on. Hold on firmly. Ready? Here I come, then.”
Deord
, he thought,
I never dreamed how hard it would be to repay your generosity. I wish you’d taught your daughter common sense.
He edged out, and Eile struggled for balance as the rope took his weight. Reaching her, hemaneuvered until he was behind her, his feet on either side of hers, his hands gripping the rope and his body shielding both Eile and the silent child she carried. Gods, if he were a little girl in the middle of this he’d be caterwaulingin sheer fright. Saraid made not a sound; in the moonlight he saw her pale, small face, her big eyes. Eile was breathing in gasps. Her slight frame was rigidwith terror. He could not conceive of how, or why, she had started across the rope.
The river coursed angrily below their feet. “Now,” Faolan said, making his voice as calm and assured as he could, “we go back step by step together. Four should do it. Think of that fire; think of being warm and dry. Ready? One… two…”
The moment they were back on the bridge Eile wrenched herself away from himand made for the bank.
“Careful,” called Faolan after her. “You could still fall in. Wait for me.”
The dog danced about, jumping up frantically as Eile stepped off the bridge. The girl put out a hand to support herself against the nearest upright. Faolan knew how she felt; his own legs were like jelly. He could hear her breathing, harsh and uneven, as if she were beyond tears. What was behindthis he did not know. It was a lunatic escapade, reckless enough if the girl herself had tried it, beyond foolish with a small cousin in tow. Her aunt would be horrified. What had Eile been thinking of?
“We’re all right now.” Eile was trying for an assertive tone, but he could see her shaking. He wished the child would make some sound. Her silence unnerved him.
“Can’t say the same for myself,”he said. “Come on. Time enough for questions later. I’ve no food left but, as I said, there’s a fire. Follow me. Can you manage?” He eyed the child, a substantial weight, surely, for a little thing like Eile to carry.
“We were managing fine!” Eile retorted instantly.
Faolan refrained from comment. He just hoped she wouldn’t decide to bolt into the night before he found out what she was playingat. Changed her mind about the priory, he supposed, and decided to follow him. But then, why Saraid? The child belonged back at Cloud Hill with her parents. His heart sank. He’d have to take the two ofthem home in the morning, or send Eile on to the nuns and return the little girl to her mother and father.
Thanks, Deord. I don’t suppose you realized how limited my talents are as a nursemaid.
Inside the cottage, he bent first to stir up the fire and lay on more wood. When he rose, he saw that Eile had not moved. She stood as if frozen, arms clutched around herself, the child still in its sling on her back.
“Here, let me,” he said, moving to untie the cloth that held Saraid.
“Don’t touch her!” snarled Eile. Suddenly, the point of a knife was just before his face; she was certainlyquick.
Faolan took a step back, raising his hands, palms open. He looked at her; looked again at the knife, his knife that he had left behind. The blade showed dull red in the firelight. Eile’s hand, clutching the hilt, was shaking as if palsied. Silent tears began to spill from her eyes, making tracks on cheeks grimed with the dust of the journey. From her back, a tiny, polite voice was heardto say, “Down, please?”
“I won’t hurt her, or you,” Faolan said quietly. “Let me untie her for you. You’re both cold and tired. Sit by the fire, rest and recover.” He reached very slowly to unfasten the sling, and this time Eile let him, lowering the weapon to stand shivering as he released Saraid. The child was cramped; she hobbled to the sacks and subsided to a crouch like a little wild animal.In her hands she held a shapeless rag doll, not much more than a small bag
Deord
, he thought,
I never dreamed how hard it would be to repay your generosity. I wish you’d taught your daughter common sense.
He edged out, and Eile struggled for balance as the rope took his weight. Reaching her, hemaneuvered until he was behind her, his feet on either side of hers, his hands gripping the rope and his body shielding both Eile and the silent child she carried. Gods, if he were a little girl in the middle of this he’d be caterwaulingin sheer fright. Saraid made not a sound; in the moonlight he saw her pale, small face, her big eyes. Eile was breathing in gasps. Her slight frame was rigidwith terror. He could not conceive of how, or why, she had started across the rope.
The river coursed angrily below their feet. “Now,” Faolan said, making his voice as calm and assured as he could, “we go back step by step together. Four should do it. Think of that fire; think of being warm and dry. Ready? One… two…”
The moment they were back on the bridge Eile wrenched herself away from himand made for the bank.
“Careful,” called Faolan after her. “You could still fall in. Wait for me.”
The dog danced about, jumping up frantically as Eile stepped off the bridge. The girl put out a hand to support herself against the nearest upright. Faolan knew how she felt; his own legs were like jelly. He could hear her breathing, harsh and uneven, as if she were beyond tears. What was behindthis he did not know. It was a lunatic escapade, reckless enough if the girl herself had tried it, beyond foolish with a small cousin in tow. Her aunt would be horrified. What had Eile been thinking of?
“We’re all right now.” Eile was trying for an assertive tone, but he could see her shaking. He wished the child would make some sound. Her silence unnerved him.
“Can’t say the same for myself,”he said. “Come on. Time enough for questions later. I’ve no food left but, as I said, there’s a fire. Follow me. Can you manage?” He eyed the child, a substantial weight, surely, for a little thing like Eile to carry.
“We were managing fine!” Eile retorted instantly.
Faolan refrained from comment. He just hoped she wouldn’t decide to bolt into the night before he found out what she was playingat. Changed her mind about the priory, he supposed, and decided to follow him. But then, why Saraid? The child belonged back at Cloud Hill with her parents. His heart sank. He’d have to take the two ofthem home in the morning, or send Eile on to the nuns and return the little girl to her mother and father.
Thanks, Deord. I don’t suppose you realized how limited my talents are as a nursemaid.
Inside the cottage, he bent first to stir up the fire and lay on more wood. When he rose, he saw that Eile had not moved. She stood as if frozen, arms clutched around herself, the child still in its sling on her back.
“Here, let me,” he said, moving to untie the cloth that held Saraid.
“Don’t touch her!” snarled Eile. Suddenly, the point of a knife was just before his face; she was certainlyquick.
Faolan took a step back, raising his hands, palms open. He looked at her; looked again at the knife, his knife that he had left behind. The blade showed dull red in the firelight. Eile’s hand, clutching the hilt, was shaking as if palsied. Silent tears began to spill from her eyes, making tracks on cheeks grimed with the dust of the journey. From her back, a tiny, polite voice was heardto say, “Down, please?”
“I won’t hurt her, or you,” Faolan said quietly. “Let me untie her for you. You’re both cold and tired. Sit by the fire, rest and recover.” He reached very slowly to unfasten the sling, and this time Eile let him, lowering the weapon to stand shivering as he released Saraid. The child was cramped; she hobbled to the sacks and subsided to a crouch like a little wild animal.In her hands she held a shapeless rag doll, not much more than a small bag
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