Heart's Blood

I climbed the steps, one hand on the stone wall for balance, and set my other hand to the square of wood, which Muirne had pulled across the opening when we came down. There was no bolt or catch to hold it in place, but try as I might I could not move it. I needed a stick or other implement to help me; my efforts with the door had taken all the strength out of my arms and my back was aching. I looked around for an old poker or length of firewood, anything useful, but there was nothing in the little chamber but the two chests and clothing spread out everywhere. And a mirror. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? It hung on the wall by the steps, tiny, oddly shaped, in a frame of weathered wood. The surface glinted dimly in the light from the narrow window.Whatever I did, I must not look in it.

Breathe slowly, Caitrin. I took stock of the situation. Eventually someone would notice I was gone. Eventually someone would ask Muirne if she had seen me. I just had to wait. This calm advice did nothing to cool my flushed cheeks or slow my racing heart. Something was wrong here. Someone meant me harm. I recalled a tale of an unwanted wife who had been walled up in just such a tower room to starve to death while her husband enjoyed himself with a younger and more fecund bride. Nothing I could do. Nothing. No way to help myself. I knew this feeling well; it had shadowed every moment in Market Cross, once Ita and Cillian came. You are powerless. Useless. Hopeless.You are nobody.

I descended the steps and went over to the window.“I’m not at Market Cross,” I muttered. “I’m here. I can be brave. I can.” The window looked down onto a section of roof; nobody was going to see me from below. I tried the door again. Had Muirne used a key to let us in? It wasn’t possible, surely, that she had done this on purpose.

There seemed no option but to wait the time out. I folded the violet gown and the russet, placing them on a spread-out shawl. I added some shifts and smallclothes, then tied up the bundle. I packed the other garments neatly away into the chests. Magnus and Olcan were probably both out on the farm, with my activities the last thing on their minds. Anluan had not troubled himself to attend supper even once since my arrival; how likely was it that he would check whether I was at work today? As for Eichri and Rioghan, I had no idea how or where they spent their days. Rioghan probably caught up on sleep; those nights spent pacing the garden must take their toll. I kept my eyes off the mirror.

Time passed in an endless slow sequence of little sounds, creaks in the walls, rustling in the corners as of small furtive creatures about their business. We had not brought a candle or lamp with us and the chamber was dim.The patch of light from outside shifted slowly across the floor. In my mind, Muirne was speaking to Anluan. Your little scribe’s gone already, she was saying. She couldn’t bring herself to stay. Packed up her bags and was off down the hill at first light. I saw Anluan looking at the welter of documents in his neglected library.

A pox on this accursed place! Even when I was sitting all alone, something played havoc with my thoughts. I kept seeing the visions from those mirrors in the great hall: myself as a wizened crone, the same age as the poor soul Nechtan had tortured to death; a woman trapped in a terrible fire, screaming for help that did not come.Worst of all, I could hear a voice from the mirror on the wall, the one I was trying so hard not to look at. It did not speak aloud, but secretly in my mind. Its tone was a woman’s, sharp and practical. Use me, Caitrin.You got yourself into this silly predicament. Use me and escape. Stay there staring at the floor and you may stay there forever.

“I’m not looking in any mirrors,” I said aloud. No doubt the thing was bursting with visions of murder and mayhem.

Just turn your head, Caitrin.

I forced myself not to do so, but I must have moved a little. Something caught the light from the window, something shiny hanging from a nail in the wall just above the mirror. A key.

There, said the mirror voice. Off you go now, and tell no tales or they might come back to haunt you.

I snatched the key without looking at the mirror’s surface. My hands were shaking as I inserted it in the lock. The door opened smoothly. “Thank you,” I muttered, grabbing the bundle and going out.The landing was empty. I locked the door behind me and slipped the key in the pouch at my belt.