Chapter OneIn a drafty passageway below the Dalriadan fortress of Dunadd, two men met in shadow. The place was well away from the eyes and ears of the Gaelic court there, and thus suited to covert exchange. The information to be passed was dangerous; in the wrong hands it could be deadly. The future of kingdoms depended on it.
‘What do you have for me? There was a pattern to such exchanges; the younger man, a lean, dark individual with a shuttered expression, fell into it with the ease of long practice.
‘A name, said the other, a tall fellow clad in the russet tunic of King Gabhrans household retainers. ‘Bridei must move quickly and cleverly if he is not to be hemmed in from north and south.
‘Spare me the analysis, the dark man said. ‘What name?
‘And in return?
The dark mans lips tightened. ‘Youll get your information.
In the little silence that followed, the tall man glanced to left and to right along the shadowy way. All was quiet; moonlight, slanting in from the distant entry, allowed the two to read each others features dimly. Under such a light it can be difficult to know if a man lies or tells the truth; it is hard to tell how far to trust. Both of these men were expert in such judgments, for a spys existence is all calculated risk.
‘One of the Caitt chieftains, whispered the tall man. ‘Alpin of Briar Wood. He commands an extensive personal army. The alliance could be sealed before next spring unless your people act to forestall it.
The dark man nodded. ‘Which of the other northern chieftains would support him? Umbrig?
‘In my judgment, no. But they are kinsmen. Alpin has a natural son fostered in Umbrigs household. As for the others, I cant say. The chieftain of Briar Wood has both allies and enemies among his own.
‘I see.
‘Your king would be well advised to make a speedy approach to Alpin, said the tall man. ‘Youd best have a quiet word in Brideis ear.
The dark mans expression did not change. ‘Im hardly in a position to do that, he said levelly. ‘Im only a bearer of information. Im not the kings confidant.
‘Thats not what Ive heard.
‘Then youve been misinformed, the dark man said.
‘Now give me what you have.
The dark mans eyes had grown colder. ‘Gabhran should look to his eastern defenses, he said. ‘Should this matter of the Caitt not impede him, Bridei could be ready to make his major push against the Gaels next spring. Theres a council planned for Gathering, with high hopes Drust the Boar will fall in behind Bridei at last.
The tall man grunted acceptance. The exchange of information was fair. What each man did with it was his own business.
The two parted without farewells. The dark man had a long way to go; the tall man was closer to home, and he walked back along the dark passageway and out under cover of trees with his mind on supper and a warm night in the bed of a certain accommodating woman.
A boy out fishing found him a few days later, his body swollen and distorted from immersion in a stream and bruised by the rocks under which it lay partly wedged. It was just possible to ascertain that he had not died from drowning, but had been expertly strangled by something strong and thin, such as a harp string.
As for the dark man, by then he was long gone from Dunadd, headed back across the border out of the Gaelic territory of Dalriada and into the lands of King Bridei of the Priteni. The bag of silver he had received from his Dalriadan masters had been hidden away. There would be another payment when he got to Brideis fortress at White Hill. Considerable wealth now lay in his secret place, a resource he would surely never use, since he had neither wife nor children, brother nor sister to spend it on; at least, none he was prepared to acknowledge, even to himself.
He traveled with the speed and efficiency of a man who does not allow anything to distract him from his goal. It was unfortunate that his contact had required removal, but not unexpected. Pedar had not been stupid, and Faolan had known he would start to ferret out the truth about his own close relationship with Bridei eventually. Hed let his informant live until the danger of exposure was no longer outweighed by the value of what Pedar was able to supply. It was necessary that his Dalriadan masters believe Faolan entirely loyal to their cause. One must hope Pedar had kept faith with the delicate codes of covert intelligence, and had not shared his suspicions with anyone. At any rate, Faolan would need to stay clear of Dunadd a while, just to be sure. Perhaps Bridei would dispatch him to serve with Carnachs fighting men a while, preparing for the great war to come. Perhaps he might be assigned to Ravens Well, where another army readied itself for the final push westward into Dalriada. A little honest fighting would not be unwelcome. He had been dancing on the fringes of kings courts for too long now, and was growing weary of masks. Ah, well; good speed, clement weather, and he should be back at White Hill before the moon reached full again. Perhaps, Faolan mused as he made his way up the track by the lakes edge, heading northeastward under the clear skies of a crisp spring day, he might simply return to his old role as personal guard. In the five years since Bridei was elected to the throne in somewhat unusual circumstances, nobody had got close enough to lay a finger on him or his wife. Faolan had made sure of that. Whenever he went away, he installed an infallible system of deputies to cover the period of his absence. All the same, nothing was quite as effective as his own presence by Brideis side. He found, to his surprise, that this felt almost like going home.
Ana had been a hostage at the court of Fortriu since she was ten and a half. After eight years, she recognized that what had once seemed a kind of prison, albeit one where the captive ate at the kings table and slept in fine linen and soft wool, had become more like a home. When Bridei built his new fortress at White Hill and moved the court of Fortriu, Ana moved with the rest of them. Brideis wife, Tuala, was one of her closest friends. That, thought Ana as she guided the tiny, tottering figure of the kings son Derelei across the sheltered garden that lay within the fortress walls, presented a problem for Bridei. The whole point of taking hostages was leverage against their kinsfolk. She was here as surety against a possible revolt by her cousin, who was monarch of the Light Isles and a vassal king to Bridei. In those eight years, there had been no sign of unrest in her home islands, so it seemed her captivity had had the desired effect. On the other hand, there had been little interest shown by those at home in her welfare; her family seemed to have forgotten her. These days, it was White Hill that felt like home, and she could not imagine Bridei hurting her in any way, should her kinsmen suddenly take against him.
‘Oops! Ana exclaimed as Dereleis infant knees gave way and he collapsed abruptly onto his well-padded posterior. He looked momentarily surprised, seemed to ponder whether crying might be in order, then reached his arms toward her, offering a sound that meant ‘Up!
‘Come on, then. Ana lifted the child to her hip; he was small for his age and had something of his mothers fey looks, the skin pale as milk, th