“Anluan says Gearrog on his own isn’t enough,” Magnus said.“Cathair’s been given the job of controlling the guards up on the wall. We’ve made various other suggestions, but Anluan doesn’t like any of them. Bit of a sticking point.”
I glanced from one man to another. Magnus had on the field armor he had worn the day I first saw him in the settlement, a protective chest-piece of old leather, padded clothing beneath it, and buckled leather strips bracing his forearms. His gray locks flowed over his broad shoulders. He looked every bit the warrior. There was a frown on his brow, and it was mirrored on Olcan’s features. Rioghan was tapping on the table with his long fingers.Time was getting short.
“I’ll be perfectly safe with Gearrog,” I said. “But if Anluan has doubts, why can’t Eichri stay?”
“Eichri’s required out on the hill, as am I,” Rioghan said. “Everyone has a job for the morning.”
“Well,” said Magnus, lifting the porridge pot from hearth to table, “whatever happens, I suppose we still have to eat. Might almost be simpler if you came down to the settlement with us, Caitrin. I think that’s what he wants.”
“That wouldn’t be right. These are councillors, not ordinary messengers. If they can’t speak Irish, they’ll bring a capable interpreter.”The idea of accompanying Anluan on his mission felt completely wrong. Whatever I might wish I could be to him, I was only a hired helper, one of the ordinary folk. “I’ll talk to him,” I said.
“Now might be a good time.” Magnus jerked his head towards the open doorway. Looking out, I saw the chieftain of Whistling Tor standing by the pump, gazing up towards the half-visible guards on the high walkway. His hair, neatly tied back with a cord, made a single bright note in the misty gray of the morning. He wore his long cloak over a somber outfit that matched the stone wall behind him.
I went out. As I approached he turned towards me and I saw the look on his face, tight-jawed, grim, apprehensive.
“It will be all right.” I reached to take his hands, heedless of who might be watching, and his mouth softened slightly.“We all have faith in you.You should have faith in us.”
“Faith,” he echoed. “It’s an elusive thing. I can’t believe I’m about to do this.”
“You wouldn’t step back now, would you, right at the end?”
“No, Caitrin. I’ve set this in motion, and now I must be the leader it seems folk need here. It’s not the end, of course; today’s meeting is the beginning of something so big I can hardly bring myself to think of it. Caitrin, I spoke to you before about the risks, not just that I may lose my control of the host once I cross the boundary, but . . .You know what happened in the past. I’m worried about you.There are too many elements of this that we cannot predict.”
“I’ll be fine in the library. I’ll have Gearrog.” After a moment I added, “And Muirne, if she’s prepared to sit with me.”
“You mustn’t be in the library.” His tone was adamant. “Stay out of doors, but close to the house. The safest place for you is Irial’s garden. I’ll ask Olcan to leave Fianchu with you. Even so, this troubles me.”
He was thinking of what had happened to his mother, perhaps. But the situation was not at all the same. Besides, he’d said himself that Emer’s death might have been accidental. “I’m sure I’ll be safe,” I told him. “How soon are you going?”
He glanced up at the walkway again; the pacing forms of the guards flickered, dreamlike, amongst the shrouds of mist. “We’ve men on watch who will alert us when the Norman party rides into view,” he said.“That’s if anything can be seen through this mist. Magnus says we’ll have time to get down to the settlement before them, if they use the Whiteshore road.”
Magnus chose that moment to appear in the kitchen doorway.“Breakfast,” he said. “You can’t be a hero on an empty stomach.”
“Not much of a hero,” murmured Anluan. “But perhaps I can learn. Shall we go in, Caitrin?” He held out his arm.The gesture was formal, but as I slipped my arm through his, I had the curious feeling that each of us was incomplete without the other. Apart, we would always be wanting; together, we were whole.
Since I could not tell him this, I said,“Come home safely,” my voice so quiet that I might have been speaking to myself.
The sun rose higher and the mist dissipated. A call came from the sentries atop the wall, and Anluan and Magnus set off down the hill.With Fianchu following me, I went to Irial’s garden as Eichri, Rioghan and Olcan headed for their various positions. Everything had been planned to the last detail.
I settled on the bench with a basket of mending, needing an occupation for my hands. My stomach was tying itself in knots. I would not be at ease until I saw Anluan walk back in through that archway, smiling his crooked smile and telling me all had gone to plan.
Muirne had not been present at breakfast, but she joined me in the garden soon after the men left. She did not offer to help with the mending, simply sat at the other end of the bench and watched me, features grave, hands folded in her lap. Gearrog was stationed just inside the archway, spear in hand. Neither of them had much conversation today.
Time passed.A little breeze rustled the leaves of the birch tree. I patched the knee on a pair of Magnus’s trousers and repaired a seam on a gray tunic of Anluan’s.With my eyes on the plain linen, I saw instead his wan face, his troubled eyes, a lock of his hair escaping its cord to tumble down over his pale brow, frost and flame. I imagined him standing as straight as he could, facing Lord Stephen’s emissaries; in my mind, I heard his deep voice speaking with such authority that everyone sat up to listen. He could do it. Of course he could.
The tunic was done. I folded it neatly and put it back in the basket. I got up and stretched, glancing at the sky and trying to judge how much time had passed. I walked around the pathway, stooping to examine the heart’s blood plant. Buds were developing, their tight-furled forms barely hinting at the brilliant color to come. Within a turning of the moon, the blooms would be ready for harvest. There was a lean-to building against the garden wall, a low stone structure that I assumed might hold tools, including perhaps equipment for distillation and decoction; an herbalist like Irial must have had such paraphernalia. I’d never seen the place open; the door was bolted. Perhaps nobody had used it since his time. I entertained a brief vision of myself in there, making a perfect batch of heart’s blood ink. Then I returned to sit on the bench, thinking how long ago that day seemed when Anluan had accepted my wager.
“You appear agitated, Caitrin.” Muirne’s voice was calm as a millpond. “Are you having second thoughts about this plan?”
