Juliet Marillier - Heart's Blood

“I have little experience in these matters,” I said, blushing in my turn. “But it seemed to me you were a great deal more than adequate. Anluan, I read your little book over and over.When I left here, I thought you didn’t love me; not as I loved you.The book told me how wrong I was.”

“How could you not know?” His voice was full of wonderment.“You changed me utterly.You were like a . . . like a bright, wonderful bloom in a garden full of weeds. Like a graceful capital on a page of plain script, a letter decorated with the deepest, finest colors in all Erin. Like a flame, Caitrin. Like a song.”

I held these words to me as we lay there together, at rest but not asleep. Beyond the closed door of the south tower the full moon crossed the sky and the night wore on towards dawn. So little time. And then he must march out to a battle so uneven, so unpredictable that the thought of it made my heart clench tight with fear. I said nothing of this. Anluan’s newfound belief in himself might be his best weapon.

Inevitably, there came a tap on the door.

“My lord?” Gearróg’s voice. “There’s food and drink here. Orna brought it over. Rioghan said I should wake you; you need something before you march out.”

Anluan sighed. “Thank you, Gearróg,” he called.

“I’m hungry,” I said, realizing it was rather a long time since that uncomfortable meal eaten by the roadside. “I’ll fetch it, shall I?”

“Not like that.” Anluan regarded me from the bed as I wriggled out to stand stark naked in the center of the room.“Put the shirt on, at least. Even so, you’ll shock that devoted guard of yours. He’s done a fine job, Caitrin. Rewarded your trust a hundredfold. I’ve asked him to stay with you when we go down the hill today.”

At the door, I took the tray from Gearróg. There was a smile on his blunt features. Orna had assembled a tasty meal for two, some kind of cold roast meat, slabs of dark bread, eggs cooked with herbs.A little jug held ale. It seemed to me the whole household must be awake, and doubtless the whole household had worked out what Anluan and I were doing alone together in his chamber, but I did not really care. The Tor was full of hope tonight. Hearts were high. I had found the treasure I had believed lost forever, and a little embarrassment was neither here nor there.

I poured two cups of ale, then passed one to Anluan, who was sitting up on the bed with the blanket across his lap. I was cold in the borrowed shirt. I moved to the storage chest, rummaging through the heap of garments for a tunic or cloak. Later I would see if any of the clothing I had left was still in the house.

A sound from behind me, like a faint cough or clearing of the throat; then a thud as something fell to the floor. I turned. Anluan had dropped the cup. He had both hands at his throat and his face was gray.

“What?” I was by his side, my heart pounding. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He tried to speak, but he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He gestured frantically, trying to convey some message to me, but I could not understand what he meant. As I reached to support him he fell back onto the bed, his eyes rolling up.

“ Gearróg! ” I screamed. Oh, God, it was true, it had happened after all. I had asked too much of him, drained his energy . . .There had been something wrong that he hadn’t told me, some illness . . .

Gearróg burst in, uttered an oath, then strode back outside to yell for help. As I fought for calm, laying a hand on Anluan’s chest to feel if his heart was still beating, putting my fingers to his neck in the place where the blood pulsed, the chamber filled up with people: Olcan, Eichri, Orna and Tomas. And just after them, Rioghan, who took one look and said, “Dear God, it’s Irial all over again.”

“ What— ” I began, outraged that anyone would believe Anluan, beloved Anluan who had held me and lain with me and made magic with me, might want to kill himself. Then I realized what he meant. The cup. The sudden collapse. The blue-gray pallor, the loss of speech, the labored breathing . . .“He’s been poisoned,” I said.“The ale—that was all he took—who prepared this tray?” Do something. Save him, now, now! screamed my inner voice, edging me closer to complete panic.

“Sionnach prepared the food,” Orna said. She kept glancing sideways, as if the close presence of uncanny folk still made her nervous.“Tomas got the ale for us and I brought the tray across to Gearróg. I was halfway back to the house when I heard you scream. It’s the same food and drink all of us had for supper, and nobody else is sick.”

A silence, though everyone was busy, Olcan supporting Anluan, Eichri at the door giving terse instructions to Gearróg, Orna dabbing a damp cloth to the stricken man’s brow. Anluan’s breathing was shallow and uneven. His skin was a corpse’s, all shadows.

“Did anyone else come into the kitchen when Sionnach was preparing the food?”

“Who else would be there in the middle of the night?” Orna frowned. “Oh, that strange creature did come by; the girl in the veil. Slipped in and out in that way she has, gives me the creeps. She was only there for a moment.”

A moment was long enough. Long enough to put a drop of poison in a jug. Long enough to kill a man.“There must be an antidote—we just have to work out what the poison is—who knows about herbs?”

“Only Magnus,” Rioghan said. “And he’s not here. Besides, if it’s the same thing that killed Irial, we never found out what it was. Nobody knew.”

I wanted to scream, to rend my garments and wail like a madwoman. I summoned the same chill purpose that had helped me once before, when I had walked into the house to confront Ita and Cillian. “Someone does know,” I said. “Find Muirne. Bring her here right now. This is her doing.” Aislinn was expert in herb lore. Aislinn knew all about potions. She loved Anluan, but perhaps she hated him too; hated him for loving me, hated him for changing everything on the hill. Maybe she hadn’t cared which of us drank first. “Hurry,” I said, but Rioghan was already gone.

“Caitrin.” Eichri spoke quietly. “If it’s the same thing Irial took, we don’t have very long. An hour, maybe. We can’t wait for Muirne, even if you’re right.” I heard in his voice that he could not believe Muirne would turn on the object of her lifelong devotion. “We must do something now or we’ll lose him while they’re still trying to find her.”

“Irial,” I said, as a new idea came to me. If Muirne was prepared to kill her beloved Anluan out of jealousy, might she not have done the same thing to Irial, to whom it seemed she had been as devoted a companion? “Irial would have known the antidote. He wrote notes on everything he discovered; he’ll have recorded every plant that grew on the Tor, I’m sure of it. It will be in one of those little books. He’ll have written down the symptoms, every detail—we need to find the poison first, and he should have noted the antidote underneath.” An hour. A little less than an hour.And I was the only one in the house who could read, apart from her . If there had been a better scholar among them, perhaps Irial could have been saved.

I took Anluan’s limp hand and brought it to my lips. He seemed already gone, but I had felt the blood still moving in his veins, weakly; I had felt the halting heartbeat. To release his hand and walk away was a little death. “I’m going to the library,” I said over my shoulder. “I need a safe lantern and a man to guard each door. If anyone finds Muirne, I want to see her straightaway. Gearróg, don’t let her anywhere near Anluan.”

I ran across the courtyard in my bare feet, with Gearróg’s cloak slung over the borrowed shirt.The news was spreading fast. By the time I reached Irial’s garden, folk of the host and folk from the settlement were gathering in huddled groups, faces somber. Cathaír came running into Irial’s garden before I entered the house, a lantern in one hand, a long dagger in the other.