Heir to Sevenwaters (5 page)

“Oh?” queried Illann’s sister.

“We might prevail upon Aidan to sing and play later,” Johnny said. “Our bride-to-be loves the harp. She plays well herself.”

This was a slight exaggeration, since my twin had never worked hard enough on the exercises required to build up her technical skill. Johnny’s compliment had brought a blush to her cheeks. She did look lovely. Since we were almost exactly alike, I’d been careful to dress plainly tonight so Deirdre could be the one to shine. My gown was a smoky blue with a gray overdress embroidered in white. My hair was braided into a single tight plait, its only adornment a blue ribbon.

“Thank you, Johnny.” Deirdre’s smile was a touch tremulous. Whether our cousin had ever quite understood the depth of her long devotion to him, I did not know.

I coaxed Mother from the hall and shepherded her up to bed as early as I could. Her maid, Eithne, went off to brew a herbal drink, and I sent another serving woman to fetch warm water.

“I’ll stay until they get back,” I told Mother as she sat down heavily on her bed and shook off her shoes.

“Thank you, Clodagh. In fact I’m happy to have a little peace. This one’s restless tonight.” She took my hand and laid it on her belly. The infant kicked me hard, and a thrill went through me at the wonder of it. But I was afraid. This child was so strong already. For a moment I saw it as an adversary, a ruthless being that would take my mother’s life without hesitation in order to secure its own.

“He’s eager to get out and join the celebrations,” I said. I had become practiced at hiding my fear in front of mother, a skill I had, ironically, learned from her. I had watched her dealing calmly with one household crisis after another over the years and I had picked up her knack of covering up any unease she felt with a look of cheerful competence. “Mother, you didn’t eat anything at supper. I’ll have some bread and fruit sent up from the kitchen for you.”

“There’s no need to fuss, Clodagh.” There was a trace of her old briskness in her tone. “The gods want this boy born safely; I’ve known it from the first. Why else would they give me another chance now after all these years?”

“You should rest, all the same. Would you like me to keep you company until you sleep? It’s not as if this is the first time I’ve ever heard a band, after all. And it’s Deirdre’s night, not mine.”

Something must have shadowed my face or darkened my tone.

“Do you wish it was yours, Clodagh? Are you unhappy about being left behind?” She settled obediently against her pillows, but her eyes were shrewd as they examined my face.

I sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at my hands. “The fact that Deirdre and I are twins doesn’t mean we want the same things in our lives, Mother. I am happy to stay at home for now. There’s plenty of time.”

“You’re close to the same age I was when I wed your father,” Mother said with a faint smile. “But, of course, Sean and I had known each other since we were children. There was a time when I thought we would never be together, and my heart almost broke, Clodagh. Some folk say that kind of love burns itself out, that it can’t endure the trials and tests of ordinary life. But that isn’t true.”

There was a faraway look in her eyes now. I knew what she was not saying aloud: that her longing to give my father a son had cast a shadow over their life together, and that now, at last, she believed it was about to be lifted. “I hope Deirdre and Illann will find the same kind of happiness in time,” Mother went on. “They do seem very fond of each other already. Now here’s Eithne back, so off you go, Clodagh. I see that charming Aidan is in Johnny’s party again this year. He wasn’t the only young man who had his eye on you during supper, and that despite the fact you’ve dressed so plainly. You’re very considerate of Deirdre. I hope she appreciates what a good sister she has in you.”

I returned to the hall just as the meal was being cleared away. I slipped in the back, scanning the crowd to see where my sisters had got to. Deirdre had risen, her hand in Illann’s, ready to lead the dancing. She looked every inch a lady with her piled-up hair and dark russet gown. Father was in a corner talking with a group of men. Johnny, Gareth and Conor were all there, along with two of the invited chieftains, and they didn’t look as if they were discussing weddings. As I glanced at them I met the dark eyes of the unpleasant Cathal, who was standing on the fringe of the group, looking out over the hall. His gaze passed over me as if I were of no more interest than a piece of furniture, and a mightily boring one at that. I was mortified to feel my face flush, and turned away to look for my younger sisters.

It seemed one of Illann’s musicians was also a juggler. As the hall was prepared for dancing, this man kept the crowd entertained by tossing his five colored balls in the air while performing an increasingly challenging range of acrobatic tricks. Coll and Eilis were at the front of the group watching him. My youngest sister was looking uncharacteristically tidy in a gown I had sewn for her, pine green with an edging of rabbit fur around the sleeves. Her face was fierce with concentration. I knew Eilis well enough to recognize that she intended to master the art of juggling as quickly as possible, and in particular to be better at it than Coll.

Sibeal stood further back, her midnight blue gown helping her fade into the shadows. It was not so much that Sibeal was shy. With the right person, Ciarán for instance, she conversed fluently on any number of erudite matters. Like me, Sibeal loved stories and music. But she had always been different. Her abilities as a seer made her ill at ease in the company of folk like Illann’s family and the visiting chieftains, who would expect her to have the interests and opinions of an ordinary girl of twelve. Conor wanted her to wait until she was at least fifteen before she committed herself to the druidic life. I was happy that Sibeal would not go away for a few years yet. She was mature beyond her years, at times quite startlingly so, and made a good confidante. With my twin gone, I would be glad of her presence.

Under instructions from Deirdre, folk were moving the furniture to make room for dancing. Gods, I was tired. No wonder I had fallen victim to my own imaginings out in the forest earlier; I’d probably been walking along half-asleep. There was a little door not far away leading to a set of stone steps that went up to the roof. In summertime that was a good retreat, with a broad view over the forest of Sevenwaters and only passing birds for company. I slipped through and shut the door behind me. All I needed was a few moments’ respite, and then I’d go back and smile for the guests.

It was not quite dark. A lamp had been placed on the bottom step and the sound of music floated down from above, a slow air I had played myself, though not so well as this. I followed the sound up to the first turn of the stair, where I found Aidan seated with harp on knee and a little frown on his brow. He was dressed up for the festivities in a tunic of dark blue wool with a snowy shirt beneath it, plain good trousers and well-polished boots. His hair was neatly tied with a ribbon at the nape. He looked, if anything, still more handsome than he had earlier. I recalled the way I had hurtled out of the forest like a screaming banshee, and felt quite awkward. It was a long time since Johnny’s last visit here, and I wondered if I had misremembered the degree of interest Aidan had shown in me then. When he saw me he put a hand across the strings and the tune came to an abrupt halt.

“Please don’t stop on my behalf,” I said. “It was lovely.”

Aidan made to stand, tucking the harp under an arm.

“Don’t get up, please. I’ll go if you want to be alone.” Gods, I sounded like a flustered thirteen year old.

Aidan’s cheeks reddened. “I’m just practicing. Johnny expects me to play later. I want to get it right.”

“It sounded fine.” I settled myself three steps below him, tucking my skirt around my legs. “That’s the tune I taught you last year,” I could not help observing.

Aidan grinned. “Ah, you remembered! Would you listen while I run through it again? Perhaps you’d rather get back to the dancing.”

“The dancing can wait,” I said, fully aware that it was improper for me to stay here alone with him, but suddenly not caring a bit.

His fingers moved over the strings, and as the tune rang out again I had an odd sensation, as if I were the harp and felt the touch of those hands on my body, gentle but sure. My thoughts shocked me. I must put such foolish notions out of my head and concentrate on the music. As soon as he was finished I must go straight back.

“Excellent,” I said as he reached the end and looked at me with a question in his eyes. “You’ve improved a lot since last year.” I hoped my blush was not visible.

“Really?” There was a sweet hesitancy in Aidan’s smile.

“Really,” I told him, smiling in my turn. “I’ve got my own set of embellishments for the second verse—you could use those for contrast. Shall I show you?”

He passed his harp to me without a word and I demonstrated what I meant, biting my lip in concentration. I was not nearly as able a musician as he was, and it was awkward playing on the steps. But Aidan listened intently, then took the instrument back to try out what I’d suggested.

“If you fetched your own harp, we could perform together,” he suggested.

“Maybe another time.” This was Deirdre’s night to shine. It would be unfair to her if I made a show of myself. “I’m expected to go out there and dance. I think I’d better do so before people notice I’m missing.”

“Will you dance with me, Clodagh?”

“Oh.” Ready words vanished again. “I wasn’t hinting—I didn’t mean—”

“I know that. Actually I’m not much of a dancer. You didn’t get the opportunity to find out when I was here last time, but I would certainly tread on your toes.”

His honesty was disarming. “I’ll wager you dance as well as you play,” I told him. “I did visit Inis Eala once, you know. Everyone dances there.” Johnny’s island community was inhabited by grim warriors and energetic women. The folk of the island worked hard and they put the same vigor into enjoying themselves.

“True, but most do it with more enthusiasm than grace,” Aidan said wryly, descending to my level and offering his free hand to help me down the steps. “If you’re willing, I’ll give it my best try.”

Back in the hall the juggler still held the younger ones spell-bound, but the music had begun again and folk were already dancing. Deirdre had her head high and her hand in Illann’s as they stepped forward and back, circled and passed under the joined hands of other couples. Aidan set his harp in an alcove and we attached ourselves to the end of the line. I caught Deirdre’s eye. She, at least, had not missed the fact that I had come back into the hall from a secluded area in company with a young man. Well, let her think what she wanted. As Aidan offered a rueful apology for stepping on my toes, I let my troubles go and was happy.

I stayed with Aidan for a second dance. We didn’t talk much—he needed to think about the steps. The third was a jig, requiring such concentration that we didn’t exchange a word. The hall was getting noisy. A long chain of folk was forming around the perimeter of the dancing area and spilling out into the courtyard where a bonfire had been lit at a safe distance from the house. We were wary of fire at Sevenwaters, for it was only four years since the hideous accident that had scarred Maeve for life. But we had learned to deal with this, since fire formed an essential part of major celebrations such as weddings and seasonal rituals.

The chain of dancers snaked past us. Coll and Eilis were in it.

“Clodagh!” my youngest sister shouted. “Come on!”

Then Aidan and I were in it too, whether we liked it or not. With one hand in my sister’s and the other in Aidan’s, I found myself dancing out the door into the courtyard, where wild shadows were thrown high on the walls by the changeable light from the great fire. Our forms were transmuted into immense prancing deer and owls and hares, or mysterious creatures that were half human, half something quite other. Aidan was laughing. His hand in mine was warm and strong. My heart beat faster. The drummer from Illann’s band came out after us to stand by the main steps, picking up the pace as we moved away from the house. The line went right around the fire now, down as far as the stables and back again, and people were starting to sing.

“All right?” I saw rather than heard Aidan ask me. I nodded, answering his smile with one of my own. Proper conversation was impossible. The singing was robust, the dancing undisciplined. The line lurched along and we had to grip hard to avoid being pulled right over. Eilis was laughing hysterically. I hoped she could not understand the words of the song, which were getting progressively bawdier with each verse. Perhaps it was time for me to take her indoors. But I was enjoying myself, and so was Aidan—he squeezed my hand, grinning madly. The drum hammered away. Now the whistle player had come out too, adding a high, true version of the melody to the erratic one the singers were bellowing.

Down by the stables Eilis tripped, pulling me hard. I stumbled, letting go of her hand and Aidan’s. Before I could so much as blink, someone pulled me out of the line and into the darkness by the steps to the harness room. He had my arms in a powerful grip; he knew exactly how to hold a person so she couldn’t fight back.

“Let me go!” I shouted. It was as ineffectual as my efforts to free myself. The singing drowned out everything. If someone wanted to abduct me, this was the perfect time.

“Stop struggling, then.” An unmistakable voice spoke right in my ear; I could feel the warmth of his breath. Cathal. “Believe me, I have no desire at all to molest you. I just want to offer a friendly warning.”

“Friendly! I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies. Let me go, Cathal! You’re hurting me.”
And you’re frightening me.
I would not give him the satisfaction of hearing me say that.

His grip slackened marginally. I made to pull away and he tightened it again. He’d chosen his spot well—the corner of the stable was between us and the riotous company. I couldn’t see any of them, and nobody in the courtyard would be able to see us.