Heart's Blood

I was hungry; not surprising after what had occurred earlier in the day. Magnus and Olcan ate steadily, in the manner of people who have done a full day’s physical labor, but Rioghan and Eichri only picked at the small servings they’d been given. I expected Muirne to return and eat with us, since she had taken no provisions for herself, but the meal progressed and she did not come.

“You’re a fine cook, Magnus,” I said. The supper was somewhere between a soup and a stew, heavy on vegetables and light on meat, but seasoned with an interesting blend of herbs. “This is a delicious meal.”

“Enjoy it while you’ve got it,” he said.“Fresh provisions today. Now it’s steadily downhill until next time I pay a call on Tomas.”

“But you must grow a lot of things up here,” I ventured, thinking of the farming activities I had read about earlier.

“I do what I can. Olcan helps me.” Magnus dipped his bread into his bowl. “We’ve got chickens, a couple of cows, some other stock, and the vegetables, of course. Still, we can’t work magic.You a cook?”

“Not much of one. My sister used to do all that.”

“Your sister, eh?” Rioghan leaned back in his chair, examining me. “Is she made in the same mold as you, all curves and curls?”

I could not summon the light response required. Instead, Ita spoke in my head, her voice a derisory whisper: See the way men look at you? You’re made to be a whore, Caitrin. Be thankful Cillian wants to wed you.Without him you’d be headed down a path to ruin.

“You’re upsetting the young lady, Councillor.” Eichri’s cavernous voice was stern.

“Maraid does look quite like me, only bigger,” I said. I must find a new line of discussion.“How long have you lived at Whistling Tor, Brother Eichri?”

They laughed, the monk, the councillor, Olcan and Magnus all together.

“Seems like forever,” Rioghan said in dour tones. “We’re sick to death of the fellow.”

“Too long,” Eichri said. “Yet, it seems, not long enough.”

There was nothing I could say to that, since I had no idea what he meant, only that it sounded very sad.“I—Magnus, you said something before that suggested . . . I don’t want to pry, but aren’t there any other folk living here, apart from yourselves, I mean? It’s such a big house. How can you manage without grooms, farmhands, people to wash clothing, scrub floors, tend to stock?”

Magnus broke a piece of bread between his big capable hands.“It’s just us,” he said, glancing around the table. “Us and the ones out in the forest.”

“That makes you a delightful surprise, Caitrin,” Rioghan put in. “Our dusty old web has caught a splendid butterfly.”

“As to how we manage, a man does what he has to,” Magnus said.“We work hard.”

I drew a deep breath. “Magnus,” I ventured, “you mentioned the ones out in the forest. Who are they?” Feeling the pressure of four men’s eyes on me, I added,“It’s just that when I was first coming up the hill, when Olcan and Fianchu found me, I’d been hearing strange voices, voices that made me lose my way. And I’m sure I felt . . . hands. Down in the village, people were talking about a curse, about fearsome beings on the hill. If I’m to stay here, I would be happier if I knew exactly what these things are.” Or maybe not, I thought as soon as I had spoken. If the vision in Nechtan’s obsidian mirror was any indication of what I could expect at Whistling Tor, perhaps blissful ignorance was preferable.

The four men looked at one another. Each of them seemed to be waiting for someone else to answer.

“In that mirror earlier,” I said, trying not to see it again, “a man called Nechtan, Anluan’s ancestor, was talking about an . . . army. He was preparing an experiment, and hoping the result would make him powerful.That could have been about a hundred years ago, by my calculations. The folk in the village said the whole place had been under a curse for a hundred years. I thought . . . well, I suppose it is none of my business, but I do have to read the family documents, so . . . does the curse date from Nechtan’s time? Is it something to do with those whispering voices and creeping hands? These others you mention, the ones who live out there?” I could not believe I was asking such questions. The old Caitrin, the confident, serene one, would not have hesitated; she would have sought out whatever information she needed to do a good job. I lifted my chin. I could be that woman again if I tried.