Juliet Marillier - Hearts Blood

Very likely this was correct, but a stubborn part of me refused to accept it. If everyone at Whistling Tor, from its chieftain down, kept acting in accordance with the fears and restrictions built up over a hundred years, then Anluan’s gloomy predictions must come true and he would be the very last of his line. He would indeed be trapped, and his household with him. If there was any way to prevent that, we should surely do our best to find it.

“I’d like to try it, if you agree,” I said. “Can you make them come out again?”

Anluan gave me an odd look, mingling disbelief and admiration. He raised his left hand and clicked his fingers.

They did not flow forth in a mistlike mass this time, but appeared one by one, standing under the trees, as if they had been there all along if only I had known how to see them. When Anluan had brought them rushing to my aid they had screamed, wailed, assaulted the ears. Now they were utterly silent. Not creatures of ancient legend; not devils or demons. All the same, my skin prickled as I looked at them: here a woman carrying an injured child, there an old man with a heavy bag over his shoulder, his back bent, his limbs shaking; under an oak, a younger man whose fingers clutched feverishly onto an amulet strung around his neck. There were warriors and priests here, little girls and old women. The more I gazed at them, turning to look on all sides, the more of them appeared, until the forest was full of them. Ghosts? Spirits? Eichri and Rioghan could lift cups and platters, open doors, help around the house and farm. I had touched both of them, and Muirne, and found their forms solid, if unusually cold. This host was somewhere between flesh and spirit, I thought. Not specters, not living human folk, but ... something in between. Whatever had gone wrong when Nechtan performed his rite of summoning, this sad throng was the result.

My mind showed me Rioghan endlessly pacing the garden as he sought a way to atone for his terrible error. I looked on the forlorn faces, the stricken eyes, the damaged bodies, and a profound unease came over me. I sensed their sorrows, their burdens, their years of waiting for an end that never came. If they were ghosts, or something similar, they were unquiet ones, still on their journey to a place of peace.

The silence was broken by a rustling, a slight, restless movement. The host was waiting. I cleared my throat, not sure if I was afraid or not, only feeling the deep strangeness of it all. I glanced at Anluan. He was watching me intently, just as the others were.

“You’re safe with me,” he said, then lifted his voice to address the crowd. “This is Caitrin, daughter of Berach. She came to Whistling Tor as my scribe. She has something to say to you.”

An ancient man-at-arms put down his club and leaned on it. The woman with the hurt child sank to the ground and settled there, cradling it in her arms.A young warrior with a stain of red all across his shirt leaned against a willow, watching me with restless eyes.

I trusted to instinct and let the words form of themselves.“You helped me just now when I was in trouble,” I told the assembled host. “You did a good thing. I suppose each of you has a story, and I think some of them must be sad and terrible. I’m here at Whistling Tor to help Lord Anluan find out about his family’s past, and about what has happened here on the hill since”—something stopped me before I spoke Nechtan’s name—“since you first came here. I hope that a way can be found to help you. I hope that before the end of summer it will be possible to repay the good deed you did for me today.”

None of them spoke, but there was a universal sigh, soft and sorrowful, and then they dispersed.They did not walk away or wink instantly out of sight, but faded gradually until their forms were no longer discernible against the dark trunks of the trees or the green of the foliage.

“You speak to them of hope?” Anluan sounded both astonished and displeased, and my heart sank.

“There’s always hope,” I said. “There’s always a reason for going on.” Once, when she was called to the door, Ita had left a carving knife unguarded on the table. I could have done it. I could have plunged the blade into my chest. My hand had itched to seize the weapon.To end the pain ... to set myself free ... But I had not done it. Even in that time of utter darkness, somewhere deep inside me the memory of love and goodness had stayed alive. “There is hope for everyone.”

“Doesn’t the presence of these beings on the hill convince you that for some, life is without hope and the place beyond death still darker?”

“You believe they are spirits of the unquiet dead?”

“Speak to Eichri or Rioghan.They are something of that kind, but their forms are more substantial than one would imagine ghosts or spirits to be. They do not eat; they do not sleep.Yet they can touch; they can laugh; they can plan and debate and trade insults—at least, those who dwell in the house can, and I suppose it is true for the rest as well.They can feel sorrow, guilt, regret. It seems all were once ordinary men or women who dwelled in these parts.”

“That’s ... astonishing.And sad.A hundred years of waiting in the forest for ... for what? Is there no way to release them?”

“Come, let’s walk back,”Anluan said.“Don’t be so swayed by sympathy that you convince yourself these folk are harmless.They can attack, as you have already seen; they can kill, maim, destroy. Some of them were good people, perhaps, when they were alive in the world. But they are subject to influences more evil than you could imagine. It takes all my strength, all my will, to combat that. The situation is beyond remedy, Caitrin. Even your persistent hope cannot stretch so far.”

After we had climbed in silence for a while, I said, “Rioghan and Eichri are good people. Funny, kind, clever. I cannot imagine either committing evil acts. And Muirne ... while she and I are not exactly friends, I’ve seen how she looks after you, cares for you.”

“They’ve made a choice to be part of the household, perhaps because of some particular strength of will. Rioghan and Eichri clutch at life with all they have. Muirne has a long history of tending to the chieftains of Whistling Tor; she is a kindly soul, if wary of outsiders. You should not make the error of thinking the rest of them are the same.”

We emerged from the forest just below the fortress wall. Anluan sank down on a stone, suddenly fighting to catch his breath.

“I shouldn’t have made you do it again so soon,” I said, crouching beside him. “Call them forth, I mean. It’s too much for you.”

“I hate this,” Anluan muttered. “This weakness, this ... Why can’t I ...”

I caught myself about to behave as I had seen Muirne do under similar circumstances, fussing over him, offering support and sympathy. I made myself step back and, instead, settled cross-legged on the ground nearby. I would wait quietly until he was ready to move on. And while I waited, I would think about the words I had just addressed to the host, and whether they had implied a promise I had no capacity to keep.

chapter six

It felt distinctly odd to face the assembled household at the supper table in the knowledge that three of them were, if not exactly dead, most certainly less alive than Anluan, Olcan and I were. All eyes turned on me as I came in, last to arrive after falling asleep in my chamber and barely waking in time to brush my hair and make my way down. Muirne’s neat features gave nothing away. Anluan looked exhausted but managed a nod of acknowledgment. Olcan smiled, genial as ever, and Fianchu got up to give me his usual slobbery greeting.The pallid faces of Eichri and Rioghan wore guarded expressions; it was clear they did not know how I would respond to the startling revelations of the day.

“Recovered, Caitrin?” asked Magnus, who was carving a joint of mutton. “That was quite an experience. I hope you got a rest.”

“I fell asleep. I’m sorry if I’m late.” I took my place beside Eichri without fuss.

“Anluan tells us you gave some kind of undertaking to the host today,” said Rioghan. “I wish I’d been there to hear it.”

“I didn’t promise anything,” I said. “I’m hardly in a position to do that. But Whistling Tor is such a sad place. I know how it feels to be sad. If I can help anyone here, I believe I should try my best to do so. If we could uncover the whole of Nechtan’s story, we might find that matters are not as hopeless as they seem.” I glanced at Anluan. “It’s possible the Latin documents may contain a . . . solution. Something that could end the suffering of those folk out in the forest.” I looked down at my hands, suddenly embarrassed. “And yours, I suppose. Put that way, it sounds arrogant.”

“You can’t imagine you will find a counterspell.” I heard in Muirne’s tone how unlikely this was. “There can be no such spell, Caitrin, or it would have been put to use long ago.”

I felt my cheeks flush with mortification. It was with precisely this in mind that I had made the host my foolish offer of help.

“Arrogant, no,” Magnus said. “Ambitious, yes. If the rest of you want my opinion, Caitrin’s arrival amongst us has marked a big change, and maybe a change we all need. Speaking of which, Caitrin, Anluan has asked if I’ll go down to the settlement again in the morning. I’ll make sure your unpleasant friends are right out of the district, and at the same time I’ll inquire about how they knew where to find you. We don’t take kindly to folk who betray friends. But we won’t leap to judge, either. I’ll talk to Tomas and Orna, find out what’s been going on.”

“Thank you, Magnus,” I said.“It would set my mind at rest if I could be sure Cillian is gone.As for the host and a counterspell, I know it’s an unlikely chance. But what we need could be there among the documents. Perhaps it’s hidden in some way. Encoded.” I was bursting to ask them what they were, how they felt, where they had come from. Seated at the table by lamplight, with Magnus calmly serving supper as if everything was just as it had been, I found I could not quite get the words out. Instead I asked, “Do you believe Nechtan used dark magic of some kind when he brought forth the host?”

“It’s what folk say.” Eichri shifted in his seat; there was a grating sound, bone on bone. “But until you find a record spelling out exactly what he did, nobody can be quite sure. Saint Criodan’s is full of stories about him, though any monk who had personal dealings with him is long gone, of course. He was generous towards the foundation; he paid for a new building to house the library and scriptorium. Quite the scholar.”

The vision from the obsidian mirror came back to me, complete with every detail, and I set my knife down, finding I was not hungry after all. “He paid for knowledge,” I said. “A secret book, kept under lock and key. It contained something he needed, perhaps a spell, though it seems unlikely that a monastic foundation would have grimoires. He didn’t bring the book back here, but he got the information he wanted—he must have made a quick copy or memorized it. It would almost certainly be in Latin. Even if that’s not amongst the documents, there may at least be a description of the ... procedure. I don’t know quite how to say this, but ... it seems you were ... called back, as those others in the woods must have been.What can you remember?”

“We were somewhere else, and then we were here,” Eichri said. “My earthly life, such as it was, remains vivid in my memory. The moment of my death ... One does not forget that. But the time between then and my return is blurred. I recall being somewhat taken aback not to find myself sizzling in the flames of hellfire or condemned to some other dire punishment. That still awaits me, perhaps. It is possible Nechtan’s ill-executed experiment bought all of us time to make amends.To win ourselves a better conclusion when it is time to go once more.”