satisfaction, and happy that I need not spend my day keeping up cheerful conversation with the ladies of the household, pleasant women as they all were. Alone or in Donal’s silent company, I could hold Anluan’s memory close. I could contemplate this morning’s fresh page and dream of tomorrow’s.
I had agreed that Donal could send his letter to the senior lawman in Market Cross, questioning the matter of my father’s legacy and, in particular, the tenancy of the family home. In the end, the missive he dictated was somewhat more detailed than I had expected, setting out certain sensitive matters including Cillian’s assaults on my person and the false stories his mother had put about.
“I trust Colum completely, Caitrin,” Donal had said.“He taught me much of what I know. He’ll be discreet in his enquiries. I do want him fully apprised of the serious nature of this, especially if it turns out the local lawman has been derelict in his duty. Someone should have stepped in to assist you, or at the very least to ensure that you were being properly looked after.”
So I let him send it, and at the same time he dispatched messengers to seek out Maraid and Shea, folk who would visit market squares and grand houses, the kinds of places where musicians might play. Donal was confident that Maraid would be found by the time his assistant returned to work. And if it took a little longer, he said, I must stay on, of course. He would discuss the situation with all of us together, Maraid and Shea and me, and help us make whatever decisions were required.When I protested that I should not stay on after the wedding, both Donal and Maeve insisted that I would not be at all in the way. Indeed, Donal said, it seemed he had sufficient work to keep two assistants busy. If I wished to continue helping him, he would pay me for my efforts.
The sun rose on Donal and Maeve’s wedding day.The sky was a tranquil blue with not a cloud to be seen. After a substantial and noisy breakfast, everyone changed into their best apparel and set off on foot for the local church, where a simple but touching ceremony was enacted. I had feared my presence would set a blight on my host’s day of happiness, but I was swept up in the joy of the occasion and almost forgot my own problems until the moment we arrived back at Donal’s house to find a messenger waiting.
“I’d best speak to you alone, Master Donal.” Under his broad-brimmed hat, the man’s face was very serious. A frisson of unease ran through me.
“Is it about my sister? Maraid?”
An awkward pause as folk chattered and laughed, going in the door behind us.
“We’ll go to the study,” Donal said, glancing at his new wife.“I’m sorry, my dear.”
“Go on,” said Maeve with a smile. No doubt she had known what it would mean to marry a lawman. “If there’s news, Caitrin needs to hear it straightaway.”
Then we were in the study, Donal, the messenger and I, and still the man seemed reluctant to speak.
“Come on, out with it,” Donal said.“You can speak in front of Caitrin; she’s the one who is seeking information in this particular instance.”
The man cleared his throat. “I have news, yes, but it’s not the best sort of news. Maybe the young lady should be sitting down.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “Tell me!” My voice was shaking. “What’s happened? Is my sister all right?” For although I had known we might not find Maraid and Shea immediately, I had never thought that something might be badly amiss with them.
The messenger glanced at Donal, and Donal nodded assent.
“They were staying at the big house in Five Birches, that’s quite some distance north, when an illness struck the household,” the man said.“Many folk fell sick and some died of it, including the chieftain’s own son.And . . . well, the musician, Shea, was one of the unlucky ones.Vomiting and purging one day, gone the next.”
“Gone?” My mind was not making sense of this.“Gone where?”Then, as both men regarded me with somber faces, “You mean . . . you mean Shea is dead?”
“Sit down, Caitrin.” Donal came across and took my arm.“Come, now, sit here.” He turned back towards the messenger. “These are ill tidings. How long ago did this occur?”
“Some while ago, I was told. The widow, Maraid, she’s gone home to her folk in Market Cross, her and the child. There was nobody to take them in up at Five Birches.That household lost many of its own, and for a while it was all at sixes and sevens.”
I knew that if I tried to stand up my legs would not hold me. My head reeled; my stomach lurched.
“You didn’t know? The young woman, Maraid, had an infant; it wasn’t more than a couple of months old when her man passed away.Your sister was lucky she and the baby weren’t struck by the sickness, and that they had somewhere to go.”
Lucky. Her husband dead before he was five-and-twenty, her child fatherless, and me, her only sister, away in the west where she could not reach me. And now Maraid was in Market Cross, in that house, with her baby.The two of them were at the mercy of Ita and Cillian.
“Caitrin.” Donal crouched down beside me in his wedding clothes and held out a cup of mead. “Take a few deep breaths.You’re among friends here, and we will help you.” He dismissed the messenger, telling him to wait outside, then came back in and quietly shut the study door. “This is sad news indeed,” he said. “A terrible shock for you. Weep all you want, my dear.”
But I couldn’t weep. That was too much of a self-indulgence; a waste of precious time. Every moment I spent in this hospitable place was another moment of sorrow, of fear, of crushing loneliness for Maraid and her child. I saw her in the house at Market Cross, weighed down by grief, and I saw myself as I had been after Father’s death, an empty shell, all alone in the world.
“I have to go there,” I said, getting to my feet.The chamber rocked and swayed; I drew a deep breath and stiffened my spine.“Now.Today. Maraid’s there with
To his credit, Donal did not remind me that this was his wedding day. He did not tell me I was being ridiculous. Instead he called in Fidelma and Brendan. Fidelma settled herself beside me, her arm around my shoulders. The men sat opposite. A discussion ensued and a plan was devised. I would leave Stony Ford in the morning, accompanied by Brendan and Fidelma, along with the very large young man who looked after Donal’s horses and performed heavy duties about the place. Aengus happened to be the district wrestling champion.
