Juliet Marillier - Heart's Blood

Probably thanks to my presence, Magnus was eventually invited inside the inn, where he and Tomas, with a couple of other men, sat with us women over ale and oatcakes. I noticed how skillful Magnus was at extracting information without quite asking for it. By the time we got up to leave, he had discovered the name of the Norman lord whose warriors had been seen at Silverlake—Stephen de Courcy—that there had been twelve men in the party, and that Tomas’s informant had been a monk from Saint Crio dan’s, where the Normans had stopped to say prayers and ask for directions. There had been no formal visit to Fergal, chieftain of Silverlake; not yet.

As we were leaving the inn, Orna took my sleeve and held me back while the men went on ahead.“Are you sure you want to go back up there, Caitrin?” she murmured. “What about those . . . things?”

I saw the fear in her eyes, and the amazement that I would choose to return to the Tor of my own free will in the face of such abominations. “I’ve seen very little,” I told her. “Perhaps it’s not as bad as you think. On the way up I did hear some voices, it’s true. And this morning I kept imagining I saw folk in the woods. But I’ve seen no evidence of a . . . host. Nothing truly fearsome.”

“They’re fearsome all right. I’d say ask my grandmother, but she’s gone now. They’re not just wild tales, those accounts of folk ripped limb from limb and whole villages laid waste.They’re all true. Just because you haven’t seen it for yourself, that doesn’t make it any less real. I don’t know how you can be so cool and calm about it.”

I thought of Conan’s records, the misguided attempt to use the host in battle, the despair over the future of his people and his family. “I’m not doubting you, Orna. I’ve been told that Anluan will keep me safe.”

Orna shook her head, lips tight. “Anluan, eh? And how will his lordship do that, with his weak arm and his twisted leg? There’s only one way a man like that can protect you, Caitrin, and that’s by sorcery. Everyone knows what Nechtan was. This is his kin; this is a man not to be trusted. Be careful, that’s all I’m saying. If you wanted to stay here with us, we’d fit you in somewhere.You don’t have to go back up there.”

“Coming, Caitrin?” Magnus was waiting at the door, sack of supplies over one brawny shoulder.

“I’m coming.” I turned back to Orna. “Thank you, you’ve been very kind. I’m sure I’ll be all right. I hope this Norman threat comes to nothing. Perhaps I’ll see you again next time Magnus comes down.”

“We’d like that.” Her plain features were transformed by a smile. “Wouldn’t we, Sionnach? Not good for you on your own up there, no other women, household full of who knows what. Make sure you do come.”

I felt refreshed by the change of scene, though the news about the Normans was worrying. After an uneventful walk back up the Tor, we came into the courtyard to see Anluan in the archway again, as if he had not moved all morning. He offered no greeting, just nodded when he saw us.

“I need to talk to you,” Magnus told him. “Got some news.”

They headed off in the direction of the kitchen, and I went to the library, where I spent the afternoon leafing through inconsequential farm records. I could not get Orna’s words out of my mind. There’s only one way a man like that can protect you, Caitrin , and that’s by sorcery. I did not want Anluan to be a sorcerer. I wanted him to be a chieftain; I wanted to see him become the person I glimpsed sometimes beneath the forbidding exterior, a man who was sensitive to the moods of others, a man who could make leaps of logic, a man who ...Well, that was none of my business; I had not been hired to deal with the disorder in this chieftain’s spirit, only that in his library. Wretched, twisted freak. If he were ever to become what he should be, it would only be by a daunting effort. He would have to battle years of prejudice and misunderstanding. Hardest of all, I thought, would be learning to believe in himself.

“Another dumpling, anyone?” Magnus dipped his ladle into the cook pot. “I’ll be in need of some help as soon as this wet spell’s over. Best keep your strength up.”Tonight we were all assembled for supper.The rain had begun in early afternoon and was still falling steadily outside.

“I’ll give you a hand if I can,” I said.

Anluan turned his gaze on me. “You’re not being paid to chop wood and herd cows.”

“Thank you for the offer, Caitrin,” Magnus said with a smile. “Anluan may not be aware that you’ve been helping out with this and that for some while now. If that’s cause for another reprimand, the fault’s mine for accepting assistance when it was kindly offered. As for the farm work, Olcan will help me.”

“Your family home has a landholding, Caitrin?” Anluan’s question was harmless on the surface, but I knew he had not asked it casually.

“A small one, yes. A house cow, geese and chickens, a plot for vegetables.”

“And your father’s name is Berach,” said Muirne.

“Was. My father died last autumn.”

A brief silence.“You have a sister, I remember that.” Rioghan this time. “A more generously built version of yourself, I believe you said. Are there brothers as well? I suppose not, or we’d have had them rampaging up here trying to fetch you home.”

This guessing game was like being prodded from every side with sharp bodkins. It was the first time they had asked me outright about my home situation. “No brothers. Just my sister and me.”

“And where is she, Caitrin?” asked Muirne.

“Married and gone. She wed a traveling musician.” Married, gone and left me. Left me to Cillian.

Anluan rose abruptly to his feet; the rest of us, after a startled moment, did the same. “This is a fine meal, Magnus,” he said, gathering his cloak around him, though the chamber was warm. “I’m sorry I can’t do justice to it. I will retire now. As for Caitrin, she should not be wasting her time with domestic work. She has more important duties.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Magnus spoke first. “Noticed how nicely mended your shirts are these days?” he asked quietly. “That’s Caitrin’s work.”

Anluan’s fair complexion flooded as red as that of a small boy caught peeking curiously at his sisters bathing.Without a word, he turned his back and left the room.True to pattern, Muirne followed.

The rest of us relaxed. Magnus brought out another jar of ale; Olcan shared the remnant of the bread amongst the five of us. Eichri whistled a tune under his breath. It did not sound like a religious melody.

“Your story intrigues me, Caitrin,” Rioghan said.“You came to Whistling Tor all alone.You have no resources, or you wouldn’t have needed to borrow the price of a wager.Your father was a master scribe, you say. We don’t doubt that, since he taught you, and we’ve heard Anluan praise your skills at what, for him, is unusual length.”

If Anluan had spoken thus, it certainly hadn’t been in my hearing. Despite the way the conversation had turned so quickly back to the topic I did not want discussed, I felt a glow of pleasure at his recognition. “Father was very highly regarded,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about him. It’s too soon.”

“I know that, Caitrin. There is just one question that is exercising my mind, and it is this: if your father was what you say he was, how is it that his death has left you apparently penniless?”

“Rioghan.” Magnus’s tone was deceptively quiet. “That’s enough.”

“Ale, Caitrin?” Olcan refilled my cup. “How about a tale, a cheerful one for a wet night? Clurichauns, warriors, princesses enchanted into the form of birds, what’s your fancy?”

“I understand there are some things you can’t talk about,” I said, taking a risk, “but would you be prepared to tell me about Irial?” I glanced at Magnus, wondering if this might be as distressing for him as talk of Market Cross was for me. “I’ve been reading his notebooks,” I went on, “and I think he must have been a lovely person, gentle and wise and . . . sad.Were the rest of you living here when Irial was chieftain? How did he meet Emer?”

“We were here,” said Eichri quietly. “Emer’s father was Iobhar, chieftain of Whiteshore.”

“Irial must have been on better terms with his neighbors than it seems Nechtan and Conan were.”

“He worked hard at that, Caitrin.” Magnus set down his ale cup. His gray eyes were somber. As soon as he spoke the other three sat back, as if in recognition that this was his story to tell, not theirs. “He hired me in an attempt to shore up the defenses of his holding, not just the Tor but the surrounding farmland and the settlements that fall within his domain. Nechtan had lost hold. He had relinquished stock and territory along with the trust of his fellow chieftains. Conan was unable to make good his father’s losses.When Conan died and the responsibility passed to his son, Irial was determined to set things right, despite the risk. Resources were tight; he could not hire a whole company of gallóglaigh , only the one warrior to help him. I had two lads with me at first, but they left; couldn’t cope with the oddities of Whistling Tor. In those first years Irial put everything he had into trying to rebuild the alliances that had been broken since Nechtan’s time. It was hard. Conan had made some bad errors. People didn’t trust Irial; they feared Whistling Tor and its dark tales. I made visits on his behalf, spoke to folk, explained what he was about. Iobhar of Whiteshore was the best of the local chieftains. He was prepared to listen, despite the barriers to trust. We managed a council, just the one, at Whistling Tor, and Emer came with her father.”

“She was a lovely girl,” put in Rioghan with a sigh. “You remind me of her, Caitrin, especially when you wear that violet gown. Emer’s hair was not dark like yours, but flame red. A sweet lady.The moment Irial clapped eyes on her he loved her, and she fell for him just as quickly.”

“Folk were surprised when Iobhar agreed to the match,” said Magnus. “He knew he wouldn’t be seeing much of his daughter once she was wed to a chieftain of Whistling Tor. She did go home a few times in the early years. She took Anluan to visit his grandparents when he was an infant. I escorted them; it was safer for Irial to stay here. Emer liked to see her family, but all the time she’d be counting the days until she got back to Whistling Tor. Irial was fortunate in her.There aren’t many women would be prepared to live in such a place, however dearly they loved a man. Emer transformed his life.They had a few good years; they had Anluan.And then she died. We won’t speak of that.” Magnus turned away, but not before I saw the tears glinting in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” I said, getting up to put an arm around his shoulders. “It wasn’t fair of me to ask for the tale. Most people wouldn’t have had the courage to stay on.You did the right thing, Magnus.” I glanced at the others. “Anluan’s lucky in you, all of you.”

“There now, Caitrin,” said Olcan, wiping a hand across his rosy cheeks, “you’ll have us all blubbering like babies. Magnus, how about some mulled ale? No more sad tales tonight.”

Magnus said nothing, but he got up and set an iron poker in the coals, then began to assemble an assortment of herbs and spices on the table.

“You’ve been working hard, Caitrin,” said Eichri, changing the subject. “How is the stock of materials holding out?”

“Quite well. I will keep careful count of what I use. I know I must make the supply we have last all summer.”