"Parrus is going to met us tomorrow at the border crossroads."
"Not till then!"
"You'd have been less likely to turn back then. I've always found it best not to offer people too many choices."
"You are a snake."
"But I'm a smart snake. And I'm a snake on your side. You'll come home alive, sister. Don't worry. Come on now, please let me loose."
"You should have asked me first," I said. "Then none of this would have happened."
But I let him loose and I let them persuade me that Parrus should come with us. I didn't see that I had much choice. I had no intention of withdrawing from the expedition and I suspect Tomas knew as much.
Later when Tomas was outside checking the horses I asked Hamel.
"Why did Tomas get so angry at you before?"
Hamel shrugged guiltily. "The issue of marriage is a sore one with Tomas."
"Why? Tell me Hamel. Is it a subject I should avoid?"
"Several years ago Tomas was in love with a woman in our village. For him it was the great love, though he's always been something of a ladies man. In those days, he just took life as it came. He worked at the inn looking after the horses. He and I and Lucien Sercel used to go fishing together. And there was this woman. Marie-Lousie. She was a wealthy farmer's daughter and was courted by most of the village, but she favored Tomas, loved him, I think. A loving passed between them and she became pregnant. Tomas was overjoyed by this. He thought her father would be forced to let her marry him, a thing that would have not been possible before. But Marie-Louise wasn't about to marry the ostler at an inn and have the entire village laughing at her, or to bring her father's wrath and maybe his disinheritance down on her. So she accepted one of her other suitors, the right suitor, another well-off farmers son. I heard her tell Tomas that to marry an inn whore's bastard would shame her too much. I don't think Tomas had ever given such ideas any thought before then. He changed and became bitter. He left the inn and went to work for the Sercels and Lord Sandor began to make something of him as he'd always wanted to."
"It must have been very hard on Tomas."
"It wasn't the worst thing. The worst thing came a few years later. Tomas had hardly been back to Annac in that time, but one day Marnie sent for him. The two of them went out to see Marie-Louise and when they came back, they came back with Tomas' son. It seemed that her new husband had never forgiven her for being pregnant to another man. He'd taken to beating the both of them, but especially the "cuckoo in his nest". The poor child was but three and yet he was near to death when Tomas bought him home. They healed him as best they could, but he will always limp and he will never hear again in one ear. Tomas loves his son. Since he has had care of Martin, he has become even hungrier for things. I can understand what made him so but sometimes I cannot like this new Tomas. This was the only time he ever spoke badly to our mother. He told her she had made him believe in a way of living that was just not practical, that his illegitimacy had ruined his life and now his son's. Marnie wept."
He stared into the fire. "Part of her believed him."
"But they made it up?"
"Oh yes! Tomas adored Marnie and she cared for Martin until she died. She had a way with children. In some ways she was much like one herself."
"What did you think of our mother?"
"What does a person think of their mother? You love your mother. But to tell you the truth, for a long time, I tried not to think of it at all. The world, people round Annac, my father even, could not decide if Marnie was whore or a fool, bad or mad."
This was the question I badly wanted an answer to.
"What do you think?"
"She was just Marnie. Her rules for right and wrong were different from other peoples. It may have been the Wanderer in her. Tomas told you about her marriage? She used to say that people are who they are and shouldn't have to try to be something else just to please other people." He shrugged. "Perhaps parents are always a mystery to their children."
"But why did she have so many children, by so many men? Its true, isn't it? Each of us had a different father."
"And you know the thing that still puzzles me. She didn't have to have any children at all." He looked a little embarrassed. "I suspect you may have discovered this yourself. A woman with magical powers can prevent herself from conceiving. Marnie told me she chose to have us all."
"All except me," said Tomas.
Both Hamel and I jumped guiltily. Tomas came into the room and sat down beside the fire.
"You're wondering why Marnie had so many children, Dion?" said Tomas. "When Marnie was working for the Sercels, she was trying to be respectable. She was trying to forget that she was the bastard child of a passing Wanderer woman and our grandfather, trying to live the way people in our village and her father and half-brother thought proper. But she fell in love with Sandor Sercel and she loved him so much that I was conceived, unintentionally with intent if you can understand that. And I ruined her.
"Of course she meant nothing to Sandor and when she realized this she was heartbroken. She went down to the wild side of Lake Lammer, with desperate confused thoughts in her head and me growing inside her. She told me both our lives hung in the balance then, for she was not sure who to do away with. She liked the thought of throwing herself in the lake far better than the more sensible thought of getting rid of me.
"A storm came across the lake, the sky was thunderous grey, so heavy she felt as if it would crush her and the lake was black and angry thrashing at the shore. Yet where she was, a patch of sun had broken through the clouds. It was like another world and like a voice from that other world she heard the sound of someone singing and she saw a man coming along the lake's edge. He was a Wanderer with hair like milk and he was dressed all in rags. His feet stuck out of his tattered shoes. She had not spoken to a Wanderer since her mother had left her at Grandfather's door as a six year old child and the sight of him filled her with a strange joy. He came up to her as she stood there and said "Do not destroy the child within you. Foretelling has shown that your children will repay all the ills you will suffer for their sakes and be your most abiding joy."
There was silence in the room except for the crackling of the fire. In my mind's eye, I could almost see the lake, with the angry black clouds rolling over it, the strange unearthly sun and on the shore, the fair-haired servant girl and the tattered man with milk-white hair. I felt so sad for her, this betrayed girl with the now familiar face. She was so young when it happened.
"She followed this man to the Wanderer encampment and stayed with them for several days. I'm not sure what happened there, but somehow they comforted her so that she was able to go on. She always said she felt completed when she was with them. Part of the problem between her and old Cremer was that he forbade her to see them."
"She never thought of travelling with the Wanderers?" I asked. It was an idea that sometimes appealed me.
"It seems appealing in summer, doesn't it," said Tomas, "but in winter ... Such a life is very hard with a small child. Sleeping under hedgerows and begging. People are not good to Wanderers. Look how many leave the Wandering life. Only the real wild Wanderers keep wandering all their lives and they are not always the easiest of companions."
I nodded remembering the drugged or drunken Wanderers I had seen in the forest.
"To answer your question though, in my darker moments, I have thought that she got the rest of us simply so she could get you Dion. Because it had been foretold that her seventh child would be special.
I stared at him in horror.
"Tomas," cried Hamel. "That's an awful thing to say. You know you don't think any such thing. Our mother would never have let her life be driven by foretellings like that."
Tomas grinned and I realized that he was scratching at me. It seemed to be