Dreamer's Pool (30 page)

‘So they say.’ Branoc glared at the three of us. ‘That woman, the witch, she is full of anger at men. Bitter in her rage, since she is shrivelled and plain, and the only man she can get for herself is that addle-brained lump! Does it surprise you that she accuses me of these crimes? A woman like this, she is eaten up with jealousy!’

Donagan was on his feet, and so was Aedan; there was a rumble of protest from the crowd. But Prince Oran motioned to the other men to sit, and gestured to the guards to let Branoc continue. Which was odd, I thought, considering that not so long ago he had threatened to have the baker thrown out of the hall. Unease gripped me, something that went beyond the sting of Branoc’s insults. I had heard worse before; I had suffered blows far deeper. What troubled me was the prince’s choice to let this man spew forth his hatred for all to hear. Had I been foolish to believe, even for a moment, that this hearing would result in justice? Had Ness’s voice after all not been heard?

‘. . . always meant for me,’ Branoc’s rant continued. ‘Ernan gave me his word. He told me I could have her. And Ness, she wanted me from the first. It was there in the way she looked at me. A blind man could have seen it. This talk of a sweetheart, a lover to whom she was promised, it is all lies. When this oaf came to my house, when he laid his clumsy hands on her, I told him,
She is my wife.
But he took no heed. He stole her away.’

‘Explain to this gathering,’ Prince Oran said, ‘why it is that a young woman whom you say returned your affections found herself shackled and imprisoned in your barn. If her father promised her to you, as you say, and if she was willing to marry you, why were the two of you not hand-fasted? Why was not this relationship known to everyone in Silverlake?’

‘He broke his word.’ There was a darkness in Branoc’s face, as if he carried a storm within him, a consuming fury. I knew how that felt.

‘You’re referring to Ernan?’ The prince was maintaining his calm composure.

‘The wretched miller, yes. He told me I had misunderstood. He told me his daughter would not wed until she was eighteen years old. Eighteen! Two whole years. Why should any man have to wait so long? Ness was a grown woman. She was more than ready for the marriage bed.’

The hush was profound. It was full of things not quite spoken, perilous things that could unbalance this entirely. Emer had her teeth sunk in her lip. Grim’s hands were furious fists; his cheeks wore spots of angry red.

‘Branoc,’ said Prince Oran softly, and I was put in mind of a creature stalking its prey, step by careful step. It seemed there was method in his decision to let the baker speak freely. ‘Am I right in thinking Ernan promised you could marry his daughter in two years’ time? And that Ness herself agreed to that arrangement?’

‘Of course she didn’t –’ burst out Emer, to be hushed by the prince’s raised hand.

‘She was mine,’ Branoc repeated. ‘My wife.’

‘You told her so, I imagine,’ said Prince Oran. The scribe was writing furiously. I hoped he was keeping a true record of the conversation. I hoped the facts would not be twisted and turned to suit a particular purpose, as was common in Mathuin’s hearings. ‘When her father was gone, I mean.’

‘She knew what was to be,’ Branoc said. ‘She knew what was right.’

‘Then why the shackles? Why had Ness been beaten?’

Branoc’s gaze went one way, the other way. He was wondering, perhaps, if there was any point in denying responsibility outright. ‘Ah, women,’ he said with a shrug. ‘There is no understanding them. Ness and I, we liked to play games. She would make a pretence of resisting. I would be forceful; women enjoy that. Perhaps, once or twice, our play went a little far, but I did not beat Ness, my lord, why would I do such a thing? I love her. She is my wife. A bruise or two, that is all part of learning. Besides, she is a creature of volatile moods, like many young women of her age. Time and experience will calm her.’

I thought I might be sick on the floor of Prince Oran’s hall.

‘You vile scum!’ shouted Grim, and before I could stop him he had charged across the chamber and put his big hands around the baker’s throat. It was the fire again, and the nightmare, and the way he had gone into the wood with death in his eyes. Only this time there were guards everywhere, and they pulled him away before he could kill the wretch. It took five of them, and by the time they hauled him off everyone was shouting. And above all the hubbub, now, came Branoc’s voice as he was released from Grim’s grip.

‘You pox-ridden cur, you stinking mongrel! More pity that you were not in the house when I burned it, you and the witch! Until you came here all was as it should be! I should have fried the two of you to cinders and rid the place of your accursed presence!’

Everyone heard it, and the noise died down in an instant. But Grim was still fighting; the guards had his arms pinioned behind his back. The look on his face told me only part of him was there, and the rest was somewhere else, perhaps in Mathuin’s hall, perhaps in a time before that, when something had set scars on him as deep as Ness’s.

‘Take him out,’ the steward said to the men who were holding him.

Out where? Was he to be charged with unruly behaviour, attempted assault? Locked up in some dank cell? It would destroy him.

‘My lord,’ I said, ‘we are here to see justice done. I know Grim regrets his loss of self-control. If you will ask your guards to release him, I will give my word that such an outburst will not happen again. It has not been easy for either of us to be here today. We came for Ness’s sake, and for Emer’s. My lord, we need to witness the proceedings right to the end.’ I swallowed, then added, ‘Please, Prince Oran.’

The prince looked somewhat startled, as well he might be. ‘It is not your word I require, Mistress Blackthorn,’ he said, ‘but Grim’s. Grim, I understand the desire to take things into your own hands; to dispense summary justice. But that is not the way we conduct matters at Winterfalls. The open council provides a forum for grievances to be heard and settled; it provides everyone with the opportunity to express an opinion. Everyone. That extends even to a person accused of a heinous crime. Do you understand?’

Grim drew a ragged breath. ‘Yes, my lord.’ His voice was the growl of a hunting hound straining against the leash.

‘Curb your anger; it does not serve you well. Guards, release him. Grim, this is your only warning. Next time you will be removed from the hall.’

Grim did not look in the least contrite, but the guards let him go, and he came back to sit by me. He put his elbows on his knees and turned his gaze on the floor. I did not think he was ashamed of his outburst. I guessed he was keeping his eyes off Branoc, lest the desire to throttle the man became too much for him.

‘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.’