Den of Wolves

by Juliet Marillier

  ‘It’s nothing.’ I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. ‘I should be on my way. You must have work to get on with.’

  ‘Nothing that can’t wait. Ide told me about you. How you birthed Fann’s child when everyone thought she would die and the boy with her. And she told us about Grim. A fine man, she said. A good man.’

  ‘He is. But we’re not – we are friends, he and I. Thrown together by chance.’ The words sounded like a betrayal. The tone I attempted, light and inconsequential, made a mockery of the truth.

  ‘When you have a man like that, you should hold on to him,’ Luíseach said quietly. ‘Such a man is rare. Worth his weight in gold, and more.’

  I wiped my face again. ‘Not so easy,’ I said, wishing I had the strength to get up and walk out before I waded in too deep. ‘Give your heart to someone and you spend your life in fear of losing them. In terror of seeing them hurt.’

  Luíseach stared at me, her sweet features creased with worry. ‘You’re the kind that takes on other folk’s burdens,’ she said. ‘That’s what Ide said, and I see it in you. Don’t load yourself up too heavy. Even the strongest heart has a breaking point.’

  If Grim were here right now, I thought, he would bear half the load for me. If he were here I could lean on him. And when he was in trouble I would take my turn as the strong one. I didn’t want him to be at Wolf Glen. I wanted him home. ‘I should go,’ I said, getting up. ‘Thank you for talking so frankly, Luíseach. Don’t worry, you didn’t tell me anything about Cara or any other baby. Wise women are good at keeping secrets.’

  ‘What worries me,’ Luíseach said, ‘is what happens when this particular secret does come out. That girl looks like she’d break easily. Looks like a puff of wind would carry her off. My boy’s fond of her, though he doesn’t want me to know it.’

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ I said. ‘Underneath, Cara’s as strong as an oak.’

  As I rode back to Winterfalls, taking the shorter way, sudden rain came pelting down, whip-hard. The noise was deafening. I did not know I had company until the two riders loomed up, one on either side of me. My horse shied in fright and I nearly came off. One of them dismounted and reached for the mare’s reins. I whipped my knife from my belt and pointed it in his general direction. It was raining so hard I couldn’t see his face clearly.

  ‘Lay a hand on me and I’ll cut off your fingers!’ I snarled. My whole body was shaking; my heart was jumping about. ‘I mean it! I’ll do it! Don’t doubt me!’ Mathuin’s lackeys. They had to be. Who else would be out here waiting for me? They were here to make me talk. To force information out of me. Those bastards were expert at that. They would throw me back in that vile place and torture me until I broke all over again. They’d wring every scrap of dignity from me. Just like last time. Only it wouldn’t happen. I’d kill them first. Or I’d take the knife to my own wrists.

  ‘Mistress Blackthorn!’ The man was shouting to be heard over the downpour. ‘Let us escort you back to Winterfalls.’

  ‘Let go of my horse!’ I screamed. ‘Get out of my way!’ Escort, hah! I’d need to be stupid to believe that.

  The other one was off his horse now and grabbing for the knife. I struggled to control the panicking mare as I slashed out in defence, snarling an oath. Then, so quick I hardly knew what had happened, the first man had hold of the mare’s reins and the other had twisted the knife out of my hand. Bile rose to my mouth.

  ‘It’s a choice, Mistress Blackthorn,’ said the man with the knife. ‘You can keep on fighting us, so we have to tie your wrists and take you under guard. Or you can see sense and ride along with us. Ségán wants you escorted wherever you go from now on. Our orders are to bring you safely back.’

  Wait a moment. Ségán wants? I narrowed my eyes, trying to get a better look at them through the downpour. Made myself draw a slow breath; did not like the way it shuddered in my chest. Yes, they were familiar. Swan Island men, from Winterfalls. Why had they set on me with such violence?

  ‘You scared me,’ I said. ‘What business is it of Ségán’s or anyone else’s where I go or what I do?’ They could still be in Mathuin’s pay. I had doubted them from the first time I saw them. I’d never understood why they were in the district.

  ‘He’ll explain that back at Winterfalls,’ said one of them. I guessed it was the man called Caolchú, though I wasn’t sure. The other one was probably Art, the tallest of them.

  ‘Why don’t you explain it right here and now? You could be taking me anywhere.’

  ‘Our orders are to bring you back. And to keep you safe. What has to be said is best said behind closed doors.’

  ‘Behind closed doors where nobody can see or hear what’s going on.’ Winterfalls? I didn’t think so. If not all the way to Mathuin’s hellhole, they’d take me to some place just like it. I tried to keep my breathing steady. Tried thinking of Grim, but that didn’t help. I saw him in the lockup with me, staring out through the bars, a big, shaggy-bearded man with sad eyes. Calling me Lady when everyone else had a foul name for me. Talking to me softly amid the screaming and shouting and the begging for mercy. ‘At least have the guts to tell me the truth,’ I said. ‘Who really sent you? Where are you really taking me?’

  Art had stuck my knife in his belt. Caolchú was putting a leading rein on the mare. Short of leaping off and attempting to outrun two fit warriors, I had few choices. It was one of those moments when I’d have welcomed a sudden appearance by Conmael, who doubtless had the ability to turn men into toads whenever he liked. Unfortunately my small facility in hearth magic did not stretch so far.

  ‘We mean you no harm, Mistress Blackthorn. Please believe that.’ Caolchú checked the leading rein, then mounted his own horse. ‘Our purpose is to make sure you get back to Winterfalls safely, no more, I promise. When we get there Ségán will talk to you. The matter is confidential. I cannot discuss it here.’

  ‘I’m not talking to anyone without a witness. Someone impartial.’ Why would they think I needed an escort to get home safely? Why bother riding out in the rain when they could simply have waited until I reached Winterfalls? This made no sense.

  ‘It’s not for me to say yes or no to that. You can ask Ségán.’ He pulled his hood up. If anything the rain was getting heavier. Both of us were shouting to be heard above it. ‘We’ll move on now. He wants us back as soon as possible.’ A pause, then, ‘You’re safe with us, Mistress Blackthorn. You have my word on that. And the word of an Island man is always good.’

  Ségán was waiting in the library. I stepped through the doorway, my clothing dripping onto Fíona’s immaculate floor, and saw in an instant what was on the table before him. My notes. My precious, secret testament. Cara had told him. She had seen where I’d hidden them, and she had betrayed me.

  ‘Sit down, Mistress Blackthorn.’ The hawk-like features were calm; the tone was even. He motioned to the bench opposite his. ‘Caolchú, you might have allowed Mistress Blackthorn to change her wet clothing first. Take her cloak, please, and send someone to fetch a warm shawl.’

  Caolchú left; the door closed behind him. Which left four people in the library: Ségán seated at the table, and me, and two other men – Cúan and Earc – standing at a slight distance. They appeared to be on guard.

  ‘Do sit down,’ Ségán said again. ‘You’ve had a long ride.’

  ‘I want a witness,’ I said, not moving. ‘Someone impartial. Aedan. Or one of Prince Oran’s men-at-arms.’

  ‘The matter is extremely confidential.’ Ségán waved his hand across the closely written leaves of my document. ‘I’m certain Prince Oran would not want even his trusted steward or his reliable guards to become aware of it before he is ready to tell them. Such knowledge could endanger them. I give you my word that I mean you no harm. I will not ask you to leave the safety of this household. What I will ask, indeed insist upon, is that any time you choose to do so, you take one of us with you.’r />
  I could have protested that the calls on a healer’s time and expertise did not fit a neat pattern; that women in childbirth or folk with grave illnesses did not want armed men on their doorsteps. I could have raised a dozen other objections. But right now that did not seem of pressing importance. ‘I’m not answering any questions until you tell me, at the very least, what you and your men are doing here. I know the official story, that you’re augmenting the household guard because so many of the men-at-arms went to court with the prince. But household guards don’t haul the local wise woman in for questioning. They don’t stop her on her travels and drag her back home like some miscreant.’

  ‘As I understand it,’ Ségán said, ‘you were the one who drew a knife and threatened to chop off Caolchú’s fingers. And weren’t you heading back here anyway?’

  Caolchú must have delivered that information in the time it had taken me to get off the mare, shivering and cramped, and follow Art to the library. ‘I believed I was under attack,’ I said. ‘What was I supposed to do, collapse in a trembling heap?’

  Briefly, Ségán smiled. ‘If this document is a true account, Mistress Blackthorn, then that is the last thing I would expect of you. My men were anticipating that you would recognise them. Your response was . . . surprising.’

  ‘If you’ve read those pages, it shouldn’t surprise you in the least,’ I snapped. ‘Besides, it was raining hard. I could barely see a thing. Now tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘We are indeed here to augment the household guard.’

  ‘And?’

  He leaned back in his chair; appeared to relax just a little. ‘Let me explain something to you. Swan Island men have several strings to their bows. We train warriors who come to us. Train them in skills they cannot learn from their own masters-at-arms. Train them to a level unlikely to be achieved elsewhere. Occasionally, we undertake missions. Most leaders have their own fighting forces and need not look beyond them. But sometimes there comes a need for special services. Unusual ways of solving problems. Skills beyond those possessed even by the most elite of men-at-arms. Where a leader faces a difficulty and the only way to overcome that difficulty involves breaking established codes of conduct – breaking the rules, if you like – then that leader may call on us. The community on Swan Island was founded by a man commonly regarded at that time as an outlaw. A man who cared little for convention, but who believed in justice and fairness. In all we do, we continue to adhere to those principles.’

  My mind was working hard. ‘You’re telling me Prince Oran is prepared to break the rules? To break the law?’

  ‘You know already that we are in the district at Prince Oran’s invitation. I cannot answer further than that.’

  My heart was beating fast. My palms were clammy. ‘Not good enough,’ I said. ‘I understand that some matters are strategic and must be kept confidential. But at the very least you can explain to me why you sent two men to convey me back here, and scare me witless in the process, when I was heading home anyway. I’m not saying anything about that document on the table until you tell me that.’

  ‘Very well. There was an earlier attempt on your life, from a certain quarter. My men happened to be close at hand and took the individual into custody. He was questioned. The information he provided led us to believe there was a link between yourself and . . . Prince Oran’s enemy.’

  ‘Wait a moment . . .’ My mind was racing. An attempt on my life? When? ‘You don’t mean – do you mean that day in Dreamer’s Wood, when Cúan brought my assistant home? Emer said she saw a sort of scuffle, but – you mean that was one of Mathuin’s spies?’

  ‘We won’t speak of the details,’ Ségán said. ‘But yes, that was the occasion. A person was sent to silence you. Very fortunately, at the time my men were in the area and dealt with the attempt swiftly.’

  My stomach felt hollow. ‘What happened to the man?’

  ‘He won’t be troubling you any further.’

  ‘But that was some while ago. Why are you suddenly taking steps to protect me now? I could have been killed ten times over since then.’

  A slow smile spread over Ségán’s aquiline features. ‘Not with my men at Winterfalls, Mistress Blackthorn. Our role here extends to regular patrols of the district. What that man revealed suggested you might have information of value. Of such value, indeed, that you required immediate protection. We have been watching over you, to the extent that your work makes it possible to do so covertly.’

  ‘That doesn’t fully explain today’s episode, Ségán.’

  ‘Until today, we had not realised you were writing this document. Its existence, along with certain developments that I am not at liberty to tell you, changes the situation considerably.’

  ‘Not at liberty to tell me. But it’s my document. Which it appears you have read without my permission.’

  ‘Entirely justified, under the circumstances. Is this a true account, Mistress Blackthorn? Correct in every detail?’

  I’d have to tell him. I’d have to risk it. ‘It’s a true account of what happened, yes. In saying so, I’m trusting you with my life, Ségán. If the man named in that document knew it existed, he would work even harder to hunt me down, and this time he’d make sure he silenced me for good. Even with your men in the district.’

  ‘Which is why, from now on, we want you to take a personal guard – one of us – whenever you leave the safety of this household.’

  Could this be what it seemed to be? ‘Ségán. Might this document be . . . useful? In the work you are doing for Prince Oran?’

  ‘It might. It might be still more useful if the writer were present to back up her account in person.’

  Oh, gods! Was this the chance, the one chance I had dreamed of?

  ‘I must put something to you before we go any further, Mistress Blackthorn.’

  I waited. He had answered my question, in a manner of speaking. I owed him an answer in return.

  ‘If Prince Oran knew the contents of this account,’ Ségán said, ‘he would have told me about it. I must assume, therefore, that although you have been living and working in the district that lies under his authority for some considerable time, you chose not to divulge these important details to him. Why?’

  ‘You must have at least a little imagination, Ségán. You must have seen what conflict can do to a person. You must know how grief and loss and abuse can wear a person down; make them less than they once were. When we first came here I did not know the prince. My experience of men in authority had not been good; as a result I mistrusted all of them. It took time to realise Prince Oran was a good man, just and fair. By then, I . . . I had become settled here. My friend, too. I was afraid to confess the truth about our past. Afraid we would lose our home and our livelihood.’

  ‘And yet, you say you know Prince Oran is just and fair.’

  ‘Fear does strange things to a person. I’m not proud to admit that I held this back. But I would have told him. I would have told both of them, Oran and Flidais. In time.’

  ‘We’re running out of time. When they return, either you tell them or I do. It’s important, Mistress Blackthorn.’

  Oh, gods. I wished so much that I had told Oran long ago. Now, even if I did so willingly, it would look as if I had confessed only under pressure. ‘Will you let me tell him first? I would very much prefer that.’

  ‘Provided that occurs as early as possible, yes. I consider that the better way. He’ll need to know your written account exists, since it is rich in exactly the kind of detail that stands up well under scrutiny – names, dates, precise and factual descriptions of events. You should have been a lawman, Mistress Blackthorn.’

  ‘If you knew me better you would realise what a laughable idea that is.’ A shiver ran through me.

  ‘You have more questions, no doubt,’ Ségán said gravely. ‘Please remember that this conversation is in
strictest confidence. Not one word to anyone, you understand? I don’t believe I need to repeat that to you, Mistress Blackthorn. Your enemy – who is also the enemy of Prince Oran and his wife – is a powerful man, and we know he has a long reach. As for how your statement might be used, any discussion of that must wait for the prince’s return.’ I made to interrupt, but he silenced me with a raised hand. ‘I understand he will be back within a few days. Believe me, I am not authorised to give you further information. Nor do I have all the details myself yet.’

  A knock at the library door. Cúan went to open it and came back with a shawl, which I wrapped around my shoulders. The warmth was welcome. I reminded myself to be careful. It was an old trick, using kindness to make folk relax and give away secrets. I believed Ségán. But maybe I believed him because I wanted to – because he seemed to be offering the long-dreamed-of chance to bring my enemy to justice. How that could happen, I had no idea. But he had said the Island men worked outside the rules.

  ‘I want to believe you,’ I said. ‘But I’m cautious. With good reason.’ I glanced at the pages. ‘What happens to my document now?’

  ‘We will find a hiding place more secure than the one you used.’

  ‘How can I be sure you won’t send it straight to Mathuin of Laois? How can I know you won’t send a pigeon to give him the news within a day?’

  Ségán sighed. ‘Mistress Blackthorn, I do not know how to reassure you. Tell me, do you trust Prince Oran?’

  ‘Yes.’ Oran was a young man of high ideals, ideals he put into action every day in looking after his household and the folk of the district. ‘But you might have lied to him.’

  ‘He hired us, Mistress Blackthorn. We’re working for him. And he will soon be back here with more information for us.’ He indicated the pages on the table. ‘Now, do you need to write anything further, or is this account complete?’

  ‘It’s complete, more or less. I should go over it, check everything. If I have time.’