“I do not seek to bargain; I understand that is not possible. Know only that I am loyal. I love the gods of Fortriu, and have sworn to keep my people true to the ancient ways. I do not ask for favors. Why should my son’s life be of any greater value than the lives of other children already taken by this plague? I tell you simply that he is my son, and that I love him. And that he is innocent. He is not only mine, but Tuala’s; in this she, too, is mortally wounded, she who has always been a treasured daughter of the Shining One.” In his head, Bridei heard in answer to this: She knew from the first that you would be king. She understood what it would mean to love you.
Bridei swallowed and went on. “I tell you that, if this is the punishment that you have chosen for my failure to keep tradition, then I must accept it. And I tell you that it rivals in cruelty the sacrifice itself, for each sees the crushing of a life new-minted, fresh and good. Such obedience as you require of me is a heavy yoke to bear. But I am king, and I will bear it.”
5
SHE’D BEEN FOOLISH to identify Faolan as a bard, Ana thought. The king’s personal emissary was supposed to put Bridei’s terms to Alpin and secure the Caitt chieftain’s firm agreement not to ally himself with the Gaels. He was meant to smooth the way for her and ensure the handfasting did not occur unless the treaty was signed. Now he would not be able to do any of that. She hadn’t liked the look in those men’s eyes, for it had seemed to spell either a summary execution or the extraction of a confession by whatever means they fancied. She’d only wanted to protect Faolan. Now they were almost at Briar Wood and, with a sinking feeling, Ana realized she was going to have to do the negotiating herself.
The pines here were as tall as towers, the slopes erratic and the ground studded with unlikely clusterings of rocks that resembled creatures found only in tales: grinning goblin, earth-dragon, padfoot, crouching monster. Sometimes Ana thought she saw them move, extending a clawed finger, a stubby tail, a pair of unlikely furred ears. Sometimes she heard things flying overhead from tree to tree, things that were most certainly not birds, for they creaked and whined as they passed. There were birds as well, many, many birds, all kinds. Crows perched beside the track, greeting the travelers with derisive cries. Pipits and wrens hopped among the undergrowth. Higher up, from time to time, could be heard the calls of siskin and crossbill. In the bushes were constant rustlings, and Ana saw furred creatures streak up and down the pines, their small bodies arrow-swift. In the air countless insects buzzed and whined; no wonder birds congregated here.
The paths were certainly tricky. Often the men paused to confer before going on, even though they must be familiar with this forest. Sometimes there seemed no real track at all, just a precipitous, stony incline, or a wide patch of bog choked with fallen trees, or the narrowest of gaps between twisted, thorny bushes. The place had a wild beauty; a dangerous beauty. She wondered how she and Faolan would have found their way.
She couldn’t see Faolan now. Alpin had insisted she ride near the front of the line, just behind him, and her bard had been relegated to the rear. At White Hill, as at the court of her cousin in the Light Isles, skilled musicians were held in high esteem, for were they not weavers of dreams and tellers of inmost truths? The best were considered to have the ear of the gods. Attitudes at Briar Wood were evidently different. The Caitt were known as a wild and warlike people. Perhaps they had no music. Ana shivered. The broad, leather-clad shoulders of her future husband were constantly in view as she rode after him. His dark brown hair, long and thick, hung down his back, not unkempt exactly, but suggestive of a certain quality that she had seen already in his questioning of Faolan and his crude attempts at humor. He did not seem a particularly refined sort of man. Ana wondered how many women there might be at Briar Wood and who they were. Perhaps Alpin had sisters, a mother. Some of these warriors would have wives. Perhaps they could tell her how it might be possible to tolerate living among such men.
The forest clung thickly around the stone walls of Alpin’s stronghold. Thatched roofs came into view as the travelers crested a rise, and near them was the sudden glint of a lake, glimpsed then lost as they began to descend again. Nearer to the fortress, pine gave way to dark oak and tall elm, new leaves fresh under the spring sunshine. An image came to Ana: Faolan lying relaxed on the sward in his shirtsleeves, and herself dipping bare feet into the stream as if she were a child set free from lessons. She marveled that it belonged to the same day as this ride, these alien warriors, these high, forbidding walls. This coarse stranger whom she must somehow train herself to tolerate. With whom she must, all too soon, share her bed.
They reached the gates, which were swung open from within at Alpin’s shout, and entered a courtyard surrounded by stone buildings: a substantial dwelling house, a barn, places for stock and supplies and, Ana supposed, everything needed to maintain a large household in what seemed an extraordinarily out-of-the-way place. The high walls encompassed all, shutting out the forest, though here and there elms stretched their heads above the topmost row of stones.
Alpin helped her down. Ana did not care for the way his hands lingered on her body as he did so, nor the way he grinned at her discomfiture. She stood very still, waiting for him to take his hands away. She tried not to meet his eyes. She looked past him to the other riders, no longer in a line but gathered close. Her gaze met Faolan’s. His expression struck a chill of unease through her, for this was a man who had ever schooled his features expertly. Ana knew, because Tuala had explained it to her, that a man whose trade was spy and assassin must learn to be invisible. He may have feelings, but he learns not to let them show. Faolan was not abiding by those rules now. His eyes were bright with fury.
Ana looked away. He must learn to play the game differently. He would need to adapt to the new rules she had set when she named him her bard and took away his authority. She had nobody to blame for that but herself.
“I am quite weary,” she said. Alpin had finally let go of her waist and was regarding her a little quizzically. Dirty, unkempt, and exhausted as she was, not to speak of her male attire, it seemed important to take the initiative early. “If it’s possible to have the assistance of a serving woman … a quiet chamber … some hot water …”
“My own apartments are at your disposal, of course,” Alpin said smoothly. Beneath the silken tone there was a note of mockery that made Ana deeply uncomfortable.
“Thank you, but that would not be appropriate. Later, I will set out Bridei’s terms for you. But not until I have bathed, changed my clothes, and rested. I require my own apartment. A chamber of reasonable size. A door with a bolt. And I expect my man to be well looked after. He was wounded and nearly drowned. I want your reassurance that he will be, not merely safe, but well fed and comfortably housed.”
“You are solicitous for his well-being.”
“My lord Alpin,” said Ana, “I set out from Bridei’s court at White Hill with an escort of twelve. This man is the only one I have left. Of course I am solicitous. I will be seriously displeased if you cannot, or will not, accommodate my wishes on this matter. And on the other.” She had not expected it would be necessary to lay down the law to him, and she found her hands were shaking. Fear and anger made it increasingly hard to maintain a calm demeanor.
“A bolt, is it? That would be on the inside?” Alpin looked around the circle of men. “Lads, she’s only known me an afternoon, and already she doesn’t trust me!” A ripple of laughter came from the warriors. “Ah, well, chances are I have forgotten how a lady should be treated. Once you’ve had your bath and we’ve consigned that outfit to the midden, perhaps I’ll find it easier to get back into the way of it.” There were serving men and women coming from the house now, and Alpin snapped his fingers in their general direction. “Orna! This lady needs your assistance. Take her inside and see to her needs; find her a maidservant. The lady will be wanting a chamber of her own. Put her next to me.”
“Yes, my lord.” Orna was tall and broad like the men, with featu
res every bit as forbidding. Her hair was caught back under a linen kerchief of dubious cleanliness.
“Thank you,” Ana said politely.
“It pleases me to please you, my dear.” Alpin’s tone could only be described as uxorious, and it made her skin crawl. Finding nothing to say, she turned her back and followed Orna into the house.
SOME TIME LATER, sitting on a bench as a nervous girl combed her newly washed hair for her, Ana was forced to admit that her future husband had indeed provided everything she had requested. Demanded. She felt embarrassed, now, at how sharp she had been. Once inside the house, which proved to be many-chambered and grand in scale, though dark and smoky, Orna had rapped out a series of orders and folk had scampered to obey them. Ana had been led to a chamber furnished with a sizable shelf bed, an oak chest for storage, and two benches. The only window was a tiny slit and there was no hearth, but it was tolerably warm, for there were dusty woollen hangings on the walls, their patterns faded to a uniform dun color.
An iron tub was fetched, and a copious supply of water, hot and cold. Coarse soap; coarser cloths for drying. A comb, scented oils, candles in heavy holders. Herbs for the bath: chamomile and peppermint. Lastly, this handmaid, shy and stammering. Ludha had proved adept with jug and ladle, and had scrubbed Ana’s skin until it tingled. It was wonderful to be clean at last, but not quite as wonderful as she had imagined it through the weary days of travel, when the thought of warm water and a soft bed had helped sustain her. How could she give herself up to the pleasure of the steady combing, the feeling of fresh linen on her skin, the sweet scent of lavender against her temple, where Ludha had dabbed a drop of oil, when there was so much to worry about? The treaty; the lie she had told; Faolan. And Alpin. How could you marry a man when his touch made you cringe in disgust?
“Ludha?” Ana asked.
“Yes, my lady?” The little voice was whisper-soft. The comb moved gently, teasing out the knots.
“The man who came here with me, Faolan, my bard—do you know where he is?”
“No, my lady. Do you wish to send for him?”
“No, Ludha.” Ana tried for authority. “Of course he cannot come here to my private apartments. I simply wish to be sure he is safe.”
“Safe?” Ludha sounded astonished. “Oh, yes, my lady, he will be quite safe here. Briar Wood is very well defended. My—” A blush. “My friend, Foldec, says nobody could get near us here. Lord Alpin has the biggest army in the whole of the north.” Ludha fell abruptly silent.
“Tell me more,” Ana said. “This Foldec, he’s a warrior?”
“Yes, my lady.” Proud now, Ludha gave a charming smile. “An archer in my lord’s forces. He’s away just now in the west. Foldec’s had his warrior marks three years already; he earned them when he was just fifteen.”
“He must be very brave,” Ana said with a smile of encouragement.
“Oh, yes, my lady.”
“And what do you do while you’re waiting for him to come home, Ludha?”
“Sewing, my lady. There are plenty who can do the plain jobs, hemming and mending, tunics and other gear for the men. But I was taught by my mother; she was seamstress to a lady. They give me all the fine work.”
“Did you make this?” The clothing Ana had been given was plain but of good quality, a tunic and skirt of fine wool dyed russet, with borders of embroidered flowers. There had been smallclothes as well, and soft kidskin slippers.
“No, my lady. Orna found those in store. They’re from a girl who used to live here, a maidservant to Lord Alpin’s first wife.” Ludha faltered. “Sorry, my lady,” she muttered.
“No need to apologize,” Ana said. “I know Lord Alpin was married before. Tell me, has he any family, apart from the natural son they speak of, who I understand does not live here at Briar Wood? I know there were no children of that first marriage, but perhaps Alpin has sisters or brothers?”
Unaccountably, Ludha flushed scarlet. “I don’t rightly know, my lady.” She busied herself with the comb once more; this time she was less careful, and Ana winced.
“I’ll finish that, Ludha. I’m used to doing it for myself. I hope you’ll show me your work sometime; I have a particular interest in embroidery. I had a collection of little shirts and other garments for a baby. They were all lost at the river crossing when my escort was swept away. It shouldn’t matter, against the loss of so many lives, such a thing becomes quite trivial. But it made me sad, all the same. There was a great deal of love in those stitches.”
Ludha nodded in sympathy. “Yes, my lady. Still, a mother loves her child even if she has only rags to put him in. At least, that’s what I think.”
Abruptly, Ana found herself on the verge of tears. “Yes, well,” she said briskly, “perhaps you and I will do some sewing together. As you see, I have nothing at all to wear. Nothing of my own.”
“It would be a pleasure to help, my lady,” Ludha said.
“Where would I begin finding out about bolts of cloth and suchlike?”
“Talk to Orna,” Ludha said. “She seems fierce, but she’ll help you all she can. All of them will. All of them are saying …” She hesitated.
“What are they saying?”
“It’s not my place to repeat it, my lady, but they’re saying a new wife for my lord Alpin might be the best thing that’s happened here for years. Orna does everything in the house. She gives all the orders. But even she would rather be working for a lady. And we could see that was what you were from the first glance.”
Ana thought about this. “Were you here when Lord Alpin’s first wife was alive, Ludha? Can you tell me about her?”
“I came here after she was gone, my lady. Had to find a new place for myself when my mother was taken by an ague. Orna hired me, seeing the fine work I could do.”
“I’m sorry about your mother. Are there many people here who knew her? His first wife?”
Ludha was suddenly busy with tidying the accoutrements of the bath, folding cloths, anything she could set her hand to.
“Ludha?”
“Folk don’t talk about it much.”
“How did she die?”
No reply. Ludha began to dip the bathwater back into its jugs and buckets for ease of removal.
“How did she die, Ludha?”
“I don’t rightly know, my lady. She was expecting a child, that’s what they say. The two of them died together. It was a long while ago, six or seven years at least.”
“Oh.” This was the most likely explanation, of course. Such a death, though doubly sad, was common enough. Ana was able to summon a twinge of sympathy for Alpin. He must have loved her a great deal, and grieved long, to wait so many years before seeking another wife, another chance for children. But then, he had not exactly sought Ana. It was more the other way around.
“You’ll be wanting to rest,” Ludha said. “I’ll call a boy to take away these things and then leave you to yourself, if that suits.”
“What?” Ana had not been listening. “Oh, yes, of course. Will you come and fetch me when it’s time for supper? You’re right, I am very tired.”
Sleep did not come, for all the soft mattress and good linen. At the back of her mind was the ford, the wave, the broken bodies, and the heart-clutching terror of being all alone. Ana suspected that would be with her every day for the rest of her life. Then there were the immediate concerns. She rehearsed, over and over, what must be said to Alpin and how she would do it. The marriage was contingent upon his forming an alliance with Bridei, not Gabhran of Dalriada. Bridei was not asking him to fight alongside the men of Fortriu, although another Caitt chieftain, Umbrig, had pledged a band of warriors to that purpose. That particular piece of information, Ana thought, was probably not to be passed on. But Alpin had to understand that a sworn agreement was required, written down if possible, that he and his men would not take up arms against Bridei, neither by land nor by sea. It was the “by sea” part that was most important; it was his access to the western sea route to
Dalriada that made Alpin such an important player. If Alpin agreed to Bridei’s terms, Faolan would take the news of it back to White Hill and the handfasting would go ahead.
Ana wished very much that she could discuss this with Faolan in private before she needed to broach the subject with Alpin. What she knew of it was the broad framework only. There was a lot more detail, which Bridei’s personal emissary held in his head, and which was almost certainly terribly important. The fates of armies depended on getting this right and doing it quickly. The more Ana thought about it, the angrier she was with herself for her ill-conceived attempt to protect Faolan with a lie. She had really messed things up. She must make quite sure she did this perfectly from now on.
She tried to imagine what Alpin might wish to know. Questions about strategy: she would have to answer truthfully and say she knew little of such matters. What if he asked her about the alternative? If he refused the offer, what was she going to do? She could hardly ride out of Briar Wood with Faolan and attempt the long journey home with only one horse between the two of them and the ford washed out, not to speak of those blue-clad attackers. She would have to stay here at least until the rivers went down, and she would have to ask Alpin for an escort through the places of danger.
Perhaps the best course of action was to tell the truth: confess that she had lied and why, and let Faolan do the job he had come here to do. Ana considered this. It was undoubtedly sensible; it was probably what her friend Ferada would suggest. Don’t be so silly, Ana, just tell the man the truth. He won’t bite your head off. Yet she hesitated. Quite apart from the fact that Alpin would think her wayward and stupid, his manner filled her with unease. There was danger here; she sensed it.
A little sound from the slitlike window interrupted Ana’s thoughts. She turned her head. There on the sill was a tiny bird, a wren, neat in its plumage of brown and cream. It perched there motionless, head tilted to one side, bright eye fixed on her. Ana was charmed. The creature seemed so fearless; surely no woodland bird would venture so close to human habitation and stay there so calmly. Indeed, this habitation was a particularly unlikely place for birds to linger, on the way from the front door to her chamber Ana had seen no less than nine cats in the house, most of them made in a similar mold to the men and women of Briar Wood, sturdy and muscular.