“Someone strung a man up; it’s one of Cruinn’s lost men—I’m sure of it. We need to get Father—”
“This is something to do with the Disappearance?”
Gods save us, for a druid he was woefully slow to understand.
“Can your horse carry both of us? Come on, Luachan, we must move—”
“Maeve, are you harmed? Tell me. What happened to you?”
“Forget that. I’m fine. We must go. If the horse can’t take two, you’ll need to ride back for help and leave me to walk. The man is hanging from a tree. He died before my eyes. Luachan, if you stand there staring any longer I’ll run to the keep on my own and leave you here with the dogs.”
“You can manage on the mare?”
“Would I suggest it if I couldn’t?”
Hold on to your temper, Maeve, this is not helping anyone.
“I’ll have to ride behind you—that’s the only way I can hold on. Apart from that, yes, I can manage provided you help me up. If we don’t go now, we may not be able to bring the man’s body back before dark.”
As we rode to the keep, with the dogs keeping pace on either side, I gave Luachan the story in a more coherent fashion, though it was a wonder I could tell it at all. I knew I was close to collapsing. I did not want to break down and weep in the druid’s company, or in front of my parents or the Sevenwaters household. I must hold myself together until I was back at the nemetons and in my own little house with only Rhian and the dogs. My mind kept showing me the moment when I had seen death steal the last light
from that man’s eyes. That would stay with me forever. Beneath the weariness, beneath the sorrow, deep inside me a flame of anger burned. How dared Mac Dara do this? How dared he pollute our forest, which for generation on generation had been a haven and sanctuary? How dared he indulge in such acts of wanton cruelty right in the heart of my father’s domain?
“We have to stop him,” I muttered against Luachan’s back. “This has to end.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” It came to me then, the realization that perhaps it had all been set up, the dogs somehow alerted and drawn to the place of killing, and I, Lord Sean’s daughter, drawn right after them, out of the protection of the nemetons and into the perilous wild places of the forest. Someone had known that if Bear and Badger ran, I would follow. Someone knew me so well he must surely have been watching me since the very first day I came to Sevenwaters. But why would Mac Dara be interested in me? Everyone said he overlooked women, thought them unimportant. It couldn’t be me he wanted as a pawn or a hostage; it must be…“Finbar,” I said suddenly, my heart going cold. “Luachan, where is Finbar?”
“With his mother at the keep.” Luachan twisted in the saddle, looking over his shoulder at me. “Maeve, you’re as white as a sheet. He’s safe, I promise you. I left the two of them, and Eithne, in the stillroom not long ago.”
Tears of relief stung my eyes. Safe. My brother was safe, and so was I. But not that man out there, a man who had been someone’s brother, someone’s son, perhaps a husband and father, too. One of Cruinn’s men; perhaps one of his sons. Dead. I had never seen a person die before. I thought I understood those looks now, the looks my sisters had turned on me when I lay burned after the fire, doing my best to bear the pain bravely. They had felt as I had today, when that man had fixed his dying stare on me. Helpless. Utterly helpless.
Luachan may have been slow to understand at first, but when we reached the keep he proved his worth. In the stable yard he dismounted
with some grace, tied up his weary horse, then helped me down. Since it was clear my legs would not carry me, he supported me as far as the little garden and settled me on the low wall. The moment he stepped back, Bear and Badger stationed themselves in front of me, their hackles rising as folk came into view between stables and keep. There was a familiar face: Donal, the young groom from Harrowfield, well-known to both the dogs. Luachan called him over.
“Stay with Lady Maeve while I fetch Lord Sean, and don’t let anyone bother her.” His tone was crisp, and Donal raised his brows.
“Donal doesn’t speak much Irish,” I said, and translated for him. He gave a nod and took up a position not far from me.
“All right?” Luachan asked me with somewhat more familiarity than was quite appropriate.
“Stop wasting time,” I said. “Go.”
Very soon my father was striding across the yard toward me, with Luachan behind. The lines around Father’s nose and mouth seemed deeper; he looked older. “Maeve, my dear.” He spoke with a well-governed calm. “Luachan has explained what has happened. He tells me you are unharmed, but exhausted from your long run to bring us this news.”
“I’m fine, Father. I’ll need to come with you when you ride out to fetch this man; if he’s to be brought home by dusk that must happen straightaway. I can—”
“Maeve. Hush.” Father directed a glance of dismissal at Luachan, and the druid went off to tend to his horse, followed by Donal. “You are distressed, and with good cause. But I need you to help me. Not by jumping on a horse and riding off right away, but by giving me the best description you can of the place where you found this man, and the condition of his body.”
“But, Father—”
“I know how practical and clearheaded you are. I also know your mother would not forgive me if I expected you to ride out again today, when you’re clearly at the last gasp of exhaustion.”
“That doesn’t matter—”
“Hush, my dear.” He might have been speaking to a tiny Maeve, woken in the lonely dark by a sudden nightmare. “Give me your description. I am hoping I may be able to find the place without you. If I cannot, then I will take you with me, I promise. But let’s try this first.”
I took a deep breath and described the clearing, perfectly circular, and the lone elm. I told him where the dogs had left the main track, not far this side of the plank bridge, and I added as many details as I could recall: the brambles, the variety of trees, the little path that had curiously appeared, without a single fallen leaf on it. I had become almost calm by the time I came to what I had found in the clearing. “He was hanging upside down. It was like a crude imitation of a cocoon. The ropes that tied him—there was no way for me to unfasten them or to cut them. He was so close to the ground, Father—if I’d been there earlier I could perhaps have got something to put under his head and shoulders to take the weight, to keep him alive until I could fetch help…He died just after I got there. As if it had been planned that way.” After a moment I added, “He is one of Cruinn’s lost men. I’m sure of it.”
“Dagda preserve us,” murmured Father. “So it seems.” Then, in a different tone, “I know where that place is. In times past it was used for ritual observance, but it has never been part of the nemetons. There’s another way to reach it, an easier way for horses. I am hoping you will trust this mission to me, and go indoors to recover.” He glanced around. “I see your mother coming, and I am quite certain she will want to take you under her wing.”
Bear growled; he had spotted Mother coming out the kitchen door. I hushed him. “Thank you, Father,” I said, rising shakily to my feet. “Of course I trust you to do it. Please be careful.”
“I will,” Father said. “Not that I believe Mac Dara would attempt a direct attack on me; his strategy seems to be to weaken my authority and turn my allies against me. Luachan!”
Donal had taken the mare, Blaze, off to the stables, and Luachan was waiting at a discreet distance while Father spoke to me. Now he came to stand by us, calmly attentive.
“I want you to ride to the nemetons and tell Ciarán what’s happened.
Ask if he will come to the keep for supper and stay on for a family council. Perhaps you could escort him back here, if this has not wearied you too much.”
“Yes, my lord.” A pause. “My lord, Maeve—Lady Maeve—will need an escort home to her cottage. Should I not wait for her?”
A look passed between chieftain and druid. I waited for one of them to drop his gaze, but neither did so until Mother came up and Father turned to speak to her.
“You’ll have heard the bare bones of what’s happened, my dear. Maeve has run a long way to bring us the news. I must organize a retrieval party.” To Luachan, he said, “Lady Aisling will make the arrangements for my daughter. There’s no need to concern yourself with that.” He strode off across the yard. A moment later the druid, too, was gone.
There was shock in Mother’s eyes, but she spoke calmly. “Maeve, you look worn-out. Back to the house with me, then bath, food, rest. No arguments. These dogs must go to the kennels; they can’t be left to wander around here.”
“No!” I heard the sharp edge in my voice, and felt Bear’s body tense against my knee. Badger was behind him now, a silent shadow. I made myself take a deep breath. The man was dead; nothing could change that. Father would bring the body back. He did not need me for that sad duty. I was at the keep and exhausted; I was not going to get back to the nemetons tonight. I would have to manage without Rhian. “Mother,” I said, “the dogs must be with me. I don’t mind sleeping out in the stables, but I’m not coming into the house and leaving them outside. I need them close by.” A rumble of anxiety sounded in Bear’s throat. “Hush,” I murmured.
“You’re a little overwrought, and I understand that.” Mother did not like to be challenged in her field of authority. “Once you’ve had a wash and some food, you’ll feel much better. Dogs are dogs, my dear, not men and women. The other hounds do well enough in the kennels at night.” There was a note in her voice that made me angry. It said shock and exhaustion had addled my judgment, which was perhaps already askew, thanks to ten years of living with Aunt Liadan and Uncle Bran.
“Mother”—I made my voice level and courteous—“if I can’t have Bear and Badger with me, whether it’s in my bedchamber or in a corner of the stables, the three of us will walk back to the nemetons. We have plenty of time to get there before dark.” Tired as I was, I held my head high and looked her in the eye. “If you don’t understand why this is important, think of the night of the fire and why I was burned.”
Her fair, freckled skin flushed scarlet. I was sorry I had upset her, but not sorry enough to take back my words.
“After this,” she said, and I saw her gathering herself together, the better to sound as the lady of Sevenwaters should, “you surely don’t imagine you can go on living out in that cottage, so far away from the keep, with just your maid to watch over you.”
My heart shrank. With one hand on Bear’s head and the other on Badger’s, I said, “I didn’t find the man in the nemetons, or on the main track. He was miles out in the forest, away from everywhere.”
“Then how was it you found him?”
“Bear and Badger found him. They raced off; I ran after them.” It did not sound good and I knew it. “I’ve worked hard to earn their trust, Mother. I didn’t want to lose them. And if I hadn’t followed, I wouldn’t have found the man.”
Mother looked at Bear, as if daring him to utter so much as the smallest growl. Bear gazed back, his amber eyes shining in the afternoon light. He did not make a sound. Behind him, his shadow was hunkered down as if trying to be invisible.
“You know I don’t allow dogs in the bedchambers,” Mother said. And, as I opened my mouth to respond, “Can they be trusted to behave themselves?”
I could not tell an outright lie. “Badger is uncomfortable behind a closed door. Bear is very protective. They’ve been hurt and it still shows. If they are with me, I’ll make sure they behave.”
Mother looked at me quizzically. “You seem to inspire great loyalty, my dear.”
“You mean the dogs? I helped them, that was all. I took time for them.”
“Not only them,” Mother said, offering me her arm. “Let’s go in, shall we? There’s your maid, and those two grooms who won’t hear a word spoken against you.” She went on quickly, as if realizing this remark implied something she would rather not have passed on. “Ciarán speaks highly of you. Finbar talks about you incessantly. And Luachan, as you just saw, was somewhat put out that he was not to escort you back to your cottage in person.”
“That’s only because he was the one who brought me here.”
“I disagree.”
“He’s a druid. He’s just being polite.”
“If you say so, Maeve.”
At the kitchen door I halted, and the dogs halted with me. “Mother?”
She answered the uncertainty in my voice without needing to hear the question. “I will help you with your food. Eithne will assist you with the bath and some clean clothing, if that is acceptable. And I’ve already sent for Rhian.”
I nodded, tears pricking my eyes. “Thank you,” I said. “I’m sorry if I was discourteous. I do need the dogs…” I fell silent, since my voice had begun wobbling perilously.
“Upstairs,” Mother said. “As for you”—she glanced at Bear and Badger, and I imagined they quailed at the iron in her voice—“the least misdemeanor and you’re off outside. And don’t for one moment imagine you’ll be sleeping on the bed.”
I woke to find Rhian sitting beside me, working on some sewing. No doubt she saw my puffy face and reddened eyes and realized I had cried myself to sleep once Eithne had left the chamber. Bear was on the bed. He had jumped up when I began to weep and arranged himself next to me, so I could lay my arm over his warm body and he could dry my tears with his tongue. I had slept secure in his presence, knowing I was not entirely alone with my dark thoughts.
Beyond the window it was night. “Did they find him?” I croaked, struggling to emerge from my heavy sleep. “The man who died, did they bring him back?”
“They did.” Rhian set down her handiwork and passed me a cup of water; I sat on the edge of the bed and drank it thirstily. Badger was on the floor, as close as possible to the bed. I had asked Eithne to leave the door open a crack so I could get out if I needed to, and Rhian had left it that way. Badger’s eyes had been turned toward that narrow opening, but now he got up and came to rest his muzzle on my knee.
“Lady Aisling said to tell you that the council tonight will be for family only, apart from Luachan and your father’s chief man-at-arms. It’s in the small council chamber. Your mother said she expected you’d want to be there even if you were too tired to keep your eyes open.”