Dreamer's Pool

by Juliet Marillier

  ‘Wise . . .’ With a sighing exhalation she was gone. Whatever the story was about the pigs, I’d never hear it now.

  I called the neighbour in, and between us we got the old woman laid out on the kitchen table of her meagre dwelling, washed, dried and wrapped ready for burial. I had sweet herbs in my healer’s bag, and a pair of flat stones to lay on her eyes, and the neighbour found cloth for the shroud.

  I had thought this crone’s burial might be as lonely as her death. But once the word got around that she was gone, a couple of the local boys came by and offered to dig a grave in the field set aside for the purpose, and another neighbour dropped in to tell us a few of the local folk would gather while the old woman was put in it. I asked the neighbour if she’d heard of Holly, and she gave me a blank look.

  A druid was coming to Winterfalls for the betrothal of Prince Oran and Lady Flidais. Grim had passed on this information. But the druid had not arrived yet, and this old woman could not wait long for burial. That left me responsible for conducting a graveside rite, complete with prayers and blessings. I did my best, part of me thinking of my promise to Conmael, the other half thinking it would be good to die precisely when you were ready for it, not before and not after. By the time the ritual was finished, it was nearing dusk and I was as weary as if I’d done a full day’s labour in the fields. The straggle of folk who’d been at the graveside thanked me; I nodded, gathered my cloak around me and headed for home.

  I was almost there – close enough to see lamplight from the window, where Grim had left the shutters open – when I realised I was not walking alone. I slowed my pace; my unseen companion did the same. I stood still; the presence behind me also halted. If I’d been hearing footsteps, I’d have been worried about being attacked and robbed, not that I had anything worth stealing. A wise woman did not request payment for attending a deathbed, and even if I had, in this case there would have been nobody to provide it. But there were no footsteps, only a sensation of being followed.

  ‘What do you want, Conmael?’ I asked, not turning.

  ‘To see you safely home, Blackthorn.’ My fey benefactor came up beside me. ‘Why would you assume that I want anything more?’

  ‘Let’s just say I’m a natural doubter.’ I walked on, and he walked with me, a deeper shadow in the growing dusk. It was disturbing the way he moved without a sound. ‘Besides,’ I added, ‘I can see myself safely home. I’ve been doing so for years.’

  ‘In the past,’ Conmael said quietly, ‘there have been certain occasions when a protector might have been useful to you. That is not to deny your courage or your fighting spirit. But there is such a thing as too much independence.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ I said. ‘I don’t need a protector. I’m best left to get on with things alone.’ Even as I spoke, I knew that at least part of what he’d said was true. I’d never be able to confront Mathuin of Laois on my own. I’d tried, and look where it had got me. ‘For now, at least,’ I felt obliged to say.

  ‘Ah. But you’re not alone anymore, are you?’ Conmael’s gaze went toward the cottage window, a bright square of lamplight against the gathering dark.

  I made no reply.

  ‘Planning to keep your guard dog long?’ he asked, off-hand.

  ‘What business is that of yours?’ I heard the snap in my voice; could not quite understand the sudden flare of anger. I had never intended Grim to stay, not even as long as he had. Every day I considered how I might put the suggestion to him that it was time he moved on. But it was not for Conmael to weigh in on the matter.

  ‘Your welfare is my business. You brought the big man with you to Dalriada, I imagine, because he asked for your help. He’s done a good enough job of making the cottage comfortable. But you don’t need him anymore. In time he might prove a liability. His story is unsavoury. If you heard it, you might have second thoughts.’

  ‘Stop right there.’ I halted and turned to look him in the eye. ‘It’s up to him and me what we tell about the past. I don’t want him knowing my story, and I surely don’t want to hear his from you. Grim always said the fey were meddlers, and I’m starting to believe him.’

  ‘He would stay, no doubt, even if he knew the whole truth about you. The dog-like devotion in his eyes makes that abundantly clear. You, on the other hand, might not be so quick to give him space in your house, indeed in your bedchamber, if you knew his background.’

  ‘There’s one thing I did not think the fey could be, Conmael,’ I said, ‘and that was petty. I don’t want to hear anything at all about Grim. If there’s any question I want you to answer, it’s why you decided to take an interest in my fortunes in the first place, since to the best of my knowledge you were a complete stranger to me. Your kind are not exactly known for doing favours to human folk, unless it’s to play some kind of trick. As for my sleeping arrangements, they’re nobody’s concern but my own.’

  He lifted his brows. ‘Human memory is a strange thing,’ he observed. ‘How it comes and goes. How sometimes folk tuck the past away so deep they forget it’s there at all. The human mind is full of byways, dead ends, locked chambers. Strongboxes guarding matters too painful to be brought into the light; dusty corners where items considered too trivial are tossed away. You’ll remember one day. And if you do not, perhaps it is no matter.’

  He spoke with nonchalance, lightly, but the look on his face did not match his tone.

  If there was anything that irked me, it was folk playing games of this kind. I could see no reason for him to withhold the truth, whatever it might be. ‘Why not just tell me?’ I asked.

  ‘I –’ began Conmael.

  Light flooded out from the cottage as Grim opened the door. Almost immediately the light was blocked by his large form standing there, arms folded and legs apart. The moment was lost.

  ‘Good night, Conmael.’ I hastened forward, praying that he would take himself off before Grim decided on some kind of confrontation.

  ‘Good night, Blackthorn.’ Conmael’s words were only a murmur, drifting away into the shadows even as they were spoken. As I came up the steps to the cottage door, I was on my own.

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Mm-hm.’ Grim had the sense to leave it at that, though the way he clattered bowls and spoons around as he put the supper on the table spoke louder than words.

  I went out the back, used the privy, washed my face and hands in the bucket of clean water. When I came back in the food was on the table. Grim was standing by the open window, looking out into the night. ‘All right?’ I said to his back.

  A grunt in response.

  ‘I hope that’s a yes, because I’m bone weary. I attended a deathbed today. And a burial. I didn’t think I had it in me to speak prayers, seeing as I’ve more or less stopped believing in such things. But folk thanked me afterwards so I suppose it was good enough.’

  ‘A deathbed? Whose?’ He came over to the table and sat down.

  ‘An old woman who used to be a seamstress. Glad to go, I think. She knew the last wise woman, at least I think that was who she meant.’

  Grim ladled out vegetable soup. There was bread as well, heavy with grains. We ate in silence. It occurred to me that although Conmael had departed, he was still here with us, an invisible presence constraining everything we said and did. And that made me angry.

  ‘About Conmael,’ I said as I gathered the empty bowls. ‘He offered to tell me your past history. I said no, thank you. Interfering bastard.’ I made sure I did not look at him. ‘If he makes the same offer to you, I’d be pleased if you’d give him the same reply.’

  There was a long silence. When at last I turned in Grim’s direction, he was still seated at the table, but had his head in his hands.

  ‘Grim?’

  He lifted his head; his face was ashen. ‘How could he know?’

  ‘I asked myself the same
question the night he came to visit me in that place and spoke of things a stranger shouldn’t have known about. Where you’re concerned, he might just be making mischief. With me, he really does know. Enough of my story, at least, to offer me a compact I couldn’t say no to.’

  ‘I don’t like it,’ Grim muttered. ‘Not right. Playing games with folk as if they were a child’s poppets. Why would he do that?’

  I shrugged. ‘It’s beyond me. But he did get me out. He did save my life. So I’m stuck with him for seven years, like it or not.’ Now was the time to add, But you’re not – you’re free to go whenever you want. The words got trapped somewhere between my thoughts and my lips. ‘Brew?’ I asked.

  ‘I’ll make it. You sit down awhile.’

  His hands were shaking as he measured herbs, poured water from the kettle, passed a cup over to me. I pretended not to notice. Conmael had a lot to answer for.

  14

  ~ORAN~

  Flidais surprised me. The day after Bramble’s escape, my lady emerged from her quarters to take her place beside me at the breakfast table. Her appearance still gave me concern; though lovely as a spring flower in her deep blue gown and cream overdress, with her hair braided in a circlet, she was ghostly pale and had dark smudges under her eyes. I passed her the choicest morsels of food and ensured her ale cup was refilled. She sat quiet as a mouse, with Mhairi in attendance behind her. Her other women were seated with members of my household, and appeared to be enjoying their release from seclusion. Despite the very recent loss of one of their number, their table was lively with conversation.

  ‘I hope you are feeling better, Lady Flidais,’ said Donagan, who sat on my other side. ‘Prince Oran mentioned headaches. The local wise woman is very good, so folk say.’

  Flidais managed a wan smile. ‘I am somewhat recovered, thank you. No need for the wise woman’s services. Does she visit the household often?’

  ‘Mistress Blackthorn is newly arrived in the district,’ I said. ‘I understand she mostly looks after the folk of the settlement and the farms. We’ll need to put some arrangement in place for the future, now that we are living permanently at Winterfalls. A household physician, perhaps, if you are not comfortable with a wise woman.’

  Flidais made no comment.

  ‘My mother will most likely insist on a physician,’ I added, then caught Donagan’s look. I knew him well; he was warning me not to rush into the topic of childbirth and confinement. I turned a quelling look on him. My judgement was not quite as woefully askew as he believed. ‘But there is no need for a decision yet. I’m delighted that you are a little better, Flidais. It’s a fine day. Perhaps we might go walking after breakfast? I would love to show you some of the places we spoke of in our letters.’ She flinched visibly, and I remembered too late that I had been eloquent in my praise of Dreamer’s Wood. ‘Just around the farm for now. I know you enjoy a good walk, and Bramble’s recent adventure suggests she would appreciate the exercise. On the leash, of course. There are farm dogs here that would frighten her.’

  ‘Whatever you prefer, Oran. You must be busy.’

  ‘I think the household can do without me for a little,’ I said with a smile. ‘You’ll find my folk are very capable. If you prefer a quiet morning, I could show you my library. I have a small surprise for you there, which I’m hoping you will enjoy. But you must be the one to choose how we spend the day. I am at your service, my lady.’

  She looked almost alarmed, though I had spoken lightly. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘But it’s not for me – that is, a walk would be good. I should learn where everything is. And meet everyone. It seems quite a large household.’

  ‘Wait until you see Cahercorcan,’ I said with a grimace. ‘You will get a taste of it when my parents and their attendants arrive in a few days. My advice is, enjoy the quiet while you can.’

  In the endless time of waiting for Flidais’s arrival at Winterfalls, I had often pictured us out walking, just the two of us, hand in hand or arm in arm, sharing our delight in the plants and creatures that were abundant around Winterfalls, exchanging tales and tender words as we went. That could not happen until we were husband and wife. I had no qualms about going out unattended, but with Flidais’s reputation at stake, I had to be mindful of what was considered correct. I suggested that she bring Mhairi, who seemed to have taken Ciar’s place as her personal maid. And I asked Donagan to come with us. While the women went off to fetch cloaks and change their shoes, he and I waited in the garden.

  ‘But where is Bramble?’ I asked as Flidais and Mhairi came out to join us.

  ‘I thought it best not to bring her,’ said Flidais. ‘She seems to have taken against me; it’s all snarling and snapping now.’

  I hesitated before speaking. If I challenged her handling of Bramble she might be offended. On the other hand, I was sure she was wrong. ‘My aunt, who is coming here to stay soon, is something of an expert on dogs. She’s of the opinion that if a good dog starts behaving badly, the best remedy is to keep her – or him – busy. She would recommend exercise, I’m certain.’

  Flidais dropped her gaze as if I had chastised her. It seemed she was indeed offended.

  ‘My lord,’ put in Mhairi, ‘Bramble will very likely snap and bite all the way, or bark and howl. She’s been keeping Lady Flidais awake at night with her carry-on.’

  I recalled the terrified little creature I had found at the burial ground. How she had crept close, nestling against me. How she had fallen asleep in my arms. I thought of the portrait, with mistress and pet depicted in a pose of deepest trust and affection. Whatever had gone wrong between them, it was important to remedy it quickly. No wonder my lady was in poor spirits. ‘Let’s try, shall we?’ I suggested. ‘Bramble can be kept on the leash, and if we happen to encounter the farm dogs, I will carry her.’

  All three of them, Donagan included, stared at me as if I were out of my wits. Then Mhairi said, ‘Yes, my lord,’ and went back to fetch the dog. What ensued was a little awkward. When Mhairi re-emerged from the women’s quarters with Bramble on the leash, Flidais’s pet was struggling against the restraint. We had heard her yelps of complaint well before she appeared. When she saw us, Bramble stiffened, falling abruptly silent. Then she ran toward me, hauling Mhairi along behind her. I crouched to greet the dog. She put her forefeet up on my knee and tried to lick my face. No greeting for her beloved mistress; Flidais might as well not have been there.

  ‘You’ve made a friend,’ observed Donagan, who perhaps did not quite understand the subtleties of the situation.

  ‘So it seems.’ I rose to my feet. ‘Go to your mistress, little one. There she is, see?’

  ‘She won’t walk with me.’ Flidais was looking at the ground. ‘Mhairi will take her.’

  ‘Which way would you like to go?’ I asked, hoping the walk would lift her spirits as well as the dog’s. ‘We should avoid the stables, which are over there. Bramble is certainly not ready for an encounter with Eochu’s lurchers, though they’re well trained.’ The mare my father had chosen as a wedding gift for Flidais had arrived and was being settled by our grooms; I would take my lady to see it some other time, without Bramble.

  I had thought Flidais might ask to visit the place where Ciar had been buried, but all she said was, ‘You choose, Oran.’

  ‘Let’s walk to the top of that rise, up past the farm cottages,’ I suggested. ‘See, where the hazel trees are? From there we can show you the lie of the land.’ As we set off, I added, ‘The folk of Winterfalls settlement will be anxious to get to know you. I visit them regularly, and they come here for my monthly open council, where we hear various matters of concern, arbitrate on disputes and so on. And chat over cakes and ale afterwards. There’s been much interest in my future bride, as you may imagine.’ Gods, I seemed capable of only the most stilted of utterances this morning. Where was the fluent poet of the letters? Perhaps I should have defied convention and left both
Donagan and Mhairi behind. It was not as if my lady and I were likely to engage in any form of intimacy out here, with so many folk going along the paths or working in the fields.

  ‘My lady,’ put in Donagan, ‘Prince Oran may have told you in his letters that his territory covers an area far wider than Winterfalls and its surrounding farmlands. There’s another village, Silverlake, to the east, as well as various smaller settlements in the hills around. Folk come in from everywhere for the council. You’ll have an opportunity to attend two such gatherings before your handfasting.’

  Flidais said nothing. Her eyes were on Bramble, who was doing her best to prove her mistress’s misgivings well founded. The dog pulled in one direction then another, skittered underfoot, wound the lead around Mhairi’s legs, whining.

  ‘You see, my lord?’ said Mhairi.

  ‘Let me take her.’ I crouched down again and spoke to the dog in an undertone, words designed to soothe. I did not try to pat her; she was trembling in a way that was all too familiar.

  ‘Mhairi should take her back to the house. I cannot imagine what has got into the creature. Like this, she is not fit company for anyone,’ said Flidais.

  This felt wrong. It did not match the way I had expected things to be. Remembering Donagan’s advice to take control, I picked Bramble up, took the leash from Mhairi and settled the dog in my arms. The yapping ceased. She stuck her nose under my arm, as if that might make her invisible.

  ‘I’ll carry her until she’s calmer,’ I said. ‘Now, that cottage is Aedan and Fíona’s. He is my very capable steward, and I imagine you have met his wife already – she supervises most of the indoor folk. The one next to it is Niall’s . . .’

  As our tour continued, Flidais grew even quieter. I realised it must be difficult to remember everything. I assured her that nobody expected her to do so overnight. We reached the hazel grove, and Donagan and I pointed out the barn, the stables, the boundaries, the way to the settlement. We explained what crops we grew, what animals we raised, how our trading was conducted with the folk of the community. Mhairi asked more questions than Flidais did, and I saw Flidais frown at her maidservant as if she thought this inappropriate. No doubt, back home at Cloud Hill, her parents ran their household along more conventional lines. I was immensely glad of the arrangement that had allowed me to make Winterfalls my home, for I could not put my own philosophies into practice at Cahercorcan. At least, not until I became king, and I hoped that was a long way off.