Anluan looked down at his hands, clasped on the table before him. “It was my ancestor who began this,” he said.“I am that man’s flesh and blood. I have borne the weight of his ill deed every day of my life, and every night it robs me of sleep. It was the same for my father, and for his father before him. Under that burden it is all too easy to give in to despair. The history of my family makes that painfully clear.” He drew a shuddering breath and looked up, facing the circle of wan faces and shadowy eyes. “Enough of this. I have learned, this summer, that the most powerful weapon is hope. I understand the nature of your concern. Neither your promise nor mine can be made without reservations. Our bargain should be this: that each of us does the very best he can to be true to his word. I will be content with that.Will you?”
A rustling around the circle, not speech but restless movement, as of a trembling passing through the insubstantial forms of the host. “We will,” said the woman, and she and her companions raised their hands. Out in the darkness, a forest of pale arms arose in unison.
“I thank you,” said Anluan. His voice was a thread, but it was nonetheless the voice of a chieftain. I glanced at Magnus, and he smiled; I knew we felt the same pride.
“What of the tenth amongst you,” Rioghan asked,“the one whose voice we cannot hear? Is this entity in agreement with the rest of the host?”
All eyes turned towards the empty space in the circle. “Yes, my lord,” said the wise woman. “If there is a single certainty tonight, it is that.”
“Very well,” Rioghan said. “Our council is concluded and you are all free to go. Be sure you will be called again, for there are plans to make for full moon, and likely a great deal of work after that. For now, we bid you good night.”
“Again, thank you,” Anluan said. “Trust can be a hard lesson; hope still more difficult.We are all learning.”
When the host had dispersed and the torches were extinguished, we retreated to the warmth of the kitchen fire. Nobody had much to say. Magnus poured ale; I divided one of the loaves he had brought back and served up the cold pie. Anluan looked utterly spent. I had cut him only a small slice: his appetite was poor at the best of times. To my surprise, he worked his way steadily through it.
“Not a bad effort for a woman who reckons she can’t cook,” Magnus observed, reaching for a second helping. “Fancy another job, Caitrin?”
I managed a smile.“I have more than enough work already,” I told him. Tomorrow I would ask Anluan again if I could move those grimoires into the library. I must go through their contents, if only to prove they did not contain the counterspell. “But I’m glad you like the pie.”
“Makes a big difference, not having to do it all myself.” Magnus passed the bread down the table.“A little bit of help goes a long way.” He glanced at Anluan. “Sounds as if we’ve got a big job on our hands. We’d best put some strategies in place for this meeting of yours first; who goes where, who does what while you and I are off the hill. If we’ve got to find jobs for all of that lot, we’ll need to start working on it right away.”
“It’s late,”Anluan said.“I have no heart for more tonight. In the morning we will speak of it. I should thank you. All of you. It is not necessary that you continue to stand by me. It is a mystery to me why you do so. But Magnus is right. Each act of support, each gesture of friendship makes it easier to take one more step; to face one more sunrise. I’m tired. I’ll bid you good night now.”
As he stood up, all of us did the same. Anluan looked bemused, but the shadow of a smile touched his lips as he went out.A moment later Muirne, too, was gone.
“She still doesn’t like this,” I observed. “What is it that makes her so sure things will go wrong?”
“She’s worried for him,” Magnus said.“Not that the rest of us aren’t, but Muirne has more cause than most to be troubled. She spent a lot of time with Irial during those dark years after Emer’s death. Losing him broke her heart. I suppose she fears she may lose Anluan if this comes to war.”
“What is her story? She’s never talked to me about what her life was . . . before.”
“Nor to me, Caitrin. Muirne doesn’t talk much to anyone, except him.”
“Rioghan? Eichri? What do you know about her?”
Eichri ran a finger around the rim of his goblet, frowning. “We’re used to her always being about, but she keeps herself apart. She did tell me her story once. Nothing especially interesting. Born and brought up in one of the settlements, betrothed to a miller, died of a winter ague before they could be wed. Sad little tale. Don’t know what happened to the fellow.”
“Olcan, what about you?” I asked. He was finishing up the last of the pie, one bite for himself, one bite slipped to Fianchu, who was waiting just behind him, small eyes following every mouthful from platter to lips. “You’ve been here longer than anyone.”
