“I-I—”
“It’s all right, you are safe now. Take a deep breath and try to tell me.” He was gripping me by the shoulders, quite hard, his hands communicating the urge to pursue, punish, and destroy.
“Niamh—Niamh is gone,” I gulped. “She’s gone.”
“Where?”
“I—I don’t know.” So far I had not had to lie. I was not very good at lying. And Eamonn knew me better than many. I would have to hope his fury might blind him to any deficiencies in my story. A story that must now be told rather differently since not only Niamh but both Gull and Bran had been in clear sight before they fled.
“Across the marshlands to the north. I don’t know where or why.”
Eamonn scowled. “Tell me everything you know, Liadan. As quickly as you can. Every moment counts. How could you and Niamh come down here without my guards seeing you?”
“There’s a hidden way. Didn’t you know? A spiral staircase, a concealed door. In the alcove.”
He swore under his breath. “You mean—but that way has been sealed as long as I can remember. There is no key. How could you get in?”
My hand touched the key where it lay in my pocket. It became necessary to lie. “I don’t know. I woke up early this morning, and Niamh was gone. She left the secret door open, and I followed her. When I came out, she was—she was—”
“All right, Liadan,” he said with grave kindness. “You need not tell that part. How many men did you see? Only two?”
I nodded mutely.
“You know what they were, I suppose?”
I nodded again.
“Why, that’s what I ask myself,” Eamonn muttered, pacing restlessly. “Why would he take her except in some gesture of insane defiance? What can he hope to gain by this? There’s no reason to it.”
I swallowed hard. “Do you think—do you think you can track them down and bring her back?” It seemed to me the mist was starting to dissipate as the sun rode higher; I could see a short way across the marsh now, the dark, sucking mud punctuated here and there by low clumps of vegetation. They were too far apart for a man to make his way by leaping from one to the next. Sooner or later he must put his foot on that black-brown spongy surface and trust it to carry his weight. A man who was unable to trust would only get over by knowing the way with total accuracy. Still, they were the best. If they said they could lead Niamh across, they could.
“Eamonn! For God’s sake, what has happened? They said Niamh—” Fionn came up at a sprint, boots crunching on the rocky hillside. His hard features were set grimly, his face white.
“I regret this greatly,” Eamonn said with formality, and I realized it would, indeed, reduce his status among his allies that such a slip in security could occur on his very doorstep, almost under his nose. No wonder the Painted Man had the reputation he did for sheer effrontery. “It appears she has been abducted, and there is no doubt who is responsible. My guards saw them clearly. A man with coal black skin, and another who bore an unmistakable pattern on face and arm. These are the same fianna who slaughtered my warriors before my eyes. It is fortunate my archers drove them off before Liadan, too, was taken.”
“Which way?” demanded Fionn, and his expression reminded me that he was an Uí Néill and a leader of men. “I will cleave this fellow’s limbs from his. body when I find him! Which way?”
“You cannot go,” said Eamonn bluntly. “This task is for me and those of my men who know the art of making such a crossing safely and with speed. I will do my best to bring your wife back, and I swear I will not rest until the perpetrators of this outrage are brought to justice. Now I must go, and quickly.”
“Justice?” Fionn’s tone was savage. “Justice is too good for them. Give me a moment alone with those scum and an axe in my hand, and I’ll carve a few more pretty patterns on their outlaw hides. Don’t speak to me of justice or to Niamh’s sister here.”
“Go inside, Liadan.” Eamonn was making his way down to the marsh’s edge now. Two of his men were waiting, their green tunics replaced with garments of a mud-brown shade, their riding boots with softer, more pliable footwear. They were closely hooded, and they bore dagger and throwing knife at the belt. They stood by as Eamonn stripped off his outer garments and quickly dressed in the same way. Each man bore a strong staff, taller than his own height.
“All right,” said Eamonn. “I’ll lead the way; stay close behind and be ready to strike at short notice. They’ve not so much of a start on us that we cannot make up the distance before they reach dry land. The lady will slow them. Oran, your job is to get her safe away. Once you have her, turn back and leave the rest to us. Go carefully, she’ll be frightened. Gonn, you’ll take the black man. The other is mine.”
It is no wonder women have a reputation for patience that is not shared by men. We spend so much of our time waiting. Waiting for a child to be born. Waiting for a man to come home, from the fields, from the sea, from battle. Waiting endlessly for news. That can be the worst, as fear bites deep at the vitals and seizes the heart with chill fingers. The mind can make strange and terrible pictures while you are waiting.
Aisling was a kind girl, and I came to appreciate it through that long day. It was impossible to settle to anything. She provided mead and spiced fruits and a comfortable, private corner by a small ashwood fire, and words of sympathy. There was no need at all for me to feign distress.
“Sit down, Liadan,” Aisling urged anxiously, her round, blue eyes full of concern. “Come on, sit by me. I’m sure Niamh will come back safe. Eamonn knows those tracks like the back of his hand. He’s very capable. If anyone can find her, he can.”
Little did she know how her words made my heart sink. “I can’t help it,” I said. “It’s so easy to make a mistake, everyone say so, in the mist, trying to cover ground quickly—they could go off the track so easily, Aisling. How long, how long before we get a message?” My hands were shaking, and I clasped them tightly together.
“It could be awhile,” Aisling said gently. “Fionn has sent his men around by the road to cut them off on the other side. Eamonn will go cautiously; there’s no room for error on that path. One way or another, the outlaws will be trapped.”
As we waited, Fionn paced up and down, grim faced and silent. He had opted to remain here at Sídhe Dubh, waiting for the first news, rather than ride with his men. Now he was like a caged beast, his eyes burning with anger, his hands balled into tight fists. I wondered whether he felt fear for his wife, if his spirit ached for her as mine did for Bran, knowing the men in green were close behind him with death in their eyes. Or was Fionn simply angry at the brazen theft of a prized possession, albeit one he had treated with contempt?
Time passed and there was no word. I found I could sit still no longer, and begged a respite to return to my bedchamber for a while. As I passed Fionn, he put a hand on my shoulder.
“Take heart,” he said quietly. “All may yet be well.”
I glanced at him, gave a nod, and walked away. There was nothing to read on his face but the look of a sorrowing husband waiting anxiously to learn if his wife lived or died. If it were not for the bruises, fading fast, there would be no evidence at all of what Niamh had endured, none but the testimony of the mind, and that I was forbidden to share. Dana help us all; what if they did not manage to get-away? What if the Painted Man was not the best after all, and Eamonn caught him? It was unthinkable. If that happened, I would have no choice but to break my promise to my sister and tell the whole truth.
Trust. That’s the price. I could hear Bran’s voice in my head as I went into the bedchamber and closed the door behind me. There was no room for doubt. I must have faith in him. I did have faith in him. So why was my heart still hammering, why was my skin sweaty and cold, why did I feel hollow and drained, as if I had lost a part of myself?
I lay on my bed for a while, gazing at nothing, and as I grew quiet I could feel the slight movements of the child inside me. You will be a father before Beltaine. I had
not told Bran. How could I tell him? To know this would be nothing but another burden. A man cannot be a father if he has no past and no future. A man cannot acknowledge a son who bears the blood of a family he utterly despises. Better that he did not know. Better that nobody knew whose son this was. Son of the raven. Child of the prophecy. I would not be tied to that, and nor should he. But there was Sean. You cannot keep secrets forever, not from a twin. He suspected. Soon enough, he would know. And now it was even more complicated. For whatever the bitter outcome of the chase through the marshes, it must blacken the reputation of the Painted Man still further if he survived. Whatever happened, today’s events would cut so deep that the men of my family, and the men of their alliance, could never consider dealing with the Painted Man again. Unless I told the truth. And I had promised Niamh my silence.
Poor Niamh. She would be so frightened. She would feel so alone. What if she blundered off the path in her panic? What if she froze in terror again and could not be cajoled to move? I willed myself to breathe more slowly. My mind reached out, very cautiously.
Sean?
There was no response. Perhaps I had been too cautious.
Sean? Answer me. I need you, Sean!
There was nothing at all. I waited a long time with my mind open for his reply. So long, I almost began to think the unthinkable, knowing where he had been, knowing who he had been with. I felt doubt creeping into my mind. Trust, I told myself firmly. The price is trust.
Liadan? What’s wrong?
I let my breath out in a rush. Sean! Where are you?
At home. Where else would I be? What’s wrong?
I can’t say. But it is something bad, and I can’t deal with it alone. You must come here to Sídhe Dubh. Come now, Sean. Bring an escort. I—we will be coming home with you.
You’d better tell me, Liadan. Has something happened to Niamh?
Why do you ask that?
His response, when it came, was cautious. I’m not blind, whatever you might think. Can you tell me what has happened? Shall I bring Father or Liam?
I was shivering as I sat there and could not keep my fear from him.My every thought was shadowed with it. No, don’t bring them. Just you and a few men. I don’t want Eamonn’s guards riding back with us. Come quickly, Sean.
I’m on my way. Mercifully, he asked no further questions. And by the time he got here it would be over, one way or another.
It was nearly dusk before Eamonn returned. We were back in the hall by then, close to the massive hearth whose crackling fire cast gold light on the odd, carved pillars. The eyes of the strange creatures seemed to flicker and glow as they stared balefully down at us. There was muted noise as serving men and women brought food and drink, and took it away untouched. Aisling gave quiet instructions. She looked pale and tired. Fionn sat at the table with his head in his hands. When at last we heard a stir outside, the sentries on the high guard posts calling and then voices in the courtyard, nobody jumped up and ran to the window to look. Instead we sat frozen, the three of us, unable after so long a wait to believe the news could be good and unwilling to advance the inevitable moment when we must be told the worst.
Eamonn was a man who did not lose control easily. You had to know him well to recognize when he was angry or upset. Even his proposal of marriage had been a model of restraint. But now, as he came quietly into the hall and with the slightest gesture of his hand caused the folk of his household to vanish, it was clear that he was exhausted almost beyond endurance. His face was bleached of color, and he looked shattered and old. Aisling sprang up to take his arm and lead him to a seat by the fire, and he shook off her solicitous grasp with a violent jerk of the arm. That in itself showed how far stretched he was. Dark mud coated his shoes and was spattered over his clothing.
“You’d better tell us,” I said grimly.
Eamonn stood before the fire with his back to us, staring into the heart of the flames.
“You have not brought my wife back.” Fionn had his voice under control; his hands were clenched. Aisling had retreated to sit by me and was keeping her mouth shut.
Eamonn put a hand over his eyes, a hand that was not quite steady, and he said in an undertone, “The goddess help me. Who would be the bearer of such news?”
I got up and went to stand close by him, and I took his hand in both of mine. This touch he did not shake off, and he had no choice but to look at me.
“Now, Eamonn,” I said, meeting his gaze as steadily as I could, though the look in his deep, brown eyes disquieted me. “Fionn waits for news of his wife and I of my sister. We know what you have to tell cannot be good, but you must tell it.”
“Oh, Liadan. Oh, Liadan, I would give much not to bring you such ill tidings.”
“Tell us, Eamonn.”
He took a deep, shuddering breath. “It is the worst, I’m afraid. Your sister is dead. Drowned on the way across to dry land.”
“But … but …”
Aisling was up in a flash, her arm around my shoulders.
“Sit down, Liadan. Come, sit down.”
I trembled. There was no longer any way to tell truth from fantasy. This trap I had set for myself.
“What!” Fionn rose to his feet very slowly. “What are you telling us? How could you allow this to happen? On your own land!”
“We did everything. Sent men around by the road, your own men and mine, to block their way out. Followed behind across the bog, moving as quickly as we could. The mist was very thick, and that hampered us; but I knew they, too, would be affected by it. And Niamh would be slow, I thought, clad in a long gown and not knowing the way. They would have to talk her across, step by step.
“In that, I was right. We did catch them, but much farther across than I expected. This man is proficient at his evil works. We were closer to the far side than this when the mist lifted just a little, and there he was. The Painted Man, glancing back over his shoulder as he stepped from one safe foothold to the next. He knew the way, all right. I never saw him look down. Not once.
“I could not see far ahead, but I glimpsed Niamh’s bright hair and the gray of her cloak through the veil of mist. I could not see the man who led her. I alerted my companions and, taking my throwing knife from my belt, I quickened the pace, moving up behind my quarry until there were no more than seven paces between us. He was quite silent; he moved soft as a deer. But up ahead, I heard Niamh’s voice as she asked a question, and a man’s voice answering. I weighed the knife in my hand, judging the distance to a certain point between that man’s ribs. I knew he must be the first to go.”
Tell me. For pity’s sake, tell me. I clenched my teeth together.
“I was gaining rapidly. The Painted Man had a knife at his belt but made no sign of taking hold of it. It was almost as if he were waiting for me to take him. I raised my knife, poised to throw, and quick as a flash he turned and made a subtle movement of his hand, and something small and shiny flew by me. I heard the man behind me gave a little grunting sound, and there was a splash as he fell, and when I looked forward again, the Painted Man was gone. Fury made me careless, and as I strode ahead I almost lost my footing. I cried out after him, ‘Murderer! Scum of the earth! I will put an end to your life of destruction and waste! You are marked for my knife, outlaw!’ I heard him laugh, an empty, heartless sound, and then Niamh gave a scream. She had heard my voice and was struggling to get free, knowing rescue was close at hand.”
His words set a chill on my heart. I could see it as clear as if it were right before me: Niamh, hearing her pursuer’s voice, and desperate with the fear that she might after all not escape to freedom. Niamh panicking, there on the treacherous pathway. “Go on, Eamonn,” I said, in a shaking voice.
“I don’t know how much I should tell you.”
“You’d better tell everything. For your own sake as much as ours.”
“Out with it, man!” Fionn was less patient than I.
“Very well. Niamh screamed, ‘No!’ and there was the sound of
a struggle ahead of me. The mist still hung low; it parted only in patches, here and there, and I could not see clearly. I moved on as fast as I could, careless of my own safety. Conn, who had been last of us three, came up behind me. But hasten as we might, we were too slow to save your sister. There was a shout from the man who had been in front, and then Niamh’s voice again, ‘Help me! Help!’ For an instant, I saw the man’s hand, black as coal, reaching out, and a flash of red, Niamh’s hair as she slipped from safe footing, and I heard the sound of the—no, I will not tell that part. I saw very little, Liadan. By the time I reached the place where it had happened, there was no trace of her but the marks on the tussock where her foot had slipped and a—a patch on the surface of the mud, where she had gone under. And this.”
He held out a little cord of plaited threads, gray and rose and blue, its ends bound with strips of leather. On it hung a small, white stone with a hole in it. This cord was my own handiwork, and when I saw it I felt the blood drain from my face. For this, surely, Niamh would never willingly leave behind. Never, no matter where she went, no matter what orders she was given. This little token held all she had left of her family’s love and Ciarán’s.
“Wh-where was this, Eamonn?” I forced the words out.
“Floating on the surface, in a small patch of open water. The cord was caught on a reed. I’m sorry, Liadan. More sorry than I can possibly tell you.”
Fionn cleared his throat. “What then? What of the fianna? Were they captured?”
Eamonn stared into the fire again. “It was not long before the man showed his true colors. We moved on after them to the north, and I could hear him laughing, taunting me as he fled. ‘That surprised you, didn’t it?’ he called back at me. ‘Didn’t think I’d go that far, did you?’ A derisive chuckle. ‘Think again, Eamonn Dubh,’ he said. ‘My actions are not governed by your notions of what is correct and honorable. I play only to win, and I employ whatever strategy is required. If you would catch me, you must learn I cannot be measured by the same yardstick as other men. I took the woman only to demonstrate the weakness in your defenses. Now that I’ve drawn it to your attention, I’m sure it will be swiftly remedied. You see, I’ve done you a favor.’ He went on in this vein, and all the while he managed to stay just ahead of me, however I increased my speed. We drew closer to the place where we must step onto dry land to be met by Fionn’s men. But the mist was still thick, and suddenly I lost sight of them. Then there was a sound to the left of the path, like the croaking of a frog; and a sound to the right, like an answer. I made my way ahead as fast as any man could go. As I reached dry ground, the mist lifted. There were Fionn’s men waiting by the road, silent. But of the Painted Man and his dark-skinned companion, there was no sign. Somehow they had slipped away and out of the bog and never passed the place where the ambush was set. How they did it, I do not know, for there is no other way.”