‘Move one step further and I’ll slit her throat,’ he said, and Finbar stopped dead, white-faced. There was no sound save for the single note of a distant bird calling to a rival; and Simon’s laboured breathing somewhere behind me. Finbar stretched out his hands very slowly, showing them relaxed and empty; and then he lowered himself to the ground, back straight as a young tree, eyes watchful. His freckles stood out against his pallor and his mouth was a thin line. I could hear Father Brien humming to himself within the cottage. The knife eased away from my throat, slightly.
‘This is your brother?’
‘One of them,’ I managed, my voice coming out in a sort of squeak. Simon loosened his grip a little. ‘Finbar saved you. He brought you here.’
‘Why?’ The voice was flat.
‘I believe in freedom,’ said Finbar with admirable steadiness. ‘I’ve tried to right wrongs where I can. You are not the first I have helped in such a way, though what became of them afterwards I do not know. Will you let my sister go?’
‘Why should I believe you? Who in his right mind would send a little girl into his enemy’s arms, alone except for a doddering cleric? Who would turn traitor to his own family? What sort of man does that? Maybe you have a troop of warriors, there in the trees, ready to take me and finish what they started.’ Simon’s voice was under control, but I could feel the tension in his body, and knew staying upright and holding me must be agony for him. He would not last much longer. I spoke to Finbar directly, without words, mind straight to mind.
Leave this to me. Trust me.
Finbar blinked at me, relaxing his guard for a moment. I read in his thoughts an anger and confusion that I had not seen in him before.
It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s him.
I have never been prone to the weaker characteristics of a woman; in fact, despite my small size and apparent delicacy I am a strong person and able to endure much. I should never have thought myself capable of such a deception, and I risked much in my guess at Simon’s probable reaction. But at the time, it was the only thing I could think of. So I gave a slight moan, and buckled at the knees, and it was to Simon’s credit that he dropped the knife and managed to catch me before I hit the ground. I kept my eyes firmly shut, listening to Finbar making noises of brotherly concern, and Simon regaining his weapon and warning my brother away. Then Father Brien’s voice – alerted by the noise, he was at my side quickly and wiping my face with a damp cloth that smelt of lavender. Opening my eyes cautiously, I met a very wry expression on the good Father’s face. He didn’t miss much.
I turned my head one way. Finbar sat exactly as before, cross-legged, bolt upright, his expression well-schooled. I turned my head the other way. Simon was very close, his back against a large stone, the knife held loosely between his hands. I felt he had been watching me, but now his eyes were turned away, towards the trees. I did not like the look of his skin, which was showing that sweaty pallor that I’d hoped was gone for good.
All four of us were apparently at a loss as to where to go next. The problem was solved unexpectedly by the wolfhound, Linn, who had tired of her rabbit hunt, and now hurtled towards us out of the forest, ecstatic to see so many friends at once. First she leapt on Finbar, planting her feet on his shoulders and washing his face with some vigour. Then she bolted over to me, careless of my apparently delicate state of health, and planted heavy feet on my stomach in passing. She circled Simon, quivering with anticipation, but careful, still, not to hurt him.
‘Well, children,’ said Father Brien matter-of-factly, ‘I shall fetch a cup of mead, for I believe we all have need of it. Then we shall talk. Try not to harm one another for a few moments, I beg you.’
He rose, and Simon let him go. Clearly, though, I was not yet free to do the same, for as soon as I managed to sit upright I felt his hand around my arm again, and there was still a fierce determination in his grip. Clearly there was some reserve of strength there that even I had not guessed at.
We sat in uneasy silence until Father Brien returned, bearing a jug and some cups, and then Finbar began to speak in our tongue.
‘No!’ I said sharply, cutting him off. ‘Speak so that Simon can understand you. There have been enough secrets already. We may be enemies but we can at least be civil.’
‘You think so?’ said Finbar, brows raised. ‘The Briton here has hardly shown civility.’
‘Now,’ said Father Brien, giving each of us a cup, ‘let us simulate a truce, at least, and attempt to sort this out. I believe Finbar is here on peaceful business, young man; he was to collect his sister and escort her home.’
‘As you see, I am unarmed,’ said Finbar, his hands open on his knees. A strand of hair fell across his eyes, but he made no attempt to brush it away. It was me he was watching this time. ‘I’m here to fetch Sorcha, that’s all. I had been thinking of asking after your health, to see maybe if saving you was worth the bother; but I won’t trouble myself with that now.’
He has no intention of hurting me. Can’t you see that?
Finbar raised his brows at me, disbelieving. Simon was silent, his cup untouched on the grass beside him. I felt his hand burning against my skin, through the thin fabric of my dress. The dog sniffed at the mead.
‘Any news from your father, Finbar?’ Father Brien asked casually.
‘Not yet. It will be some time longer, I think. Your patient will be safe enough until he can travel. It would be good to be able to say the same for my sister. For one who was called here to heal, it seems she has not been treated kindly. I think I have come none too soon.’
Simon’s voice was cruel. ‘What did you expect? A jubilant welcome? Fawning gratitude? Give me one reason why I should be thankful to be returned to life!’
There was a silence.
‘Son,’ said Father Brien eventually, ‘the future seems dark to you at present, and there is no telling where your way will lead. But there is a light on every path. In time you will find it.’
‘Spare me your homespun faith,’ said Simon wearily. ‘I despise it, and you.’
‘You are hardly in a position to throw it back in his face,’ said Finbar mildly. ‘He cares for you and your kind because of that very faith. Without it, he might be a killer like my kinsmen. And, perhaps, like yours.’
‘Indeed, I was once just such a man. I know the power of a cause, and how it can blind you to reality. Finbar sees this already. Perhaps your mission in life will be to learn it.’ Father Brien was reflective.
‘What do I care for your missions! I am fit for nothing. As fast as she patches me up, I fall apart, stinking of decay. You would have done better not to meddle, but to leave me where I was. The end would have been quicker.’ Simon’s voice was still under control, but a convulsive shiver ran through his body. I opened my mouth to speak, but Finbar got in first.
‘I’m taking my sister home,’ he said. ‘I thought to help you, and so did she. But I will not have her hurt or threatened. We have done what we can, and it seems you have no further need for our services.’
Simon laughed derisively. ‘Not so fast, big brother,’ he said. ‘I still have my knife, and I am not quite helpless. The little witch stays with me. You sent her here to heal me; so let her heal me. For she seems to believe the impossible can happen, if we do not.’
‘You forget that she is just a child,’ said Father Brien.
‘Child? Huh!’ Simon gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘Outwardly, perhaps. But she’s like no child I’ve ever known. What child knows the properties of herbs, and a thousand stories each stranger than the last, and how to …’ His voice faltered. Finbar glanced