Den of Wolves by Juliet Marillier
‘The lady took herself off straight away. And Dougal? He’d always been a good shepherd, and he kept on being one, looking after his flocks, earning a living, keeping himself to himself. Only he wasn’t alone anymore. He had his baby to look after. When the boy was small, Dougal cooked his supper and sang him lullabies and told him the names of all the sheep. He made the lad a sheepskin coat and woolly slippers. When the giant boy was older, and as tall as Dougal, they tended the sheep together. The giant boy grew tall enough to mend the roof without a ladder. He grew tall enough to pick the fruit from the highest boughs of the apple tree. He grew so tall that he and Dougal had to build a bigger house. Local folk were wary of the boy. Thing was, though, it was handy having such a big lad living among them. He scared away thieves and raiders and bad folk of all kinds. Even the wolves were afraid of him. Which was odd, since he was a gentle soul, the kind of boy who’d move a beetle or spider from the path so it didn’t get stepped on.
‘When the giant boy was sixteen years old and Dougal was getting a few grey hairs, the shepherd told his big son the truth. About the lad’s real father, the curse, the terrible thing Dougal had made happen because he had wanted a lovely fey bride. The two of them went to the cliff to see the place where the Red Giant had fallen in a great shower of stones, and they wept there together. The mound was green now. Blanket of mosses and creepers and little flowering things had grown up to cover it. Dougal said a prayer. He said how sorry he was, and he told the Red Giant he’d done his best to be a good father. He said he knew he could never be as good as his son’s real father, his first father, the one who’d loved him more than life itself. He said that never a day passed when he didn’t think about what he’d done and wish that he hadn’t done it. Though, he said, from that sorrow he’d got the best son in all Erin. The giant boy patted Dougal on the shoulder, and picked him up for a hug, and said he forgave him. Then they walked home together. But after that, most days, the giant boy came to his father’s grave to sit awhile and talk to him, to tell him about the sheep and the weather and what was going on in the village. Or he would sit there without a word, knowing how lucky he’d been to have two fathers who loved him more than anything in the world.’ I glance at Bardán. ‘And that’s the end of the story.’
Bardán’s not talking. Looks like he’s in some kind of trance. Walking on, staring straight ahead, face like a mask.
‘You all right?’
Nothing. I can’t think what to say, so I walk after him, wondering if he’s going to explode, let it all out at once, whatever it is he’s got trapped in his head. Know that feeling well, things building up, getting bigger and bigger until your mind can’t hold them anymore. ‘You can talk to me,’ I say. ‘If you want. Any time you want. But you know that already.’
‘Build,’ Bardán says, and his voice is all cracked and choked like it was when he first came out of the forest. ‘Build the house. Heartwood house . . .’
‘Won’t be doing much building today,’ I say, wondering why he’d bring this up now. Talking to him’s like working on a puzzle. Sometimes he talks like everyone else, makes quite a long speech. Sometimes it’s a word here, a word there, and a lot of silence. Only it feels like there’s words in the silence, strong ones. ‘Be too dark by the time we get there.’
‘Tomorrow,’ says Bardán. ‘Dry day. Build.’
Can’t even think about building. Fact is, I’m tired. Got to walk the rest of the way to Tóla’s. Then find the master and get him to listen. Tell him what’s happened; tell him a few things he should be more interested in. He’s ready enough with his bags of silver. Seems willing to pay a lot to get things just the way he wants. Been thinking about that more than I really want to, some idea niggling away at me, can’t quite catch it. Wish Blackthorn was here with me. She’d know what it was. Good at puzzles, Blackthorn. Clever. Hope she’s all right down there. Hope that woman, Fann, is doing well. And the baby. Danu’s mercy, why did I let Bardán make me tell that story? Didn’t only make him sad, made me sad too. Fact is, I want to go home. I want out of all this. I’d like to be sitting in the cottage, her and me and Ripple, who’s padding along beside me all wet and tired. I’d like to feel the hearth fire and hear the kettle bubbling and see Blackthorn smiling over some silly joke. Ripple snoring by the fire, full belly, resting safe. Wonder if Bardán’s life was like that for a bit, in that hut in the woods. Him and his wife. Little garden outside. House cosy and clean, those embroidered cloths hanging on the walls, maybe a jug with flowers, maybe a dog of their own. Good craftsman, back then, he must have been. He would have had enough work to keep them well, even if folk did think he was odd. Then he lost them. That would be a thing you’d never get over. Never. You’d want to die. Like the Red Giant. Only . . . that’s what happened to Blackthorn. And she didn’t choose to go that way.
‘Grim?’
I jump. Been in another place for a bit, didn’t expect Bardán to speak. ‘Mm?’
‘You all right?’
‘I’m all right, friend. Bit worried about Blackthorn, that’s all. She had a long day. Would have liked to be there tonight, make sure she gets a rest, keep her company. She’ll be fine without me, I know that. But still.’
A silence, then he says, ‘Lucky. Blackthorn, she’s lucky. To have such a friend.’
I can’t help smiling at that. ‘Nah,’ I tell him. ‘I’m the one who’s lucky. I’d be dead if not for her. I’d be rubbish, like I was before. I’d be nothing. I was broken all to pieces and she put me back together.’
‘You love her.’ Not asking, telling.
I’m opening my mouth to say it’s not like that with her and me, never has been, we’re friends, that’s all. But I don’t say it, because I’m thinking of those words she wrote for me, and the ones I wrote for her. She wrote, Love in his heart. Could mean love of all things, the love Jesus talks about in the scriptures. Could mean the love a man feels for a woman. Or something even deeper and bigger, that’s got both kinds of love in it. She knows. She knows about true love’s tears and what broke the curse, when she was turned into a monster and I held her and cried over her and said I’d stay by her for two hundred years if that was what it took. ‘She’s got things to do before she can think about all that,’ I say instead. ‘A mission. Something I can’t talk about.’
‘That’s wrong-headed,’ says Bardán. ‘Hold fast to family. It’s the most precious thing in the world. Wife, husband, child. Lose that and you’re broken all over again. Smashed to pieces, like the Red Giant. This time, no mending. Only . . .’
‘Only what?’ Now I’m wishing even harder that I’d stayed in Longwater. The wild man’s set my belly churning with worries.
But Bardán only shakes his head. Mutters something to himself, something not meant for my ears. We walk on. Light’s fading fast. I’m wondering if we’ll get there before it’s dark. Birds are flying back into the shelter of the woods, chirrups and coos and twitters all around. Then we come out onto the main track again, and ahead of us are the barn and the outbuildings and a bit farther off Master Tóla’s great house and the double row of beeches. Lights. A lot of lights. Folk moving around, saddling horses, setting flaming torches in sockets against the walls. Something happening, something big. Every worker Tóla’s got must be out there.
Ripple stays by me, tired out but watching for danger. Bardán keeps behind us, which is what I’ve told him to do. Want to make sure I talk to Tóla before he does. Got my words worked out, just need to stick to them and not get angry. Not let the red rise up and get the better of me. Calm. Capable. Pretend I’m somebody else. Conmael, for instance. That would make me smile if I wasn’t so jittery about the whole thing.
‘Why don’t you slip back to your quarters?’ I whisper to Bardán. With all this going on, whatever it is, he’s got a chance of getting there without being seen.
‘What about you?’
‘I’m going to have a word
But there’s no time for that. Two fellows come running up to us and after them comes Gormán. Before I can say a word the two grab hold of Bardán, one on each side. And now here’s Master Tóla in his good clothes, looking white as a sheet, striding up toward us. Got a look on his face like his worst nightmare’s just popped up in front of him.
‘You!’ he shouts, sounding like he could kill. It’s not me he’s heading for, it’s Bardán. Who can’t move because those two fellows are holding him tight.
I step forward, into Tóla’s path. Need to stay calm. The fellows who are holding Bardán aren’t thugs, they’re a couple of Tóla’s farm workers, both known to me. ‘No reason to lay hands on him,’ I say, looking at the master, who glares back at me. ‘He’s come back of his own accord. Can’t a man have a day off when it rains?’
Tóla ignores me. ‘You!’ he barks again, stepping sideways so he can see Bardán. ‘Where have you been? What have you done?’
Bardán makes a hissing sound. Turns my blood cold, it’s so full of hate. Tóla steps past me, too quick, takes hold of the wild man’s shoulders and shakes him hard. I’m a hair’s-breadth from grabbing the master and doing a bit of my own damage. But I don’t. Lay hands on him and I’ll get myself thrown off the place or worse. And then Bardán will be all on his own.
‘No need for violence, Master Tóla,’ I say. ‘Bardán here’s done nothing you or me or Gormán wouldn’t do on a day off. Most of the time he’s been with me.’
It’s like Tóla suddenly sees me. ‘Why are you here? Explain what you’re doing on my property at night! Why are you in company with him?’
Gormán clears his throat.
Tóla speaks again, not so loud. But wound up tight; something’s happened, something more than Bardán wandering off without permission. ‘Over here,’ he says, and takes my arm, moving me away from Bardán and his keepers. Drops his voice quieter. ‘My daughter is missing. Fifteen years old and out there somewhere on her own. Gone from Winterfalls since morning. And he’s been unaccounted for all day.’ Meaning Bardán, though why he’d have anything to do with a missing girl I can’t imagine. ‘All day,’ Tóla goes on. ‘All day it’s taken them to get a message to me, curse them. You say he’s been with you. You know the rules. You know he’s not to leave the place.’
The man’s beside himself with worry. I don’t like Master Tóla, never have. But right now I feel sorry for him.
‘I can tell you everything I did all day,’ I say. ‘Starting with what I ate for breakfast. Or I can help you look for the girl. Help you organise a search. Either way, time’s passing.’
‘What about him?’ Tóla snaps. Bardán’s still standing there with those two holding him. Chances are he can hear every word, even though the master moved me away.
‘He means no harm,’ I say. ‘Take him over to the barn, find him a safe spot, keep a watch on him if that’s the way you want it. But don’t hurt him. He’s got nothing to tell you about a missing girl, I give you my word. I’ve been with him most of the day.’
Gormán’s talking to the two fellows, pointing over to the barn, getting ready to move the wild man.
‘Grim!’ Bardán’s voice is more like its old self. He sounds scared. ‘No!’
‘Go easy on him, will you?’ I say to Gormán. ‘He needs kindness, not a beating.’ I look over at the wild man. ‘I’ll come and see you when I’m done here,’ I tell him. ‘Promise.’
Gormán jerks his head toward the barn and the two fellows take Bardán away. Then it’s just the three of us standing there, Gormán, Tóla and me in the dark, with folk still busy all around the place, lights flickering in the rain, though it’s slackened off now. Good thing. It’s not going to be a comfortable bed tonight, it’s going to be a long cold search in the woods. This girl was unhappy at Winterfalls, wasn’t she? That’s what Blackthorn said. Missed the forest here at Wolf Glen, wanted to come home. Loved trees. And birds; birds came and perched on her, all different ones together, like magic. Wish I’d seen that. But the girl was never at the cottage same time as me. Never saw her in the flesh.
‘Your daughter who’s missing,’ I say to the master. ‘You mean Cara? The girl who was staying at Winterfalls?’
It’s like a jolt goes through Tóla’s body. ‘How do you know my daughter’s name?’ he roars.
Morrigan’s britches, this man makes things hard for himself. ‘Can’t help knowing it,’ I say. ‘Young Cara’s been visiting Blackthorn most days. That’s Mistress Blackthorn the healer, who shares a cottage with me. Cara’s happier there than at the prince’s house. That’s what Blackthorn tells me.’
‘You were ordered not to gossip. Not to talk about your work here.’
Lots of things I could say. While you’re ranting about this, your daughter’s still out there somewhere, or, No wonder Cara ran away, with you for a father. Or, If you’d bothered to visit the girl even once, you’d have known she wasn’t happy. ‘But Blackthorn wasn’t ordered to keep quiet about who might have dropped in to see her,’ I say. ‘Lady Flidais suggested Cara went over there. Thought it would be good for the girl, seeing as she was unsettled.’
Tóla’s on the brink of another outburst.
‘I’ll help you search,’ I say. ‘My guess is, she’d be trying to get home. She did that once already, only Blackthorn stopped her.’
‘How – never mind. The messenger said she might have been missing since this morning. Even with the rain, even on foot, she would have been here by now.’
‘If she stuck to the main path, yes,’ put in Gormán. ‘But Cara wouldn’t do that. She’d be wanting to get here without anyone seeing her. Not wanting to be stopped.’
‘Gods!’ says Tóla. ‘She could be anywhere! How could they just let her wander off? A royal household with so many guards? It’s beyond belief! I thought she would be safe there.’
Gormán makes a little sound, but does not speak.
‘Would have been busy this morning,’ I say. ‘The prince and his lady were heading off to court. A council, called at short notice. Would have been a good time to slip away quietly.’
‘Cara is wood-wise,’ Gormán says. ‘Swift as a wild creature. Adept at hiding. Master Tóla, if anyone could find a way safely through the forest, she could.’
A man comes up, one of the household retainers, with a pack on his back and a staff in his hand. ‘Master Tóla, we’re almost ready. Just waiting for your instructions.’
‘Get everyone together in the stable yard. I’ll be there shortly.’
‘Yes, Master Tóla.’
He’s got hold of himself now. Working hard to stay calm. ‘You still haven’t answered my questions,’ he says, tight-jawed. ‘Where was Bardán? Why did the two of you come back together? You said he couldn’t be involved. How do you know that? Have you been with him all day, every moment? Why aren’t you down in Winterfalls?’
Keep calm, Grim. ‘Thought I would be in Winterfalls. Too wet to work; day off.’ I told him, clear as I could: the woman in labour in Longwater, the herbs, running into Bardán at his old house, walking back with him when it was all over. ‘There’s a whole lot of folk can vouch for me being at Longwater most of the day, and I can vouch for Bardán. Listen. If you need me to help search, I’m happy to do it. Only I want you to treat him fair. He’s not bad, he’s only addled in the wits. Needed time to think about his family, shed a few tears. No harm done. Treat him well, he’ll work better for you. Find him a warm spot to sleep, better cover, a good meal or two. A kind word.’
‘It’s not for you to instruct me in the accommodation of workers,’ Tóla snaps. ‘You’re in my e
‘Not quite the same,’ I say, holding on to my temper. ‘Don’t think you’re paying Bardán, are you? And I’m here by choice, making myself useful. If I decide I don’t like the conditions, mine or anyone else’s, I’ll take my tools and my services somewhere else. I’ll hand back your silver, all but what I’ve earned already with my labour. If you want me building your heartwood house, you look after the workers a bit better.’
They’re both gaping at me. Think I might have said a bit too much. Meanwhile, there’s this girl, and it’s dark. Tóla’s right about one thing: it would have been good if the folks at Winterfalls hadn’t taken all day to let him know she was gone.
‘Best time to talk about this is after,’ I say. ‘After we’ve found your daughter. You’ll be worried half out of your mind. Sounds like your men are waiting for orders.’
‘You can help, yes. We need every man we can get,’ Tóla says. ‘But I’m not finished with you. It sounds like Bardán’s not the only one who’s been breaking rules. Talking out of turn. I don’t want the whole district knowing my business. I made that very clear indeed.’
‘Master Tóla,’ says Gormán. ‘Grim’s right, they’re waiting. From what he said, he’s only talked to this Blackthorn. And it sounds as if she’s been a friend to Cara.’
The way Gormán talks about the girl, you can tell he’s fond of her. As if she was his own daughter, almost. And Tóla listens to him more than he listens to other folk. ‘Very well,’ says the master. Notices Ripple, who’s been sitting quietly, waiting. ‘Can your dog track?’ he asks.
‘Not sure how she’d go in the dark.’ I don’t tell him Ripple’s only been with me since last summer. Or that she was trained by someone else. ‘Have to take her on a long rope or risk losing her.’