“Yes,” I said, a blush rising to my face.
“That was real . . . you and I . . .”
The blush deepened; my cheeks were on fire. “It was,” I said. “And so am I. Anluan, you must lie down and rest; you’ve been very ill.”
“No . . .” He was trying to sit up again, his breathing labored. “No, there’s no time for this . . . I must . . . God, I can’t catch my breath . . . Tell me what happened . . .”
I explained it as calmly as I could, while he worked on his breathing, and Olcan supported him until at last he could manage to sit on his own. I said nothing of Muirne, only told him about the poison, and that it was the same one that had killed his father. I explained that we had found the antidote, but not where. I did not speak of the little hoard of trophies I had found.
“Poison,” Anluan said, his tone flat. “Now, on the brink of the battle, poison . . .”
Before I could say anything more, the tall, red-cloaked figure of Rioghan appeared in the doorway with Cathair behind him. “God be praised,” the councillor breathed, his dark eyes on Anluan. He turned to face the courtyard, and no doubt he wanted to shout in a voice like a war trumpet, but he held his jubilant announcement quiet: “He’s safe! Lord Anluan is well again!”
Well? Hardly that, I thought, clutching Anluan’s hand in mine. I glanced over at Rioghan, guessing what was coming.
“My lord,” Rioghan said, walking in and falling onto one knee beside the bed in courtly fashion,“it’s close to first light.We can’t do this without you.”
“He can’t go now!” I protested. “You can’t ask this of him!” A few heartbeats ago Anluan had been lying there close to death. He looked barely able to stand up on his own. He couldn’t possibly lead an army into battle. “Can’t the venture be delayed until tomorrow?”
“It must be today, Caitrin,” Rioghan said. “The plan is in place. We go down the hill before dawn. Half of our force manifests in the Norman camp and engages them. The other half waits under the concealment of the trees. When we’ve created general chaos in the enemy ranks, Magnus brings in the war bands from Silverlake and Whiteshore, under their own leaders. The Normans are driven back up into the woods and into the waiting trap. It’s too late to withdraw Magnus’s reinforcements now; they’ve ridden out from their own territories to take this risk for us, and we can’t send out a messenger without alerting the enemy. We’re hoping Eichri’s sudden dramatic appearance to rescue you didn’t do that.The mist will have helped; he doesn’t think many saw him. With luck, those who did may still be arguing about whether you really were carried off by a spectral rider or whether they imagined the whole thing. My lord, you have time to put on your battle gear. No more than that. Cathair and I will help you.”
Anluan rose to his feet. He swayed, then straightened. “I can do this, Caitrin,” he said, setting his jaw.
I struggled to find the strength to match him. “I know you can. I’ll leave you to get ready now.” I glanced around the chamber, where all of them stood quiet: stalwart Olcan; Rioghan with his jaw tight, battling the memory of failure; Eichri in his brown robe; Orna and Sionnach; the woman with the graven moon on her calm brow. Cathair moved to the storage chest to take out various items of clothing: a leather breast-piece like the one Magnus wore, a helm, a silver-buckled belt.“I’m proud of you, so proud it breaks my heart. Come back safely.” I wanted to kiss Anluan properly, but this was not the time. At this moment, standing there a little crooked and clutching a sheet awkwardly in front of him to conceal his nakedness, he was every bit a chieftain. I stood on tiptoe, put my hands on his shoulders and laid my cheek against his. “I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you, Caitrin.”Anluan’s was no whisper, but a declaration, strong and proud. “Gearrog must stay with you until I return. Several of the men from the settlement will be up here as well, and we have a small force posted atop the wall. Take no risks.” He was shrugging on a shirt Cathair held ready. “Caitrin, who could have put poison in the cup?”
As Anluan bent over to pull on a pair of trousers, Rioghan caught my eye. He gave the slightest shake of his head, and I swallowed the words I had been about to say. This was not the time to speak of Aislinn, and of what now seemed not suspicion, but reality. “We can talk about it later,” I said. “May God watch over you and shield you from harm.”
Ehey assembled in the courtyard not long after. Still clad in my borrowed shirt and cloak, I stood on the steps with Orna on one side and a watchful Gearrog on the other.Around us were gathered the women and children of the host, and the women and children of the settlement, a far smaller group, along with a few very old men, those too frail to march into battle. Above us on the walkways were stationed men of the host, bows and quivers ready, eyes on the hillside beyond the wall. A hush lay over all; in the semi-dark of very early morning, a single bird could be heard uttering a sleepy chirp, more question than statement.
It was an extraordinary army, the stuff of mad dreams. Anluan cut a somber figure. He wore black under his protective garments, and his bright hair was concealed by the leather helm. The only weapon he bore was a long knife at his belt. He looked pale. The lines around nose and mouth, those that had once made me believe him far older than his five-and-twenty years, were all too visible this morning. I made sure my anxiety did not show on my face.
By his side was Cathair in his bloody shirt. He had a sword sheathed at his hip and a thrusting spear in his hand. It seemed to me his eyes were calmer today; indeed, there was a purpose about all this motley band that stilled my heart, letting hope in. Perhaps they could do it. Perhaps, even beyond the boundaries of the hill, they could hold strong against the frenzy if it came, and follow their chieftain to victory.
Olcan was on Anluan’s other side with Fianchu on a rope leash. They were formidable, the two of them, all harnessed strength. It was hard to believe this fearsome war hound had slept curled around a little child, warm against her eternal cold. Close by them was Rioghan, grim as death.
A rattling of bones preceded the appearance, from among the trees, of the skeletal horse and its monkish rider. Eichri looked in my direction, and he and his mount grinned. On the edges of the assembled force stood men of Whistling Tor settlement, Tomas among them. They had perhaps sufficient armor for half their number, but the pieces had been shared: one man had only a helm, another mismatched wrist guards; a third, luckier individual had a worn breast-piece. Some bore round shields, chipped and worn but freshly painted with the emblem of a golden sun on a field of blue. I recalled the mirror of might-have-been and the image of Anluan riding out with a band of fit young warriors under a banner with just such colors.The men from the settlement looked decidedly nervous.They
