Then there came a night when my visions were too many, and too dark, and I was forced to share them. Perhaps I was asleep at first, but these were more than nightmares. It was fragmented, as if my mind put together many times and places, and spun them around, and threw them back at me like poison barbs. I saw an old, old man, wandering the empty halls of Sevenwaters alone, his gnarled fingers grasping a staff of yew for support. He was mumbling to himself, They are all gone … no sons, no daughters … How can the forest be saved if there are no children at Sevenwaters? And I saw that this crippled ancient was my brother, Sean. The picture changed abruptly, and for an instant all was dark and I was in a tiny, confined space, my limbs cramped and folded and I could not breathe; it was hot, so hot and tight, and someone was screaming, but it was so hard to breathe, the scream was more of a whisper, Where are you?
My eyes opened abruptly, and I was gasping and shaking, lying on my bed at Sevenwaters, and when my terror abated I recognized that it was not entirely dark, for the small flame of the candle still glowed. My heart was hammering, and I felt cold sweat on my skin. And it was not over, for there in the quiet room I saw another vision: two people arguing, Aisling and her brother. Behind them, the carven creatures in the hall of Sídhe Dubh looked balefully on. You can’t do this! Aisling was shouting, her eyes swollen with long weeping. You already gave your consent! You gave your word! Eamonn’s face was cold, like that of a brithem delivering both judgment and sentence. The alliance is no longer suitable, he said. The decision is made. Aisling uttered a little wordless sound, and her face went deathly pale, and the vision changed. She was up on the guard tower, and the men had their backs turned. She was standing on the parapet in her white gown, and somebody shouted, No! and she took one step into space, and fell like a stone, without a sound, onto the jagged rocks far below. The Sight did not spare me a single detail. I cried out in horror, and Johnny awoke and began to wail in sympathy, and Fiacha added his distinctive voice to the general commotion.
Response was swift. First came the young nursemaid, yawning, to pick up the child and soothe him with gentle words. Then Janis, frowning, with a lantern; and Sean, quickly assessing the situation, catching the terror of my mind, for at such times it spills out unguarded. He sent the others back to bed, and I hugged my son until we were both comforted, and drank the cup of wine my brother set by me. In the window my candle burned on, for now I set it there every night, be there a sliver of moon, or a full shining orb, or a dark sky full of shadows.
“Better?” asked Sean after a while.
I drew a long shuddering breath. “I—oh. Sean—I saw—”
“Take your time,” my brother advised quietly, sounding not unlike our father. “Want to tell me about it?”
“I—I don’t know. It was—it was terrible, not just this, but—Sean, I don’t think I can tell you this.” The image was still in my mind, shattered bone, sightless eyes, bright hair and bright blood and—other things. I held a barrier around it so that he could not see into my thoughts.
“I’m worried about you, Liadan.” Sean held his own wine cup between his palms and stared into the candle flame. There was a new gravity in his features; Father’s absence had changed the balance of our household more than anyone expected. “These visions have disturbed you for some time, I know. Perhaps you should talk to Conor. He would come if we sent for him.”
“No,” I said abruptly: thinking Johnny is older now. Conor would ask me again to go into the forest with him, and I would have to find a reason for saying no. “Sean, I need you to tell me what is happening. I know it’s secret; but the Sight seems to be warning me of disaster, and I fear for—for all of those close to me, and I cannot tell what warnings to give. What is this mission that the Painted Man undertakes for you? Who else knows of it? And what of Eamonn?” I would not say Aisling’s name, for as soon as he heard me speak it, he would know my vision was of her, and he would get the truth out of me, a truth that might or might not come to pass. He would be bound to act on it and maybe precipitate disaster.
Sean’s lips tightened. “There’s no need for you to know.”
“There is, Sean. Lives are at risk, and more than lives. Believe me.”
“Liadan?” asked my brother.
“What?” I knew what was coming.
“This is his child, isn’t it?”
There was no point in evasion now that he had finally given a voice to his suspicions. And yet he could not be told the whole truth. He could not know the other part of the tale, of Niamh and her druid and a strange flight to Kerry. I simply nodded. “Is the likeness so striking?” I asked, managing a smile.
“It will become more so with time.” Sean’s frown was just like Liam’s. “It is too late to point out the folly of your actions, and his; too late to explain to you that this was an act of thoughtless self-indulgence. What of Eamonn? Does he know?”
“I did not tell him,” I said, wishing his censure had not such power to hurt me. “But he knows, yes. He—he hinted at spies, at covert intelligence.”
“He has been acting oddly,” he said, with some hesitation, after checking that the door was securely shut. “Meetings were arranged at which he should have been present and was not. I have sent messages and received no reply. It disturbs me. Even Seamus has found it difficult to reach his grandson’s ear.”
“Did you act with your allies’ consent when you set the Painted Man this mission?” Johnny had fallen asleep again and was heavy in my arms, but his warmth was welcome, and I kept him cradled there.
“What do you think?”
“I suspect it is an arrangement between the two of you, personal and secret.”
“You suspect correctly. A chance for him to prove himself. A very useful undertaking for me, with nothing to lose.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling suddenly cold.
“The arrangement was, if he were captured, my responsibility ended there. The risk is all his own. The man seems to have either no concern for his continued existence or a remarkable self-confidence. Maybe both.”
“He is the best at what he does. But you are right; he appears to have no great will for self-preservation. That makes him a useful tool for you, I suppose.”
“That sounds just a little critical, Liadan. You must not forget that we are men, and that this is war, and that such bargains are made every day. I’d have been a fool to pass up the opportunity. If he succeeds, I’ll pay, and there will be more work for him.”
“If he dies, how will you justify yourself to me, and to my son?” I asked him, my voice shaking.
“If he dies, it will be because he believed no mission was beyond his ability,” my brother responded calmly. “He accepted this of his own free will, on his own terms.”
“Sean, please. Please tell me what it is. Tell me what you and Liam and Seamus are doing. I have had enough of secrets. I need to know this.”
I think at last he recognized my desperation. No doubt the shadow of my terrible visions still haunted my eyes.
“Very well. The mission links two elements, both of which serve the alliance well at this point. A year ago we were in a very strong position, from which an attack by sea to drive Northwoods from the Islands could at last be considered again. It was the addition of Fionn’s forces that made that possible. But Fionn is dead.”
“I know.”
“You know? How?”
“Bran—the Painted Man—told me. I have known it for some time. I thought it best to say nothing until the news reached Liam and became official.”
“Why would he tell you?”
“There are no secrets between us, Sean.”
My brother stared at me.
“This man has come to my aid in the past. Ours was not merely some casual encounter. His future is tied with mine and so with yours. Perhaps you did not recognize that when you bought his services for a mission nobody else was prepared to undertake. What are you paying him?”
“Shall I go on?
Fionn died. The less said about that the better. It is being attributed to your friend, and nobody is bothering to advance any alternative theories. We were immediately faced with a problem. Fionn’s support was integral to success in the field. In addition, the Uí Néill of Tirconnell have maintained their ongoing dispute with their kinsfolk in the south. There’s no love lost between the high king and Fionn’s father. And Sevenwaters, and its allies, just happen to be strategically placed right between the two. Fionn’s people kept the death quiet for a long time. Before midsummer, it happened, less than a moon after Father departed so abruptly.”
I nodded without comment.
“So on the one hand, it’s vital to renew the alliance with the northern Uí Néill, but subtly, without angering the high king. Such ties are best strengthened by marriage; but Niamh is lost, and one does not offer a girl with a fatherless child, whatever her lineage, as a bride for a nobly born chieftain. Still, we’ve another bargaining tool: we can provide armed support, a bulwark against an attack from the south. In the future, we may be able to offer—specialist services, the kind of services in which the Painted Man excels: intelligence; subterfuge; secret entries and exits; tricks of seamanship; the masterly handling of weapons. That way your friend and I could only aid each other. Those things are for the future; for now, Liam and Seamus and I have set up a very private meeting with the Uí Néill at a secret location. We are confident of their cooperation. Eamonn’s absence has been cause for concern, as I said; but Seamus will have told him that part of the plan by now, and he’ll be certain to support it. He’d be a fool not to, situated as he is right by the pass to the north, in line for direct traffic out of Tirconnell.”
“You have told me but half.” I rose to put Johnny in his small bed and cover him with the many-colored quilt.
“Ah, the mission. I wondered at first how such men, with their highly distinctive appearance, could possibly make a success of covert ventures, of spying and infiltration. I wished to send an observer to the heart of Northwoods’s camp—to Greater Island itself—to bring me accurate plans of their fortifications, to identify their weak points, to provide details of the numbers and movements of men, and information about their seagoing craft. I believed it could not be done, for the Briton has too good a network of intelligence. Most certainly, I thought so ostentatiously marked a creature had no chance of success. But I put it to him, knowing his reputation. And as you guessed, in this I acted alone. None of the allies is aware of this mission, though Seamus knew I had such a plan under consideration. If it succeeds, I will tell them.”
“You said your plan linked two elements,” I said, tightlipped. “What is the other?”
“I wanted the information, but I wanted a distraction as well. Something to take Northwoods’s eye off what we were doing. Our man was to let slip, almost by accident, the news of Fionn’s death; let the enemy believe our alliance with the Uí Néill broken. Feed him the news that our ability to attack is much weakened. Then, next autumn, we’d give the Briton a surprise from which he could not recover, and we would take back the Islands at last.”
“And Bran agreed?”
“Not at first. He heard me out, and said he’d consider it. When he came back to me, the plan had changed. As you’ll be aware, his reputation is widely known, and as a result he can go almost nowhere unrecognized. He said he would make Northwoods an offer he could not refuse. He would offer to bring information about Sevenwaters and the alliance, enough information to strengthen the Briton’s grip on the Islands and present him with opportunities to attack us. The information would be false, of course. But it would be good enough to fool Northwoods, fool him for long enough for the Painted Man to gather the intelligence I need and bring it back to me before the Briton discovered the truth. Such a man as your friend is known to change his allegiance as easily as he changes his boots. He might just get away with it. If he promised more of the same, they would have good reason to let him go. When last he reported to me, he had established contact, and arrangements were in place for a small vessel to take him over in secret. And while Northwoods has been distracted by his visitor and the wealth of fascinating information he bore, we have begun to set up our new alliance and plan for the last assault.”
“What cause would the Britons have to trust him?” I whispered, watching the candle flare and flicker in the draft.
“He was given enough genuine information to win them,” Sean said, frowning. “The false intelligence was to be passed on after that. But I will not lie to you; I am becoming anxious. He’s late to report back. There’s been no word.”
“Sean, I too have cause for concern. Since we are being honest with each other, I think you might wish to invite Aisling here for a while. Or go to see her, perhaps.” I tried to keep my tone light, but you cannot easily hide such misgivings from a twin.
“What? What did you see?” He was suddenly white.
“I won’t tell you, Sean. But it is serious. You should go and fetch her, if you can.”
“I can’t,” he said grimly. “Not now. Liam rode out earlier tonight to discuss terms in confidence with the Uí Néill. The meeting is set for the day after tomorrow at a hidden location north of the forest. Seamus will be there; but I must remain at Sevenwaters in our uncle’s absence. Liadan? Liadan, what is it?”
“You should stop him.” My words came out in a strangled whisper. “You should stop Liam. Send after him and bring him back.”
But I had heard the sound of death in my brother’s words, and in my heart I knew we were powerless to stop it, for it was already too late.
That was the darkest of times. Grim-faced, Sean sent Liam’s master of arms, Felan, away by night with urgent speed. I could read the bitter message of my brother’s mind, although he did not speak it aloud. You should have warned me.
When Felan came back, there was no time for grieving. He gave his news in private, and when Sean gathered the household, soon after, his features were calm and pale, a picture of control. At not quite eighteen years of age, my brother must now assume responsibility for the greatest túath north of Tara, for its flocks and herds, its army and its defenses and its alliances, and for all the folk who dwelt there. And as lord of Sevenwaters, he was now custodian of the forest. Liam had planned that it would be so in time, after careful preparation. But time had run out.
“I have the gravest of news for you,” Sean said, and the silence was complete as men at arms and serving women and grooms and cottagers stood assembled in the hall to hear him. The doors were bolted. “Lord Liam is dead. He was slain by a Briton’s arrow, not two days since, while riding to a secret council. My uncle was betrayed, and I will not rest until the perpetrator is identified and dealt with.”
A ripple of horror went around the room. So soon after my mother’s passing and my father’s abrupt departure, this seemed a fatal blow, one from which the household of Sevenwaters might not well recover.
“I know I have your support and the support of our allies,” Sean went on, keeping his tone strong and confident. “We will all grieve for this loss and may find it hard to set our hands to our tasks, whether it be the harvest or the work of the house or the bearing of arms. But my uncle would want us to go on, to keep the defenses strong, to protect the forest and its dwellers as our family was bound to do long ago, and to pursue our quest to regain what the Britons took from us. The campaign will be set back, but not forever. We will rally and recover. We cannot mourn Lord Liam as we would wish; we cannot send him on his way with the ceremony such a leader deserves, for these are difficult times, and the news of this act of treachery is best kept within our own community for now. For this reason we will bear his body home quietly to lie within these walls for a day and a night, and we will bury him under the oaks. In time, there will be due ritual to remember his name and to bid him a fitting farewell. But for now, hold his image in your hearts and minds, and keep your mouths shut. Is this understood?”
“Yes, my lord.” Many voices spo
ke as one, and when they had taken time to express their shock and their grief, and to offer their respect and sorrow to my brother and me, every one of them went immediately back to work. The harvest resumed; women busied themselves with drying and preserving fruit, or airing linen, and Felan rode straight back out with three men clad in dark clothes, and an extra horse.
My brother had started well. Before the folk of the household he had kept his voice steady and his manner a creditable imitation of Liam’s own, firmly authoritative. But later, after they had brought our uncle’s body back and we had prepared him for burial and laid him to rest in the hall, surrounded by candles, that was a different matter. Downstairs, folk came in to walk past the still form of their fallen lord, to observe his stern features little softened by the sleep of death. His body was scarcely marked. Whoever had loosed this arrow had been skilled at his work. Liam’s wolfhounds would not leave their master; they lay, one at his head and one at his feet, strangely silent as man or woman filed past, ashen faced, to mutter, “Go in peace, my lord,” or “Safe journey, Lord Liam.”