A piercing whistle from the doorway brought Rioghan, who seemed quite happy to sit with me now that he had finished briefing his unlikely army. He told me he’d sent the men of the host off to discuss matters amongst themselves. They were to return tomorrow with a preliminary plan for dealing with the frenzy next time around. It all sounded quite practical; oversimple, perhaps, but I did not say so. He was the strategist, after all, and right now I was a tired and sorry mess.
“Since I’m here,” Rioghan drew the stool closer to the bed and settled himself on it, his cloak making a carpet of crimson around him,“we might talk further about your home situation, Caitrin, with these distant relatives who apparently believe themselves entitled to take control of your affairs. I feel that matter needs clarification.”
Why was he raising this now, out of the blue? Ita and Cillian seemed far away, hardly worth considering any longer. My heart was full of Anluan. “I may not have much to contribute,” I said, managing a weak smile.
“All you need do is listen,” Rioghan said.“And perhaps answer a small question or two.”
“All right.”
The ghost girl was at the door, looking out. I wondered if she was expecting Gearróg, who had been kind to her.Where was he?
“Now, Caitrin,” Rioghan said, “I understand you and your sister were your father’s only children, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“The house where you were living was not tied in any way to your father’s employment? It belonged to him outright?”
“It did. He never attached himself to a particular patron, though there were many who would have liked his exclusive services.We worked independently. That was what Father preferred. It gave us more control.”
“And the unpleasant Cillian and his mother are not close kin? What is the connection, exactly?”
This was more than a small question or two. “Ita is a distant cousin of Father’s. But she said that because Cillian was the only male kinsman, he had control of Father’s property.There wasn’t much. Really just the house. And the tools and materials in the workroom. She sold most of those.”
Rioghan turned his dark eyes on me. He clasped his long hands together, elbows on knees. “This Ita lied to you, Caitrin,” he said.
“About Father’s assets? How can you know that?”
“Where the assets are concerned, I cannot be certain, but I think it likely a skilled craftsman such as your father would possess far greater resources than you suggest, unless he was a heavy drinker, a lover of games of chance, or had some other vice on which to squander his earnings.”
If I’d had the energy I would have laughed at this. “None of those. Father was a clean-living, hard-working man. Even if he’d wanted to do those things, he never had time.”
Rioghan nodded. “I thought as much. You would not speak of him with such love and pride if he were anything else. Now let me tell you a fact or two. There is an established law on inheritance, and it still holds in all parts of Erin not under Norman rule. If a man has no sons, his daughters inherit, at the very least, a lifetime share in his estate.Your father’s house, his land and all the chattels within should be yours and your sister’s, in equal share. A distant cousin has no claim on your family home, Caitrin, nor on the tools of your father’s craft, nor on stock or furniture or anything else your father owned.The fact that Cillian is a man makes no difference.”
So Ita had told me barefaced lies. This would once have been a stunning revelation, for the news held out the wonderful gift of independence, an entitlement to go on living in the house where we had once been the happiest of families. Perhaps, in time, I might have established myself as a scribe in my own right, earning a good living. Some part of my mind knew it was welcome news, but that life seemed so distant now. I tried to imagine myself returning to Market Cross to present the facts to Ita. I tried to picture her and Cillian being removed from the house they had taken under false pretenses. But all I could see was Anluan’s fist striking forward, and shards of glass flying through the air in that underground chamber. All I could hear was Muirne’s precise little voice saying:
“Caitrin?”
I glanced over at Rioghan. He deserved a better response from me. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s hard for me to concentrate, I feel so weak still. It’s a pity I didn’t know this before. But it doesn’t matter now, since I don’t intend to go back to Market Cross.”
He did not reply at first, and there was something awkward in the silence. Then he said,“I’m tiring you; I should let you rest.Think about this, at least.When such a wrong has taken place, it seems to me one should try to see justice done.What about your sister, who has also been deprived of her entitlement and is, I presume, unaware of that? Wouldn’t you confront these wrongdoers for her sake, if not for your own?”
