“He did something bad when the fit was on him,” Ludha whispered. “So Alpin had him put away. Most of the folk who lived here in those days are gone. Hardly anyone really knows what happened, and people don’t talk about it. But it was terrible enough that Lord Alpin’s brother can’t be allowed out, ever. That’s all I know.”
Ana pondered this. “What about earlier?” she mused. “When he was a child, a boy? Who would know about that?”
Ludha shook her head. “Nobody. Only Lord Alpin and his sister, who never comes here. And …”
“And who?”
“There’s an old lady they speak of, who lives all alone out in the forest somewhere. Bela, her name is. She used to be their nurse when they were children, Lord Alpin and his brother and sister. But nobody really knows where she is, or even if she’s still alive.”
“I thought these woods were dangerous. Full of eldritch presences, not to speak of combative neighbors. Why doesn’t this old retainer live within the safety of the fortress walls?”
“I don’t know, my lady. Old folk can be quite pigheaded. My grandfather got very difficult at the end. He was always bringing chickens into the house. It drove my mother crazy. Maybe this old lady is just tired of being among folk.”
Ana reached a decision. “Ludha?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“I need to know if I can trust you. I must be sure you won’t speak to Orna behind my back, or to Lord Alpin, or to anyone else I tell you not to. You’re working for me now. Maidservant and friend. What do you say?”
“My lady—” Ludha stopped short, staring past her mistress to the narrow window opening. A fluttering of wings, and as Ana turned the crossbill flew over to alight on her shoulder. It carried a small blue flower in its beak.
“Oh,” Ludha said softly, making a sign of protection with her fingers. Her rosy cheeks had turned pale. “They say—that is—”
“That the birds come from Drustan?” Ana queried.
Ludha nodded, round-eyed, as the crossbill preened its feathers and settled, making itself at home.
“This is not the first such visit to my chamber. Do these creatures go freely in the household?”
“No, my lady. People speak of them. Of him and his birds. I’ve never seen one before. There are lots of cats here, and they’re all good hunters.”
“Now, Ludha, answer my other question. I need to know if you can hold your tongue. If the answer’s yes, I want you to help me. I know you’re a good girl, a kind girl, and I hope you will agree, for I have nobody else.”
Ludha put her embroidery down. “Yes,” she said. “What must I do?”
“Nothing dangerous. First, I want you to let Orna know I have a headache and I’ll be keeping to my chamber for the rest of the day. You’ll fetch me a tray for supper. I particularly don’t want to see Lord Alpin.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“And then, while the household is at supper, I need you to keep watch for me.”
“Keep watch? Where?”
“Outside Lord Alpin’s chamber. It’s all right, Ludha, don’t look so shocked. All I’m going to do is ask a couple of questions I should have had answers to long ago.”
DEORD HAD NOT got his job as special guard without good reason. As he opened the little inner door and stepped out into Alpin’s bedchamber, supper tray in hand, Ana moved from the shadows to stand in front of him and found herself spun around with both arms pinioned behind her in a bone-breaking grip. The tray clattered to the ground, spilling its contents. Deord had moved so fast she was his captive before she had time to draw a single breath. A moment later his hold slackened and he released her. Ana rubbed her wrists, wincing. The bird had flown through toward Drustan’s quarters the moment the door. was opened.
“That was foolish.” Deord’s voice was calm. “I’m obliged to react to any possible threat immediately. There wasn’t time to identify you. You should not be here.”
“In the bedchamber of my future husband? Are you obliged to react to that, as well?”
Deord regarded her steadily. “I perform a duty as a custodian,” he said. “A protector. By now Alpin will have given you the explanation you sought. I must go. My duties are by the book, precise and timely.”
“It was you I wanted answers from.”
“Drustan was distressed that evening; unwell. I told you. I could not be absent long.”
“Perhaps it is his captivity that distresses him. I believe such long periods in the semidark would render the sanest man unwell.”
He said nothing, but bent to gather up the fallen objects, platter, bowls, spoons.
“Please,” Ana said. “Alpin hasn’t told me anything yet, only that Drustan is his brother and has some malady that renders him unable to live a normal life. I want you to tell me why. Why is he locked up? Is he really dangerous? What was it that happened to begin all this?” She scooped up the two cups and set them on the tray. “Please, Deord. I want to help Drustan. I can’t believe his illness is incurable; he seems so courteous, so … so good.”
“He’s a comely man,” Deord commented without any particular emphasis.
Ana’s cheeks flamed. “That has nothing to do with it!” she snapped. “Now answer my questions.”
“What orders I take, I take from Alpin.”
“Answer me, or I’ll tell him I saw you outside the wall.” Her voice was shaking. She hoped he would not realize she had no intention of doing any such thing, not if telling would mean the end of this captive’s snatched moments of liberty.
“Here.” Deord set the tray down, opened the little door, drew Ana through by the arm and closed the door behind them so they stood in the darkened storage room beyond. “This must be quick. By meddling thus you risk our safety and your own. Alpin knows everything there is to know. He’s the one you’re marrying; his answers are the ones you need.”
“I want yours.”
“Why?” he asked flatly.
“Because I believe that if you tell me anything, it’ll be the truth. Because I think you are Drustan’s friend. Is he really ill? Mad?”
Deord hesitated. “His mind is not like yours or mine,” he said. “Some folk see it as madness.”
“And how do you see it, Deord?”
“I’m a hired guard. My opinions are irrelevant.”
It was just like talking to Faolan at his most difficult. “Do you think Drustan is out of his wits? Is that plain enough for you?”
“Out of them, or more in them than us ordinary folk. He and I have shared these quarters a long time. Being shut away—it changes a man’s outlook on the world and the people in it. Maybe nobody’s sane. Maybe there are just different degrees of craziness. You shouldn’t interfere. This goes deep, with him and with Alpin. The way it is now may be the best that can be managed. Best for both of them.”
“The best?” Ana was outraged. “Shutting that man up in a shadowy hollow, forbidding him the sun and the open, keeping him away from other folk as if he were a dangerous beast—that is a very poor best.”
“You know little of such matters,” Deord said, “if you think that a cruel form of captivity. Ask your bardic friend what he knows of prisons.”
“Ask Faolan? What do you mean? You know him?”
“I had not met him before he came to Briar Wood. Nonetheless, we have a shared past. I am certain Faolan understands that, given the circumstances, Alpin’s arrangements for his brother are as generous as they can be. Speak to your bard about a place of incarceration known as Breakstone Hollow, in Ulaid. A place both he and I know intimately, from the inside.”
“I can’t speak to Faolan,” Ana said flatly. “Alpin won’t allow him to see me in private.” She was bitterly disappointed that this was all Deord could offer. It had seemed to her, that morning in the forest as she watched the play of light on naked flesh and the sport the two of them made together, that there was a bond between keeper and captive beyond that of mere familiarity. She had thought he and Drustan were fri
ends. As for the talk of incarceration, she found herself unsurprised there was such a tale in Faolan’s past.
“I can’t help you,” Deord said flatly. “You’d best leave us alone. Your arrival stirred Drustan up; awakened dreams he can’t afford to entertain. It only makes things more difficult—”
The door crashed open. Alpin stood in the entry, hands on hips, face distorted with fury, and as she flinched back, Ana glimpsed Ludha across the bedchamber, cowering against the far wall with the mark of a blow red on her cheek. The chieftain of Briar Wood took a stride into the narrow way, reaching out as if to grab Ana by the shoulder. In an eyeblink Deord was between them, his sturdy figure standing with one hand flat against each wall, forming a barrier between Alpin and his wife-to-be. Ana’s heart was pounding. A clammy sweat broke out on her skin. Deord had moved in total silence.
“What is this?” roared Alpin. “What are you doing here with him? Who gave you the key?”
Ana swallowed, and spoke from beyond the protective line of Deord’s muscular arm. “I wished to ask your special guard a question,” she said. “This is not Deord’s doing; he did his best not to speak to me, my lord. He said you were the one to provide me with answers. Perhaps you will do so now. It would be a great deal more comfortable over there at the table. And we can allow Deord to go about his duties. Your brother will be hungry.” Gods, she was shaking like a leaf. Alpin was opening and closing his fists as if he were about to attack Deord or herself or both of them at once. She couldn’t think of anything to do but act as if this were all quite normal. “Thank you, Deord, I will be safe now. You can go.”
Deord lowered his arms very slowly, his calm eyes set on Alpin’s angry ones. The chieftain of Briar Wood stepped back a pace.
“Come, my lord, I still feel somewhat unwell and would prefer to sit,” Ana managed, making her way to the table. “Ludha, go and put a cold cloth on that bruise; ask Orna to help you. I’ll be all right here until you get back.” Ludha fled; Deord, tray in hand, moved quietly from the chamber, a whisper of long robes on the flagstoned floor. Alpin stood in the center of the room, legs apart, glowering.
“Did you strike my maid?” Ana asked, seizing the upper ground. Her teeth were chattering; she clenched her jaw tight, raised her brows, tried for the queenly expression that had often aided her confidence in the past.
“What were you doing in there with him?” Alpin demanded, ignoring her question. He made no move to join her at the table. “My wife doesn’t spend time alone with any man except me, any man, bard or courtier or servant, understand? If the fellow wasn’t so valuable I’d have him horsewhipped for breaking that rule—”
“Alpin, sit down.” Ana fought back her anger and summoned a smile. “Please. I was upset earlier today when you spoke of your brother and his illness. I would have asked you to explain but … I felt awkward. So I asked Deord, since I could not fail to notice his routine as a particular kind of guard. I’m sorry if I have transgressed some rule I did not know of. You must trust me very little if you think it necessary to set such restrictions on my freedom. I’m not accustomed to being treated as if I were untrustworthy.”
Alpin sat down opposite her, his big hands on the tabletop, features set in a thunderous scowl.
“I do want you to explain it all to me,” Ana went on. “But first I need to tell you that, now Ludha is working as my personal maid, she answers to me, not to you. That means if any rebuke is required, any … discipline … I will mete it out myself. I do know how to govern servants, Alpin. I grew up in a royal household, and spent many years at the court of Drust the Bull at Caer Pridne, and later with Bridei at White Hill.” Where, she did not add, the servants were treated with courtesy and fairness at all times. She could not recall a single instance of physical violence.
“It’s not you I don’t trust, my dear,” Alpin growled, “it’s men. You don’t see your own charms, but they do, every one of them. There’s a hot look in your Faolan’s eye every time you wander by, and the fellow’s a Gael, after all; I wouldn’t put anything past him. As for Deord, I imagine he experiences a degree of frustration, as any man must who spends most of his time out of female company. I won’t have any of them alone with you. Not now. Not ever.”
Ana refrained from pointing out that the marriage was not yet signed and sealed. There were questions to be asked, and she must tread carefully and keep him placated if she were to get answers.
Ludha slipped back in, a square of cloth pressed to her cheek. Ana gave her a reassuring smile. The girl was brave. Alpin was a big man, and his anger was frightening.
“You spoke of your brother’s affliction,” Ana said. “I should tell you that, while you were away, I observed Deord with his trays, and was informed by the women that he is a special guard. It was apparent to me that the little door must lead to a place where prisoners were confined; perhaps only one prisoner, since the trays were set for two. I tried to question Deord before, but he would not talk to me. Orna told me I should wait and seek answers from you.”
“Orna gave you good advice. A pity you did not follow it. You could have saved us all some distress.” Alpin’s gaze flickered over to the silent maid and back to Ana herself. “Why did you go into Deord’s area? Why were you in my bedchamber? It was a lie, wasn’t it, that you were indisposed today? You look perfectly well to me. What are you playing at?” His anger was rising again; it was there in the tight jaw, the clenched fists, the voice threatening to become a shout.
Ana reached out a hand and laid it over his. It had the effect of quieting him instantly. “I did play a little trick on you, my lord,” she said, making her voice hesitant. “I thought you enjoyed such games, the kind men and women play. I was indeed most upset this morning. A girl does not welcome that sort of news about her future family. But I have to confess, I did put Ludha at the door to keep watch, and then I waylaid Deord, thinking to ask if it were indeed true that your own brother was incarcerated here at Briar Wood, and all because he had the misfortune to be subject to an illness for which nobody had thought to seek a cure. I’m sorry if I have offended you, Alpin.” She curled her hand around his, putting her head on one side and smiling in what she hoped was a placatory way. It seemed to her quite likely he would see the insincerity of this straightaway and erupt once more into fury, but instead Alpin placed his other hand over hers, and spoke quietly.
“Will you ask your maid to send for some mead and a little supper? You haven’t eaten since this morning.”
“Of course. Ludha, will you get one of the men to bring us something? Thank you.”
They waited. It was evident to Ana that he was not going to speak until there was no chance of interruption. He simply held her hand and smiled, and this she found almost more difficult than his anger, for his touch was less than pleasing to her even when offered gently. The knowledge that this time she had invited it made her most uncomfortable, as if she had somehow sullied herself.
A servant brought food and drink. Not long after, Deord walked back through the chamber with his supper tray, full now, and vanished through the little door without a glance at either of them. Ludha resumed her place.
“I’m not surprised that this has upset you,” Alpin said. “You’ll be thinking of our children, how such a dark streak may run in a family. You fear your own pure bloodline will be tainted by something wild and unpredictable. It is possible. I cannot deny it. I was married before, as you are aware. I would have had a son. He did not live long enough to be born. I never knew what he might have been, future leader or raving madman.” He bowed his head.
“I’m sorry,” Ana said. “I did hear you had lost a child, and your first wife as well. That is terribly sad. And—forgive me if this is awkward for you—I understand you have a natural son?”
Alpin nodded. “Fostered away. He can’t inherit, of course. You need not concern yourself with him. He’s adequately provided for. No sign of madness, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“I must a
dmit it is not so much the prospect of a flawed heritage that troubles me,” said Ana. “It is—it is the thought of your brother locked away here, all those years, with not even the slightest hope of freedom. What exactly is wrong with him? Can’t anything be done for him?”
“He’s beyond help.”
Alpin’s tone was crushingly final, but Ana went doggedly on. “Have you sought advice from expert healers? The king’s druid, Broichan, is renowned for his ability—”
Ana’s words were cut short as Alpin smashed a fist down on the table, setting cups and knives rattling. “Don’t talk to me of cures and advice! Drustan’s a threat to anyone who lives and breathes! He can never be let out!”
Ana drew a deep breath and waited until her heartbeat had slowed a little. “I see,” she said, although he had as yet explained nothing.
“Takes him worst at full moon,” Alpin muttered. “Wild as a mad dog, totally unpredictable. Unreachable. And he’s strong. Full moon, he needs to be tightly confined so he can’t see the sky. Other times, the fit’s not so severe, but it still makes him difficult. And it strikes without warning. Letting him out would be irresponsible. There’s no saying what he might do. Who he might harm.” He took a long draught of his mead. “Didn’t want to tell you at all. Didn’t want to go into detail. Less you knew, I thought, happier you’d be.”
Ana did not contradict him. Her heart was heavy. She thought she saw truth in his eyes at last, and found that she did not want it after all. “But …” she ventured, “you could at least seek to make his confinement more tolerable. While it is day, surely he could be housed where he can see the open sky, the forest … where the sun can reach him, without bars between. To be shut up forever in that dark place for a malady visited on him through no fault of his own is … it’s cruel, Alpin. It’s barbaric. He is your brother.” She faltered to a stop. His eyes were fixed on her, iron-hard, and the expression on his face terrified her.
“But you know nothing of his quarters.” His voice was menacing in its quiet. “You told me yourself that nobody would give you answers. Why do you speak of a place where the captive cannot see the forest, a place where the sky is visible only through bars? All you have seen is a door and a passageway to storerooms. Or have you been lying to me?”