“But why kill her own son?” Mariota asked me after she had seen to the witch. We had returned to her cave, and Mariota had poured some hot broth into the woman who now sat, still shaking violently and bundled in a blanket, by the peat fire.
“He has gone back to his people.” The old witch stirred and spoke. “The fire has driven him back to them. He was never my son. My son was taken from me long ago. I cared for him, but he was never mine. But I could not let one of the good people be captured by the likes of you.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she spoke.
“Perhaps he swam to safety,” said Mariota.
“He was not knowing how to swim,” Gormal answered. “He is gone, back to the sithichean.”
Be that as it was, we were left with fewer answers than before. If Lulach had not killed Niall, then who had? And who had struck Liam down? And where was the gold? Although we questioned Gormal repeatedly and searched her home, she insisted she knew nothing of Niall or Liam. And although we found she had many strange and mysterious things in her house, we found no gold. There was the silver bowl she had used for scrying and some crystals, but nothing else of value, not even a silver penny. But she had killed her son, if he was her son and not a changeling. So we eventually decided to take her to Finlaggan, where Himself could decide what was to be done with her.
We slept uneasily for a short while, and the next morning went down to the bay and retrieved our own boat. Some blackened timbers lay silent on the beach, but we saw no sign of Lulach. Gormal, her hands tied, said nothing.
We set out for the short trip to Islay, which thankfully was accomplished without any mishap. Mariota tended to Gormal, who stared at the waves without speaking, although at times she would laugh and cry in a way which made my own blood run cold.
“Her mind has left her,” whispered Mariota to me after a particularly long outburst. She looked grieved by the whole sad affair.
We veered into the sound separating Islay from Jura just as the weather turned. We moored the boat and rented two horses, riding the distance from Caol Ila to Finlaggan. Mariota rode with me, while Fergus put the witch up on his horse. As we reached the village, I stopped my horse to let Mariota down at her father’s house on the shore of the loch.
“Won’t he be surprised to be seeing you after I was telling him you were with the sisters,” I observed. “Or perhaps he won’t be too surprised after all.”
Mariota gave me a funny look, then went inside.
We continued across the causeway to His Lordship’s great hall with Gormal in tow, drawing curious looks from the guards and others. The weather had turned nasty again and it was sleeting, which made the stones on the causeway slippery. The wind came off the hills and blew hard on the loch. I was not thinking our reception in the great hall would be much the warmer, for we brought no solution to the mystery and no gold with us, either.
The guards recognized me and let us enter easily enough. His Lordship was conferring with some messengers from the king in Edinburgh, and we cooled our heels in the great hall. People stared curiously at Gormal, who followed us unresisting, a blank look to her eyes but with quiet tears flooding her face. She had spoken no more about her son.
It was not busy, and despite the fire burning in the large fireplace, the high-ceilinged room was cold. We were given some warm wine and some cold meat. After the past three days, the rich taste of the wine slipped easily down my throat. Then we waited for the Lord of the Isles to conclude his business.
I had almost nodded off when some men dressed in the fashion of the capital exited from the MacDonald’s privy chamber, and His Lordship’s steward indicated Himself would see us there. We followed the steward into the chamber.
The Lord of the Isles was wrapped in a brat of soft green wool and a mantle of soft ermine skins that must have kept the chill of the day far from him. A brazier burned in the small room as well, and I was grateful for its warmth.
“Muirteach,” mused the MacDonald. “And what do you have to tell me about this Colonsay affair?
“We have brought the witch with us, my lord. Her son was killed. But I am not thinking now that he killed the young boy. Or the MacRuari.”
“No? Who did then? Who killed my poor grandson?”
I told him of my suspicions.
“And what of the gold?” His Lordship asked.
“We have not found any sign of it yet. I am wondering if it is still on Colonsay. We found nothing at the witch’s house, not even a groat.”
“And this is Gormal?” said His Lordship. I thought I saw a shadow pass behind his eyes as he looked at her. “From Jura?”
Gormal, obstinate, stared at the floor.
“She was of Colonsay originally. She was called Gormlaith there. Her son, the changeling, was put to the fire by her parents to drive the faerie from him, and she took the boy and ran to Jura.”
“Ah, from Colonsay. And that would have been how many years ago?”
“At least twenty, my lord, perhaps longer. The man was full-grown.”
“How did he die?”
“His boat burned. His mother herself burned it when they tried to escape. She said he was of the shining ones, and she would not let him be captured by us.”
“She sounds crazed.” The Lord of the Isles studied Gormal a moment.
“Perhaps so, my lord.”
“It is a pity. I once knew a Gormlaith. It is a bonny name—blue lady.”
“Yes, sire.”
“I am sorry to hear of this,” repeated His Lordship after a short pause. It may have been my imagination but I thought I heard genuine regret in his voice. “A mother killing her own son.” He turned to Gormal. “Who was his father? There is the honor price to be paid.”
Gormal still did not speak, but she raised her head and stared at His Lordship strangely.
“Her own people on Colonsay died in the plague,” I volunteered.
“So perhaps there is no honor price,” mused the MacDonald. “Or if there is, it should come to me here. I am the Shepherd of the Isles.”
“The woman is clearly ill in her mind, sire. As was her son. And she has no cattle or money to be paying an honor price.”
“Well, perhaps some will be found. I am thinking this faerie gold is real, Muirteach. Enough real men have died for it. And when you are finding it, that can be the honor price, and it can be paid to me as the poor changeling’s lord. That would be fitting.”
I did not think it was so fitting, nor did I think I would find the gold. And the MacDonald’s next words increased my unease.
“Is not my own grandson dead as well? So that is another reason the gold might come to me. Although,” continued His Lordship with a penetrating glance in my direction, “we do not yet know who killed him.”
I said nothing to that, but stared at Gormal instead, who still stood, her eyes on the floor. “And what of her?” I asked.
His Lordship shot her a look, and his face softened a bit. “Poor amadain. She should be cared for. The Beaton will know someone who can do it. Perhaps his daughter, the one who went over to Colonsay. Is she not with the sisters there?”
I wondered how he had heard of that. “Mariota has left the sisters,” I said, “and just today returned to her father’s house. She was with us on Jura.”
“Indeed? Well, then, she is already knowing the woman. That would work well, I’m thinking.” His face brightened. “And if the poor woman is taken to Colonsay, it may jog her wits. She may after all know something about the gold. Let her be well cared for. Fearchar will know how best to do it.”
He turned to one of his retainers. “Send for the Beaton. And his daughter.”
It was a short time before the Beaton and his daughter appeared. His Lordship gave orders for “the amadain” to be properly cared for on Colonsay. I was not sure what my uncle and my aunt would be thinking of all of that, as there was a good possibility that Gormal would be staying at the dun where she could be watched. And I doubted that Mariota, having final
ly returned home, would be eager to return so quickly back to Colonsay. But whatever they would be thinking, that made little difference once Himself had given the commands. And so it was that we all set out for Colonsay again the next morning.
* * * * *
Fergus and I took the small boat back, while the Lord of the Isles sent the Beaton, Mariota, and Gormal in a somewhat larger birlinn with some guards. It seemed he was not altogether trusting of Gormal, with good reason, I thought. I wondered why he went to such lengths to make sure she was cared for. Probably, I thought cynically, he wanted to make sure the gold was found and Gormal might be the best person to lead us to it.
We arrived at Scalasaig to find the larger ship already docked. The Beaton, Mariota, and Gormal had already gone up to my uncle’s dun. We followed them there through the gray afternoon, although I think Fergus and I both cast a longing glance at Donald Dubh’s alehouse as we passed by.
We reached the dun and passed through the stone and timber wall surrounding it, into the courtyard and the great hall. My aunt met us at the door and gave me a quick hug.
“Och, it is good to be seeing you again, Muirteach. But what a to-do! What that man was thinking of, to send that poor amadain here. What does he think, I am an infirmary? Better to send her to the sisters at Balnahard to be cared for, although I am thinking Mariota has had enough of them for a while. And there is that Liam still here, as well. He is awake. Are you knowing that? And speaking?”
She paused for a second, long enough to look at my expression. “But how could you be knowing?” she continued. “It is just this morning that he knew anyone. Elidh is giving him some broth. You’ll be wishing to speak with him?”
“Yes, Auntie, but not before some of your good ale. The trip seemed long, and we are both thirsty.”
My aunt flushed. “Shame to me for not thinking of it at once. Well, you can see what a bother I am in, with all of these people and problems.”
We found Mariota, her father, and Gormal already at the table. I slid in next to Mariota on one of the benches.
“Did you hear the news?” I asked her as I reached for an oatcake. “It seems Liam is awake.”
“Aye, I was hearing something of it. It will be curious to see what he remembers. I am thinking your aunt had him in that little room the lads slept in. Where she will be putting her,” continued Mariota, looking at her charge, “I do not know.” Gormal sat next to Fearchar, eating very little. “What’s to be done with her, I have no idea.”
“You will think of something,” I told her while we finished eating. “Come, let us go look in on Liam. Ask your father to come as well.”
We left Gormal with His Lordship’s men in the hall and went to find Liam.
We found Liam sitting up on his bed while a pretty maidservant spooned broth into his mouth. He looked pale and thinner, but his eyes had the light of self-awareness in them, and he recognized us at once.
“It is Muirteach, is it not? Dia, they tell me I have been unconscious for some days.”
“Aye. It is closer to two weeks I am thinking.”
“You are lucky,” Fearchar said, “to have woken up. The injuries to the head can be a tricky thing.”
“This man is Fearchar Beaton, His Lordship’s own physician,” I told Liam. “He can examine you.”
The Beaton asked Liam some questions: his name, those of his parents, where he lived, and questions about Mull. He watched Liam’s eyes as he brought a candle closer then farther away from the man. He felt his grip, which seemed strong enough.
“You’ll do well enough, I’m thinking,” Fearchar finally said. “Stay resting another day or two, then slowly build your strength again. You may have weakened more than you know, lying here for so long.”
We left him and walked back to the hall.
“He looks healthy enough,” I commented.
“He looked pale, Muirteach, and thinner,” corrected Mariota. “Now I must be seeing to Gormal. Father, what are you thinking would best help her to rest?”
“Poppy, perhaps? The tinctures are in my satchel,” said the Beaton.
Mariota found Gormal still seated silently in the hall and led her away to the chamber where Euluasaid had arranged for them to sleep.
“I’m hoping His Lordship has not made a mistake.” Unexpectedly I found myself confiding in Fearchar. “Gormal shook her confidence badly when we visited that first time. Mariota was saying she would never be a healer and that was one reason she went to the sisters. I’m hoping this will go well for her.”
“I think it will go well enough,” answered Fearchar. “Perhaps caring for the poor woman will help restore some of the confidence she has lost. She is a fine healer, my daughter.” I noted some pride in the Beaton’s voice as he spoke. “I can help her if need be, but I do not think my assistance will be necessary.”
It had grown late and we were both tired. I slept in the hall that night, the Beaton in a guest chamber my aunt had prepared. But I stared wide eyed at the smoke-blackened rafters for a long while before I slept that night.
* * * * *
The next morning I resolved to visit Liam, who was awake and alert, and see if he remembered anything about his injury. I for one did not believe he had fallen from his horse.
The same pretty maidservant was feeding him some oatmeal when I entered.
“I was not meaning to interrupt your breakfast,”
“Now that I am awake, I have such an appetite on me. I could eat another bowl of this.” He gave a winning smile to the maid.
“I will just be getting it for you,” Elidh said, blushing scarlet to the roots of her reddish hair, and left us alone.
“And how are you feeling?” I asked him.
“Well enough, but I still have a pain in my head.”
“That was an awful hurt. You are lucky.”
Liam agreed that he was.
“I was wondering, just, if you remembered what had happened to you, how you came to be injured,” I asked him. “It was a sore bad hurt to get from falling off your horse.”
Liam smiled again. “What a fool, eh? You would think I had never been on a horse before.”
“What could have spooked him? There was nothing amiss when we looked.”
Liam closed his eyes a moment. “I am not remembering much of the accident,” he said, finally opening his eyes. “I was riding fast up there by the Carnan Eoin. I had spotted a rabbit and thought to bring it back to your aunt. But it was getting darker. Perhaps the horse lost its footing? I just can not remember. The last thing I remember clearly is riding up by that cairn.
“But tell me, Muirteach, what has been happening all this time while I have been lying here like an old man. What is the news? Yon lass was saying something about Jura and a woman who killed her own son.”
I told him of Gormal and the death of Lulach.
“Eh, that is a sad thing indeed. And the woman was originally of Colonsay, you say?”
I nodded. “His Lordship is thinking the woman was touched in the head, and so is wanting her to be cared for someplace. For now, Mariota is to see to her, but perhaps later the sisters will take her in. The honor price will be paid to the MacDonald.”
“Why? Lulach, was that his name? He was not His Lordship’s man.”
“Indeed, but with his own mother the cause of his death, she can not be paying herself.”
“And what is the honor price to be?”
I shook my head. “He had not set it when we left. Gormal did not have much, and there are no kin. She did have a silver basin. He will be taking that, I suppose.” I paused, wondering whether to go on. “Although there was some talk of gold.”
“Gold? Dia!”
“I wondered about young Niall when I was hearing of it. We searched their house, but there was nothing there, just that old silver basin.”
“But you were finding nothing else?”
I shrugged. “As I said, we were not finding anything. It must have just been idle talk.”
/>
I did not tell him of the gold Euluasaid had shown me, nor of the faerie bracelet Gillean had thrown back into the loch.
Just then the maidservant returned with more oatmeal, and I wished Liam a fast recovery and left to find Mariota.
She and Gormal were sitting in the hall along with my aunt. The women were spinning. Gormal sat silently with her spindle idle while Mariota and my aunt chatted in that way women have. My uncle’s dogs dozed by the hearth and altogether it was a peaceful scene.
“Och, Muirteach, we were just speaking of you,” said my aunt in a tone which made me a little suspicious.
“Indeed? And what were you saying?”
“Well, we were thinking that it is crowded here, what with that MacLean taking up the spare chamber and all, and we were not sure where Mariota and Gormal would be staying. And then I was thinking of your wee cottage down in Scalasaig. It is empty enough.”
“Empty enough, Auntie, but a mess.”
“It could be fixed up quickly enough, if some work was to be done on it,” said my aunt pointedly. “What is wrong with it that a good cleaning and some fresh thatch would not fix?”
I looked at Gormal. She appeared placid enough now, but to my sorrow I knew she was not always so.
“I am not thinking it is altogether a good idea, Aunt,” I said, not sure how much to say with Gormal sitting right there, although she gave no signs of hearing. “Two women alone—”
“Well, that is the second of my thoughts. You could stay there with them for a time. You could do for them and make sure they are safe. It is your house, Muirteach.”
“Wouldn’t the people in the village talk?”
“And when do they not?” returned my aunt. “I’ll ask Fergus and send himself and a couple of other men down to help you. You could be starting today. The weather is fair enough for thatching, for all that it may not be the best time of the year to be doing it. And we’ve some rushes stored you can be using.”
THE FAERIE HILLS (A Muirteach MacPhee Mystery Book 2) Page 18
