Juliet Marillier - Hearts Blood

• Название: Hearts Blood
• Автор: Juliet Marillier
• Жанр: Прочая старинная литература

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The fellow responded by tightening his grip on me. One of the others had a look in his eye that made my stomach clench with unease.They might take me to their leader and interrogate me. Or they might decide they’d like a little quick entertainment with no questions asked. The mist would provide perfect concealment.

“Let go of me!” I snarled, pulling against my captor’s hold, and one of the others cuffed me across the mouth, hard enough to rattle the teeth in my jaw. He hurled a comment at me, and they began to drag me off the road.Through the thickening vapor I caught glimpses of tents and tethered horses, neat stacks of bags that might hold supplies, poles stuck into the ground that might be for flags or pennants. Faint glows here and there suggested there was more than one fire. This was an encampment of many warriors, a substantial besieging force.Whether it encircled the Tor fully, there was no telling.At the very least, I suspected there would be guards posted at strategic points all the way around, preventing Anluan’s forces from breaking out.

We were heading for a larger tent, more of a pavilion, within which a light still burned. One of the men went ahead, stepping up to the bigger tent, calling out to someone within. A spy. A spy in the camp. Will you question her? Four more strides and I’d be inside the place, completely at their mercy. I had to do something.

I sank my teeth into my captor’s hand. He cursed, his grip slackening momentarily, and I turned to bolt into the mist and out of sight. One of the others reached to grab me, and then there came a strange sound, a clattering, a rattling, an eldritch whinnying.The men froze, their faces paling, as the sound became a shape and out of the obscuring curtain came a tall horse, a creature all bones, its lips stretched in a hideous grin, and on its back a red-eyed rider in a monk’s robe, his head a skull, his smile fearsome as death itself. My companions scattered in all directions as horse and rider came up beside me and halted. I balanced my writing box with one hand and reached up with the other. Eichri bent, hooked an arm around me and lifted me to the saddle before him as if I were no heavier than a child.We backed up a little.

“Hold tight, Caitrin,” the monk said, and wrapped his bony arm around me.The skeleton horse bunched itself up, then launched itself in a mighty leap. I screwed my eyes shut. I did not dare to look until I felt the uncanny steed come to ground.We were on the other side of the Norman lines.The horse raced ahead along the path and up the hill into the forest. “Did they harm you?” Eichri asked.

Slowly my heart returned to its usual rhythm. “A bruise or two, that’s all,” I said. “How did you know to come?”

“We saw you in a mirror. All right? Not going too fast for you?”

It was like racing on a pile of sticks, precarious and uncomfortable. Never mind that; I was safe. I was home. Now I must ask the question. “Eichri, is Anluan still alive?”

“Alive? Very much so.You’ve come back right in the middle of things. We have a surprise for the poxy gray shirts in the morning. At first light we’ll be down on them with everything we have. My old friend Rioghan made the battle plan, and a good one it seems to be, though the fellow won’t admit as much until it’s all over and the Normans are gone from Anluan’s land.”

Holy Saint Patrick, I had arrived on the very day of the battle. “He’ll be angry,” I said. “Anluan. He didn’t want me here. But . . .” I was becoming aware that we were no longer alone. As the horse made its way up the hill path in a shivering dance of bones, figures were appearing from under the trees, men, women and children, watching us pass. I saw the look in their eyes, proud, vindicated, full of hope and excitement, and I heard their shadowy voices. She’s back.The lady’s back. It’s her, come home again.

“Angry?” Eichri queried. “If he’s angry, I’ll eat my sandals. Of course, you didn’t see him when I told him you were down at the foot of the hill. He would have rushed off to fetch you himself, straight through the Norman camp, if Rioghan hadn’t made him see sense.”

“Oh.” As we clattered into the courtyard followed by a whispering crowd of spectral folk, my heart soared.

“Been a few changes since you left,” Eichri said, as his formidable mount halted.The monk swung down, then reached to lift me to the ground.

A few changes.That was somewhat of an understatement.There were people everywhere, not just the fighting men of the host, but men from the settlement, ordinary men who were working alongside the uncanny inhabitants of Whistling Tor. There was Cathaír, still in his bloody shirt, looking my way in wonder as he helped a young fellow, perhaps a farmhand, to string a bow.There were Eichri’s clerical colleagues, going in and out of the east tower, where the chapel was, with piles of folded cloths, basins and bottles.The chapel had become an infirmary; they anticipated casualties of war. There was Tomas’s wife, Orna, crossing the courtyard with a ghostly woman by her side.The moon illuminated this nocturnal activity. A single torch burned outside the main entry to the house. Despite the unusually large number of folk about, there was a hush over the place.

“I can hardly believe this,” I said, looking one way then another. “To get them all working together . . . to break down so many barriers . . . How has he done it, Eichri?”

“Cooperation. Planning. Sheer persistence. We’ve all helped him. He sent Magnus to talk to Brión straightaway, soon after you left. It turned out the local chieftains were far more worried about the Norman threat than they were about the host. Everyone had come to believe Anluan had no will to lead. When opinions were sought, they’d become used to leaving him out. Once they learned things had changed, we worked on persuading them that the host was under control now.”

The host did seem to be under control. The quiet cooperation I saw between living villagers and spectral folk made my spine tingle. “Is it true?” I asked. “Does he really have control even beyond the hill? What about the frenzy?”

“We’ve been working on that,” Eichri said. “Rioghan’s taught them ways to keep strong; so has Magnus. Of course, it hasn’t been fully tested.”

My heart sank.At dawn they would head out to confront the Norman army.The risk did not bear thinking about. “Where is Anluan?” I asked. It was the only thing that mattered right now.

“In his own quarters; he’s waiting for you there. Caitrin, you won’t have a lot of time alone. We attack before dawn. Anluan’s got work to do. And he needs rest, too. He’ll carry a heavy burden once the host leaves the hill.” Perhaps I looked surprised, for Eichri added, “Rioghan’s plan has half of the host moving down beyond the boundary to manifest within the Norman lines. Anluan must go down there with them. If the frenzy comes upon our fighting forces, he’s the only one who can hold them together. Don’t look like that, Caitrin. You have a little time. Gearróg’s on guard; he’ll make sure nobody interrupts you.”

As we walked towards the south tower and Anluan’s private quarters, my mind was full of the dark vision: Anluan lying on his pallet, I grieving, and Muirne ...What if I walked in that door and Anluan was stretched out stone dead? “Where is Muirne?” I asked.

“She’ll be here somewhere.We haven’t seen so much of her since the folk from the settlement came up the hill, when we knew the Normans were on the way. I’ve spotted her once or twice, up in the north tower or in Irial’s garden. And she’s been in the library. Doesn’t come to meals anymore, since the household suddenly expanded. And Magnus isn’t here.”

I looked at Eichri, astonished. Surely the loyal Magnus would not desert Anluan at such a time of crisis. “What happened?”

“All part of the plan.Anluan can tell you. If this goes as expected, we’ll be seeing Magnus again in the morning. That woman, Orna, has been doing the cooking, with a whole bevy of assistants. Olcan’s looking after the farm.” We were nearly at the tower. “Ah, look at that,” Eichri said as a small form hurtled towards me. I knelt and caught her, feeling her ice-cold arms around my neck. I stroked her wispy white hair. She was clinging, crying. “I’m back now,” I murmured. “It’s all right. But I have to talk to Anluan.You wait here with Gearróg. I’ll see you soon.” I rose to my feet and met the eyes of the man who had saved me from the fire; the man who had called me Anluan’s dearest treasure. He stood in guard position outside the door to the south tower, spear in hand.

“I kept my word,” Gearróg said. “I kept him safe for you.”

“And I kept mine. I’m home.”

Gearróg was a man of few words. “You’d best go in, then,” he said. “Not so long until first light.” After a moment, he added, “Found your sister, did you?”

It seemed typical that he would remember such a thing. He was the kind of man who would never put himself first.

“I did, and she’s . . .” The door of the south tower opened, and there stood Anluan, hair a river of flame across his shoulders, one hand against the doorframe, the other holding a lantern whose warm glow spilled forth, making a path for my weary feet, lighting the way home. Anluan’s face was white as winter. But his smile was all summer.

The rest of the world disappeared. He reached out his hand; I took it and was drawn inside. Anluan set the lantern down and closed the door behind us, sliding the bolt across.Then we were in each other’s arms, words tumbling out of us, none of it making much sense, for there was a tide rising that swept away all reason. I had not thought that I might be putting my sister’s words of advice into practice so soon, but all of a sudden it seemed to me I should perhaps be trying to recall them.

“You need rest, refreshment,” muttered Anluan, releasing me and stepping back. “You’re hurt, your feet—”

“It’s nothing.” I sat down and discarded the boots, wincing. “But my clothes are wet. And I lost my bag when Eichri came to fetch me.” Thank God I had kept Anluan’s book in the pouch at my belt. “Can you give me something to wear? We have so little time, I don’t want to go out and ask—”

Anluan said nothing at all. He moved to take a garment from the untidy heap that lay atop his storage chest, but did not give it to me. Instead, he stood with it in his hands, three paces away from where I sat on the edge of the bed.

I can do this, I told myself. I love him. He loves me. He wants me. I can do it. Then I stood up and, one by one, removed each article of clothing. I kept my eyes on his, watching him watch, seeing the changes in his face as cloak, shawl, bodice, skirt, stockings, fell each in its turn to the floor. I knew my cheeks were red as ripe apples, but I cared nothing for that. All that mattered was the look on Anluan’s face, and the throbbing excitement building in my body. I slipped my fine lawn shift over my head; dropped it slowly. I stood facing him, clothed only in the fall of my hair. “It’s not exactly warm in here,” I said. “Eichri told me you need rest before the morning.Will you lie down with me awhile?”

Anluan had not moved. “Caitrin—” he said, then cleared his throat. “Caitrin, I will disappoint you—I can’t—”

“You couldn’t disappoint me,” I said, pulling back the blanket and lying down on the bed as my heart performed a wild dance of terrified excitement. “Don’t even think of that. If rest is what you need, then rest beside me and keep me warm. I’ve missed you more than I can put into words, Anluan. I want to hold you close.”

And then we stopped talking, and I helped Anluan to take off his own clothing so we could lie skin to skin, and very soon the two of us warmed each other very well, but we did not rest. Maraid’s wise words were in the back of my mind somewhere, helping me as my hands showed his where to touch, as my mouth grew bolder and his followed the example. I made my body accommodate his, finding ways to move and hold, to slide and twine, within the boundaries of what his weaker limbs could do. Once or twice it was awkward, a little; but not so awkward that it made him draw back, fearful of failure.We had already moved past that point, and when at last our bodies came together, it was like the vision in the mirror of might-have-been, lovely, powerful, overwhelming, a giving and receiving, a meeting and parting, a congress that was both desperate and tender, until a wave of sensation crashed over us and left us drained and spent, hearts hammering, bodies entwined.

It was some time before either of us spoke. I lay tucked against his side, his arm around me, my head against his shoulder. My body touched his in a hundred, a thousand points of skin against skin; I felt each one of them. I never wanted to move from this spot.

“By all the saints,” murmured Anluan.There was a note of utter wonder in his voice. “I feel as if I could do anything. Anything.”

“You can,” I said. “I always knew that.” I did not ask him why he had believed this was a thing he could not do. If he wanted to tell me, in time he would.

“Caitrin?”

“Mm?”

“Will you stay this time? Stay and be my wife?”

For a moment my heart was too full to let me speak.“I’d be honored,” I whispered.“I never want to leave you again.” And it came to me that this had not, in fact, been like the vision in the mirror, where Anluan had seen a perfect version of himself making love to me.That had been a fantasy, an embodiment of what could not be.This had been real: real in its flaws and uncertainties, real in its small triumphs, real in its compromises and understanding. “Anluan, will you forgive me for what I said to you the night we quarreled? I didn’t mean it. It hurt so much that you didn’t want me, I think a sort of madness must have come over me . . .”

“Shh,” he said, touching his fingers to my lips. “There’s no need to speak of that. Besides, I was as cruel as you. I banished you in the unkindest way possible. If I had allowed myself to soften, I could not have spoken the words. I feared for your safety.” His cheeks flushed.“That was not the only reason. I suppose you know that I have just surprised myself somewhat. Caitrin, I longed to keep you by my side; I longed to have you in my bed. But I did not believe I could ever be . . . adequate.”

“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.