Heart's Blood (44 page)

“Come in, Caitrin. Please, take a seat. I am a little behind—I’ve given my assistant leave of absence until after the wedding, and I find myself less able to keep abreast of things than I expected. So many distractions . . .” Donal grinned suddenly; it gave him the look of a leprechaun. “But welcome ones, of course. No doubt I’ll catch up in time. What can I do for you, Caitrin? Fidelma tells me it’s about the law of property—not my first area of expertise, I must confess. And, of course, under Norman law, which extends across all areas where Henry’s barons have established themselves, our own legal system no longer holds any weight at all. Mention Brehon law and its long traditions, and a Norman lord or cleric will look down his nose as if you’re an ignorant savage. Such are the times we live in.” He was watching me closely, his eyes shrewd.“I don’t imagine that is what you want to hear.”

“I had believed Connacht safe. It seems that isn’t so. How would matters stand, then, if an Irish chieftain fought for his land and managed to drive back the Normans?” I hesitated. “This chieftain has been told that if it comes to armed conflict, the high king will not support him.There’s an alliance through marriage between the Uí Conchubhair and the Norman lord who wants the land. Which law applies to such a situation, Norman or Brehon?”

Donal’s gaze had sharpened. “This is a specific case, I take it.”

“It is. I’m telling you in confidence.”

“That’s understood. Nothing leaves this chamber without a client’s consent. There are various learned answers I could give you, Caitrin, weighing up treaties, verbal agreements, precedents. But the most honest answer is that in such a situation control of the land goes to the man with the best trained army, the sharpest weapons and the strongest will. I never thought I’d make such a statement; I’ve been trained to trust good Irish law for fairness and justice. It’s served us well for hundreds of years. But there it is. I’m sorry I cannot answer differently, but I have been honest.”

“I see.” I had known the answer already in my heart, just as Anluan and Magnus had. It all came down to one factor: the host. The irony was stunning.The one weapon Anluan had that might, just might, allow him to hold on to his land and turn his people’s situation to the good was the accursed army called forth by his evil ancestor, the very thing that had made Anluan himself an outcast, isolated and powerless. “Thank you.”

“May I ask whether this individual, the chieftain whose lands are under threat, has the wherewithal to make a stand?” Donal’s tone was diffident.

“The situation is . . . unusual. So unusual that folk would not believe me if I set it all out. Donal, there’s another matter on which I need to consult you.”

“Brendan did mention that you were looking for your sister. I can certainly assist you with that, if you wish. It would be a simple matter to send messages of enquiry.That could save you a great deal of time.”

“I’d welcome your help, Donal. But finding Maraid is not the only challenge. Once I do find her, it may lead to something else, something very serious. I believe discussing that would take up quite a lot of your time, and I lack sufficient resources to pay a professional fee.” I glanced at the empty desk in the corner. “It did occur to me that I could pay in another way. As I explained, I’m a trained scribe, and I have brought the tools of my trade with me. I could copy, reckon, make notes for you, write letters and so on.”

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.

C
ach 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.