Dreamer's Pool by Juliet Marillier
‘Branoc, I believe we just heard you confess to lighting the fire,’ said the prince levelly. ‘Is this so?’
‘You call it lighting a fire, my lord.’ Branoc spread his hands and shrugged. ‘I call it ridding the community of a danger. This man, you see his anger, you see how he charges like a mad bull, heedless of the damage he does. This woman is a witch, a meddler, a bringer of trouble. If they can steal my wife, they can steal yours. If they can enter my home uninvited and trick me, they can do the same to each of you. They are a blight, a pox, a constant danger. Better that they had burned.’
There was a silence. Prince Oran gazed at Branoc, his expression one of stunned disbelief. Master Cael’s sharp features were tight with offence. Master Tassach looked as if he’d swallowed something unpleasant. My own belly churned with disgust; my gorge rose. I willed myself to be calm. I had pleaded that we be allowed to stay until the end, and stay we would.
‘Is that the end of your statement?’ the prince asked. ‘You wish, perhaps, to speak on the matter of Ernan’s death as well?’
But Branoc was done. ‘No, my lord,’ he muttered. Perhaps he had realised at last that Oran was not some jumped-up princeling but a person of real authority.
‘Master Tassach, do you have anything to add in Branoc’s defence?’
‘No, my lord. I believe Branoc has been offered a fair hearing. It was his choice to speak on his own behalf. You might consider, on determining what is to unfold, that this is a highly skilled craftsman with a great deal to offer the community, and that prior to the events in question his abilities were much valued.’
‘Thank you, Master Tassach,’ said Oran, rising to his feet. The crowd rose with him. ‘I will retire to consider the matter. Aedan?’
Aedan addressed the assembled folk. ‘Refreshments are served in the courtyard. Please leave the hall in an orderly manner and return promptly when we ring the bell.’
The prince and his party filed out. The hall emptied quickly; there was nothing like the prospect of food and drink to get folk moving. I turned my head to see if Conmael was still there, but could catch no sight of him.
Fraoch came over to fetch Emer. ‘Coming?’ he asked Grim and me.
Standing in the middle of that throng, with everyone talking non-stop about Branoc and Ness and the fire, would be a kind of torture.
‘In a while,’ Grim said. ‘Need a bit of quiet first.’
The smith nodded; he was getting used to us, since we had been staying in his house. He put his arm around his sister and shepherded her out of the hall. I heard him say, ‘I’m proud of you.’
The place was empty but for a guard on each door, and the two of us.
‘You know what I want more than anything?’ I said.
‘I could guess.’
‘I’d like to be out in the woods somewhere, sitting by a little fire, with the moon shining down and only the night birds for company. Somewhere far, far away from folk. Somewhere I can forget what wretched, flawed creatures men and women can be.’
Grim nodded. ‘Not all of them, though,’ he said.
‘Enough of them to make me want to turn my back on Winterfalls and any other poxy village Conmael thinks I should live in.’ Grim was right, of course; there was Emer. There was that lady, the prince’s aunt, who had intervened so wisely in the matter of the mauled sheep. I might even add Prince Oran to the list, provided he brought this to the right conclusion.
‘Living at Fraoch’s getting to you, is it?’
‘You know it is.’
‘Soon as I’ve got the thatch on we can move back.’
‘And how long will that take? It’ll soon be winter; you can’t thatch in the rain. We might find ourselves at the smith’s until next spring.’ Impossible. I would go mad. Even madder than I’d been just now when I’d jumped up and shouted at the lot of them.
‘Outhouse is still standing. I could plug a few cracks, make it cosier.’ A long pause. ‘Bit small, though. For the two of us.’
I attempted a smile. ‘Don’t think I haven’t already considered that. Make it cosy? That’d be a miracle beyond even you. Sorry I sent you out there to sleep, back then. I was selfish.’
‘Nah,’ said Grim. ‘Just prickly, like a hedgehog. You want a drink? A bite to eat? I’ll fetch it.’
I shook my head. ‘You go, get yourself something. I’m best on my own.’
‘He was here, you know,’ Grim said. ‘Conmael. Up the back, sticking out like a snaggly tooth. Thought I was seeing things.’
‘I saw him. But I’m wondering if we were the only ones who could. Otherwise people would have been pointing and whispering. The fey don’t wander about as if they were just like everyone else. I’d guess most of these folk have never seen Conmael’s kind.’
‘Funny. Why would the fellow be here?’
I did not get the chance to answer, because a door opened and the prince’s man, Donagan, came back into the hall.
‘Blackthorn, Grim, come with me, please. Prince Oran needs to speak with you.’
What was this? We got up and followed him out of the hall, down a passageway and into the chamber where we’d told the prince the story of Ness’s rescue. Inside, Prince Oran and the two lawmen were seated at the table. No sign of Lady Flidais or the steward. The prince bade Grim and me sit down. Donagan took a place on the bench beside us. He poured us each a cup of ale and passed along a platter of oatcakes. A guard closed the door. I fought back memories of Mathuin’s council, Mathuin’s judgement, Mathuin’s punishment.
‘Thank you,’ the prince said. ‘We find ourselves with something of a dilemma, Mistress Blackthorn. The three of us are in agreement as to Branoc’s guilt in the matter of Ness’s abduction and abuse, and also in the matter of the fire at your cottage, since we heard him confess to that act of destruction. But we’re having some difficulty in determining an appropriate penalty for his offences.’
‘I do not know how far your understanding of the law stretches,’ Master Cael said, looking from me to Grim and back again.
‘Not far,’ I said, though that was not entirely true. One way or another, over the years I had picked up a fair bit of knowledge.
‘There are various penalties Prince Oran could impose,’ said Master Cael. ‘A fine, payable by the perpetrator to the blood kin of the victim. The level of fine to be determined in part by the severity of the offence and in part by the capacity of the offender’s family to pay. A period of exile. A period of incarceration.’
‘Too good for him,’ said Grim. ‘A fellow who’d do that to a girl – he doesn’t deserve to live.’
The prince spoke with a certain sympathy. ‘I understand your anger, Grim. In some places, such a matter might be left to the kin of the two families to settle between them, whether by payment of a fine such as those I mentioned, or by some kind of physical punishment. Or, indeed, where the offender cannot or will not pay, by summary execution. I don’t refer to an execution carried out by the local authority, you understand, but something . . . unofficial.’ His eyes were on Grim.
‘But you can’t do that,’ I said, ‘because Ness has no family. Nobody to make sure the man who wronged her cannot go out and do the same to another young woman, and another after her.’ Mathuin all over again.
‘I’m not in favour of the community taking the law into its own hands,’ said the prince. ‘In the long run, that does not serve justice well. It can give rise to feuds that last for generations; festering resentment that lies on a place like a sickness. But yes, there is a certain difficulty here, and it is the lack of family support for Ness who, I understand, had only her father.’
‘You sure you don’t want it dealt with quietly, my lord?’ Grim’s voice was dark. ‘Blackthorn and me and young Emer, we came here for Ness, to speak up for her, since there was nobody else. What kinsfolk would do for her, we’ll do. Just say the word
The prince gave a crooked smile. ‘Let Branoc out, and you’ll make sure that before he gets further than Dreamer’s Wood he’ll be dead and buried? I think not. That would rest ill on my conscience, and perhaps on yours, in time. We must make a wiser choice.’
The two of us sat there staring at him, not saying a word. What was he getting at? How could there be a wiser choice than making sure that vile creature never set his hands on another innocent young girl again?
Master Tassach spoke up. ‘In the matter of the fire, it is for you to recommend the penalty, since that offence was against the two of you. If you stand in place of Ness’s kinsfolk, then you also have a part to play in deciding the punishment for Branoc’s crimes against her.’
‘Execution,’ said Grim. ‘Official execution.’
‘Reparations,’ I said, my mind on the hundred silver pieces that had been mentioned. ‘A fine, large enough to allow Ness to build her life again. I do not know if Branoc owned the bakery, but if he did, it could be sold. The mill, too. And . . .’
‘And her father’s money should be given back to her,’ said Prince Oran. ‘I agree on all those points, save for execution. Cannot even a man capable of such base acts learn to mend his ways?’
He meant he’d throw the offender into the lockup and leave him there to muse over his crimes as he mouldered away and went half-crazy. Like Strangler and Frog Spawn and the others. Like us.
I must have turned white, for suddenly all eyes were on me, and everyone looked concerned. Donagan put a hand on my arm.
‘Mistress Blackthorn, are you unwell?’
Gods! This was a choice to make anyone sick. It was a dilemma to test the wisest of sages. Branoc had performed acts of great evil – all the more heinous because he did not seem to understand they were wrong. He had shown himself to be without a conscience. But how could I condemn him – how could I condemn anyone – to incarceration in a place like Mathuin’s lockup? Yet if I did not agree to imprisonment, and Prince Oran would not countenance execution, did that mean Branoc’s only punishment would be the payment of a fine? That would leave him free to molest more young women, to wreck more innocent lives. He’d head away to another region, establish his bakery anew, and go straight back to his hideous ways. We could not let that happen.
‘Mistress Blackthorn?’
‘Give her some time!’ snarled Grim, who was doubtless having the same problem I was. It was a pity Prince Oran did not fancy the idea of unofficial execution. In Branoc’s case, that solution seemed to me both tidy and just.
I must pull myself together; I must not become that woman who had collapsed and wept out there in front of the whole community. I straightened my shoulders and took a few deep breaths. ‘Master Cael, Master Tassach,’ I said, ‘under the law, are those the only options? Incarceration or a fine, or perhaps both?’
‘And if it’s incarceration,’ said Grim, ‘where would you be locking him up?’
‘Not here at Winterfalls,’ Prince Oran said. ‘I don’t have the facilities to hold a prisoner securely for longer than a few days, and I don’t plan to change that. He’d have to go to Cahercorcan.’
He didn’t say whether the prison there was dank and filthy and cruel, and we didn’t ask.
‘As for the other question,’ said Master Cael, ‘if there were kinsfolk, and if they were not satisfied with the payment of the fine, they could demand that the offender serve a period as a bondsman. He would not be a prisoner, but he would be required to remain at a certain place, in the household of one of those kin, and work for the good of the family and community.’
‘Branoc’s skills as a baker would allow him to make a worthwhile contribution,’ put in Master Tassach. ‘But as Ness is without surviving kin, an arrangement of that kind could not be put in place.’
In the delicate silence that followed, it came to me that they were going to ask us to take responsibility for Branoc – hadn’t we just said we were acting in place of Ness’s kin? If they asked me to do it, my vow to Conmael meant I’d have to say yes. And things would fall apart, because I’d be obliged to keep Branoc alive while Grim would want to kill him.
‘Master Cael,’ said Donagan, ‘after what has happened – a series of events that has shocked the whole community – Branoc has become a target for folk’s wrath. His continuing presence in the Winterfalls area, even after the payment of a substantial fine, would be a thorn in the flesh, a constant disturbance.’
‘My lord,’ I said, glancing at Grim, ‘we don’t favour a long period of incarceration.’
‘But you can’t set him free,’ said Grim. ‘Doesn’t matter if you make him pay a king’s ransom. Let him go anywhere in these parts and if I don’t kill the wretch someone else will.’
‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,’ said the prince. ‘Master Cael, Master Tassach, I wonder if there is another solution available to us under the law. Ness is one of my people. I am responsible for this region and all the folk who live and work in it. Is it not within my authority to make Branoc a bondsman to my own family, and send him to Cahercorcan to work out his time in my father’s household? Not in incarceration,’ he added, looking at Grim and me, ‘but under the very strict supervision that is possible at my father’s court. Branoc is an expert baker; his creations are in high demand. He could most certainly be put to work there. I would, of course, provide the king with full details of his offences, and appropriate measures would be put in place to ensure he could not repeat them.’
‘And he would be far enough away to deter anyone here from taking the law into their own hands,’ put in Donagan.
A silence, while all of us looked at the lawmen. It was a good solution, a just one. A clever one. I hoped it was possible.
‘Very astute of you, my lord,’ said Master Tassach. ‘In cases of debt-bondage such an arrangement is common, and it is within the accepted interpretation of the law for a wrong-doer to work out the time required in the service of a king or chieftain in lieu of the victim’s kin, most certainly. But that would not apply in this case. Branoc has the resources to pay even a heavy fine – not only the hundred silver pieces he had on his person when captured, but the value of the bakery buildings and equipment. Those assets, along with the mill, would be sufficient to provide quite handsomely for Ness’s future; they would more than meet the law’s requirement for sick-maintenance even if her recovery is slow.’
We sat in silence, looking at one another.
‘Thing is,’ put in Grim, ‘the hundred silver pieces aren’t his. They’re the miller’s life savings, that Ness was supposed to have stolen.’
‘And the mill doesn’t come into it,’ I said. ‘That was Ernan’s too. And now Ness’s.’
Master Cael gave a slow smile. He would, I thought, make a formidable enemy. ‘Indeed. Branoc might argue that the silver was his, of course. But I doubt he could make a convincing case, under the circumstances.’
‘So, if I understand you correctly, Master Tassach,’ said Prince Oran, ‘should I wish to place this man in debt-bondage, I would need to impose a fine that was higher than the value of his current assets. Significantly higher, if we wish him to serve a lengthy period.’ He lifted his brows at me as if to seek my approval. My approval. That of a . . . what was it Branoc had called me? A witch, a meddler, a bringer of trouble. Other things too, insults that had stung more than they should have.
‘It’s not up to me to determine the penalty, my lord,’ I said. ‘But Branoc has shown himself to have no regard for women, and scant respect for the community that sustains him. Such a man would take a long time to mend his ways. Years, I would think.’ Could this be true? Was the prince of Dalriada really taking heed of our arguments, mine and Grim’s, in dispensing justice on such a serious matter?
It seemed he was. ‘Very well. With your agreement, Master Tassach, Master Cael, I will set the fine at five hundred silver p
‘Had Branoc not taken it into his head to confess to the offence of burning the cottage,’ said Master Tassach with a grimace, ‘I’d have been in a position to argue for a lower fine or a shorter period of service. As it is, I have no alternative but to agree to your terms. They seem perfectly appropriate.’
‘I’m satisfied with the decision,’ said Master Cael.
We sat in silence for a few moments. Then the prince said, ‘Donagan, will you call in the scribe? Let’s have this in writing before we return to open council.’
I wanted to congratulate Prince Oran on not being like other men of power; to thank all of them for seeing the truth of this matter and reaching a just resolution. They did not realise, perhaps, how unusual that was. It was hard to find the words. He was the future king of Dalriada. I was a witch and a meddler. And not so long ago, I had been that wretched creature in Mathuin’s lockup.
‘Should we leave now, my lord?’ I asked.
The prince took an assessing look at me. ‘Sit here awhile if you will; have something to eat and drink. It will take a little time to prepare the document. That’s a big crowd of folk out there, all of them doubtless talking at once, and I imagine you’d rather not be in the middle of it. Where is young Emer?’
‘Her brother’s looking after her. Thank you, my lord.’ Right now, it wasn’t so difficult to speak politely. ‘And thank you for your wise judgement.’
‘Ah, well,’ said the prince, and for some reason he sounded sad. ‘We all played a part in that.’
25
~ORAN~
It was nearly dusk, and the household was quiet at last. The council was over and the folk of the district had headed home. Tomorrow the lawmen would ride back to Cahercorcan. With them would go a message to my father on the matter of Branoc. Within a few days I would send the prisoner himself, appropriately guarded. Having that man in my house was like harbouring vermin; I could not wait to see him gone.