Son of the Shadows. Juliet Marillier
whatever it is, as an excuse. You’re just jealous, because you can’t get your own man! Well, I don’t care. I love Ciarán, and he loves me, and nobody’s going to stop us being together! You hear me? Nobody!’
‘Liam told me to wait for you, and bring you straight to see him,’ I managed, and now I found I had to make an effort not to cry. I swallowed my tears. They would help nobody. ‘He said we must keep this quiet. Keep it in the family.’
‘Oh, yes, the family honour. Wonderful. Can’t ruin the chance of an alliance with the Uí Néill, can we? Never mind, sister. Now that I’ve shamed the all-important family, maybe it’s you that will wed the illustrious Fionn, chieftain of Tirconnell. It could be the making of you.’
Liam’s reaction had been deeply unsettling, and a fear had gripped me, a fear whose cause I did not understand. I had tried to be calm; to be strong for my sister. But Niamh’s words hurt me, and I found I could not hold back my anger.
‘Brighid save us!’ I snapped. ‘When will you learn that there are more folk in the world than just yourself? You’re in real trouble, Niamh. Seems to me you’re over eager to hurt those who would help you. Now come on. Let’s get this over with.’
I walked to the stillroom door. From here, it was possible to go up the back stairs to the chamber where Liam waited, and with luck be unobserved. Niamh had fallen silent. I turned, hoping I would not have to drag her after me forcibly. ‘Are you coming?’
There was a sound of hoofbeats beyond the garden wall, galloping up to the main entrance. Boots crunched on gravel as men dismounted. There had been no way for Sean to return unobserved from his errand.
‘Liadan.’ My sister spoke in a very small voice.
‘What?’
‘Promise me. Promise me you’ll stay in there with me. Promise you’ll speak up for me.’
I walked straight back and put my arm around her. She was shivering in her light gown, and a tear glinted in one long-lashed blue eye. ‘Of course I’ll stay, Niamh. Now come on. They’ll be waiting for us.’
By the time we reached the upstairs room they were all there. All but Mother. Liam, Conor, Sean and my father, standing, the four of them, their faces made grimmer by the half-light, for only one small lamp burned on the table, and outside it was dark. The air was thick with tension. I could tell they had been talking, and had fallen silent as we came in. If there was anything that really frightened me as I stood there beside my sister, it was Conor’s face. The expression he wore mirrored that I had seen on his brother’s features not long before. Not quite fear perhaps. More like the memory of fear.
‘Shut the door, Liadan.’ I did as Liam told me, and returned to my sister’s side where she stood, head held high, like some tragic princess in an old story. Her hair was a glowing gold in the lamplight. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.
‘She’s your daughter,’ my uncle said bluntly. ‘Perhaps you’d better speak first.’
Father stood at the back of the room, his face in shadow. ‘You know what this is about, Niamh.’ His voice was level enough.
Niamh said nothing, but I saw her straighten her back, lift her head a little higher.
‘I have always expected my children to speak the truth, and I want the truth from you now. We had hoped for a good marriage for you. Perhaps I have allowed you more freedom than some thought wise. Freedom to make your own choices. In return, I expected – honesty, at least. Common sense. Some exercise of judgement.’
Still she said nothing.
‘You had better tell us, then, and tell us truly. Have you given yourself to this young man? Has he lain with you?’
I felt the tremor that ran through my sister’s body, and knew it for anger, not fear.
‘What if I have?’ she snapped.
There was a little silence, and then Liam said grimly, ‘Answer your father’s question.’
Niamh’s eyes were bright with defiance as she glared back at him.
‘What’s it to you?’ she demanded, voice going up a notch, and she gripped my hand so tight I thought she would break it. ‘I’m not your daughter and I never have been. I care nothing for your family honour and your stupid alliances. Ciarán is a good man, and he loves me, and that’s all that matters. The rest of it is none of your business, and I won’t sully it by laying it bare before a roomful of men! Where’s my mother? Why isn’t she here?’
Oh, Niamh. I wrenched my hand from hers and turned away. There was a weight like a cold stone in my heart.
It was Sean who stepped forward, and I had never seen such anger in his eyes, or felt in my spirit such an outpouring of rage and grief as I caught from him at that moment. There was no way I could stop him. No way in the world.
‘How dare you!’ he said in a voice cold with fury, and he lifted his hand and struck Niamh across her lovely, tear-stained cheek. A red mark appeared instantly on the golden skin. ‘How dare you ask that, how dare you expect her to endure this? Have you any idea what your selfish folly will do to her? Don’t you know our mother is dying?’
And, incredibly, it was clear that she had not known. All this time, as Sean, and I, and Iubdan, and her brothers had watched Sorcha fail just a little each day, had felt our hearts grow cold as she took one step away from us with each waning of the moon, Niamh, blithe in her own world, had seen nothing at all. She turned as white as parchment, save for the mark on her cheek, and she pressed her lips tight together.
‘Enough, Sean.’ Iubdan looked like an old man as he stepped out of the shadows, and the light showed the lines and furrows of grief on his face. He moved to take my brother by the arm and steer him back, away from Niamh who stood frozen in the centre of the room. ‘Enough, son. A man of Sevenwaters does not raise his hand in anger against a woman. Sit down. Let us all sit down.’ He was a strong man, my father. So strong, at times he put the rest of us to shame. ‘Perhaps you should leave us, Liadan. We can at least spare you this.’
‘No!’ Niamh’s voice was shrill with panic. ‘No! I want her here. I want my sister here!’
Father looked at me, raised his brows.
‘I’ll stay,’ I said, and my voice came out sounding like a stranger’s. ‘I promised.’ I glanced at Conor where he sat, ashen faced, his mouth set in a line. He had told me not to feel guilt for what must unfold. But he could not have foreseen this. I scowled at him. You didn’t tell me it would be like this!
I did not know. This, I would have done much to prevent. Still, it unfolds as it must.
‘Now,’ said Father wearily, when we were all seated, Niamh and I on a bench together, for she had grasped my hand again and this time she was not letting go. ‘We will get no more out of you tonight, I can see that. I understand also what the answer to my question is, although you did not give it. But it is clear to me you do not comprehend the import of what you have done. Were this merely a youthful escapade, a giving-in to the madness of Imbolc, a surrendering to the urges of the body, it might be more readily accepted, if not excused. Such an error is common enough, and can be overlooked, if it occurs but once.’
‘But –’ Niamh began.
‘Keep silent, girl.’ Her mouth snapped shut as Liam spoke; but her eyes were angry. ‘Your father speaks wisely. You should hear what Conor has to say. He must bear some responsibility for this himself; it is in part his own error of judgement that has brought this ill on us. What have you to tell us, brother?’
I had never heard my uncle utter a word of criticism against his brothers or sister, not in all the years since my childhood. There was some old hurt here that I could guess at only dimly.
‘Indeed,’ said Conor very quietly, looking direct at Niamh with his serene grey eyes, those eyes that saw so much, and held it all in their depths. ‘It was I who decided to bring