The Forbidden Land Page 11

  Jongleurs roamed through the garden, delighting the crowd with their songs and acrobatics. Some walked on stilts so it seemed they were giants. Others juggled oranges or swords, danced energetic reels over crossed swords, or built high pyramids by kneeling on each other’s backs. One told wicked stories by the ale-barrel, his audience gasping with laughter.

  Dide and Morrell set up a high rope for Finn. Carrying a beribboned pole to help aid her balance, Finn slowly walked across it, much to the amazement of the crowd below. She did a slow pirouette, then stood on her hands and swung her legs over her head until she stood again. Emboldened by the applause of the crowd, Finn then walked across the rope on her hands, and then did a few simple cartwheels and handsprings that sent the crowd wild. Her heart hammering with fear and excitement, Finn swung from the rope by her knees, and then her hands, dismounting with a rather wild somersault that nonetheless had the crowd cheering and clapping. As she landed on Dide’s shoulders, she heard the clatter of coins on the pavement as the audience threw her a golden reward.

  Dide sang a seductive love song after that, while Nina danced a slow, sensuous dance, gathering up her skirt to one side and swaying from side to side, showing off her slim brown legs and high-heeled red shoes. Ashlin and Brun played their flutes, Morrell played his fiddle and Jay the viola, while Enit sang the lovely wordless refrain.

  Alternating music with juggling and fire-eating, acrobatics and dancing, the jongleurs had soon gathered a large crowd that was generous indeed with its coins, much to Morrell’s satisfaction. ‘We’re paid double tonight,’ he whispered to Finn, ‘for the Rìgh pays for our entertainment for his guests and the guests pay for their own. Och, Midsummer’s Eve is always a happy time for jongleurs!’

  It was long past midnight when Dide caught Finn by the elbow and whispered in her ear. ‘Come, it is time for us to meet wi’ my master. Follow me when I beckon and draw no attention to yourself, do ye hear me?’ Finn nodded and he said, ‘Tell Brangaine and Ashlin to stay close on my heels.’ Then he was gone, strumming his guitar and calling out jokes to the crowd.

  A thrill ran down Finn’s spine. She had almost forgotten they were here on the Rìgh’s secret business. As she whispered the news to Brangaine her heart was hammering, her palms growing sticky. Would they found out tonight what Enit had meant, when she had said they planned to set sail from Dùn Gorm just as soon as the winds were fair? Would Finn at last find out what, or who, she was meant to steal?

  They heard Dide’s merry voice ringing out over the garden. They turned and saw him leaping and cavorting at the head of a long procession of dancers, spinning wheels of fire in his hands. Nina danced past, grinning at Finn, Ashlin dancing behind her, one hand grasping her waist, the other clinging to the hand of a fat laughing matron. Then Brun cartwheeled past, his bells ringing. Finn spun, trying to keep her eyes on them all. Suddenly a large warm hand grasped hers and she was dragged into the dancing by Jay, his hazel eyes laughing down at her, his viola case strapped to his back. She laughed back and let herself be led through the gardens, in and out of yew trees and hedges, through a fountain, trying to keep her skirts out of the water, trampling over a flower bed, everyone shrieking with laughter. Then the procession danced up the steps and into the palace, Dide twirling the two flaming torches, up, down, round and round.

  ‘There be a thorn bush in our garden,

  white with flowers be our thorn bush, and at the back o’ the thorn lean a laddie and lass,

  And they’re busy, busy herryin’ at the cuckoo’s nest.

  And it’s hey the cuck and ho the cuck and hey the cuckoo’s nest,

  And it’s hey the cuck and ho the cuck and hey the cuckoo’s nest.

  I’ll give anybody a shilling and a bottle o’ the best,

  If they’ll rumple up the feathers o’ the cuckoo’s nest,’ Dide sang and everyone joined in breathlessly.

  The dancers wound their way into the great hall, where the court lairds and ladies danced and flirted. Lachlan and Iseult were sitting in their tall carved chairs at the head table, black head bent close over the red. For once, Iseult had not covered her hair and her curls hung down her back like writhing snakes of fire, bound here and there with black velvet ribbons. She was as usual dressed in white but in honour of the occasion her gown was of the richest satin damask, with long bell sleeves trimmed with black velvet and black scalloping at neck and hem. She looked every inch a banrìgh, cool, proud and regal.

  The Rìgh looked up at the sound of the singing and laughter, and a grin flashed over his dark face. He leapt to his feet and offered his hand to Iseult, who smiled and let him pull her upright. They came down the steps and onto the dance floor, the Rìgh’s arm close about her slim waist. Lachlan seized Nina’s hand and they were swung into the procession, the Rìgh’s kilt swirling up as he danced. Then Lachlan joined the singing, his beautiful deep voice ringing out.

  ‘She said: “my lad, you’re plundering” he said it was no’ true.

  But he left her with the makings o’ a young cuckoo.

  And it’s hey the cuck and ho the cuck and hey the cuckoo’s nest,

  And it’s hey the cuck and ho the cuck and hey the cuckoo’s nest.’

  Three times the riotous procession circled the room, knocking over tables and sending goblets of wine flying. Then Dide tossed the flaming torches high in the air, caught them with a flourish, and whirled out the door and into the palace beyond. Screaming with glee, the procession followed him, along the wide corridor, up the stairs and into the heart of the palace.

  Finn ran along behind, her hand held fast by Jay, her heart pounding with excitement. The Banrìgh’s tall figure danced ahead of her, the red light of the torches kindling in her hair. Ahead of them many couples dropped out of the procession, throwing themselves into chairs, panting, hands to their hearts. Some withdrew into shadowy recesses to kiss and laugh. Others went in search of liquid refreshment to soothe their parched throats. Slowly the procession dwindled.

  Through long galleries they danced, into the oldest part of the palace. Here the halls were narrow and of grey stone, not gleaming blue marble. Old paintings glared down from the walls, and there were stone ravens mounted at the foot of the stairs, their beaks curved cruelly. Many more of the dancers stopped, to wander through the galleries, examining the ancient tapestries with their pictures of dark forests and ancient battles. Finn and Jay ran on, eyes fixed on the twirling torches ahead of them. There were only a few candles kindled here and it was hard to see much more than jostling bodies and laughing faces. Finn suddenly realised she could no longer see Iseult’s flaming red hair and paused, trying to catch her breath, straining to see through the shadows.

  Suddenly a hand reached out from, behind a tapestry and caught her arm. Finn had to bite back a shriek. She was dragged unceremoniously behind the curtain, Jay close behind her. She only had time to see that the curtain concealed a deep recess with an oaken door set within, half ajar. Standing within the door was Dide. He raised his finger to his lips, made a frantic signal with his hand, then silently shut the door. To her amazement Finn felt Jay slide his arm about her waist, then he had bent his head and kissed her. The first kiss only grazed her cheek, then he had caught her mouth. For a moment Finn was frozen in surprise then instinctively she responded.

  A light dazzled against her closed eyelids. A merry voice cried, ‘Caught ye in the act! Look at ye, the sly bairns that ye are.’

  Bemused, Finn opened her eyes. The pretty scullery-maid Elsie was leaning in, laughing, a lamp in her hand.

  ‘I wondered what ye two were doing, disappearing like that,’ she said, smiling. ‘But it’s Midsummer madness tonight; people are disappearing all over the place. Come nine months, there’ll be a passel o’ babes being born, that I’ll warrant.’

  Finn blushed, opened her mouth to deny that she and Jay were lovers; closed it again, blushing even harder. Elsie laughed again, said, ‘How can I blame ye, when I be searching for Dide the Juggler for just
such a purpose? Have ye seen him?’

  ‘He was leading the procession,’ Jay said, rather huskily. ‘Look for the spinning torches.’

  ‘I did, but it seems he has passed them on to his father, the fire-eater,’ Elsie said, pouting a little. ‘I could have sworn he was here a moment ago.’

  ‘Well, look for him in the gardens,’ Jay said shortly. ‘Canna ye see we’re all alone here—or at least, we were.’

  Elsie laughed and put up her hands in mock-surrender. ‘Obh obh! Sorry indeed I am to be interrupting ye.’ She withdrew her head and let the tapestry drop down again. Jay and Finn were alone in the warm darkness.

  There was silence between them. Finn was very aware of how close Jay was standing to her. She drew breath to say something, anything, to break the awkwardness between them. Just then the door behind them opened a crack, a draught of cool air raising the hairs on Finn’s bare arms. It smelt old and musty, as if it had lain still and undisturbed for many years. Dide stood beyond, a small flame held cupped in his hands. ‘Is all clear?’ he whispered.

  ‘Aye,’ Jay whispered back. ‘That bonny maid ye were flirting with came in search o’ ye but we fobbed her off.’

  ‘Thank Eà,’ Dide replied with exaggerated relief. ‘Who kens what could have happened if she’d found me? I could have found myself jumping the fire wi’ her and handfast for all the world to see.’

  Jay replied teasingly, gesturing with his hand for Finn to precede him through the tall arched doorway. Finn moved forward stiffly, aware of a stinging humiliation. It was clear to her that Jay’s kiss had been merely a diversion, to throw anyone watching off the scent. She wished she had not responded so ardently. She wished she had not responded at all.

  Beyond was a hallway that ran along inside the thick stone walls. It was dark and cramped, and smelt of mice. Ashlin and Brangaine were waiting there for them, standing very close together, looking a little unnerved from being left alone in the confined darkness. They pressed themselves against the wall so Dide could squeeze past them, bringing the flame in his palm leaping to life so shadows swayed ahead of them like a procession of dark ghosts.

  The passageway brought them to a steep spiralling stairwell, each step so high it was almost like climbing a ladder. At each turn of the stair was a tall lancet window on one side, with a little landing outside a thick oaken door on the other. Each door was shrouded in a veil of filthy cobwebs, proving they had not been opened in a very long time indeed.

  At length they climbed out into a small round room at the very height of the tower. Four thick candles had been lit, their flames dancing in the warm, sea-scented breeze that blew steadily through the tall arched embrasures. In their uncertain light Finn saw Lachlan and Iseult leaning together out one of the windows, the Rìgh pointing out landmarks to another young couple who stood close together in the next embrasure. Finn recognised them as Iain MacFóghnan, the prionnsa of Arran, and his wife Elfrida NicHilde, the deposed banprionnsa of Tìrsoilleir. A tall, spare man with a gentle face, the MacFóghnan was dressed in the heather-purple plaid of his clan, fastened with a silver brooch forged in the shape of a flowering thistle. Elfrida NicHilde wore a charcoal grey dress cut on austere lines, with her pale blonde hair scraped back into a bun at the back of her head. She looked more like a governess than a banprionnsa.

  The Rìgh’s squire stood stiffly nearby with a tray of silver goblets and a jug of wine, a huge dog with a black-patched face lying at his feet. A few other men were grouped by another window, drinking wine and talking in undertones. As Finn and Jay came forward eagerly, the dog lifted its head and thumped its shaggy white tail but Finn had eyes only for her old comrades-in-arms, the Rìgh and Banrìgh.

  ‘Iseult!’ Finn cried. The Banrìgh turned and held out her hands and the two embraced affectionately.

  ‘Well met, Finn! Look how tall ye have grown!’

  ‘So our wee cat-thief has finally arrived!’ Lachlan said. ‘How are ye yourself, Finn?’

  ‘Very well indeed, Your Highness,’ Finn said rather shyly. She had not seen Lachlan since his coronation and was rather abashed to find he had grown into a kingly man, with lines of serious thought engraved on his face. He had grown heavier during his years as Rìgh, and carried such an aura of authority and strength that she had trouble remembering him as the sullen, impetuous young man she had first met seven years ago. His magnificent wings were folded behind him, framing his body with their dark gloss, and he carried the Lodestar sceptre at his waist as always.

  At the sight of Dide his face lit up and he reached forward and drew the young jongleur into a hard embrace. ‘Dide! So glad I am to see ye! It’s too much time ye are spending on the road and no’ enough time by my side, where ye should be. Are ye no’ one o’ my Yeomen, sworn to protect and serve me?’

  Released from Lachlan’s strong arms, Dide rubbed his ribs ruefully, pretending to gasp for breath. ‘Ye should be more careful, my master! Ye almost cracked a rib that time. Ye mun try and remember that most o’ us are made o’ frailer stuff.’ As Lachlan snorted in amusement, he went on, more seriously, ‘But do I no’ serve ye well, my master, travelling the roads and listening to the tales o’ the country folk and singing your praises?’

  ‘Indeed ye do,’ Lachlan responded warmly.

  ‘Each to their own road,’ Dide replied. ‘I should be getting myself into trouble if I did naught but follow your royal court around and sing love songs to silly maids. Nay, far better that I do what I have always done. Besides, what need o’ me do ye have when young Dillon is always at your back, serving and protecting ye? He does a far better job, I promise ye!’

  The squire smiled briefly, his hand dropping to caress the hilt of the sword that hung at his side. Both Jay and Finn gave a little cry of surprise and stared at him more closely. Only then did they recognise him, for the stocky, freckle-faced lad they had known had grown into a tall, powerfully built young man with a stern mouth and heavily hooded eyes. Only the thick thatch of light brown hair remained of the boy that had once been the general of the League of the Healing Hand.

  ‘Scruffy!’ Finn cried. ‘Flaming dragon balls, I would never have recognised ye!’

  Dillon bowed stiffly. ‘My lady.’

  ‘Och, please do no’ “my lady” me!’ she cried, troubled. ‘I be Finn, just like I always was.’

  He said nothing, merely inclined his head and resumed looking straight ahead. His dog Jed rose, however, and came to greet Finn with a wagging tail. She rubbed his rough head affectionately, ignoring Goblin, who arched her back and hissed from her shoulder. Jed whined a little, well remembering Goblin’s wicked claws, and the elven cat narrowed her eyes and hissed again.

  ‘It be grand indeed to see ye, Dillon,’ Jay said, rather shyly. ‘It has been a long time.’

  ‘That it has,’ he answered gravely, ‘and much has happened.’

  Finn drew closer to him, staring at him curiously. ‘We heard the news o’ Jorge’s death,’ she said awkwardly. ‘It must have been horrible for ye.’

  His frown deepened, his mouth compressing. Finn would have said something more but Lachlan claimed her attention again, gesturing sternly to Brangaine and Ashlin hovering behind her.

  ‘Who are these people?’ he cried. ‘Dide? What are ye doing bringing strangers to our conference? After all our efforts to keep our meeting secret!’

  Brangaine dropped into a deep, graceful curtsy. ‘I am Brangaine NicSian, the banprionnsa o’ Siantan, Your Highness. We met at the last Lammas Conference when ye ratified me lady o’ the MacSian clan and ruler o’ Siantan.’ There was a touch of hauteur in her voice.

  ‘Aye, I remember ye now,’ he answered, his voice still angry. ‘Wha’ do ye do here, o’ all places?’

  ‘She is my cousin,’ Finn said rather sulkily. ‘She insisted on coming too.’ She turned to Brangaine. ‘I told ye he would no’ like it.’

  ‘But I do no’ understand,’ Lachlan cried, appealing to Dide. ‘Did ye no’ understand the utmost impor
tance o’ keeping Finn’s presence here secret? What is she doing accompanied by her cousin? And who is he? Her brother?’

  ‘Her piper,’ Dide replied with gloomy satisfaction.

  Lachlan’s wings flared wide in irritation. ‘I suppose ye will be telling me next that she brought her handmaid and her lap-dog too?’

  ‘Nay, though she did bring her gillie and her lap-cat,’ Dide replied, enjoyment evident in his voice.

  Lachlan’s face was dark with anger, his jaw set grimly. ‘Explain!’ he snapped.

  ‘It is no’ my fault, master,’ Dide replied rather defensively, though there was still a quiver of laughter in his voice. ‘We told Lady Gwyneth that Finn’s journey mun be kept mumchance! Yet when Finn came to join us she had all these others wi’ her, and said her mother would no’ let her come without them. Castle Rurach was under siege from the Fairgean so we could no’ send them back. Besides, the damage was done. I thought it best to bring them wi’ us than have them wandering around the countryside, causing talk.’

  ‘Finn, ye surprise me,’ Iseult said. ‘I had thought ye a seasoned veteran. Did Enit no’ explain to ye how important it was that none kent ye came to serve us?’

  ‘I told my mother that ye would no’ like it, but she said if Brangaine did not come, neither could I!’

  ‘Ye mun remember Gwyneth NicSian is a lady o’ the auld school,’ Dide said soothingly. ‘She could no more send her daughter off unattended wi’ a pack o’ dirty jongleurs than she could brush her own hair. Besides, it may no’ be so bad. They say the young NicSian has the Talent and ye ken that could come in useful on the high seas!’

  Lachlan stared at Brangaine intently. ‘Is this true?’ he asked abruptly. ‘Ye can whistle the wind?’

  Brangaine coloured hotly. ‘I have some Skill,’ she answered stiffly. ‘Ye must remember though that the Tower o’ Storm is no more. I have no’ been properly trained.’

  ‘Can ye ride the storm?’