“Organize some men into a guard for them, and put them into work teams to get started. I’ll see what else I can do about make reparations to Tiernan once this situation with Uistean is resolved one way or the other,” Shive said wearily.
“Not that I’m questioning your judgment, but are you sure you want to go through with this? I mean, it won’t bring the dead back, and he is your father, after all,” Bran warned.
“Aye, but he was Fiachra’s father as well. That didn’t stop him from murdering his own son in cold blood.”
“And you're certain of this?”
“Aye, I told you, he confessed in front of me, Ernin, and Mahon. And now, because of him, I shall have to bury Ernin as well. No, I won't change my mind. Now, I just need to say goodbye to Ernin properly. Then I want him buried with the rest. He died like a warrior. He shall lay in the ground with the rest of our men who fought bravely against the injustice of my father.”
Coloring to the roots of his hair, Bran began to implore, “Won’t you want to wait until--”
“No, I don’t think so, Bran. No fancy words said by a priest are going to make anyone feel any better about his death, least of all me,” Shive said grimly, as she strode over to the corpse of her beloved blond cousin.
She took the hand and kissed it, and began to remove his jewelry and the personal possessions contained in the small leather drawstring pouch he used to carry around with him attached to his belt.
Shive pulled out some coins, a few small trinkets she recognized from her childhood days, and lastly, a small parcel of cloth. Opening it, she found a burgundy curl of her own hair, which he had begged from her many years ago, when they had been about to be separated for the first time.
“I wish I could have fallen in love with him, instead of Tiernan,” Shive sighed. But she knew in her heart that the words were untrue.
She had loved Tiernan for so long. She could admit that to herself now. She had loved him from the time she had been a young girl. And certainly since she had begun to share her life with him in his home. Their home. Their bed. To lose him now would be like ceasing to breathe.
Yet at the same time, what choice did she have? He could never forgive her for all that had happened. Hadn’t he practically accused her of being Uistean’s accomplice the last time they had spoken?
But it didn’t seem to matter any more, so numb was she at the loss of her cousin and dearest friend. Moreover, Shive knew she had to keep a clear head if she was to face her father. She opened the parcel of linen once again as she stood, and let the wind take the curl away.
“Wherever you are now, Ernin, certainly up in Heaven if one gets there that quickly, please, help me to do the right thing,” she prayed earnestly.
Shive covered the pitiful remnant of his face with the small cloth, before turning away from the body with a shudder.
Wearily she mounted her horse one last time. It seemed to Shive that she had done nothing but ride and fight for as long as she could remember, though it had only been a day and a night since her whole world had been turned upside down by the Viking raid at Breachnach.
“I’m going back, Bran!” Shive called to her master at arms. “I’m going to finish this now.”
Shive turned the horses head towards Rathnamagh, and whatever fate had in store for her there.
Chapter Twenty-One
When Shive arrived aback at the Rathnamagh a few hours after her battle with the Viking raiders, the entire MacDermot clan from all the nearest castles and outlying villages had assembled to witness the trial by combat between her and her father Uistean.
Many were incredulous at the state of affairs, but Mahon had spent all night repeating over and over again the conversation he had overheard between Shive and her father. At last even the most dubious finally became convinced that Uistean ought to be punished for the death of Fiachra.
But not many were so sure that Shive should be the one to bring Uistean to justice.
“After all, she's his daughter. In any case, by rights Parthalan is the tanaist. It should be his responsibility.”
“Angus, much as I would agree with you, old friend, it can’t be Parthalan," Mahon argued, though it cost him an effort to say it. "He is my brother, and I love him, but he was complicit in the murder. That’s how he got Uistean to agree to him being tanaist in the first place. By threatening to tell everyone what he knew if he wasn't named heir. Since trial by combat is based on the innocent punishing the guilty, Parthalan can’t possibly challenge Uistean, even should he wish to. No, it has to be someone guiltless. I think that should be Shive." Mahon hoped he sounded convincing; the last thing he wanted was to see his beloved cousin killed. But who else had the strength of mind as well as spirit to unite the clan once more? Certainly not he, or his brothers.
"But we all know that she isn’t one half the warrior the old man is, and certainly nowhere near a good with a sword as Parthalan. It would be suicide,” Finn, one of Mahon’s distant cousins, argued.
Mahon had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from uttering the harsh words which sprang to his lips unbidden.
“She’s a woman. We’ve never had a woman as tanaist before,” an older man grumbled sourly.
Mahon turned on him roundly. “Do you want to challenge Uistean, then? Because that’s what it will mean!”
Many would-be contenders backed down now that Mahon reminded them of what was at stake. “It’s one thing to object to Shive as tanaist. It's another entirely to go into the position yourself by putting your life at risk, not once, but twice. You must fight both Uistean and Parthalan, or else we will not accept you as our leader,” Mahon warned them all.
“Besides, times are changing, men. I think Shive would be good for this clan. I’ve seen how she’s changed Tiernan O’Hara’s farms and castles for the better, making them profitable and prosperous. She can do the same for us. Maybe we don’t have to base our prosperity upon raiding and killing each other, but upon trade, intermarriage, and working together to both grow strong.”
“But the O’Haras are the enemy!” said one young hothead.
“No they aren’t! Once and for all, get it into your head that Tiernan and his family were innocent of the murder of Fiachra. Despite all the times we’ve attacked them, Tiernan has never once allowed his men to strike back. I must say I admire them for their restraint, since over the past five years they've had ample cause to hate us.
“Today, with the Viking raids, this might be the last straw for Tiernan. I still don’t know how it will turn out between our families. I for one pray for peace. At least Shive has wiped out the Viking threat. But we will still have to do something to make restitution for the cowardly and underhanded things Uistean has done to them so for so long!”
As the muttering and whispering subsided, Mahon moved over to the horn-covered window of the great hall, weary, but nearly certain he had convinced everyone to accept what Shive was trying to do to bring peace back to their part of Ireland.
The only one who would not be convinced was his elder brother Fergus. He was certain that Fergus had known of the murder and Uistean’s perfidy all along as well. Even more worrying, Mahon knew that his brother Parthalan would never give up his position as tanaist without a fight to the death. He felt an acute sense of disappointment and anger at the elder brothers he had so looked up to.
True to Mahon’s predictions, when Fergus heard the state of affairs, he argued, “Well, if Parthalan is not to be tanaist, I should be next in line. There needn’t be a contest.”
“Please, Fergus, it will be bad enough for Shive to have to kill her own father and cousin Parthalan to win her challenge. Don’t make me lose you too,” Mahon begged.
Fergus stared at his brother, then brayed like a donkey. “Don’t make me laugh. As if we three could be defeated by a mere woman!”
Mahon looked away, not daring to see the evil manifested in this brother’s ambitiously gleaming eyes. How could he have failed to see the wickedness that
had been staring him right in the face for so long?
“If you won’t listen to reason, Brother, there’s is nothing else to be said.” Mahon shrugged, but the uneasiness grew within him. Was Shive walking into some sort of trap?
Mahon got his weapons ready, and stood sentry on the castle wall, waiting to give the signal once she had arrived.
If she arrived. Mahon began to get worried when he saw no sign of her.
Suddenly his cousin was behind him, touching his shoulder tentatively.
“I came back early to get a few things ready," she said quietly, more subdued than he had ever seen her. He would have asked her how things had gone with the Vikings, but she pressed on in a low tone.
"If anything happens to me today, well, I’ve made out a list of the things I want done, and the restitution that ought to be made to Tiernan. I brought him no real wealth, and I know Father has disowned me, but he can have the little jewelry I possess, and all of my brother’s things if I don’t succeed today. I know you'll do what you can to try to secure the peace here for all of us, for the O'Haras most of all.”
“No, Shive, don’t say pessimistic things like that. It’s bad luck. You'll come through this, and have many more days and weeks to make up for the past five years and all the dreadful things that have happened. I’m the one who should be fighting. But I confess to you honestly that I’m too afraid. I could never beat Uistean or Parthalan, as well you know.”
Shive patted her cousin reassuringly. “I’m sure you could, Mahon, but it’s my duty. and mine alone. Come, let us go down and get this over with.”
Shive smiled gently, though in her heart she longed to tell him about the fate of his poor brother Ernin.
Shive had changed into a fresh shirt and black tunic, but her leggings were bespattered with blood and gore, so that everyone stared at her as she marched into the centre of the circle which had formed in the main courtyard. A stray mote of sunlight from behind the louring clouds alit on her, bathing her in gold. Mahon prayed it was an omen, would be seen as such by the clan.
Shive took a deep breath and announced, “I am here to challenge Uistean MacDermot to trial by combat to the death, for the murder of my brother Fiachra. Please bring Uistean forward to answer the charges, and may God guide the hand of the just.”
Shive’s father was brought forward, dressed from top to toe in black, with his silver hair neatly brushed back from his high noble forehead.
He arrogantly proclaimed, “I shall be vindicated this day of these false accusations, these evil lies put into her head by that cowardly husband of hers who seeks to destroy this family from within.”
Shive looked around at the sea of faces that surrounded her to see if anyone believed the lies Uistean was telling. All she saw were blank expressions as the MacDermot men waited to see what she would do next.
So absorbed was everyone with the proceedings in the center of the courtyard that they neglected to notice they had left the front gate standing wide open. Tiernan and his brother Cian, heavily enveloped in thick dark cloaks, with their swords at the ready lest they should meet with any hostility, were able to enter the castle precincts unobserved.
Tiernan had been beside himself to find that Shive and her cousins had all vanished from Castlegarren without a word to anyone. He was terrified that she might have gone home and been unaware of the danger her father or the person who had tried to poison her at Rathnamagh presented to her.
Cian for his own part was certain from some of the things that Shive had said that she was determine to make her father pay for what he had done. He was terrified that Shive might have been goaded into doing something foolish.
Tiernan was also particularly anxious to see her in order to apologize, and speak to her about her campaign against the Vikings. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was that in his ignorance, and through his anger and grief at the loss of so many innocent lives, he had accused her of being in league with her father against him. And had not allowed his stiff-necked pride to bend far enough to take back his hasty words which had cut her so deeply. Or to bend far enough to admit how much he truly and deeply loved her.
Once inside the courtyard, Cian and Tiernan were confused to see all the MacDermot men assembled. They climbed a small way up one of the flights of stone stairs leading to the parapets to get a better view of the proceedings.
Tiernan could only hear the words faintly, but he could see Shive in a snowy white shirt and bloodstained leggings with a sword in her hand facing her father.
“What is she doing? I must stop this madness!” Tiernan exclaimed, starting to head back down the stairs.
Cian held him back with one iron-thewed arm. “Don’t interfere, Tiernan. Shive is doing what she must.”
“Cian, let go of me.”
“No, Tiernan, wait! Stop and think. She can’t afford to be distracted right now. Look, they’re getting ready to fight!” Cian whispered urgently, clinging onto his brother like a limpet to prevent him from doing anything rash.
“How can she fight her own father! What on earth is going on here?”
Then his expression changed to one of incredulity. “Oh, God, it’s because of the Viking raid yesterday! Uistean hired them. No, I have to stop her. I'll fight my own battles from now on!”
Tiernan again moved towards the circle of men surrounding Shive and her father, but Cian shook him until his teeth rattled in his head.
“It’s not just the raid. There are other reasons as well!” Cian hissed in his brother's ear, trying not to draw any attention to them. “Tiernan, leave her! You mustn't interfere!”
“She’s my wife, for Heaven’s sake!”
“It’s too late. They’ve started. Shive couldn’t back out now, even were she willing to listen to you. Or even if she wished to, which she doesn’t. She made this decision herself, of her own free will, don’t you see! Let it alone! I know you care for her, but this isn’t your concern, Tiernan!”
Tiernan, aware now that it was indeed too late to stop the fight, watched helplessly as the first act of the small drama unfolded before him.
Down in the courtyard, Uistean said with a suave smile, “Now, Daughter, you know you couldn’t harm me. This has all been a silly misunderstanding. Forget all the lies Tiernan has told you, and I shall be willing to forget all about this little incident.”
“Put up your sword and fight like a man, Uistean MacDermot,” Shive demanded stonily.
“You wouldn’t kill me, your own father”
Shive narrowly leapt out of the way as Uistean thrust with his sword as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He had only been waiting for the least sign of weakness or hesitation on Shive’s part. He had hoped he to trick her just long enough to kill her.
But Shive was not one to be fooled again. She stabbed Uistean through the side with her sword so neatly he almost he didn’t feel a thing until the hilt thudded into his ribs. He stood there like a man stunned, until she twisted the sword once in each direction, then yanked it out. No longer impaled, he at last sank to his knees and pitched forward onto his face.
Mahon could hear his two brothers next to him groan. Shive flipped the dead body over with her foot to show everyone his face, contorted in death, and then indicated for two men to take her father’s corpse away. Never once did she betray the least sign of emotion.
Tiernan gasped aloud as he stood on the parapets of the great stone keep. “My God, she did it for me. Uistean would have killed her for certain if she hadn’t stood firm. Lord, this is all my fault. How could she ever forgive me after this?”
“Tiernan, this isn't your fault, anymore that it is Shive’s,” Cian said. “This is the situation her father forced her into, and the way she's chosen to cope with it.”
“What is she waiting for now?” Tiernan asked impatiently, longing to go down to speak to her, but not daring for fear of how his presence would be received by them all.
Then a second man stepped into the ring of warriors.
“You can’t stop her. Not now! Whatever she's doing, there must be a good reason for it. Let it play itself out, Tiernan. Be still and say nothing.”
While Parthalan got ready, Shive stood quietly, trying to remember all the times she had seen her older cousin fight. She recalled he liked to hit hard and fast, and was rather impatient when it came to finishing off his enemies. Parthalan was also not very imaginative, and rather slow on his feet, though he made up for these faults with his sheer brute strength.
The Hart and the Harp Page 22
