The Hart and the Harp

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  “You say that Tiernan accepted all these conditions?” Shive demanded incredulously. “How could he? It is unheard of to take a wife without possessions, cattle. Tiernan would be a laughingstock. He could have the pick of the wealthiest women in the country! How could he ever accept me as a pauper? You must have offered him something to marry me, but I won’t let you provide for me, do you hear?”

  “I never offered any assistance. I never got the chance,” Ruairi denied hotly, when he saw her accusing look. “My dear, the truth is, I had some reservations about the wedding myself, so I decided to test Tiernan, to see if I was making the correct decision about all this. I mentioned all of Uistean’s conditions, but he never turned a hair. He seemed completely unconcerned with the intended insult.

  “When I had finished, Tiernan simply said he wanted no possessions, nor anything else from Uistean or your family. He also said that he would never reproach you for your lack of wealth, since it's beyond your control. He declared that if your father refused to take the bride-price he offered, he would give it to you to do with as you liked.”

  “This is madness! Am I to be treated like pauper, to go to him only with what I stand up in?” Shive raged.

  “Well, you are rather fetching in your tunic and hose, coz.” Ruairi smiled, trying to cheer her. “And I will give you a small sum of money to buy some fabric for some new gowns and so on. I did offer it to Tiernan, but he refused outright. However, I shall give it to you anyway. You will buy some nice furnishings and household items, and tell him when the time is right. I wouldn’t like to not tell him at all, for fear he would one day find out about my generosity and resent me for having interfered.”

  “You know I can’t take it, Ruairi, but thank you all the same. No, please, don’t argue,” she insisted, holding up a hand to silence him.

  Shive sat silently working at her loom for several moments as she tried to grasp the enormity of what her father had done.

  “You’re very quiet, Shive. Have you changed your mind? Are you refusing your consent because the terms are too hard for you to bear?”

  Shive shrugged resignedly. “I suppose it’s just that every eighteen year old fantasizes about what her wedding day will be like, with a huge feast, fine food, new clothes, all her family and friends there to wish her well, and so on. But in my case, I suppose none of that should really matter. I will marry Tiernan for the right reasons, even if Father wants to punish me by treating me no better than a lowly milkmaid. I’m not convinced of Tiernan’s innocence or guilt in the murder of Fiachra, but he must be a good man if he would take me with nothing, especially in view of all my family has done to him.”

  She lifted her chin proudly. “No, I don’t withdraw my consent. In fact, I shall begin packing my things immediately. I may not have a fine wardrobe like Orla O'Rourke, but I have many things I've made with my own two hands to enrich his household. I shall continue to work hard to make Tiernan proud of me.

  “As soon as I'm finished packing, I'll send my things over to Castlegarren and go to see my father for one night, and one night only. He needn’t worry about my husband ever darkening his door. When I leave he'll never see me again.”

  Ruiari's eyes rounded. “Shive, don’t be rash. Uistean is an old man and--”

  Shive shrugged one shoulder. “He's never cared about me, ever, Ruairi. Why mince words? He blames me for my mother’s death. That fact that I take after her, with my burgundy hair and violet eyes, only makes him resent me more. I can’t really blame him. I must be a constant reminder of what he lost so long ago.”

  “Please, Shive, don’t upset yourself so,” Ruairi said, patting her on the shoulder.

  Shive stood up and moved to the fireplace to warm herself, suddenly feeling inexplicably cold. “Nay, 'tis better this way. I told you, Ruairi, I want a new life. This will be for the best, you’ll see. I shall cut off all my old ties, and never, ever, will I have to feel divided loyalties between my husband and my father.

  “I thank you for you kind offers and sympathy, but please don’t offer me money or extravagant presents to try to make up for my father’s indifference. I'm sorry none of the sept will be there, but it isn’t worth risking Father’s wrath to attend.”

  Ruairi nodded uncomfortably, and looked as though he was going to ask Shive to reconsider.

  She shook her head and turned her back to him so he could not see the pained expression on her face.

  “Can you arrange for the wedding to take place on Friday? That should give me plenty of time to get everything in order.”

  “Aye, Friday is what Tiernan and the priest have agreed upon. I shall meet you at Rathnamagh at ten in the morning, and we will ride over to Castlegarren together. You will be married at midday, and then I’m afraid I must go south. Important business in Limerick calls me away.”

  Shive nodded wordlessly as she bent to gather up some of her things.

  Ruairi stood silently gazing at her stiff back as she began to pack her possessions into a small trunk that stood in one corner of the room.

  Taking a deep breath, Ruairi ventured to say, “Shive, there’s still time to change your mind. I know what I said before about your being my consort, and Helen of Troy and all that, but the truth is that I can’t bear to--”

  Shive dropped her sewing to the floor and silenced him by pressing her fingers to his lips. “No, Ruairi, don’t say anything you’ll have cause to regret later. My mind is made up. On Friday I wed Tiernan O’Hara. Pray that I've made the right decision for all of us. For though my mind tells me it's the proper course of action, my heart is filled with misgivings. Nay, yet, though I'm uneasy, what other choices do I have?”

  Ruairi shook his head with weary resignation.

  “I agree. I have no other choice. Tiernan is a good man, and it will be a good match. He can't be the monster father paints him to be if he will take a propertyless hoyden of eighteen under his protection. So there is no more to be said, my dear cousin. I'll see you on Friday morning, Ruairi. And as I said, you shall always have my loyalty to the death, no matter how sorry an affair this might one day turn out to be.”

  She looked so resolute Ruairi knew it was pointless to argue with her any further. “I will pray for you, coz,” he whispered. With a fleeting kiss on her lips, he tore himself away.

  Ruairi plodded down the stairs and out to the stables, his heavy heart. He headed back to Castlegarren to seal the final agreement with Tiernan over Shive’s entire future.

  He damned himself over and over again for being a weak coward, more interested in his own political future than the welfare of his beloved cousin. Willing to sacrifice everything, even the only women he had ever truly loved, to forward his own ambitions to become high king of Ireland one day. He prayed God that they wouldn’t all end up regretting it.

  Shive gazed out of the window of her workroom moodily, and watched her cousin ride away into the distance. The die was cast. She had agreed to the marriage for the sake of both clans. In less than a week, she was to marry Tiernan O’Hara, a man who, to all intents and purposes, was a complete stranger, in order to forge what she hoped would be a lasting political alliance.

  But the price she would pay for this peace treaty was a high one. For she was giving up not only herself, but all her family ties, and running the risk of ending up with a husband who might be indifferent to her at best, as cruel and vicious as Muireadach O’Rourke at worst.

  But she had agreed to the marriage. There was no turning back. She prayed to God they wouldn’t all end up regretting it.

  Chapter Three

  Friday morning, the day of Shive's wedding, dawned bright and sunny. Though Shive felt extremely nervous at the prospect of facing Tiernan O’Hara again after so many years, and after all their family had been through, her natural optimism shone in her violet eyes. She had put on the best of the few dresses she owned, a sober dark blue velvet gown with a small amount of gold embroidery around the neck and on the cuffs.

  Her youn
gest cousin Mahon had given her a new black cloak fringed with ermine to wear on her special day. Mahon and his next oldest brother, Ernin, tall, blue-eyed, with hair the color of ripe wheat, had also agreed to go with her to the ceremony despite her father’s obvious disapproval.

  Shive’s other two cousins, Parthalan and Fergus, had both been deeply hurt at her choice of partner, and concerned about her father’s displeasure. They had therefore elected to obey the elderly man’s instructions to the whole clan to stay away from the nuptials.

  In her old chamber at Rathnamagh, Shive sat by the fire as she finished plaiting her wavy burgundy hair into a long tail down her back which she then piled high under a fine pale blue veil which had once been her aunt’s. But the older woman had been much shorter and far plumper than her niece, so that once again, Shive’s heart sank when she thought of her meager wardrobe, which was mainly comprised of hose, shirts, and tunics.

  “Are you ready, Shive?” Ruairi asked softly, suddenly peering around her chamber door.

  “There’s nothing to keep me here now,” Shive said bravely as she rose from the bed.

  Gathering her cloak and gloves quickly, she swept out of the room and she shut the door behind her firmly. Then she began to descend the steep ladders of the old castle to the courtyard below where her horse awaited her.

  Just as she was about to go down the last ladder, her father waylaid her, and demanded to see her alone in the small room he used for the estate papers.

  “Come, Daughter, I would speak with you before you leave, but not in front of strangers.”

  Shive’s hearty breakfast of porridge and eggs lay in her stomach like a leaden weight. She was not about to let her father see her hurt and disappointment over his treatment of her.

  “As you wish, Father,” Shive replied, bending to gather up the hem of her cloak to avoid looking directly at him.

  Shive turned to her cousin. “Ruairi, I shan’t be long. Give orders for the others to ride on ahead. I fear this frigid weather may presage a storm. I would have us all arrive safely at my new home,” Shive said. Then, lifting her skirts high, she climbed the ladder again to her father’s room.

  “So, that young fool Ruairi thinks this is the way to settle the business between ourselves and the O’Haras, does he?” Uistean MacDermot growled as soon as she had shut the portal behind her. “Well, I hope you understand that it does no such thing, and that you are to be a torment to him as a wife. Wrap him around your little finger, play the whore for him to get concessions for our family if you have to, but remember, there is to be no child sired by him, is that clear?”

  Shive blinked in stunned surprise. “I can hardly control nature, sir,” she managed to gasp when she saw that her father obviously expected some sort of response.

  “You little idiot!” Uistean stormed, shaking his fist at her. “Has he turned your head the way he did Fiachra’s? He's evil incarnate, determined to bring about the ruin of this family.”

  She stared at the silver-haired older man in stunned surprise. “Father, really, I understand how you feel about Fiachra’s death. We all do,” Shive began, in an attempt to placate him.

  "No, you don't!"

  Shive stared. This was certainly the most unreasonable she had ever seen her father.

  He’s insane...

  The thought came unbidden. She immediately tried to push it aside as too dreadful to even contemplate. At any rate, Shive had to struggle to catch his next words, uttered as they were in a low snarl.

  “If you really mourn your brother, as you claim to, this is your chance to finally get the revenge we've waited for so long."

  "Pardon?"

  "You will marry the O'Hara, be nice to him just long enough to make the thing look decent, and dispatch him quietly. I have some powder here. It will be quick and painless, and then you can come home to me.”

  Shive gaped at her father and shuddered. It was as through she were seeing him for the first time. And the sight was terrifying.

  “What’s the matter, Daughter?” Uistean suddenly rumbled, as he stopped searching in his tunic and moved over to the small table to pour two goblets of wine.

  “Nothing, I, I wasn’t sure I heard you correctly, that’s all,” Shive lied, as she saw the dangerously manic gleam in her father’s eyes.

  “You haven’t fallen in love with that bastard, have you?”

  “Don’t be silly," she gasped, shock causing her to speak unguardedly. "I haven’t seen him for years!”

  “Aye, but you were always a soft-hearted little thing, filled too much with you aunt’s airs and graces.”

  Shive inwardly laughed at this description of herself. But there was nothing amusing about this situation at all. She never took her eyes off her father, who was darting suspicious glances at her, and now began to advance towards her menacingly.

  “You were spoilt over there at Skeard. You should know all the little tricks for charming your husband, and then... But no children, mind. Give Tiernan any excuse you can, keep him dangling on the hook, but stay out of his bed,” he ordered.

  “It might be difficult, seeing as we're to be married in a few hours’ time,” Shive pointed out quietly.

  He father stiffened for a moment. She though he saw his hand shake as he passed her one of the goblets of red wine.

  “I think not, Daughter. He will probably hate the very sight of you. After all, we've done great harm to his clan in the last few years,” Uistean gloated. “He won’t want to bed you, except to get his revenge on your nice soft skin, or to subject you to the same shame and degradation he's suffered. You’ll be lucky if he spares your life. So do as I ask, child. Kill him, before he kills you, and come home to me.”

  Shive shuddered then. Had Tiernan indeed agreed to the marriage only to exact his revenge upon her?

  Her father shoved the goblet in her face again. Shive, never one for wine, tried to refuse it, but her father’s insistence grew to almost hysterical proportions.

  "Drink a toast to our happy future. Drink!"

  Her nose wrinkled at the strong smell, sweet but also sour, and she took a mere sip to assuage him. She had never seen him act so oddly before. For the first time she began to wonder if her strong father had indeed had his wits affected in some way by the death of her brother Fiachra.

  “Drink up, wench. Your fate awaits you,” Uistean said impatiently.

  Shive was about to hold her breath and try to down the cup in one gulp when Ruairi entered and announced, “As you predicted, Cousin, the snow has started. Pardon me, Uistean, but we must take our leave.”

  Shive saw her father give a wild lurch towards her as she put down the goblet, grabbing for her wrist. But it was in vain. She scurried down the ladder with his voice roaring in her ears, “Come back! Surely you can have one last drink with you father on the day of your wedding!”

  Shive vaulted down the last of the steps into the courtyard and ran out into the swirling snow. She mounted her ebony steed with one leap. Pulling her hood over her veil, and tugging on her thick leather gloves, she thumped her heels into the horse’s sides furiously, and took off down the road towards Castlegarren like a bolt of lightning.

  Shive rode past the rest of her small entourage as though the hounds of hell were after her. Mahon, alarmed, let his stallion have free rein. As they began to near the small forest which separated the MacDermot and O’Hara territories, he finally caught up with her.

  “I didn’t think you were that anxious to be wed,” he declared somewhat sarcastically, his love for Shive all too plain in his blunt, boyish features. Two years older than herself, they had always been good friends. But with his youth and innocence, he would not go far in their brutal world, and thus was not exactly the stuff from which she could glean a good husband.

  She sniffed, barely able to hold back the tears. “I’ve never heard Father talk so. It was as though he had lost his reason. He said wild, mad things, and I can’t help but feel uneasy in my mind about this wedding.”
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  Mahon looked at her pityingly with his bright blue eyes, but she shook her head.

  “I’m not sure that marrying Tiernan is the right thing to do. But nor can I go back there, not after what has just happened. And I can’t return home with you to Skeard and pretend everything will be fine, much as you would wish me to. Oh, Mahon, everyone is relying upon me to do the right thing. I thought I knew what that was this morning. But after what Father said, I wonder if I'm just living in a fool’s paradise,” she admitted in an agonized whisper.

  “What precisely did Uistean say?”

  Shive rubbed her brow as though trying to erase her tormented thoughts. “I can’t repeat it. It was all too awful. He couldn’t have meant any of it. He couldn’t have. He was just upset, and no doubt a bit drunk and resentful. That’s it. It was just the wine talking at this hour of the morning,” she said, the taste of the bitter draught still cloying on her tongue.