‘What’s going on?’ I asked, bewildered.
‘Ask him,’ said Padriac furiously. ‘Ask him why he won’t come in and touch his own dog. The guilt’s written on his face, plain to see. This is his handiwork. Forgive me if I don’t stay to chat.’ And he was gone, brushing past his elder brother as if he were not there.
‘Can this be true?’ I said, horrified and incredulous. ‘Did you do this, Cormack?’ Surely Padriac was wrong. It was Cormack who had saved this dog from drowning, Cormack who had raised her from a small pup, Cormack whose steps she followed with slavish devotion. My brothers might show little mercy to their enemies on the field, but they would never wilfully hurt a creature in their charge.
I stared mutely as Cormack made his way over to the stalls and stood looking down at his damaged hound. He held his arms around himself as if unable to get warm, and when I moved closer I could see that his cheeks were wet.
‘You did do it,’ I whispered. ‘Cormack, how could you? She is a good dog, faithful and true, and sweet-tempered. What possessed you to hurt her?’
He would not look at me. ‘I don’t know,’ he said finally, his voice thick with tears. ‘I was in the yard, practising, and she ran up behind me and I – I don’t know what got into me, I just let fly with my staff. It was almost as if someone else was doing it.’
I opened my mouth to speak, then thought better of it.
‘It wasn’t as if she were even in the way, Sorcha. Just – just suddenly, I was angry and I hit her.’
‘Speak to her,’ I said. ‘She forgives you, look.’
Hearing his voice Linn had raised her damaged head from the straw, and her long tail was thumping weakly. The donkey grumbled in its sleep.
‘I can’t,’ said Cormack bleakly. ‘How do I know I won’t do it again? I’m not fit for any company, man’s or beast’s.’
‘You did a cruel thing,’ I said slowly. ‘There’s no undoing it. You are just lucky that your brother had the skill to mend this damage. But she needs your love, as well, to get better. A dog does not judge you. She loves you, no matter what you do.’
Linn gave a whine.
‘Go on,’ I said. ‘Pat her, talk to her. Then she can sleep easy.’
‘But what if –’
‘You won’t do it again,’ I said grimly. ‘Trust yourself, Cormack.’
He knelt down, finally, and put out a tentative hand to stroke her neck, never taking his eyes off that ghastly, disfiguring wound. Linn turned her head with some difficulty, and licked his hand. That was how I left them.
I move reluctantly towards a part of our story that is difficult to tell; though not the most difficult. So, we had supper, and Cormack was not there, and neither was Finbar. Father commented on this and was greeted with a wall of silence by his remaining children. Father Brien sat quietly near the foot of the table. He ate sparingly, and excused himself early. Eilis kept glancing nervously at the lady Oonagh, like a frightened animal. Liam held her hand under the table, but his face was like stone. Nobody needed to tell me that Father Brien’s talk to Father hadn’t changed anything.
Then it was late at night, and most of the household was asleep. As the only girl, I had the luxury of my own chamber for sleeping, and that was where my brothers gathered. We were all there but Diarmid, though Cormack’s eyes were red, and he would not sit by his youngest brother. Finbar had appeared from nowhere, like a shadow. We lit seven white candles, and burned juniper berries, and sat there in silence for a while thinking of our mother and trying to share what strength we had. There had been no chance to visit the birch tree together, so we communed with her as best we could. The fire was down to embers, the candles threw a steady light on solemn faces and linked hands.
At such times, we spoke if words came to us, but were content to draw strength from one another’s touch, and from our shared thoughts. Not that all of us could communicate mind to mind, as Finbar and I did. That was a skill reserved for few, and how we came by it is a mystery. But still, the seven of us were well tuned to one another, and could feel without words the pain and joy and fear of our siblings. That night, we felt Diarmid’s absence like the loss of a limb, for we were united in our sense of impending doom, and our network of protection was incomplete without him. Nobody would hazard a guess at his whereabouts.
Liam shifted slightly, and a candle flickered, sending shadows dancing high on the walls.
‘We draw our strength from the great oaks of the forest,’ he said quietly. ‘As they take their nourishment from the soil, and from the rains that feed the soil, so we find our courage in the pattern of living things around us. They stand through storm and tempest, they grow and renew themselves. Like a grove of young oaks, we remain strong.’
Conor, who was seated on his left, took over.
‘The light of these candles is but the reflection of a greater light. It shines from the islands beyond the western sea. It gleams in the dew and on the lake, in the stars of the night sky, in every reflection of the spirit world. This light is always in our hearts, guiding our way. And should any of us lose the light, there will be brother or sister to guide him, for the seven of us are as one.’
It was Cormack’s turn next, but he was silent for so long I thought he had decided not to speak. At last he blurted out, ‘I did a bad thing today. So bad I should not be here. Tell them, Sorcha. Tell them, Padriac. It has already begun, the shame, the spoiling. I don’t think I can do this any more; I’m not fit for it.’
Liam and Conor and Finbar looked at him. Padriac opened his mouth, but I got in first. ‘He hurt his dog,’ I said. ‘Hurt her quite badly, and for nothing. She’ll recover, thanks to Padriac’s skill. He blames himself; wrongly, I think.’
‘How wrongly?’ blazed Padriac. ‘He did it, he said as much himself.’
‘What he said was, it was almost as if someone else was doing it,’ I said. ‘What if someone else was doing it?’
‘You mean –’
‘I’ve felt it myself,’ I went on miserably. ‘Looking into her mirror. She did it somehow, by brushing my hair, with her mind, with her voice. She tried to take away my will, to make me say and do things I didn’t want to. And she was very strong. I could not quite keep her out.’
‘She was there,’ said Cormack slowly, incredulously. ‘On the steps, at the practice yard. She was with Father, watching me. She was there. Could she have – but no, surely not.’
‘But why?’ asked Padriac angrily. ‘Why should she wish to do such a thing? There’s no reason to it, it’s just a piece of petty trickery. She’s marrying him, hasn’t she got what she wants already? And Linn is innocent. Would she cause her suffering for nothing?’
Conor’s mind was on a different track. ‘What did she try to glean from you, Sorcha? What did she want to know?’
‘Just – things. About me, and all of you – she asked about each of you. Little things. But it felt bad, not as if she just wanted to get to know us, but –’ I shivered. ‘I don’t know. As if she would store the information and use it somehow. Use it against us.’
Conor turned back to his twin. ‘You love this dog,’ he said, looking Cormack straight in the eye. ‘She is a part of you. She owes her life to you. You would not hurt her.’
‘But I did hurt her. No matter who made me, who put the thought into my head, it was my hand that struck the blow.’
‘What’s done is done,’ said Conor. ‘You cannot change that. But you can make it better, you know how. Be the dog, feel her pain, feel her sense of betrayal. Feel also her simplicity, her forgiving, her love and trust for you. The two of you will heal together.’ He dropped my hand and took Cormack’s, drawing