Son of the Shadows. Juliet Marillier
wrong. A man who cannot laugh, and who rules by fear. A – a man with no respect for women. There are those who would seek a terrible vengeance, if they heard you speak to me thus.’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘And on what do you base this judgement?’ he asked eventually. ‘You have spent but the briefest time in my company. Already you believe me some kind of monster. You are indeed quick to assess a man’s character.’
‘As are you to judge a woman,’ I said straight away.
‘I need not know you, to recognise what you are,’ he said bleakly. ‘Your kind are all the same. Catch a man in your net, draw him in, deprive him of his will and his judgement. It happens so subtly he is lost before ever he recognises the danger. Then others are dragged in after him, and the pattern of darkness stretches wider and wider, so that even the innocent have no escape.’ He stopped abruptly, clearly regretting his words.
‘You,’ he said to Dog, who had been listening open-mouthed. ‘Take her back to her charge, then go to your bed. Gull will stand guard tonight.’
‘I could do it, Chief. I’m good for another watch –’
‘Gull will stand guard.’
‘Yes, Chief.’
That was the second day. The smith, Evan, held his ground, though I was not happy with the way his body trembled and shivered, or the heat of his brow which could not be relieved, however much I sponged him with cool water in which I had steeped wild endive and five-leaf. A certain competition developed amongst my three assistants. All were eager to help with nursing duties and, though they lacked skill, I welcomed their strength in lifting and turning the patient.
Bran’s men seemed always busy, rehearsing combat, tending to horses or harness, cleaning and sharpening weapons. Eamonn had been wrong on one count. They used the conventional armoury of sword, spear, bow and dagger, as well as a wide range of other devices whose names and functions I had no wish to learn. The camp was self-contained and highly organised. I was amazed, on the third morning, to find my gown and shift neatly folded on the rocks outside my shelter, washed and dried and almost as good as new. There was evidently at least one capable cook there, and no shortage of efficient hunters to provide a supply of fresh meat for the pot. Where the carrots and turnips came from, I did not ask.
Time was short. Six days, until they moved on. The smith was in pain, and needed the soporific herbs to control it. Still, if he were to be ready to go on without me, he must know the truth. There were times when he looked down at what lay where his strong arm had once joined his powerful shoulder. But his fevered eyes showed no real recognition, as I spoke to him of what had happened, and of how things would be.
I walked through the camp on the third day with Snake close by me. My borrowed clothes were in need of washing, for they were now in their turn stained with my patient’s blood, and here and there with draughts he kept in his stomach no longer than the count of ten before he retched them up again.
When we reached the bank of the stream, we found the tall man, Spider, and another whom they called Otter wrestling on the grass. Otter was winning, for in such a sport, height gives little advantage if your opponent is swift and clever. There was a big splash, and there was Spider sprawled in the water, looking very put out. Otter wiped his hands on his leather trousers. The upper part of his body was naked, and he bore a complex pattern on the chest, of many links forming a twisting circle.
‘Morning, Snake. Morning, lady. Here, you oaf. Get up. Need to put in a bit more practice, you do.’ Otter reached out an arm and hauled the embarrassed Spider out of the water.
‘Fools,’ commented Snake mildly. ‘Don’t let the Chief catch you mucking about.’
I unrolled my bundle and began to rub the stained cloth on the smooth stones in the shallows.
‘Better go back up to camp, or wherever you’re meant to be,’ Snake went on. ‘Chief wouldn’t be happy to see you talking to the lady here.’
‘All right for you,’ mumbled Spider, clearly put out to be seen thus, dripping wet and defeated. ‘How did you score permanent guard duty then?’
‘None of your business.’
‘Why are you all so frightened of him?’ I asked, pausing in my labours to look up at the three of them. It was a pity there was no soapwort growing nearby. I must ask how they had got my gown so clean.
‘Frightened?’ Spider was perplexed.
Snake frowned. ‘You’ve got it wrong,’ he said. ‘Chief’s a man to respect, not to fear.’
‘What?’ I sat back on my heels, amazed. ‘When all of you fall silent at his least word? When he threatens the direst punishment if you transgress some code which no doubt he himself invented? When you are somehow bound to him in a brotherhood from which it seems you can never escape? What is that but a rule of fear?’
‘Ssh,’ said Snake, alarmed. ‘Keep your voice down.’
‘See?’ I challenged, but more quietly. ‘You dare not even speak of these things openly, lest he should hear and punish you.’
‘That’s true enough,’ said Spider, settling his long ungainly form on the rocks near me, but still that careful three or four paces away. ‘He knows how to set rules, and enforce them. But it’s fair. The code’s there to protect us. From each other. From ourselves. Everyone understands that. If we break it, that’s our choice, and we take the consequences.’
‘But what holds you here, if not fear of him?’ I asked, perplexed. ‘What sort of a life is it, killing for money, never able to go out into the real world, never able to – to love, to see your children thrive, to watch a tree you planted grow to shade your cottage, or fight in a battle where right is on your side? It is no life.’
‘Don’t suppose you could understand,’ said Snake diffidently.
‘Try me,’ I said.
‘Without the Chief,’ it was Otter who spoke, ‘we’d be nothing. Nothing. Dead, imprisoned or worse. Scum of the earth, every one of us. You can’t say this is no life. He’s given us a life.’
‘Otter’s right,’ said Snake. ‘Ask Dog. Ask him his story, get him to show you the scars on his hands.’
‘We’re the men nobody had a use for,’ said Spider. ‘The Chief made us useful; gave us a place and a purpose.’
‘What about Gull?’ Snake went on. ‘Comes from foreign parts, Gull does, some place far off, hot as hellfire and all over sand. Land of black people, like himself. Anyway, somebody had really put him through it. Saw his people hacked to death right before his eyes. Wife, children, old folks. All he wanted was to die. Chief got him out, talked him round. Tough job. Now Gull’s the best we’ve got, barring the Chief himself.’
I had completely forgotten my washing, and it was in danger of floating away. Snake reached past me to grab it, put it into my hands, moved back three, four paces.
‘Every man here has a story,’ said Otter. ‘But we try to forget. No past, no future, just today. Easier. We’ve all been cast out. Not one of us can go back; except perhaps the smith. This is our existence, here in these woods, or out there on a job, knowing we can be the best at what we do. It’s our identity: the band of the Painted Man. He commands a good price, and shares what he gets. Me, I’d sooner be here working for him than in the uniform of some jumped-up lordling’s private army.’
‘Who’d have you?’ chuckled Snake. ‘Too full of funny tricks, you are. You’d be in trouble before you had the chance to hear your first order.’
‘I’ll take his orders any day,’ replied Otter seriously. ‘The Chief saved my life. But life’s cheap enough. I owe him something far more valuable. My self-respect.’
‘But …’ I was totally confused. I began to wring the garments out. ‘But … I don’t understand.