a bit from the quality of our ale. Eilis was blushing and looking down at her plate again. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Cormack feeding slivers of meat to his dog, Linn, who had squeezed her long-limbed body under the table. He’d hold a morsel of beef or chicken very casually between thumb and forefinger, and an instant later the great whiskery muzzle would appear, and disappear, and Cormack would rest his empty hand on the table’s edge, his eyes fixed carefully elsewhere and his dimples showing just a little.
‘And so I charge you, drink to the happy pair! May their union be long and fruitful, and a sign of friendship and peace between neighbours.’
I’d missed something; Liam was standing, rather pale but unable to keep a smile off his usually serious face, and then he was taking Eilis’ hand, and I finally saw the way they looked at each other and knew it for what it was.
‘Married? Liam?’ I said to nobody in particular. ‘To her?’ but they were all laughing and cheering, and even my father looked almost contented. I saw the old hermit, Father Brien, speaking quietly to Liam and Eilis amidst the crowd. Clutching my hurt to myself, I slipped out of the hall, right away from the torches and candles and noise, to the stillroom which was my own place. But not to work; I sat in the deep window embrasure with a single stub of candle to keep me company, and stared out into the darkened kitchen garden. There was a sliver of moon, and a few stars in the black; slowly the garden’s familiar faces showed themselves to me, though I knew them so well I could have seen them in pitch darkness: soft blue-green wormwood, that warded off insects; the yellow tips of rioting tansy, dainty grey lavender with its brilliant spikes of purple and blue, the rough stone walls blanketed in a soft drift of green where an ancient creeper flourished. There were many more; and behind me on shelves, their oils and essences gleaming in bottle, jar or crucible, for cure or palliative; their dried leaves and blooms hanging above me in orderly bundles. A delicate healing smell hung in the quiet air. I took a few deep breaths. It was very cold; the old cloak I’d left on a hook behind the door here was some help, but the chill went straight to your bones. The best of summer was over.
I must have sat there for quite some time, cold even amidst the comfort of my own things. It was the end of something, and I didn’t want it to end. But there was nothing to be done about it. It was impossible not to cry. Tears flooded silently down my cheeks and I made no effort to wipe them away. After a while, footsteps sounded on the flagstones outside and there was a gentle tap at the door. Of course, one of them would come. So close were we, the seven of us, that no childhood injury went unnoticed, no slight, real or imagined, went unaddressed, no hurt was endured without comfort.
‘Sorcha? Can I come in?’
I’d thought it would be Conor; but it was my second brother, Diarmid, who ducked under the lintel and entered, disposing his long frame on a bench near my window. The flickering candle flame showed me his face in extremes of shadow and light; lean, straight-nosed, a younger version of Liam’s, save for the fuller mouth so ready to break into a wicked grin. But for now, he was serious.
‘You should come back,’ he said in a tone that told me he didn’t care, himself, about the niceties. ‘Your absence was noted.’
I swallowed, and rubbed a corner of the old cloak over my wet cheeks. It seemed to be anger I was feeling now more than sorrow.
‘Why do things have to change?’ I said crossly. ‘Why can’t we go on the way we are? Liam was quite happy before – he doesn’t need her!’
To his credit, Diarmid didn’t laugh at me. He stretched his legs out across the floor, apparently thinking deeply.
‘Liam’s a man now,’ he said after a while. ‘Men do marry, Sorcha. He’ll have responsibilities here – a wife can share that with him.’
‘He’s got us,’ I said fiercely. Diarmid did smile then, showing a set of dimples that rivalled Cormack’s for charm. It made me wonder why Eilis hadn’t chosen him instead of the serious Liam.
‘Listen to me, Sorcha. No matter where we are, or what we do, the seven of us will never be truly separate. We’ll always be the same for one another. But we are growing up; and grown up people do marry, and move away, and let other people into their lives. Even you will do that one day.’
‘Me!’ I was aghast.
‘You must know that.’ He moved closer and took my hand, and I noticed that his were large and rough, a man’s hands. He was seventeen now. ‘Father already plans a marriage for you, in a few years’ time, and doubtless then you will go away to live with your husband’s family. We will not all remain here.’
‘Go away? I would never go away from Sevenwaters! This is home! I would die before I’d move away!’
Tears sprang to my eyes again. I knew I was being foolish; I was not so ignorant as to have no understanding of marriages and alliances and what was expected. It was just that the sudden blow of Liam’s betrothal had shocked me; my world was changing, and I was not ready for it.
‘Things do change, Sorcha,’ said Diarmid sombrely. ‘And not always as we want. Not all of us would have wished Eilis to be for Liam; but that’s the way it is, and we must accept it.’
‘Why does he want to marry her, anyway?’ I demanded childishly. ‘She’s so boring!’
‘Liam’s a man,’ said Diarmid sternly, obviously putting aside his own regrets. ‘And she’s a woman. Their marriage was arranged a while back. They’re fortunate that they want each other, since they are pledged regardless. She will be a good wife to him.’
‘I’ll never have an arranged marriage,’ I said vehemently. ‘Never. How could you spend your whole life with someone you hated, or someone you couldn’t talk to? I’d rather not marry at all.’
‘And be an old wise woman among her possets and simples?’ grinned my brother. ‘Well, you’re ugly enough for the job. In fact, I think I can see your wrinkles growing already, granny!’
I punched him in the arm but found myself grinning back. He gave me a quick hug, hard enough to stop me lapsing into tears again.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Wash your face, comb your hair, and let’s brave the party for a bit more. Liam will be worried if you stay away all night. He needs your approval, so you’d better put a good face on it.’
I did not dance at the betrothal, but I moved amongst the folk there, and kissed Eilis’ rosy cheek and told Liam I was glad for him. My red eyes must have betrayed my true feelings, but in the smoke and torchlight, after somewhat more ale than he was accustomed to take, Liam didn’t seem to notice. The others were watching me; Diarmid kindly, bringing me some mead, making sure I was not alone too long; Conor a little severe, as if he understood my selfish thoughts all too well. Padriac and Cormack were making the most of this rare visit by a household of women, and dancing with the prettiest of Eilis’ ladies; by the amount of giggling and winking that was going on, my brothers’ youth was no impediment to their popularity. Finbar was deep in debate with a grizzled old warrior, one of Redbeard’s household.
My father had relaxed; it was a long time since I had seen him so. Opening his house to guests had been a trial, but a necessary one, in the interest of a strategic alliance with his neighbour. Father had observed my return, and when I made myself useful chatting to Eilis’ elderly chaperone, he even acknowledged me with a nod of approval. Clearly, I thought bitterly, a daughter like Eilis was just what he wanted – biddable, soft, a sweet thing with no mind of her own. Well, I could play the part tonight, for Liam’s sake, but he’d better not think I was going to keep it up.
The night wore on; mead and ale flowed, platters of food came and went. The best was on offer: roast pig, soft wheaten bread, spiced fruit and a mellow cheese made from ewes’ milk. There was more music and dancing – the musicians had come from Seamus’ household, and made up in vigour what they lacked in subtlety. The fellow on the bodhran had arms like a blacksmith’s, and the piper a taste for the mead. Such was the noise of stamping feet, of whistling and cheering, that it was some minutes before the commotion at the great