“So it’s war.”
“When he thought he’d lost you, it seemed to me for a bit that he’d give up the fight. I was wrong. He won’t step back from this now, Caitrin, not after rallying the host, not after making that speech of defiance to the Norman councillors. If war comes to Whistling Tor, we’ll fight and fall under the banner of a true leader.”
The afternoon passed. I coaxed the ghost child to perch on the end of my bed, with my shawl wrapped around her. Magnus raised his brows but made no comment. I wondered that he did not go off to attend to his usual work, but I did not ask. His strong, quiet presence made me feel safe, and I wanted him to stay.
Olcan came up to see me, Fianchu by his side and apparently none the worse for wear.The forest man had a long look at the mirror on my wall, the one I had brought down from the tower, but he made no comment on it, merely nodded sagely as if its presence in my bedchamber was exactly what he would have expected.
At a certain point I heard Rioghan calling from down in the garden, and Cathaír came to the door again.
“I’m wanted down there.” The young warrior had his eyes downturned, his head tilted away, as if he didn’t want me to notice him.“Permission to leave my post?”
“Go,” Magnus said.“You’ll be asked to give your account of what happened, no doubt, along with the rest of them. Tell the truth; that’s all you need do.”
“Cathaír,” I put in,“is all well with you? How is Gearróg?”The image of my guard writhing in pain, hands pressed over his ears, was strong in my mind. It hardly seemed consistent with the story that he had broken down a locked door to save me not long afterwards.
Cathaír gazed fixedly at the wall. “We’re not worthy of your interest, lady. Nor your compassion.We failed.”
A moment’s silence. “Because a voice tormented you, gave you intolerable pain, made the men crazy?” I asked him quietly. “I saw you doing your very best to control them up there, Cathaír. I saw how Gearróg wrestled with it. From what Magnus tells me, no lasting harm was done. I did think I heard singing, as if you men were making an effort to hold together against difficult odds.”
“That was the old fellow, Broc. He pulled us out of it. Fact remains, when the frenzy came on us the men broke ranks, lost their discipline.”
The frenzy. Nechtan had used the same word, describing the host running amok in its bloody attack on Farannán’s people.Whatever this was, it had been here a long time. “You kept to the hill and nobody was hurt,” I said. “You achieved what you agreed to at the council.”
“You were hurt.” Still he would not look at me.“We couldn’t help you; couldn’t see or hear straight.We can’t put the blame on the frenzy. If a man loses his courage in battle, if he doesn’t stick to his post, he’s got nobody to blame but himself.”
Magnus cleared his throat. “Go and account for yourself to Rioghan, lad. He’s a councillor of long experience, he’ll weigh things up fairly. Lord Anluan was angry before. He said things he may possibly regret later. He’ll realize in time that he took a calculated risk, as we all did, Caitrin included. If things didn’t turn out quite as he hoped, at least part of the responsibility is his. Go on, now. As for the future, our chieftain’s just committed us to war, and if we’re not to repeat today’s errors, we need to put all our strength and skill into working out how.”
“My lady,” Cathaír muttered, then turned on his heel and was gone.
“Anluan was angry? What exactly did he say to them?”
“You know how he can be,” said Magnus. “Tore into them for not coming to your aid; told them they were worthless and wayward, and a lot more of the same.They just stood there and took it.This frenzy, I’ve heard them talk of it before. The voice, some of them call it. Either it gives you a blinding headache, or it fills your mind with bad things from your own past. Or both at once. It’d be hard work staying at your post and keeping alert while that was playing havoc in your head.”
“Where do you think it comes from, this voice?” Snippets from the documents started to come back to me. Sweet whispers; I must not heed them. A voice, yes, but it hardly sounded like the same phenomenon. Night by night a whispering in my ear. It tempts me to despair. “It must be very powerful if it can disable the entire host all at once.” I wondered, not for the first time, if Nechtan could have left an enchantment that continued its fell work long after his death. “Were Rioghan and Eichri stricken by it?”
“Only to the extent of a headache. Muirne was more badly affected. A pain that drove out all reason, that was how she described it.”
Muirne had suffered the same pain as Gearróg? That was not what my memory told me. But then, she had been behind me when he fell, and then she’d disappeared. I should give her the benefit of the doubt, at least. “I would like to speak to Muirne, Magnus. Do you think she would come up here?”
“She was looking a bit shaken. Leave it till later, that’s my advice.You shouldn’t be doing anything but resting, Caitrin. Lie down again.” He glanced at the ghost girl, huddled under the shawl with not much more showing than wisps of white hair and frightened eyes.“I don’t suppose she saw how the fire started?”
“I sent her away.The voice drove Gearróg a little mad. I was afraid for her; she’s so small.”
Magnus folded his arms and gave me a shrewd look. “So Gearróg did hit you,” he said.
“Not me. He struck out at something he thought was there. He had a kind of convulsion, a fit. I happened to be in the way.”
“Mm-hm.”
“It’s true, Magnus. I saw how all the men were behaving, Gearróg included. This thing is powerful.” I lay back on the pillows, considering what I had learned. Nechtan had been so sure he had got things right. He’d been so careful in his preparations. But somehow the great experiment had gone awry. I saw the aftermath, the wayward host, the battles, the slaughter, the blood and hatred that had flowed from one man’s obsession. I saw the accidents, the errors, the fire and flood and careless cruelty. “Magnus,” I said, “this voice, the one that wreaks havoc within the host—that alone could have caused almost everything that has gone wrong since Nechtan brought them forth. Whoever’s doing it would wait until Nechtan or Conan was out in the field, in the midst of a battle, and then it would speak to the host, and they’d go into what they call the frenzy. Gearróg said it turns them upside down and inside out, so they don’t know what they’re doing. The frenzy could make people light fires. It could . . .” It could send people into such despair that they would kill themselves. I would not say that. But it seemed to me the voice that caused this frenzy could also speak to the living. Indeed, perhaps I had heard it myself, telling me I had been corrupted by Nechtan’s fleshly desires. It was not only cruel, it was clever. “Is that the family curse?” I asked him. “The ever-present voice, meddling with people’s attempts to set this right? Does Anluan hear it?”
“You’d need to ask him that. It doesn’t speak to me, nor to Olcan. Is it the curse? I can’t say. Nobody knows who laid the curse on Whistling Tor, or what exactly was meant by it.The way I see it, there’s one brighter note in this. Folk always said it was a hundred-year thing, Whistling Tor condemned to a hundred years of ill luck or failure or sheep diseases or whatever interpretation people decided to put on it. Seems to me the hundred years must be nearly up.That’s a powerful reason for Anluan to follow through on his defiant statement to Lord Stephen. If you take such things as curses seriously.”
I thought about this awhile. “You mean this might all come to an end even without the counterspell?”
“Maybe. The way Anluan was speaking not so long ago, he’s seeing things a bit differently since you nearly got yourself killed. I doubt if he’ll want you to go on looking through those books of spells.What happened just now has shaken him badly.”
“I should talk to him,” I said.“I have to get up anyway, I must go to the privy. Besides, you shouldn’t be spending your time watching over me.”
“You’ll have a hard time convincing him it’s safe to leave you on your own.”
“Maybe if he sees me walking around . . .” I swung my legs over the side of the bed, smoothed down my skirt and rose to my feet.The chamber spun; my knees buckled. Magnus caught me before I fell.
“Then again,” he said,“if he sees you like this he might order you back to bed for a few days and stand guard over you himself. I’ll carry you.”
Down in the courtyard the warriors of the Tor were assembled in all their strange variety, listening to Rioghan as he paced up and down before them.
“. . . techniques for dealing with this kind of thing. It can be something quite simple—counting in your head, repeating a rhyme, concentrating on a pattern you’ve remembered, anything to block out the distraction.”
“Distraction. Is that what you call it?”That was the tallest of the men-at-arms, the one who usually carried a pike.
“That’s the way you have to treat it, even if it hurts fit to blow your head apart.” Rioghan’s tone was measured; if I had been one of the men, I would have found it reassuring. “That’s what Broc knew and the rest of you didn’t.You’ve him to thank for getting you out of this mess, him and the fact that he’s seen more battles than Donn here’s seen iron nails.”
A ripple of appreciative laughter.Then Cathaír spotted Magnus walking towards the main door with me in his arms. Heads turned towards us, and a sudden hush fell over the courtyard. Rioghan nodded respectfully in my direction, then resumed his address. “You see what can result if you lose concentration. You were lucky this didn’t turn out any worse. Next time around, we won’t just be manning the defenses and keeping ourselves out of trouble, we’ll be fighting a battle. If the frenzy comes on you just as you’re about to run a Norman through with your spear, are your bowels going to turn to water? Are you going to attack the comrade standing next to you? You are not. And I’ll tell you why not. Because every day, between now and the time we march down there to defend Whistling Tor, you’ll all be working so hard you won’t have time to listen to anything but your leaders’ orders. If you didn’t like what Lord Anluan had to say to you before, make sure you don’t give him cause to say it again.”
“Magnus,” I murmured as he maneuvered me inside and out of view, “I didn’t see Gearróg there.”
“He may have saved your life, but he wasn’t looking happy when we first came up the hill. Off somewhere on his own having a think, that’s my guess. Same as Anluan.”
“I thought you said Anluan was resting.”
“I said that’s what I told him to do.You know and I know how likely it is that he followed my advice.”
After a visit to the privy and a wash, I felt strong enough to walk on my own, though it was still an effort to catch my breath. Magnus was all for taking me straight back to my chamber, but I persuaded him that one of his herbal drafts would be good for me. I sat at the kitchen table to drink it while he chopped vegetables for a soup. He worked with one eye on me, as if he expected me to collapse the moment he looked away. I wondered whether I would have died if Gearróg had not broken the library door down, and who would have taken the news to my sister.There was a sudden powerful need in me to see Maraid again, to tell her I forgave her for deserting me. I was coming to understand that people make extreme choices, for good or ill, and that there are sometimes good reasons for them. I wanted to know that she and Shea were happy. I was by no means sure the life of a traveling musician would suit Maraid, a woman whose home hearth was precious to her.
“Do you have sisters or brothers, Magnus?”
The big man paused, knife in hand. “A couple of brothers. I haven’t seen them in long years; don’t even know if they’re still alive. Both fishermen, back home in the isles.The sea’s a hard mistress; she doesn’t discriminate.”
“Haven’t you thought of going home, at least for a while?”
His smile was resigned rather than bitter.“I can’t, Caitrin. I left that life behind when I joined the gallóglaigh. I told my mother to count me gone for good; didn’t want her spending her days in hope of a sight of me and being constantly disappointed. Anluan needs me here.”
“You must have been proud of him this morning.”
“I was.” He resumed cutting up the onions.
“And he’s going to need you even more now he’s committed Whistling Tor to standing up against a Norman attack. He’ll need all of us.”
“As to that,” Magnus said, “there might be a few hard choices ahead.”
“What do you mean?”
“Talk to Anluan, lass. He’s going to go through with this, but he’s not happy with what it means. I expect he’ll come to find you again later, explain it all to you.”
“I’ll talk to him now.” I got to my feet, steadying myself with one hand on the table. “Where do you think he is?”
“You’re not going anywhere on your own,” Magnus said.
A slight form appeared in the outer doorway: Muirne, with purple marks like bruises under her eyes. She hadn’t been lying when she spoke of a debilitating headache.
“You are recovered, Caitrin.”
“I’m feeling somewhat better, thank you. Is your headache gone?”
A wintry smile. “It will pass.”
“You left the garden rather quickly, earlier.”
“You could not understand. The pain is such that one does not act sensibly. I was unable to help you.”
Magnus was concentrating on his cookery, leaving the awkward conversation up to the two of us.
“Muirne, do you know where Anluan is?”
She took a step into the kitchen, then turned to adjust some cups on a shelf so they were perfectly in line. “Yes,” she said.
“I need to talk to him. Will you walk there with me?” I glanced at Magnus, expecting him to order me straight back to bed.
“Where is he, Muirne?” the big man asked.
“Through there.” Muirne waved a hand vaguely towards the inner doorway. “Close by.”
“I suppose it’s all right, provided Caitrin doesn’t go on her own,” Magnus said. “He’ll likely have words with me for letting you get out of bed so soon, Caitrin. Muirne, make sure you look after her.” He was lifting the ham down from the hook where I had hung it.
“Of course.” Muirne’s brows went up, as if it were ridiculous to suggest she would be anything other than the most caring of companions. She took my arm—her touch chilled me—and we went through the inner doorway into the maze of chambers and hallways beyond.
I was foolish, perhaps. Once before, up in the tower, I had imagined her pushing me over the edge and down to oblivion. I had suspected her of shutting me in. I had even wondered if she was responsible for the damage to my belongings, though it was hard to imagine such a self-possessed creature shredding a gown or ripping out a doll’s hair. As for her sudden disappearance earlier, just before I noticed the fire, she had a perfectly plausible explanation for that. I had seen how the frenzy affected the host, causing those men on the walkway to turn on one another, sending the steady Gearróg suddenly mad. I should be grateful to Muirne. If she had not removed herself from Irial’s garden, she might have been driven to attack me.
