THE FAERIE HILLS (A Muirteach MacPhee Mystery Book 2)

by Susan McDuffie

  “But Auntie, the house is small for three,” I protested. But I already knew my protests would do little good. Once my aunt got set on something, there is little that could stop her. And, to be totally honest, the thought of spending some time with Mariota, even with Gormal present, was not unwelcome.

  “I’m sure you will manage. There’s little enough room here with that MacLean still ill. And you would not be wanting them to stay there by themselves, for all that Aorig is next door. Plus it will let you be visiting with those brothers and sister of yours at Aorig’s. That would be good for them and for you as well. And you would not want Mariota to have to take the poor woman to the sisters at Balnahard. She was just saying she did not think that would suit at all, were you not, Mariota?”

  Mariota had been uncharacteristically silent during this exchange, but finally she spoke.

  “I do not think the sisters can care for her adequately. Not after what I saw there.” She gave me a look, and I guessed she was thinking of Sister Morag.

  “And you by yourself can? I am knowing nothing of cures. And what will your father be saying about it all?”

  “Aorig would be next door. She might help me watch her. It would do, for a time.”

  “And what of the future? His Lordship was crazy to be thinking of it,” I fumed. “You can not be caring for her forever.”

  “Mayhap in time she will grow well enough to return home. She could harm no one there.”

  “Perhaps.” I was unconvinced and angry that the Lord of the Isles had placed this burden on her.

  “So, is that settled?” interjected my aunt, putting down her spindle and rising. “I will just go and get Fergus and see who else will be able to help. The weather is fine enough for thatching, and it would be a sad thing to waste the day.”

  “And inside?” questioned Mariota. She had been inside my house.

  “Aye, I’ll send a girl to be helping with that as well.”

  Chapter 20

  So that day and the next were spent in thatching and cleaning, and by the end of it my small house was looking much better. Gormal said little but helped Mariota and Elidh, that same pretty girl who had been looking after Liam, with the cleaning and giving the inside walls a coat of whitewash, while Fergus and I thatched the roof. Seamus helped. When it was all done, I would not have recognized it for the same dwelling it was when we started. Aorig looked on with approval and fed us some tasty stews and some of her good cheese and ale when we took breaks. Finally, as the sun set red over the west on the second day, we were finished.

  “Well, that’s none so bad,” said Aorig, looking around in amazement. “I would not have believed it would be possible.”

  Inside, my stool sat tidily by the hearth. Euluasaid had found a small table up at the dun, and it stood by the whitewashed wall with some wooden bowls on it. There was a kettle on the hearth where a fire had been laid, and some peats stacked up in a corner. There was a wide bracken bed for the women to sleep in, and a narrow one on the other side of the room for me. Somerled walked in, circled the fire pit, and curled up by it, very much at home.

  “Well, I’m thinking we’ll be comfortable enough in here,” said Mariota. “But it’s tired enough I am now.”

  “Here,” Aorig put in. “Come next door. There is a stew all ready, and you won’t have to be bothering about supper.”

  So we spent the evening at Aorig’s. Gormal sat, still without speaking, and ate silently, but the rest of us had a merry time. My half brothers and half sister were doing well, and the baby, Columbanus, in particular, had grown since the summer. He was walking now and into everything. Little Sean too seemed several inches taller. Aorig and her husband sang, and even I tried my hand at a tune.

  “You’ve none so bad a voice,” observed Mariota after I had finished.

  It grew late and I saw Mariota stifling a yawn. I felt awkward about sharing the cottage with Mariota and Gormal, for all that we had slept close together before. But this seemed different somehow, more intimate.

  Aorig also started to yawn, and her husband said something pointedly about needing to get an early start the next day. And so we took our leave and went next door to my house.

  The fire was smoldering and Mariota banked it for the night, repeating the charm: “A shining angel in charge of the embers, until the white dawn shall come again.” It gave me a safe and sweet feeling to hear her; I can just barely remember my mother saying something of the sort in our little house in Islay so long ago. And then she and Gormal lay down on the wide bed closer to the hearth, and I curled up with Somerled at my feet, closer to the door, and tried to sleep.

  * * * * *

  The next morning we were just finishing our porridge when we heard a noise at the door and Somerled, who had been hoping for the leftovers, began to bark. I moved aside the door flap and saw Liam MacLean standing there.

  “And so you’re feeling better,” I observed.

  “Indeed I am, and steady on my feet as well. And himself was saying, up at the dun, your father that is,” he added to Mariota, “that I might just as well go out walking. And so I was wanting to see what you had done to this place. I would not have recognized it.”

  It was starting to rain, and there was nothing for it but to invite him in. He was a taller man than I, and the top of his head nearly brushed the rafters so that he had to bend down a little. He seated himself on the stool by the fire, accepted the hot broth Mariota offered him, and looked curiously at Gormal.

  “And so this is the witch,” he observed, as if she was not seated in the room with us. Gormal glowered at him, then slowly nodded.

  “You are of Colonsay?”

  When she spoke, her voice sounded rusty. “I grew up here, long ago. But I have not been back. Nor did I want to be back now. Himself was ordering it.”

  Liam shrugged. “Himself is not here. How would he be knowing if you went back to Jura?”

  “I’m thinking he would be finding out quickly enough,” Mariota interposed. “But you are looking fine, Liam. Still it is a cold and rainy day to be out walking, with as sick as you’ve been. I’m surprised my father allowed it.”

  Liam shrugged again. “He said I could be up and about. Perhaps he was not actually seeing me come all the way down here.” He stretched. “I am a bit tired, to be speaking the truth of it.”

  “Well you can rest here for a while, then go back to the dun,” I said.

  “Aye. But I am not all that weary. And it gets old up there, for all that that wee maid is pleasant company. I was thinking perhaps I would ride my horse a bit, up towards Carnan Eoin. I am wanting to see the place where I had my accident.” He smiled. “An outing, just, it is. But it is an excuse to get out of the dun and I am wanting some fresh air.”

  “It is a cold day for a pleasure trip. And wet.”

  “Yes, but it looks to be clearing. Are any of you wanting to come along?”

  Gormal spoke. “Aye. I will go with you. I used to live up there as a child.”

  Mariota looked worried. “Well, I will just be going with you then. Perhaps it will do us all good to get outside and away from here. Come, finish your broth and get your brat. You are riding, you said?” she asked Liam.

  “Aye, but we can get another horse from the dun. In fact, I was not wanting to go alone, and brought another horse with me.” He smiled, looking into Mariota’s blue eyes, and I felt my own jaw tense. “I was hoping to convince someone here to go with me.”

  “Well,” I said with little grace, “you now are having three people to go with you. For if they are going, I shall go along as well.”

  And so we finished our breakfast of broth and porridge and prepared to go. Once we got outside we could see that Liam was right; it was clearing, and some puffy clouds were blowing over across the Sound to Islay. I left Somerled at Aorig’s with my half brother, who looked delighted to take charge of the dog for the day. The sun was warming the land, and we rode up the track past the standing stones and Bríde’s
well until we reached Loch Fada, then traveled west and up towards Carnan Eoin. Gormal was seated behind Liam on his horse, while Mariota sat behind me. I relished the feel of her body pressed against mine, for all that I thought this was a fool’s outing. As we rode, we talked.

  “I am hoping that the poor woman will tell us more if she is someplace familiar. Perhaps it will help her to deal with her sad memories.”

  “Umm,” I muttered, unconvinced. “I am not knowing why Liam MacLean should interest himself in Carnan Eoin.”

  “Well, he was saying he wanted to see where he fell from his horse.”

  “I am not thinking he fell.”

  We climbed up the track leading between the two hills until we reached Beinn Beag. There we dismounted from the horses and tethered them. Gormal walked up to the ruined hut, followed more slowly by Mariota, Liam, and me.

  “This is it. This is where I lived with my parents so long ago.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “And your son, he lived there with you?” I asked.

  “Aye. He was born and was a bonny babe. But then after a time, the faeries took him. One night it was that I dreamed of the shining ones. They were standing over the cradle and singing a strange song. I saw them there, but I could not move to save my son. And the next morning the babe was not well. He stopped looking at me and did not speak. He had trouble at the breast. He did not nurse well. I prayed and prayed that the sithichean would give my own son back to me, but they never did.”

  “And so you cared for the changeling.”

  “Aye, I did.” She was crying in earnest now. “We stayed here with my parents until the lad grew older. And he grew stronger as well. We tried all kinds of remedies and herbs, but he remained a changeling, seldom speaking. The other boys mocked him and he would fly into violent rages, but he never hurt me. My parents were afeared of him, for they were old, and he was big. And then one time, I had left him with my mother while I went to get some herbs. My parents put him to the fire to drive out the faerie. They laid him in the fire pit.”

  “The poor thing,” whispered Mariota.

  “I heard his screams as I was coming home and gathered up the boy. He was alive and still breathing, but sore wounded. My parents told me it was the only way, but I knew that was not true. That night, late, I wrapped the boy up and carried him away and out of there and stole down to the beach and took a boat.”

  “And you went to Jura,” I finished.

  “Aye. He was a changeling, but I had to care for him. Else they would never be giving me my own son back. But the good folk, the sithichean, never found us. I was thinking that they would know, being of the faerie, and would be pleased how I had saved their babe. But they never came and gave me back my own son.”

  “And your own parents?”

  “I was never seeing them again, nor this place, until today. I heard later that they had died when the Black Death came.” Her voice broke.

  She sank down on the turf inside the ruins of the cottage and began to wail, rocking back and forth as she keened.

  Liam, who had been listening to her story with interest, sat down against the ruined wall of the cottage, looking pale.

  “It is a sad story. And a strange one. The poor woman. Think you she is grieving for her child that was stolen, or her parents, or the changeling that died in the fire on the boat?”

  “All of them, I expect,” I said.

  “Shush,” said Mariota. “We must let her cry.” She sat down next to her and tried to take her hand, but Gormal pushed her away and continued rocking back and forth, sobbing.

  After a while Mariota rose and left Gormal’s side. “I wish I had some poppy for her,” murmured Mariota to me. “Or that my father was here.”

  “Indeed, I’m thinking your father will be none too pleased to see his patient has stolen away out today. Liam is not looking well either.”

  Gormal’s keening died down to a softer crying, but she still sat crouched in the ruined cottage, shaking and rocking back and forth.

  Liam spoke. “Poor amadain. Perhaps you could be borrowing something for her from the good sisters up the way. And I am feeling weak as well. I think I have overdone things. I will just rest here while you go, and I will sit with the poor woman for a while. It would not be taking you long to go up to Balnahard, for some remedy for her.”

  “And what makes you think they will be giving me poppy juice?” asked Mariota sharply. I did not think she wanted to go back to the nunnery, and I confess this gave me some joy.

  “Or perhaps they could send someone back with some supplies.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better to just return to Scalasaig? She could be cared for there more easily.”

  “Look you,” said Liam, surprisingly forceful, “the poor woman is overwrought. And I myself am too tired to make that long journey back now. I must rest a while. I will stay with her and watch her. Muirteach, you go on with Mariota. Do not worry. I will watch her like a hawk and make sure no evil comes to her.”

  And so Mariota and I mounted the horses and rode up to Balnahard. The abbess was none too pleased to find us on her doorstep, but grudgingly she agreed to send Sister Morag back with us, along with medications.

  But when we arrived back at Beinn Beag we saw no sign of Gormal or Liam. They both had disappeared as though stolen away by the faerie.

  Chapter 21

  The hut was deserted, although as we looked more carefully we could see some footprints in the turf that seemed to lead up to the cairn where I had found Niall’s body.

  There, next to the cairn, we saw Liam.

  He had somehow pushed one of the large stones on the side of the cairn aside and now dug frantically in the dirt beside it. There beside him on the grass lay the gold. Glowing bracelets and torques, all twisted and shining, like molten sunbeams caught in the grass, and some smaller items like the odd piece that Euluasaid had shown me. Flat necklaces with strange faerie marks etched on them in rows spilled onto the ground, looking like the crescent moon fallen to earth.

  Liam heard us and looked up from his digging. “Muirteach, it’s back too soon you are. I was thinking it would be taking you longer than all that to come back from Balnahard.”

  The pieces came together, too late.

  “So it was you that killed the young lad after all,” I accused.

  “I did not want to,” Liam protested. “I told them stories of the faerie hills, but the foolish boys took them seriously. And then young Niall came and showed me that wee bit piece of gold he had found and he told me where it was he was finding it. And I myself had been thinking it was all just stories to entertain the bairns with.

  “Then I had to have it all, you see. For I am to be married soon, to a sister of the MacLean of Duart. It will be a good match. And I was needing the gold for that. So I had to kill the poor boy, for he would have told of it.”

  “So it was you that killed Niall. What of the faerie arrow?” I asked him.

  “They’re easy enough to find and not hard to put on a shaft.”

  “And why wait so long to get the gold?”

  “Well, I could not be getting it while I was sick in bed,” Liam returned conversationally.

  “And who was it that hit you on the head?”

  “It was that changeling—her son. He used to come and count the gold. He’d pull it from the hiding place and count it and put it back again. I’d seen him in the past when I’d been visiting with Morag in the hills. Then Niall found the piece of gold and told me of it, and I followed them there that day. I watched while the other boy left him and while Niall dug at the cairn, and then I fired the arrow that killed him and hid the body. But I had to go back to Mull. It was some time before I could return here. Not until that day we went hunting and you left me here was I able to come back. I waited for a long time, and finally I saw that changeling come and push the stone aside. He took out the gold and counted it, arranging the pieces in strange patterns, and then he hid it again and pushed the stone bac
k on it. He seemed agitated. I am thinking he recognized that one piece was missing. And he found me and felled me with a rock. At least I am guessing that’s what happened. I am not remembering the fall too well.”

  He turned to Sister Morag, as if he had just realized she was there. “But here is Morag,” he said. “Why have you brought her here?”

  I turned and stared at Sister Morag, who stood pale and trembling next to Mariota.

  “I thought you were dead,” she accused Liam.

  “Aye, and well I might have been. But I am not, as you see.”

  “I thought you were dead,” she repeated.

  Liam shrugged.

  “But what of your fine promises?” Sister Morag continued. “Those that you made to me. Now that you have the gold, we can leave. We can get away from here.”

  “And why would I be leaving with you, when I am already betrothed to the MacLean’s sister?”

  “But you said—”

  Liam looked sad. “Aye, Morag, I know. I loved you those long years ago in Mull and since, after your family sent you here to the sisters. But think, woman. Where could we be going, a defrocked nun and myself? There’s no place we could go. With the MacLean’s sister I’ll have a fine life.”

  “I killed for you. I killed our baby—”

  “But what else could you have done?” returned Liam with an unnatural logic. “You could not be keeping a bairn with the sisters.”

  Sister Morag leapt towards Liam like a wild thing or bean-shìdh herself, her sgian dubh drawn, but he was too quick for her. His own knife slashed towards her throat as I tried to stop him, but Liam was surprisingly strong for one sick so long. We fell to the ground and grappled together in the turf, rolling over and over as I pushed against his arms, trying to keep his dagger from my own throat.

  He tried to force his knife closer to my flesh. “There, Muirteach. I am not wanting to kill you, now. Let me go and take the gold with me, and there’ll be no harm done to anyone.”

  “Except for Niall and now the sister,” I retorted, thrusting the dagger back towards his own face. “No. You will come with me.”