why should I be doing Niamh any favors?"

"You ask me that? Can't you see what this marriage has done to her? Can't you remember what
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she was?"

"That's unfair, Liadan. A woman must submit to her father's ruling and later to her husband's.

That is only right and natural. Fionn is a respected man, a man of standing. He is of the Ui Neill.

Niamh must grow up, adapt, if she's to contribute anything of value to his household. She must put the past behind her." He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as well as me.

"Uncle, please ask him."

"Very well. I won't deny it is a practical idea. Eamonn has already suggested that you and your sister travel back with Aisling in a day or two. I prefer that arrangement. You would be very safe in his house, company for Aisling while her brother is away, and it breaks the journey home for Niamh. You're right;

she doesn't look well."

Sean had presented his plan of action to the allies on the second morning. They were in the smaller private room this time. Carrying linen along the upper hallway, I heard voices raised, not in anger, more a mixture of shock and excitement. I caught a sense of Sean's urgency and his passion to convince them.

The midday meal grew cold on the table while they stayed behind closed doors debating the issue; and when they emerged, Fionn and Sean were still in deep conversation, and Eamonn was pale and silent, with a pinched expression about his face. Intense discussion continued as they ate and drank. They were divided. Fionn was open to the idea, Seamus wavering. Liam stood firm; he would do business with no fianna, he would deal with no faceless mercenaries, he would undertake no mission unless he himself had full control. And everyone knew there was no controlling the Painted Man. He was a law unto himself, if law was the right word for one so patently lawless; and trusting him was a bit like putting your head into a dragon's mouth. Sheer folly. Besides, Seamus put in, how would you even start? The outlaw came and went as he pleased; nobody knew where his headquarters were. Slippery as an eel, he was. How would you get a message to him to let him know you were interested? Sean replied that there were ways, but he

did not elaborate. Eamonn contributed very little. When the meal was cleared away, he did not return with the others to continue the debate but headed off outside alone.

I forced myself to go after him. There could be no waiting for him to seek me out; I would give him the bad news and that would be that. Better that he know as soon as possible. This was not as my mother and I had planned, but Eamonn had given me no option.

I found him in the stables. He was watching the gray horse that had carried me home, as one of the lads exercised her around the yard. One and two, three and four, she picked up her feet as neatly as a dancer. Her coat was shining, silvery mane and tail glossy with good care.

I came up to Eamonn's side where he stood in the shadows, watching.

"Liadan." There was restraint in his tone.

"You wanted to talk to me," I said. "Well, I'm here."

"I don't know if—this is not the right time. I am—your brother has dis appointed me, shocked me with an error of judgment. I'm afraid my thoughts are not fit for sharing."

"I know this is not a good time, Eamonn. But I have something to tell you, and it has to be now, while I

have the courage for it."

I had his attention instantly.

"You are—afraid to tell me? You need never be afraid of me, Liadan. You must know I would never harm what is most precious to me."

His words did nothing to make my task any easier. We moved quietly around to a spot behind the stables where you could sit on the steps in the sun. It had been a good place for childhood secrets. Here nobody could see you, except maybe a druid.

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"What is it, Liadan? What can be so bad that you fear to tell a friend?" And he imprisoned both my hands in his so that I could not move away. "Tell me, my dear."

Brighid help me. I was shivering from head to toe. "Eamonn, we've known each other a long time. I

respect you, and I owe it to you to tell you the truth, as much of it as I can. Before, you—you asked me to be your wife, and I told you I would answer you at Beltaine. But I find I must give you my answer now."

There was a pause.

"I see I have pressed you unduly on this," he said carefully. "If you prefer it, I will wait as long as you wish. Take what time you need to make your decision."

I swallowed. "That's just it. I cannot take time. And I cannot marry you, now or then. I am carrying another man's child."

And then there was a very long silence, during which I stared miserably at the ground and he sat motionless, still holding my hands. Eventually he spoke in a voice that was calm and even, a stranger's voice.

"I don't think I heard you correctly. What did you say?"

"You heard me, Eamonn. Don't make me say it again."

Another silence. He relinquished my hands. I could not look at him.

"Who has done this?"

"I can't tell you, Eamonn. I won't tell you."

He moved then, and I felt his hands on my shoulders, gripping hard.

"Who has done this? Who has taken what is mine'?"

"You're hurting me. I have told you what I must, and now you are free of me. I will not tell any more."

"Not tell? What do you mean, not tell? What are they thinking of, your brother, your father?

They should be out hunting down the scum who did this to you, making him pay for this—this outrage!"

"Eamonn—"

"The moment I saw you, the moment Sean and I found you, I feared such a wrong had been done. But you would not talk to me, and you seemed calm, almost too calm . . . and they said no more of it, so I

thought. . . but I will avenge this act of barbarism if they will not. I will make him pay. This ch-child should have been mine."

"They didn't know." My voice was shaking. "Sean, Liam, my father, they still don't know. You are only the second person to hear this news, after my mother."

"But why?" He was up and pacing now, opening and closing his hands as if they were eager to do some damage. "Why not tell? Why not allow your menfolk the satisfaction of just vengeance?"

I took a deep breath. "Because," I said very clearly, so that he could not possibly mistake my meaning, "I

was a willing partner in this. The child was conceived in love. This, I know, will hurt you more than the thought of some violence committed against me. But it is true." Still I could not force myself to look him in the eyes.

He strode up and down, up and down. At least now I had given him the truth, and his strong sense of propriety would give him no choice but to leave me. He would mutter an apology and be off to Tara to nurse his wounded pride and look for another wife.

"I don't believe you." He came to a halt in front of me and, reaching down, took my hands and pulled me up to stand before him. This time I was obliged to look at him, and I could see from the bewilderment in his eyes that he meant what he said. "I know you too well. You are incapable of such an act; you are the wisest and most prudent of women. I refuse to believe you would give
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yourself thus, unwed, and promised to another. This cannot be the truth."

He could hardly make this more difficult for me if he deliberately set out to do so. "It is the truth, Eamonn," I said quietly. "I love this man. I'm carrying his child. I cannot put it more plainly. Besides, I

made you no promise."

"Has he offered to marry you? To give your child a name?"

I shook my head. If only he would stop. If only he would leave. Each word made the hurt worse.

"This wretch has taken advantage of your innocence, and now you pro tect him through some misguided sense of loyalty. I will hunt him down, and I will strangle him with my bare hands.

Watching him die will give me intense satisfaction."

For a moment that image returned, the squeezing hands, the gasping for life, the knife, the blood. Then it blurred again, and I swayed where I stood.

"Liadan—what is it? Here, sit down. Let me help you. You are not well."

"I want you to go now. Please go." I put my head in my hands so that I did not have to see the look in his eyes.

"You need help—"

"I'll be better in a moment. I really do need to be alone. Please go away, Eamonn." My own weakness made me cruel.

"If that's what you want." His voice was tightly controlled now. He turned to go.

"Wait."

I heard his indrawn breath, but I did not say what he wanted to hear.

"I'll have to ask you a favor. I have yet to make this news known. Please give me time to tell my father and Sean and my uncle before you make any mention of it. And—and, Eamonn, I am sorry I have hurt you."

He did not respond.

"Eamonn?"

"You would have said yes, wouldn't you?" He spoke abruptly, as if the words tumbled out despite his better judgment. "At Beltaine. You would have accepted me, if not for this?"