‘Niece?’ said the man, but his voice had softened a little. ‘I don’t know anything about any niece.’
‘Send a message to Lord Sean, if you will. Tell him his sister’s daughter is here. He’ll let us through.’
The armed men retreated to confer in private. There were glances in my direction, and more than one in Roisin’s as well. ‘Worse than last time,’ commented Peg. ‘Guard’s increased. Must be something afoot.’
‘They’ll let us through,’ said Dan.
There was quite a wait. The first night was spent camped by the guard post, while a man rode off down a near-invisible forest track bearing a message for my uncle. The next morning, very early, we were roused by the sound of muffled hoofbeats on the soft soil. While I was still putting aside my blankets and rubbing the sleep from my eyes, two men rode up and dismounted on the track and Dan Walker went forward to greet them. Two grey dogs, the size of small ponies, stood guard by the horses.
‘My lord.’
‘Dan Walker, isn’t it? No need for formality. I trust you’ve slept safe here.’
The man who spoke must be my uncle Sean. He had an authority about him which marked him instantly as a leader. He was of middle years, not so tall, but strongly built, with dark curling hair pulled tightly back from his face. His clothes were plain and serviceable, but of fine quality, and he, too, wore the symbol of the linked torcs. The other man, standing behind him, I could not see.
‘I hear,’ said my uncle, ‘that you’ve brought us an unexpected visitor.’
Dan Walker gave a little cough. ‘Promised her safekeeping to your door, my lord. She dwells close by the place we make our summer camp. The girl’s called Fainne.’
Because I could put it off no longer, I walked across to stand by Dan’s side. I looked up at my uncle Sean and gave a guarded smile.
‘Good morning, Uncle,’ I said very politely.
His expression changed as if he’d seen a ghost. ‘Brighid save us,’ he said softly. ‘You’re your mother’s daughter, sure enough.’
Then one of the very large dogs pushed past possessively to plant itself squarely in front of him, growling low in its throat as it fixed its fierce eyes on me.
‘Enough, Neassa,’ my uncle said, and the hound fell silent, but still she watched me. ‘You’re most welcome to our home, Fainne.’ He leaned forward to kiss me on one cheek and then the other. ‘This is quite a surprise.’
‘I’m sorry if it’s inconvenient.’
‘You’ll certainly find us in some upheaval at present, for we are in the midst of a major endeavour. But there’s a welcome for you at Sevenwaters, nonetheless. It will be best if you ride back with us. We’ve brought you a suitable mount. Dan and his folk can follow at more leisure, with an escort.’
‘No need for that,’ said Dan. ‘Besides, I did undertake to bring the lass all the way to Sevenwaters itself. My instructions were quite particular.’
Lord Sean’s eyes narrowed just a touch. ‘An escort is required for all coming in, and for all going out, friend or no. It’s as much for your own protection as anything. The days of slipping into Sevenwaters for a wedding or a wake are long gone. These are dangerous times. As for my niece, she is assured of safety with her family. You would not question that, surely?’
Dan gave a wry smile. ‘No, my lord,’ he replied.
‘You may wish to take a little time to ready yourself.’ My uncle looked at me more closely, perhaps observing the rumpled gown, the unplaited hair. ‘A bite to eat, maybe. But don’t be too long. It’s quite a ride.’
He drew Dan slightly away, as if to confer out of earshot, and now I could see the other man, his silent companion, waiting at a short distance, holding the bridles of three horses in his hand. This was a much older man, with soft, glossy hair that had once been chestnut brown but now was frosted with white; hair in which many small plaits had been woven and tied with coloured thread. He had a curiously unlined face and serene, ageless grey eyes; he wore a long white robe that shifted and changed about him, although there was no wind. He bore a staff of birch; and the pale morning sun shone on the golden torc around his neck.
‘You know me, I think.’ The voice was a druid’s voice, soft, like music, a trap to the ear and to the mind.
‘You are Conor, the arch druid?’
‘I am. Call me Uncle, if you don’t find that too confusing.’
‘I – yes, Uncle.’
‘Come closer, Fainne.’
I did so reluctantly. I needed time to prepare for this; time to collect myself, to summon what strength would be required. But there was no time. I looked straight into his eyes, knowing I had his memory of my mother to help me. This man had engineered her downfall. He had sent her away from all that she loved, and in time that had been her death sentence. He looked at me with his calm grey eyes, and I felt most uncomfortable, almost as if he were seeing right inside me. But I stared back, unblinking; I had been well trained.
‘Sean was wrong,’ said Conor. ‘I think you’re much more like your father.’
Even in autumn, with leaves spread thick and damp under our horses’ feet, the forest was dark. It seemed to stretch out its hand as we rode deeper and deeper in, enveloping us in shadows. Sometimes there were voices. They called through the air above us, high and strange, but when I looked up, all I could see was a whisper of movement on the very edge of my vision, amongst the bare twigs of the beeches. It was like cobwebs in the air; it was like a shroud of mist moving faster than the eye could follow. I could not hear the words. The two men rode on unperturbed; if they perceived these tricks of light and shade, it seemed they accepted them as a familiar part of this impenetrable, mysterious landscape. It was secret, enclosed. It felt like a trap.
The pace made no concessions to my weariness, and I clung on grimly, grateful my horse seemed to go the right way without any prompting. Nobody had asked me if I could ride; and I was not about to tell them I had never gone on horseback without Darragh behind me doing all the work. The dogs raced ahead, seeking out scents in the undergrowth. My uncle Sean kept up a friendly conversation as we went. At first it was just polite talk. I thought he was trying to put me at my ease. He let me know there was a council taking place, with many visitors at the house; that it was a time when they needed to be particularly careful, and that he knew I would understand that. He mentioned he had a daughter around my age, who would help me settle in. His wife, my aunt Aisling, would be delighted to see me, for she, too, had once known my mother.
‘You understand, we had no idea you were coming until the fellow rode in last night,’ he added gravely. ‘Your father has been sparing with his messages. We’d have welcomed the chance to see you earlier. But Ciarán was effective in limiting contact with our family. We never saw them again, after – after what happened.’
‘My father had his reasons,’ I said into the rather awkward silence.
Sean nodded. ‘They could not have returned to Sevenwaters together, that was certain. I remain unconvinced that what he did was right. Still, he has sent you home now. I welcome that. You will find folk rather curious when first you arrive. Muirrin, my eldest daughter, will look after you and help you deal with their questions.’
‘Curious?’
‘It’s a long time ago now. Your mother’s departure and matters leading up to it have become the stuff of tales here; a little like the story of your grandmother, and the time my uncles spent under a spell, as creatures of the wild. Already folk can scarcely discern the margin between history and legend. That’s the way of things. Your arrival will spark conjecture. Folk will talk for a while. They do not know the truth of what happened to your mother. The whole situation calls for careful handling.’
I did