Juliet Marillier - Heart's Blood

“So you were in some kind of middle realm, between this one and the next?” I queried. “A waiting place?”

“Hell’s antechamber,” observed Olcan dryly.

“Or heaven’s,” I said. “If it is possible to call folk back, as it seems Nechtan did, then Eichri may be right. Perhaps this second sojourn in the world of the living offers a chance to win a passage, not to perpetual suffering, but to eternal rest.”

“For me there can be no such reprieve,” muttered Rioghan.“Nor for him , I think.” He gazed at Eichri. “His crime was too obscene for such a second chance to be possible. Besides, in all the years he’s been hanging about here, I’ve never observed the least sign of contrition.There’s no hope for you, Brother.”

“Hope of what?” Eichri’s lips stretched in a mirthless smile. “A place in heaven? I never expected that, even when I was a living man, Councillor. At least I had the honesty to acknowledge that I was bad to the core. Hence the surprise when, on falling to the ground with such a pain in my chest that I knew I would never rise again, I did not find myself roasting nicely in the Devil’s flames, but ... well, as I said, we are not sure of that part.Whatever came next, it was evidently not memorable.”

“Interesting idea,” said Magnus.“For folk who are neither sinful enough to go straight to perdition nor saintly enough to rise to God’s right hand, there’s a future of utter tedium.A soul might work extremely hard to escape such a fate. Not being a godly man myself, I can’t say if it’s plausible. What would you have to do, Eichri, to be washed clean of your wrongdoing?”

A rattling shiver passed through the ghostly monk. Then Anluan said, “I do not know if it is true that a man can be absolved of any sin if he atones for it in some way.What is your opinion, Caitrin? Are you a woman of religious faith?”

“I was once,” I told him. “When my father died, it was a blow. What unfolded from that day almost destroyed my belief in God. But I believe we all have an inner goodness; a little flame that stays alight through the worst of trials. So perhaps my faith is not altogether gone. As for whether good deeds can cancel out wicked ones, I cannot say.” I thought of Ita’s biting tongue and Cillian’s cruel hands. I remembered Nechtan’s heartless act of torture, which he had believed perfectly justified. “Perhaps there are some evils that can never be erased,” I said.“As for religious faith, a lack of it shouldn’t stop us from doing good deeds for their own sake.”

Anluan had set down his knife with his meal barely touched.“If a man takes his own life,” he said, “that, surely, can never be acquitted. It is the ultimate sin, don’t you think? Such a person must go straight to hellfire, that’s if one believes in such a phenomenon. Or to oblivion. Or to be born again as the lowliest of creatures, a slug or marsh fly, perhaps.”

The others had gone unnaturally still. They were waiting for my response with a degree of interest that was suddenly intense. I did not like the look on Anluan’s face. His mood had changed abruptly. He seemed strung so tight that he would snap if I gave him an answer he did not care for.

“Slugs and marsh flies have their places in the great web of existence,” I said.“How should I answer, Anluan? As a devout Christian would, or as a person whose faith is, at best, shaky?”

“Answer honestly.”

“Very well.” My supper companions were all staring at me. “I do not view suicide as wicked, just terribly sad. There is only one death, but it is like a stone cast into a pond—the ripples stretch far. Such an act must leave a burden of sorrow, guilt, shame and confusion on an entire family.A natural death, such as my father suffered, is hard enough to deal with.A decision to end one’s life must be still more devastating for those left behind. I cannot imagine the degree of hopelessness someone must feel to contemplate such an act. Even in the darkest time, even when God was utterly silent, I never ... there was always something in my life, something I can’t even define for you, that stopped me from taking that step.The thought of such utter despair chills me. I hope that is honest enough for you.”

“Excuse me.” Anluan was on his feet and out the door almost before I had time to blink. His faithful shadow rose from the table and hastened after him.

Dismay must have been written all over my face. Magnus poured a cup of ale and set it in front of me, while Eichri wrapped his bony fingers around mine.

“I’ll have Muirne’s supper,” said Olcan.“Pass it up, Rioghan, will you?”

“If he didn’t want an honest answer he shouldn’t have asked for one,” I said, furious with myself for upsetting Anluan again, when he had been so open with me earlier.

The silence that followed was like the first ice of the season, brittle and dangerous.

“Anluan won’t tell you this,” Rioghan said, “but Irial died by his own hand. He used poison; we never found out exactly what kind. It must have been easy for him to concoct, since he was so knowledgeable about plants and their uses. Sixteen years ago, that was, and as clear in our minds as the day it happened. He was still alive when we found him out in the garden. It was . . .” He shivered. “It was bad. I’ll never forget his skin, all blue-gray like one huge bruise. His eyes went cloudy. Whatever it was that he took, it affected the lungs. He found it harder and harder to catch his breath. It seemed to me there was something he wanted to tell us, but his voice was gone.”

I could think of nothing to say. I probably should have guessed that this was the explanation for Irial’s outliving his beloved Emer by only two years.

“There’s more,” said Olcan. “On a dark day, long ago, I found Conan out in the woods with a very efficient stab wound to the heart and his hunting knife still in his hand. He may not have been the sort of fellow folk warmed to, but at least he waited until his son was a man. It’s a pattern those of us who are close to Anluan don’t much care for.”

Sixteen years. That meant Anluan was only five-and-twenty. “I’m sorry,” I said. “This must be distressing for all of you.”

“You’re one of us now,” Magnus said quietly.“It’s good that you know. We don’t like him upset, that’s true. But he did raise it, and he did ask you to be straight with him.That’s not a blunder, Caitrin, it’s two steps forwards. He’s trying hard. But you’ll have to go carefully. He bears a lot of scars.”

“I suppose Irial simply couldn’t go on without Emer. But it seems a terrible thing to do when his son was so young, only a child.” It had troubled me, reading his record of grief, that Irial had barely mentioned his boy. It was another reason not to draw the margin notes to Anluan’s attention.

Magnus sighed. “When she died, Irial’s whole world fell apart. He never got over the loss of her. Two years, he held on, but the world grew darker and darker for him. Not that I ever expected he’d act as he did. I thought he had the strength to endure it for Anluan’s sake. I’d give a lot to be able to turn time backwards. I’d like to talk to Irial, say all the things I should have found time to say while he was still here.”

“I should go and find Anluan,” I said, getting up. “I should apologize.”

“I wouldn’t.” Magnus’s gray eyes were somber.“Talk to him tomorrow, by daylight. He’s best alone tonight.”

“He’s not alone,” I pointed out. “He’s got Muirne.”

Perhaps there was something in my tone that revealed what I really thought about this: that Muirne’s presence was likely to make him more, rather than less, despondent.With Irial’s story fresh in my mind, and Conan’s, Anluan’s dark moods had begun to take on a troubling significance. I bitterly regretted upsetting him.