“Thank you.” For some reason, I was close to tears myself.
“You must tell Anluan about this,” Rioghan said.
“There wouldn’t be any point.” I could not keep my voice steady.“He won’t even talk to me these days.”
“There’s a reason for that, Caitrin.Your presence here gives him pause. It makes him weigh things up a little differently.”
“It shouldn’t stop him from listening when I have something worthwhile to contribute. Anluan knows I’m not stupid.Why can’t he trust me?”
“You’re upset.”
“Of course I’m upset! He might be about to lose everything, and he won’t let me help!”
“He has his reasons. If he wanted to tell you what they are, no doubt he would. Don’t think he’s shut up in his chamber brooding, Caitrin. He’s thinking, planning, working out whether he can take the risk he must take if he’s to save this place. Calculating, weighing up arguments. Hesitating, because that risk may simply be impossible for him to bear.What has occurred here this morning is likely to make him even less willing to involve you.”
“Involve ... you mean he’s leaving me out of this to protect me? But—”
“Baby,” whispered the child. “I want my baby.”
I got to my feet, keeping hold of her hand. “You’re sure it’s all right to go in there?”
“The doll is on the bed; the other evidence, I will remove. Caitrin, he should be told.”
“Don’t say anything, please. I’ll tell him if I get the chance. If he’s prepared to see me. And, Rioghan, thank you.”
“Glad to be of service, lovely lady. I know you have a guard up here by day. You might consider asking for another. Under present circumstances, it is possible some elements of the host may find the capacity for ... mischief. Believe me, that is the last thing anyone would want.”
I shivered. Could he mean that Anluan might be so upset by all this that he would start to lose the control he worked so hard all day, every day, to maintain?
“Don’t look like that, Caitrin,” Rioghan said. “Our boy is strong-hearted, despite appearances.We must have faith in him.”
“I do,” I said. “Despite everything, I do.”
Róise was seated on my bed, her back against the pillow. At first she seemed undamaged, but when the ghost child ran to gather her up, it became evident that the doll’s head had been almost severed from her body by the tightly wrapped wire. A warning. Next time ...
“She needs a stitch or two; then she’ll be fine,” I told the child.“I’ll do it now.Will you pass me that little box with my sewing things? You can be my helper.”
I left the little girl in Cathaír’s keeping again.They seemed to get on well, he watching over her with gentle tolerance, she content in his company, though I knew she saw it as second best. I judged that she would be safer with him than with me. There was no doubt in my mind that what had just happened had not been designed to upset the child, but as a warning to me.
Nothing out of place in the library this morning, though I had held my breath as I went in, half expecting another unpleasant surprise. All was tranquil; beyond the window, the rain dripped from the trees in Irial’s garden.
With a sigh, I settled to the tedious task of rewriting the transcription the ink spill had ruined. As I worked, I considered Nechtan’s story, which was making more sense now that I had more of its pieces. In the years leading up to the birth of his only son he had become increasingly obsessed with his neighbor Maenach, chieftain of Silverlake. It started with a chance remark Maenach was said to have made about Nechtan, and grew in gradual steps to a full-blown enmity. Reading between the lines, I deduced that the ill will was far stronger on Nechtan’s side, for the last scene I had watched in the mirror, in which he struck his wife so cruelly, was not the only time Maenach had attempted to make peace. There had been messages, attempts at councils, approaches to the high king to intercede. Each had been interpreted by the chieftain of Whistling Tor as part of a devious plot against him. He saw enemies all around him, even in his own household.
His other neighbor, Farannán ofWhiteshore—by my reckoning, Emer’s grandfather—had been less of an enemy than Maenach in the early days. As for later, when the host was on the hill, it was clear that a catastrophic event had occurred. Nechtan did not waste many words on it; I sensed that even he found the details too unpleasant to dwell on.
In their frenzy they set upon Farannán’s priest.They tore the man limb from limb before my eyes. Others perished in like manner, or worse. I saw a woman reduced to little more than splintered bone. A clamour of voices from every side: Call them off! In the name of God, rein your evil servants in! I could not make the host obey. All I could do was ride for home.Where I go, they follow. Behind us we left a charnel house.
