Son of the Shadows. Juliet Marillier
at one corner in a half-smile.
‘I never tell your mother what to do,’ he said. ‘You know that.’
I grinned at him. ‘Well then, I’ll tell her. The druids are here for a day or two. She has time enough for talking.’
‘That reminds me,’ said Father, lifting his booted feet as I swept the floor beneath them. When he put them down again, a new shower of earth fell onto the flagstones. ‘I had a message to give you.’
‘Oh?’
‘From Eamonn. He asked me to say, he’s been called home urgently. He left very early this morning, too early to come and see you with any decency, was how he put it. He said to tell you he would speak with you when he returned. Does that make sense to you?’
‘Not a lot,’ I said, sweeping the last of the debris out the door and down the steps. ‘He never did tell me what it was all about. Why was he called away? What was so urgent? Has Aisling gone as well?’
‘Aisling is still here; she is safer under our protection. It was a matter calling for leadership, and quick decisions. He has taken his grandfather and those of his men that could be made ready to ride. I understand there was some new attack on his border positions. By whom, nobody seemed sure. An enemy that came by stealth and killed without scruples, as efficiently as a bird of prey, was the description. The man who brought the tale seemed almost crazed with fear. I suppose we will hear more, when Eamonn returns.’
We went out into the garden. At this chill time of year, spring was not much more than a thought; the tiniest of fragile crocus shoots emerging from the hard ground, a hint of buds swelling on the branches of the young oak. Early-flowering tansy made a note of vibrant yellow against the grey green of wormwood and lavender. The air smelt cool and clean. Each stone path was swept bare, the herb beds tidy under their straw mulching.
‘Sit here awhile with me, Liadan,’ said my father. ‘We are not needed yet. It will be hard enough to persuade your mother and her brothers to come inside for some food and drink. I have something to ask you.’
‘You too?’ I said as we sat down together on the stone bench. ‘It sounds as if everyone has something to ask me.’
‘Mine is a general sort of question. Have you given any thought to marriage? To your future?’
I was not expecting this.
‘Not really. I suppose – I suppose I hoped, as the youngest, for a couple more years at home,’ I said, feeling suddenly cold. ‘I am in no hurry to leave Sevenwaters. Maybe – maybe I thought I might remain here, you know, tend to my ancient parents in their failing years. Perhaps not seek a husband at all. After all, both Niamh and Sean will make good matches, strong alliances. Need I be wed as well?’
Father looked at me very directly. His eyes were a light, intense blue; he was working out just how much of what I said was serious, and how much a joke.
‘You know I would gladly keep you here with us, sweetheart,’ he said slowly. ‘Saying farewell to you would not be easy for me. But there will be offers. I would not have you narrow your pathway, because of us.’
I frowned. ‘Maybe we could leave it for a while. After all, Niamh will wed first. Surely there won’t be any offers until after that.’ My mind drew up the image of my sister, glowing and golden in her blue gown by firelight, tossing her bright hair, surrounded by comely young men. ‘Niamh should wed first,’ I added firmly. It seemed to me that this was important, but I could not tell him why.
There was a pause, as if he were waiting for me to make some connection I could not quite grasp.
‘Why do you say that? That there will be no offers for you until your sister weds?’
This was becoming difficult, more difficult than it should have been, for my father and I were very close and always spoke directly and honestly to each other.
‘What man would offer for me, when he could have Niamh?’ I asked. There was no sense of envy in my question. It just seemed to me so obvious I found it hard to believe it had not occurred to him.
My father raised his brows. ‘Perhaps, if Eamonn makes you an offer of marriage, you should ask him that question,’ he said quite gently. There was a hint of amusement in his tone.
I was stunned. ‘Eamonn? Offer for me? I don’t think so. Is he not intended for Niamh? You’re wrong, I’m sure.’ But in the back of my mind, last night’s episode played itself out again, the way he had spoken to me, the way we had danced together, and a little seed of doubt was sown. I shook my head, not wanting to believe it was possible. ‘It wouldn’t be right, Father. Eamonn should wed Niamh. That’s what everyone expects. And – and Niamh needs somebody like him. A man that will – that will take a firm hand, but be fair as well. Niamh should be the one.’ Then I thought, with relief, of something else. ‘Besides,’ I added, ‘Eamonn would never ask a girl such a thing without seeking her father’s permission first. He was to have spoken with me early this morning. It must have been about something else.’
‘What if I told you,’ said Iubdan carefully, ‘that your young friend had planned a meeting with me as well, this morning? He was prevented from keeping this appointment only by the sudden call home to defend his border.’
I was silent.
‘What sort of man would you choose for yourself, Liadan?’ he asked me.
‘One who is trustworthy and true to himself,’ I answered straight away. ‘One who speaks his mind without fear. One who can be a friend as well as a husband. I would be contented with that.’
‘You would wed an ugly old man with not a scrap of silver to his name, if he met your description?’ asked my father, amused. ‘You are an unusual young woman, daughter.’
‘To be honest,’ I said wryly, ‘if he were also young, handsome and wealthy, it would not go unappreciated. But such things are less important. If I were lucky enough – if I were fortunate enough to wed for love, as you did … but that is unlikely, I know.’ I thought of my brother and Aisling, dancing in a charmed circle all their own. It was too much to expect the same thing for myself.
‘It brings a contentment like no other,’ said Iubdan softly. ‘And with it a fear that strikes when you least expect it. When you love thus, you give hostages to fortune. It becomes harder with time, to accept what fate brings. We have been lucky, so far.’
I nodded. I knew what he was talking about. It was a matter we did not speak of openly; not yet.
We got up and walked slowly out through the garden archway and along the path towards the main courtyard. Further away, in the shelter of a tall hedge of blackthorn, my mother was seated on the low stone wall, a small, slight figure, her pale features framed by a mass of dark curls. Liam stood on one side, booted foot on the wall, elbow on knee, explaining something with economical gestures. On her other side sat Conor, very still in his white robe, listening intently. We did not disturb them.
‘I suppose you will find out, when Eamonn returns, whether I am right,’ my father said. ‘There is no doubt he would be a very suitable match for your sister, or for yourself. You should at least give thought to it, in the meantime.’
I did not answer.
‘You must understand that I would never force you into any decision, Liadan, and neither would your mother. When you take a husband, the choice will be yours. We would ask only that you think about it, and prepare yourself, and consider any offers that are made. We know you will choose wisely.’
‘What about Liam? You know what he would want. There is our estate to consider, and the strength of our alliances.’
‘You are your mother’s daughter and mine, not Liam’s,’ said my father. ‘He will be content enough that Sean has chosen the one woman Liam would most have wanted for him. Your choice will be your own, little one.’
I had the strangest feeling at that moment. It was as if a silent