Bear turned and shoved past me, baying. In a moment he and Badger were off along the upper hallway and down the stairs, making enough noise for a whole army of dogs. Morrigan’s curse! They could not have chosen a worse moment.
I sprinted after them. The situation down there was already on a knife-edge. Let it not be my dogs that tipped it over into chaos. I took the stairs two at a time, sweeping past a pair of ashen-faced serving boys—not frightened by me, but by the spectacle of Bear in full flight—and across the lower hallway to the main door. “Bear!” I yelled at the top of my voice. Since the dogs were making enough noise to wake the dead, there was no longer much point in keeping quiet. Perhaps, by some miracle, they would obey this time. “Badger, wait!”
I ran out the door at full tilt, emerging on the steps behind Father, hardly seeing what was around me, for Bear and Badger were heading straight for the imposing, dark-bearded figure of Cruinn. A man-at-arms with a club stepped forward on the chieftain’s right side, a fellow with a spear on his left. Cruinn reached for his dagger.
“Bear! Stop that this instant!” I shouted, hurling myself across the space between Father and Cruinn. “Bear, stop!”
An arm’s length from Cruinn, Bear halted. He stood quivering in place as if held on an invisible leash, looking at me, looking at Cruinn, looking back at me. Behind him, Badger dropped down onto his belly. Relief flooded through my body. My heart pounding, I moved in beside Bear and laid the back of my hand on his neck. Neither the man with the spear nor the man with the club could strike him without striking me as well.
“Good boys,” I gasped, for obedience should always be acknowledged quickly, while a dog understands what he is being praised for. I sucked in a breath. I could not look at Father, so I looked up at Cruinn instead. He appeared…bemused. It was not the look of a man who had just gotten his long-lost dogs back. Behind him a wall of warriors on horseback regarded me with a variety of expressions.
“Bear, calm. Badger, calm.” First things first. “My lord, I offer a sincere apology.” I straightened my back, meeting Cruinn’s eye in a way I hoped Uncle Bran would have been proud of. “The dogs mean you no harm.” If they were his dogs, he would surely have said something by now. He would not be staring at me as if he could not decide whether to shout with rage, howl with laughter, or pretend I was not there.
“Maeve—” my father began, but Cruinn spoke over him.
“You’re his daughter. Sean’s daughter, the one who was sent away. Yes?”
“I am Lord Sean’s daughter Maeve, my lord. Recently returned here from Britain. I am very sorry about the loss of your men, and your sons especially. I cannot imagine how heavily that must weigh on you.” In fact I could imagine it all too well; I saw it in his eyes, dark eyes that had perhaps once been bright and forthright, and now were all grief and fury. “Please accept my father’s hospitality, which he offers in good faith. We will do everything we can to help with the search.”
Cruinn stared at me for a little longer; I did not drop my gaze. Then, with a quick gesture, he dismissed the two hovering men-at-arms. “They are handsome dogs, Lady Maeve,” he observed. “But if you do not train them better they’ll get you in trouble one day.”
“They are learning quickly, my lord. I have not had them long.” Stop chattering, Maeve, and go back inside where you belong. What is Mother going to think of this? Oh gods, she was probably watching every moment of it from the sewing room window. I forced myself not to look up there. “I had thought…I had thought perhaps they might be yours. That they might have been with your missing men. I found them wandering in the forest.” I was right by his horse’s head; I stroked the gray’s cheek with the back of my hand, and the creature nuzzled at my neck.
Cruinn’s features softened. Perhaps, before the terrible sorrow that had befallen him, he had been a kind man, a reasonable man like my father. “These two are not from my household, Lady Maeve,” he said. “But I see they have found a kind home with you.” He turned toward Father. “Well, Sean. Here we are, and I suppose we must sit down and talk the situation over. I’ll bring my councilor indoors with me, and your fellow can make arrangements with my master-at-arms concerning accommodation for the men and horses. It’s just as well we left our scent hounds outside your gate; your daughter’s creatures would have torn them limb from limb.”
He spoke with remarkable good humor, though the jest was not to my taste. “They are not savage, my lord,” I felt obliged to say. “But they do not yet fully understand that the dark time is over and that they are safe.”
Cruinn gave me a nod of acknowledgment, and then my father was ushering him up the steps and inside, where I hoped the serving boys had set down their weaponry and applied themselves to looking hospitable. As for me, I could feel the scrutiny of too many eyes: the curious eyes of Cruinn’s men—That is Lord Sean’s daughter? Did you hear her shrieking like a fishwife? What about those hands?—and the eyes of my mother from the window up there, no doubt full of shock and disapproval.
“Bear, come. Badger, come.” I followed the two chieftains inside, and the dogs came with me, obedient now, though clearly all was not well with them.
“As for you,” I muttered, “you have more to learn than I realized. We’re going to be practicing obedience until suppertime.”
A flood of women was coming back down the stairs, spurred into action now it seemed this was not war, only the sudden arrival of a large number of unexpected guests. Food, drink, bedding, space for men and horses…It would all be done, of course, and done well.
Mother stood at the top of the stairs, looking down as folk scurried off to various parts of the keep. I waited until the way was clear, then went up. Rhian was still with the children; I could hear her singing something about ducks and geese, and small hands clapping in time with the refrain. I halted one step below my mother, with Bear and Badger on either side of me.
“I’m sorry, Mother. They bolted for no reason. It seemed better to try to stop them than let them cause a…an incident of some kind.”
Her brows rose. “You caused quite an incident yourself.”
“I made a judgment. There wasn’t much time to do so. If I had left the dogs to their own devices something extremely unpleasant might have occurred.”
“You will gain a reputation as eccentric. Wild. That is not the kind of young woman a man wants as a wife.”
For a moment I was speechless. Then Aunt Liadan’s training reasserted itself. I stood up tall. “I don’t think we need concern ourselves about that, Mother,” I said quietly. “No suitor will ever offer for me. The most ladylike manners in all Erin couldn’t render a man blind to my hands and face. I long ago accepted that marriage was out of the question. I’m surprised you consider it a possibility.” More words were on my lips, hurtful words: Or are you just trying to make me feel better? I managed to hold them back.
She said what I was willing her not to say. “Oh, Maeve.”
“I’m not asking for sympathy!” I snapped, my self-control proving more fragile than I had thought. “Only to be accepted as the woman I am and recognized for the things I can do. If it hadn’t been for Bear and Badger just now, and my ‘wild’ behavior, Cruinn might have made a declaration of war. His men might even now be killing ours out there. Instead he’s sitting down to talk to Father. But since you’re not happy that I stopped my dogs from attacking a visiting chieftain, why don’t I go back to the cottage and take them with me? That will get us right out of your way.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Luachan and Finbar coming along the upper hallway, deep in conversation. Luachan was going to be busy, too, I thought—with so many strangers at Sevenwaters, he’d need to maintain a constant watch over my brother.
“I may give that idea fresh consideration,” Mother said, surprising me. “But you won’t be going anywhere today. Since Cruinn has met you, if under less than ideal circumstances, it would seem odd if you were not at the family table for supper. I don’t want to
give him the impression that we were ashamed of your performance just now, or that we want to hide you. It is odd enough that you prefer to be apart from the household. To disappear on the very day an important visitor arrives would appear…”
“Eccentric? Wild?” I suggested as Luachan reached us. He stood quietly waiting, while Finbar sat down on the stairs and stroked Bear’s ears. “Very well, I will be at table for supper. Mother, I hope you will give some more thought to letting me return to the cottage. I’ll only be in the way here. Besides, I can’t risk Bear and Badger creating a scene again. Down there, I can work on their training. And Emrys will be busy, so Swift will need me.” When she said nothing, I added, “I think Luachan wants to speak to you.”
“My lady.” Luachan’s voice was all honey. “With so many men at the keep, the household will be stretched to its limit. Tempers may be short for a while. I think it appropriate not only that Lady Maeve and Rhian return to the cottage tomorrow, but that Finbar and I move to the nemetons at the same time. We know the hand of Danu stretches over that place, protecting it from both worldly and fey attackers. Cruinn made it clear that his forces have come to take over the search. They’ll be everywhere. As Lord Sean’s only son, Finbar should be housed among the druids until the truth about the Disappearance is revealed one way or another. Ciarán made it clear to me before he departed that he wanted both Finbar and Maeve to be kept safe. He believed placing the two of them under druidic protection would be desirable.”
We were in the way. Serving people threaded an awkward path around us as they ascended and descended the stairs, carrying piles of bedding, laden baskets, buckets and cloths. Every time someone passed, Bear and Badger growled.
“You will stay here tonight,” Mother said. “We will discuss this tomorrow. Finbar, you’ll have supper with the other children and go to bed straight afterward. Luachan, I want you with him at all times.”
“Yes, my lady,” Luachan said, and if I saw the glimmer of a smile in his eyes, it was gone in an instant. “Finbar, we’d best retrieve our documents and then get back to our studies.” Halfway down the stairs he paused, turning his head to look up at me. “That was entertaining,” he remarked, and now the smile was quite clear.
“Believe me,” I said, “it was not my intention to make an exhibition of myself. I simply didn’t want anyone hurt.”
“You achieved both, I think,” the druid said. Before I could summon a word, he was down the stairs and off, with Finbar scurrying to keep up.
“We’re wasting time.” Mother’s tone was tight. “I’m needed elsewhere.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” I said, moving to one side to let her pass. “Bear, come. Badger, come.”
“You think more of those dogs than of your own kin,” Mother said as she went by me.
Not more, I thought. Just differently. Their love is blessedly uncomplicated. It forgives all. It never falters. For humankind, to love or to receive love is far more difficult. That’s why I cannot tell you how much I admire your strength. That’s why you don’t simply hug and kiss me, and say how sad it was for you when I went away and took ten years to come back. That’s why we keep playing these stupid games instead of speaking to each other honestly. You are a good mother. You always were. But right now, you are not the mother I want.
With Cruinn and his troop in residence, Sevenwaters changed overnight. There was no escaping the presence of the Tirconnell men, whether it was in the dining hall, where they were fed in shifts, or the stable yard, with horses and riders constantly coming and going and my father’s grooms working sullenly alongside the fellows Cruinn had brought with him.
When we had come to Sevenwaters, Emrys and Donal had expected to be tending to Swift for a short while and then returning home. Now their stay was beginning to look endless—at least, that was what Rhian told me Donal had said—with all hands required simply to keep up with the routines of feeding, watering and mucking out, and the challenge of accommodating more animals than there was proper room for. Emrys had not complained about the need to stay, and it was clear this had a lot to do with Rhian’s presence at Sevenwaters. But he could not visit the nemetons as often as before. That left both Swift and Rhian neglected, and Emrys himself out of sorts. He argued with Duald and with Cruinn’s grooms, and when we saw him he had quite lost his cheerful demeanor.
I knew I had been exceptionally lucky in being allowed to return to the cottage, and that my good fortune owed more than a little to Luachan. He had persuaded both my parents that Finbar and I would be best out of the way of Cruinn’s activities, and the day after the force from Tirconnell had descended on Sevenwaters, we’d returned to the nemetons. Finbar was housed in the druids’ living quarters along with Luachan, but my brother spent a great deal of time with Rhian and me, helping with various household chores and taking some pleasure in feeding Pearl and the chickens and collecting the eggs. Now that he was not under my mother’s eye, Luachan seemed to be applying a less rigorous approach to his tutorial duties, and I was glad of it.
Illann had come from Dun na Ri to support my father, bringing his own modest force of mounted men. This added to the overcrowding, though I knew Father would welcome his presence. Illann told us Ciarán had stayed in that household a few days, then moved on, saying he might be gone some time. At Ciarán’s request, Deirdre had contacted Clodagh mind to mind. She had passed on Father’s message for Cathal: that the situation at Sevenwaters had become sufficiently dire to warrant his return, despite the risk. She’d added that the family thought it best Clodagh and her children stayed where they were. According to Deirdre, Clodagh had become angry and had broken the link, shutting her twin out. It seemed Cathal would not be returning to Sevenwaters anytime soon.
The search went on, grim, relentless. Cruinn’s men rode out in all weathers, working in shifts as my father’s searchers had, combing the forest from dawn to dusk, sometimes staying out overnight and recommencing at first light. There was a little hill crowned with oaks not far from the clearing where our animals were housed, and from the top of it we could see the lakeshore and the broad tracks that skirted it on either side before branching off into the forest. The view was more open than it had been; autumn was advancing, and the trees were losing their fine cloaks of russet and brown and gold. Drifts of fallen leaves swished around our feet as we walked. They flew beneath the horses’ hooves as one or another party of men-at-arms headed out from the keep.
There was a stone seat atop the hill, carved with symbols I could not interpret and half grown over with mosses. The dogs liked it there; the knotted roots of the old trees housed myriad scuttling creatures and the area was full of fascinating smells to be investigated. It was there that I saw Badger wag his tail for the first time. It was there that Bear got a thorn in his paw and rolled over on his back to let me take it out. I was glad Luachan was not present that day, only Finbar, since my method in such emergencies was to find the prickle with my tongue and extract it with my teeth. Finbar, too young to be given the job of taking out the thorn, held Bear’s leg still for me while Badger, crouched nearby, whined with anxiety. Afterward, I thought how woefully unrealistic it was for my mother to think I would ever marry. Finbar accepted my ways of doing things because he was a child, and an unusual one at that. Rhian accepted them because she had been with me from the beginning and because she was my sister of the heart. But a man would look at what I had just done and feel only disgust. And whatever Mother might have in mind for me, I would never give up my little freedoms for the sake of respectability.
After a very awkward supper on the night Cruinn arrived at Sevenwaters, I had watched the Tirconnell chieftain as he rode out on the search with his men, head high, shoulders square, and as he came back again at the end of the long day, his sorrow and frustration plain in every corner of his body. Luachan said the search was a waste of time. He was sure the last three men must be dead already, and if not, Mac Dara would eventually do with them what he had done with the others. I ho
ped he was wrong. Cruinn’s sorrow disturbed me. It was like seeing a strong oak gradually destroyed by some canker, or a fine horse going lame day by day. Such was the insidious poison of Mac Dara’s touch.
I did not know how much of Mac Dara’s story had been revealed to Cruinn, who was a Christian and might find it hard to accept the truth about those who shared our forest with us. Father must have told him some of it. Nobody in his right mind could imagine, now, that the Disappearance had been an abduction or attack carried out by one chieftain’s fighting men against another’s. Everything about it smelled of fey involvement.
That created a tricky situation. Finbar and I were at the nemetons because it was safer than the keep. It was known that Danu laid her hand over the sacred places of the druids. In addition, Ciarán and his brethren had set protective charms here. Ciarán had hinted at this, and Luachan had confirmed it for me. He believed that the circle of enchantment was strong enough to keep out even Mac Dara.
It was therefore impossible that the three missing men would be found here, unless, of course, they were being hidden by the druids, and there would be no reason for that. But Luachan told me Cruinn was not satisfied by that explanation, nor by Father’s refusal to allow his searchers entry to the druid community.
I was not completely surprised, therefore, when on a day when Luachan and Finbar were closeted together studying and Rhian had made a rare trip to the keep for supplies, I heard hoofbeats approaching as I stood in the field with Swift. I looked up to see three men riding along the track toward me: my father, Cruinn and Cruinn’s bodyguard, a hard-faced man of about five-and-twenty.