Hearts Blood - Juliet Marillier

He beamed. “Excellent! And since we’re on that track, I should say I believe I met your father some years back—Berach, was that his name? Fine man, did lovely work. I heard of his death.Very sad.”

“He was a fine man, yes.”

“There’s a question I must ask, Caitrin. If your family home is in Market Cross, why not make that the first point of your enquiries about your sister? Fidelma did explain to me that Maraid is married to a musician and has no fixed place of residence. All the same . . .” He lifted his brows.

“May I tell you about our situation at home?” Be brave, Caitrin. “It’s complicated.”

Donal leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. His eyes remained alert. “Start at the beginning, Caitrin,” he said. “Don’t leave anything out. We have plenty of time, especially if you are prepared to deal with some letters for me later today. I don’t suppose you read Latin?”

“I do.” Suddenly, when least expected, tears stung the back of my eyes. If I had found this courteous, capable man before . . . If I had thought to ask for a lawman’s help as soon as Ita and Cillian began to take control . . . But no. My flight to the west had led me to Anluan and the household at Whistling Tor. Even if I had been banished from that place forever, I could not wish that I had not met the man I loved, nor the odd folk who had become my dear friends. This summer had healed me, freed me, opened me up.And, in the end, broken my heart.“I’m happy to write letters, transcribe documents, read and translate—anything you need doing.”

“Excellent. Would you be prepared to stay until my assistant returns? He’ll be back a day or two after the wedding. I think it likely I can track down your sister in that time through my existing contacts.That should be more efficient than your traveling about looking for her. Now let us hear this story.”

I hesitated, wondering how to start.

“You like mead, Caitrin?” Donal had produced a flask and two cups from a shelf. “This is a particularly fine one; Maeve brews it, one of her many talents. She’s planning to keep bees here in the garden, she tells me. Take a few sips before you begin your account. And don’t be afraid of shocking me. In my line of work one hears everything. That’s it, my dear. Take your time.”

Donal was an expert listener; no doubt he had acquired the skill over years and years of hearing the tales of folk in trouble. From time to time he interrupted, gently, to ask for clarification. Here and there he waited in comfortable silence while I composed myself. Once or twice his expression revealed some emotion: shock, pity, surprise.At certain points he made notes on his parchment in a quick, precise hand.

“And so, finally, I ran away. I headed west, thinking perhaps I might find someone who had known my mother when she was a girl, but mostly just wanting to—to be somewhere else, somewhere Cillian could not reach me. I found a place to stay and work to do. I can’t talk about that. But Cillian came. He tried to abduct me. He was . . . driven off. He didn’t come back. I think it likely that if I went to Market Cross, he and Ita would try to convince folk that I was mad, just as they did after Father’s death.They are good at that. Even I believed it.”

Donal had refilled my glass. From outside came the sound of the children at play in the garden, shrieks of excitement, a dog barking, Maeve’s calm voice restoring order. I sat quietly, letting the sweet honey taste of the mead calm me, while the lawman studied his notes, the slightest of furrows between his brows. He no longer looked in the least like a leprechaun. His eyes, sharp and intent, were those of a man who would make the most formidable of adversaries.

“Very well, Caitrin,” he said, sounding almost abstracted. “Without studying this further, I can tell you that it appears the law has been broken not only in relation to your inheritance, but in several other matters. I’ll need a little time to consider the best course of action.”

“I am afraid to return to Market Cross and confront them. I’m not sure I can do it. They . . . they have such a capacity to change me, to make me lose sight of my courage.”

“No need to consider that now, my dear. I do have a question.”

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you go straight to the lawman in Market Cross once you had summoned the will to leave the house?”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wasn’t myself. All I could manage was to run. Besides, the lawman at Market Cross would have believed me out of my wits, as everyone else did. I had been acting like a madwoman; it was reasonable enough, I suppose.”

Donal’s mouth went into a grim line. “Reasonable? Hardly. No lawman worth his salt would make such a judgment solely on the advice of a woman who stood to gain from your incapacity, Caitrin. He should, at the very least, have sought an independent opinion on your ability to understand your situation and make decisions about your father’s property. Besides, I gather nobody was suggesting your sister was also out of her wits—why didn’t they send for her? You’ve been lied to, swindled, duped most mercilessly, not to speak of the personal indignities this Cillian fellow has visited on you, seemingly with his mother’s complicity.They must both be brought to justice.”

I felt an inner part of me shrinking down.The sensation was all too familiar, and I fought against it.“I want to find my sister first,” I said.“I don’t want Cillian and Ita told where I am. I know I must go back and confront them eventually, Donal. But I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”

“You do want to see justice done.”There was no reproof in this; it was simply a statement of fact.

“I know that is what should happen, yes.” I had heard this already from Rioghan, from Magnus, from Anluan himself. “But I’m afraid.”

Donal put down his quill. “You’re in a safe place here, Caitrin. No need to look beyond that at this point. The situation is complex; I must consider it further before we decide how this should unfold. I’d like your permission to write to a friend of mine named Colum, a senior practitioner of the law, who presides over the district around Market Cross. In strictest confidence, of course.” When I made to protest, he added, “No matter what occurred during that time when you were at the mercy of these kinsfolk of yours, the law will treat you fairly.While not the warmest of men, Colum is absolutely rigorous in his pursuit of justice.That should reassure you. Nobody’s going to suggest that you confront these miscreants on your own. It also occurs to me that we have a physician in the house. Brendan is well qualified to report on your state of mind, Caitrin, and to provide a written opinion that you are perfectly competent to make your own decisions.”

Holy Saint Brighid. I had not even thought of this. It was all moving so fast.

“Have I your permission to write this letter? Or perhaps you should write it for me.That way we can be sure we concur on the wording before anything goes beyond these four walls. Do you agree?”

“I can see it’s the right thing to do. I’d like a little time to think before I say yes, Donal. If you have some work for me, I’ll do that first. It will help clarify my mind.” I longed for the balance of the pen in my hand, the orderly lines of script flowing onto the page, the tranquil silence that attended the exercise of my craft. The children might still be laughing and shouting on the other side of that window, but once I began writing I would not hear them.

“By all means. I will act straightaway on the other matter, finding Maraid for you. The sooner a message leaves here, the sooner you’ll be reunited with your sister. Ideally, we should advise her of the situation concerning the inheritance before we proceed with action.”

“I’ll fetch my writing things—that’s if you are happy for me to start work now.”

Donal grimaced.“There’s plenty of it waiting. I’ll give you some copying to be getting on with; then I’ll leave you awhile. I promised Maeve I’d try on my wedding finery. I imagine I will resemble a small rotund bird that sprouts colorful feathers in the mating season, but if it pleases her . . .”

Some time later I settled myself at the assistant’s desk with the small pile of documents Donal had given me for copying. It was an easy job, which was just as well, for my conversation with the lawman had given me altogether too much to think about.

I opened my writing box. Donal had a supply of quills, but I preferred to use my own and to trim them with Father’s special knife.That, at least, I had brought safely away from Whistling Tor. I wondered what the ghost child was doing, and whether Róise had been any comfort to her. I hoped that Gearróg would watch over her and be kind to her. Perhaps she had already forgotten me.

I had not needed to look in the box since the day I left Whistling Tor, when I had discovered Anluan’s bag of silver and removed it for safekeep ing. Now, reaching deeper to find the padded roll of quills, my fingers encountered something else that did not belong there, something flat and smooth. I lifted out the quills; removed the ink pots each in turn. There beside them, tucked in neatly, was a notebook whose tooled calfskin covers were familiar to me. My heart turned over. Anluan’s book. My hands were shaking as I drew it out and laid it on the desk. My breathing was unsteady as I opened it to see his wayward script wandering across the first page. This is thankless, pointless. It dulls my mind and wearies my body. Muirne is right; it is a road that leads nowhere.Yet I continue with these wretched documents.What else is there but utter despair?

I turned a page, another. More words of despond, scrawled in writing that was near illegible. How could I bear to read this? Why had he given it to me? I turned more pages and came to a leaf that stood out, for most of it was blank. Only, right in the center, was written in the same scrambling script these words: So bright, so perfect, so alive.You do not belong in this place of shadows.What do you want of me?

And, as I recognized without a shred of doubt that Anluan had recorded here my own arrival at Whistling Tor, I put my head down on the desk and wept.

chapter twelve

Cach morning I awoke while the two girls who shared my chamber were still rolled in their blankets, fast asleep. I had long been an early riser, and now, in the quiet time before the household began to stir, I allowed myself to read Anluan’s record of my summer at Whistling Tor, the summer that had changed my life and his. One page a day; I would not let myself read faster. I savored each surprising entry, feeling with him each moment of doubt, each little spark of hope.The longer it took me to reach the end, the better.While there were still pages unseen, I could pretend the link between us remained unbroken. I was not sure I wanted to read the last page, which must surely tell of his decision to shut me out of his future, the choice that made less and less sense the more I read.

Before the girls were astir, I would close the covers softly and slip the little book back into the pouch at my belt. I carried it everywhere. I thought of him constantly. There is a change in some inward part of me, he had written. I cannot tell if I welcome it or fear it. Muirne calls me foolish; she says nothing can change at Whistling Tor, not even its poor excuse for a chieftain. But you have changed me already. My heart beats more quickly. My blood runs more swiftly. Light bathes everything when you are near me, dazzling, terrifying. It is as if you have called me awake after a hundred years of sleep.

With Anluan’s voice beating in my heart, I sat at the desk by day, calming myself with the exercise of my craft. None of the tasks Donal gave me was taxing in any way. I was pleased that I could carry them out to his satisfaction, and happy that I need not spend my day keeping up cheerful conversation with the ladies of the household, pleasant women as they all were. Alone or in Donal’s silent company, I could hold Anluan’s memory close. I could contemplate this morning’s fresh page and dream of tomorrow’s.

I had agreed that Donal could send his letter to the senior lawman in Market Cross, questioning the matter of my father’s legacy and, in particular, the tenancy of the family home. In the end, the missive he dictated was somewhat more detailed than I had expected, setting out certain sensitive matters including Cillian’s assaults on my person and the false stories his mother had put about.

“I trust Colum completely, Caitrin,” Donal had said.“He taught me much of what I know. He’ll be discreet in his enquiries. I do want him fully apprised of the serious nature of this, especially if it turns out the local lawman has been derelict in his duty. Someone should have stepped in to assist you, or at the very least to ensure that you were being properly looked after.”

So I let him send it, and at the same time he dispatched messengers to seek out Maraid and Shea, folk who would visit market squares and grand houses, the kinds of places where musicians might play. Donal was confident that Maraid would be found by the time his assistant returned to work. And if it took a little longer, he said, I must stay on, of course. He would discuss the situation with all of us together, Maraid and Shea and me, and help us make whatever decisions were required.When I protested that I should not stay on after the wedding, both Donal and Maeve insisted that I would not be at all in the way. Indeed, Donal said, it seemed he had sufficient work to keep two assistants busy. If I wished to continue helping him, he would pay me for my efforts.

The sun rose on Donal and Maeve’s wedding day.The sky was a tranquil blue with not a cloud to be seen. After a substantial and noisy breakfast, everyone changed into their best apparel and set off on foot for the local church, where a simple but touching ceremony was enacted. I had feared my presence would set a blight on my host’s day of happiness, but I was swept up in the joy of the occasion and almost forgot my own problems until the moment we arrived back at Donal’s house to find a messenger waiting.

“I’d best speak to you alone, Master Donal.” Under his broad-brimmed hat, the man’s face was very serious. A frisson of unease ran through me.

“Is it about my sister? Maraid?”

An awkward pause as folk chattered and laughed, going in the door behind us.

“We’ll go to the study,” Donal said, glancing at his new wife.“I’m sorry, my dear.”

“Go on,” said Maeve with a smile. No doubt she had known what it would mean to marry a lawman. “If there’s news, Caitrin needs to hear it straightaway.”

Then we were in the study, Donal, the messenger and I, and still the man seemed reluctant to speak.

“Come on, out with it,” Donal said.“You can speak in front of Caitrin; she’s the one who is seeking information in this particular instance.”

The man cleared his throat. “I have news, yes, but it’s not the best sort of news. Maybe the young lady should be sitting down.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “Tell me!” My voice was shaking. “What’s happened? Is my sister all right?” For although I had known we might not find Maraid and Shea immediately, I had never thought that something might be badly amiss with them.