“The tale is finished at last,” he said, in the tongue that we could all understand. “Be happy. You have earned one another. The gift of such love is given to but few. You must make each day count.”
Red pressed his lips against my hair. I watched Finbar slip out the door like a shadow. Then I took my husband’s hand, and led him to my own sleeping quarters, where somebody had lit a fire in the small grate, and placed candles and wine and goblets, and a bunch of dried lavender on the pillow. I could hear what an effort it was for Red to control his breathing, and indeed I was not much better myself.
“I—I’m afraid I will hurt you,” he said. “But—but I need you, Jenny, I ache for you, I don’t think I can—”
“Ssh,” I said. “It’s all right. It will be all right.”
Real life is not quite as it is in stories. In the old tales, bad things happen, and when the tale has unfolded and come to its triumphant conclusion, it is as if the bad things had never been. Life is not as simple as that, not quite. It would have been good to forget, entirely, the damage done to my body and mind that day in the forest, by men who used me without thought. But such things are never quite forgotten, though they fade with the years. And so, as we lay together that first time, there was one moment when I gasped in remembered fear, and my body froze and trembled. But Red held me, and stroked my hair, and spoke to me softly, little words under the breath, and he waited for me. And, at length, my body opened to his like a flower, and we moved slowly together, and then more quickly, and we sighed and cried out and found release in each other’s arms. He showed me that the union between man and woman is, indeed, something to wonder at, and revel in, and laugh over. Until that night, I realized I had never heard him laugh. And as to what the gossips of Harrowfield had delighted in saying about my husband, it was all true, but it scarcely did him justice.
The very first thing Red did, after we rose next morning in a sort of blissful daze, with foolish smiles on our faces and scarce able to keep our hands away from each other, was to come with me to the village, and while I tended to one and to another, he set about learning the names of every man, woman, and child there, and how to greet them courteously in their own tongue. At first they eyed him with some unease. But his stumbling efforts to be understood brought smiles and wisecracks, and they saw how it was with the two of us. Me they knew and loved, and if he was my man, then he must be all right, Briton or no. Soon enough he was being stopped to admire a prize sow, or offering grave advice, by means of complicated hand signals, on replacing rotting wood in a byre, or helping to hold a post upright while supports were driven in around it. In time, they were all won over.
At home it was somewhat more difficult. That first day, he was quizzed at some length by Donal and by Liam, for while it was accepted that I had made my choice, that didn’t mean they had to like it.
Conor, surprisingly, had little to say. I caught his grave eyes on me, watching with a sort of wry acceptance, and when later I drew him aside alone, he said, “You thought that unfair, did you? To make a man reveal himself thus before us?”
“You were hard on him,” I said. “I would have thought you, at least, could see him for what he is, without such a test.”
Conor smiled. “Without such a test, perhaps he would never have told you how he felt. Myself, I knew the man he was. Knew that it would be thus with the two of you. I cannot see what is to come, as Finbar does; but this meeting of spirits was as inevitable as the path of sun and moon across the sky. I have known it for some time; but it would have been a mistake to make it too easy for him. You had both to learn the power of loss, before you came to your senses. Tell me, did she visit you, that being of the other world who has guided your path? Have you seen her again, since you came home?”
“How do you know so much?” I was astonished, and would have been annoyed, were not the glow of joy so strong in me as to shut out all else.
“I have cause to put what skills I possess to the test, from time to time,” said Conor. “They are meager enough; they have been sufficient thus far, but not for much longer. I must soon leave this place, and go on another journey, and it may be long before I see you again. It eases my mind to see you so content after your ordeal. I believe it was ordained thus.”
“You’re not saying—you’re not saying what I think you’re saying? That the whole thing—all of it—that it was all for this end? So that he and I—no, I can’t believe that.” His words filled me with confusion. He must be wrong, surely. We were not mere puppets, but men and women making our own choices.
“One thing is certain,” he said. “You will never hear the answer from the Fair Folk. But it is a long, long game they play, and our stories are the slightest of pieces in its great pattern. You should think about it. Each of you was put through many trials; each of you proved strong, strong enough for their purpose. So strong, indeed, that you came close to thwarting them, for each of you chose to give up what was loved best, in the hope that the other would find happiness. The Fair Folk do not expect such selflessness.”
“But—but it was cruelly done. For us, the ending is a good one, but what about Father? What about Finbar? And there was a man of—of my husband’s people, a good man, who died protecting me. What of the child, whom Oonagh took away? Diarmid and Cormack are gone, and you say you are leaving too; soon there will be no family at Sevenwaters. I could almost believe what the lady Oonagh said that day, that she and the Lady of the Forest were one and the same, for the line between light and darkness seems thin indeed. What end could be worth such loss?”
“They care little whom they cast aside,” said Conor. “But in this game there is, as I said, a far greater goal than we can well comprehend. Perhaps I am wrong. Time will reveal it. Your part in it, I trust, is over, and your path now straight and true. There will be a family here, and good years. But there is one thing you must remember, if you forget all else. There is no good or evil, save in the way you see the world. There is no dark or light, save in your own vision. All changes in the blink of an eyelid; yet all remains the same. If you wish to know what is to come, you should ask Finbar. Now, enough of such gravity. You had better go and rescue Lord Hugh from Liam’s clutches, before he suffers more. Go on, off with you.”
Red had answered them well enough, for now. That he would stay, and watch over me, and make himself useful. That he had skills they might employ, with the husbandry of livestock and the management of crops. He could fight, if that were necessary, but there was one thing he would not do, and that was take up arms against his own kind. It must be understood that he would not do this, on any account. Father nodded, satisfied. Donal growled that it was all very well to talk; a good solid bout in the practice yard and they’d see what he was made of. Red, as I had known he would, took up this challenge immediately. He suggested that perhaps that afternoon might be a good time. Donal’s eyes lit up. Liam, tight jawed, was not saying much at all. Then I advanced into the hall where they stood, and a sweet smile curved Red’s mouth as he saw me, and a warm light awoke in his eyes, which must have been a reflection of my own. I went to stand by his side, and each of us slipped an arm around the other, for it was not possible to be so close, and not to touch.
“Very well,” said Liam. “If it suits you, you can show us your skills today. Sure you’re up to it?”
“I think so,” Red replied gravely.
It was not, perhaps, in his best interest to retire upstairs with me beforehand, but there was no preventing it, for our bodies spoke to one another in a way that could not be denied. We were, I suppose, making up for lost time. Later, I lay on the bed wrapped only in a sheet and watched him as he dressed somewhat reluctantly.
“Won’t you be tired?” I asked, smiling. “My brothers are adept in the arts of war, and they’ll be keen to prove a point. Are you sure you can cope?”
He slipped his tunic over his head. “Today, I could take on three giants, each bigger and uglier than the last, and think nothing of it,” he said. He was already starting to talk like one of us. “Stay there, I’ll be back before you know it,” and he touched his lips to mine, and drew them away with some difficulty, and went out, buckling on a borrowed sword belt.
I did not stay abed, but went to an upper window from which I could watch them. It was an interesting bout. Liam and Red were, I thought, quite evenly matched; what advantage Liam had in experience was balanced by Red’s greater height and heavier build, and by his surprising lightness on his feet. In any event, what started out as a fierce contest developed into a demonstration and then a lesson, first by one and then the other, in the techniques of armed and unarmed combat. Donal became involved, and then a group of others. I saw Red teaching them how to execute the flying kick with left foot extended; then horses were brought out and I saw Liam showing him the trick of slipping low in the saddle to avoid a blow, and then up again in a single fluid movement. Both of them were sustaining a few bruises. I heard the sound of laughter. How Diarmid would have enjoyed showing off his skills with the spear, I thought. And Cormack, he would have been in the midst of it, whirling about with staff in hand. There had been no word from the two of them; their places at the table remained empty. Then I left well alone, and made my way up the stone steps, up and up, to the place where you could sit on the roof slates and look out far over the gray-blue haze of the winter forest. I had known I would find Finbar here. I settled beside him, shivering a little, for the breeze was sharp.
Talk to me, dear one. With such joy in my heart, your loneliness is hard for me to bear
.
You will not have to bear it for long
.
“What?” I spoke aloud, for his words shook me. “What do you mean?”
It will not be long. There is no more for me to do here
.
Where are you going?
Away
. He was being very careful; his mind was shuttered, save for the brief message which was all he was prepared to give me.
Why won’t you talk to me anymore? What is wrong?
He shifted slightly on the cold slates, and the wing unfurled a little, to balance him.
You ask me that?
We were silent. I could not see what his future might be; I only knew that once, he had burned to set the world to rights, to see justice done and truth revealed. That passionate boy was gone; and I did not know the man who had taken his place.
Was there something you wanted to know
?
I shook my head. I had decided I would not ask him what my future held. I hoped it would be good, and happy, and that I would have my husband by my side always.
But I would not ask.
As we sat in silence, a picture made its way into my mind. At first I thought it was one he had shown me before, in which a little Sorcha skipped and ran under great trees, with a dappled light falling around her. But this was different, for this child had copper-red hair that fell straight down her back in a shining curtain, and another ran after her, a dark-haired boy, and he was calling, “Niamh! Wait for me!” They were the same children I had seen in my mind, on the day of the burning. And somewhere on the edge of sight, there was another child, who looked on hungry-eyed; but this figure I could not see clearly. The girl stretched out her arms and began to spin around, bare feet light on the soft earth, her dress swirling out about her; and the sunlight pierced the canopy of trees and turned her auburn hair to pure gold. Then the light faded, and the picture was gone as my brother drew the shutters firmly closed.
This is all I see
.
It’s enough
. I shivered again. I had forgotten to put on a cloak.
We will all be gone, one after the other. There will be no sons. It is your children, and his, that will inherit Sevenwaters
.
“Don’t say that!” I spoke aloud, sharply. “Don’t tempt fate! You cannot know everything.”
Some things I know. He retreated into silence again, his eyes turned far away, beyond the lake, out into the west.
Some time later, men came for Conor. Two very old men, traveling on foot. Their hair was in many small braids, and they wore silver collars around their necks, and robes that moved fluidly about their spare frames. This was the call for which he had been waiting. I found it hard to believe, at first, that he could desert our household so easily, for he had always been there, the voice of balance and reason, the brother who had the power to moderate between the others, the one who had possessed the strength of will to draw his brothers after him to Harrowfield, across the wide sea, to be healed at last. But it was his calling. For he could not learn the ancient lore, the mystic crafts, and at the same time up hold famdy and tuath. He must go forth into the forests and the deep caves, beyond the reach and tte knowledge of ordinary folk. There would be years, many years of study and practice, tefore he became one of the brotherhood.
It seemed to me the eyes of these two old ones looked on my brother with deep respect, novice though he was. Had he not spent the test part of three years as a creature of the wild, and held onto his human consciousness ad that time? Did he not, already, possess considerable skids as manipulator of the elements, as instigator of blinding mist, and capricious wind? It was late perhaps, but not too late to begin his years of discipline. He would become strong; one of the strongest of his kind. I honored him for it, but that did not lessen the pain of losing him.
He said his goodbyes in the hall, embracing first Father, then Liam, clapping Donal on the back, ruffling Padriac’s hair. Red he clasped by the shoulder.
“Watch over my sister,” he said. “Keep her safe.”
But Finbar and I walked with him to the edge of the forest, and stood there to watch him go. The two old men waited quietiy. Conor did not touch Finbar, but he spoke to him and I heard his words. Be strong, brother.
You too have scarcely begun your journey
.