THE FAERIE HILLS (A Muirteach MacPhee Mystery Book 2)

by Susan McDuffie

  He struggled against me and I continued holding him down, although I began to tire and my grip on him grew weaker.

  Liam sensed his advantage. He shoved hard against me, pinning me to the ground, and of a sudden I felt his iron at my throat again.

  “But look you, Muirteach, if you will not be reasonable, well, then I shall have to kill you. For this gold I will have. I have already committed mortal sin for it. What’s one more?”

  I pushed back, attempting to break away. But he had the upper hand, and I feared for my life.

  A shadow passed over us and a huge rock came crashing down on Liam’s temple. He crumpled in a heap atop of me, and I felt his breath against my face. Then the breath stopped and I rolled out from under the weight of him to find Mariota standing, white-faced, looking down at his body.

  “Muirteach—” she said, her breath coming ragged and fast. “I have just killed a man.”

  Chapter 22

  I stood unsteadily and then held her tight, rejoicing that I was still alive to see her and smell that elderflower scent she had, and feel the pounding of her heartbeat against my own chest. “You have saved my life.” We clung together a moment more, her body trembling. Perhaps my own body shook as well while we held each other there. “No now,” I said again, “you saved me.” Then I thought of our other concerns.

  “What of the sister, of Morag?”

  Mariota stepped back from me, took a deep breath and seemed to steady herself. “She will survive. I stopped the bleeding. It was a glancing blow.”

  I looked and saw Sister Morag sitting amid the gold, one hand pressing a cloth tightly to her neck. She seemed far gone into shock, her face pale, not registering the fact that her man was dead. For dead Liam most certainly was.

  “Muirteach, where is Gormal?” asked Mariota slowly, turning to look down the track that led to the Tràigh Bàn. “I did not see her anywhere.”

  “I do not know. Perhaps she has gone to ground someplace. She grew up on this island.”

  “But, Muirteach, we must find her.”

  We searched and called and saw no sign of her, although we scoured the Carnan Eoin and the Beinn Beag. The sun began to head towards the west, and I thought of the treasure still lying there.

  “Come. We must do something with this gold before word gets out and the entire island is here to help themselves.”

  We had packed the gold in a pouch, wrapped in soft woolen cloth, and left Liam’s body on the ground there by the cairn, decently covered by his brat. Carrying the pouch, we escorted Sister Morag back to the convent. She did not speak. We left her in the care of Sister Euphemia, telling her briefly what had happened, and we made our way back to Carnan Eoin.

  Liam’s body still lay as we had left it. I had wished it would disappear, spirited away by the sithichean, but it remained there stubbornly.

  I turned away from the cloth-covered mound that had been Liam MacLean, and walked with Mariota some ways away from the cairn.

  “What a strange day,” Mariota mused. “I can not be the same person I was when it started.”

  I guessed she thought of Liam.

  “No, but you saved my life.”

  There was a fallen stone close by, its surface weathered gray and yellow with lichen. I sat down on it, and drew Mariota down next to me. She still shook, with cold, or shock. I put my arms around her and held her against my own warmth.

  “And it was all for the gold. And greed,” continued Mariota after a moment. “But it is beautiful, is it not?”

  “Indeed,” I said, letting go of Mariota and pulling the pouch out. “Let us look at it, before it goes off to His Lordship.”

  We spread the treasure out between us on the stone and marveled again at it all. Shapes so fine and thin they must indeed have been made by faerie goldsmiths, with strange designs on them—triangles and diamonds—engraved into the rich shining surface of the gold. The golden, glittering heart of it, so rich and warm it was, it made my own heart leap within my chest just to look at it.

  “Here, mo chridhe, put some of it on. I would like just to see you in it, just for a moment.”

  Mariota demurred but I insisted, and soon she was arrayed in it: a golden crescent at her throat, bracelets on her arms, and over it all her flowing hair shimmering like the gold itself.

  The sun, well past the midday point in the sky, glinted on her ornaments as its beams found their way through the clouds, and sent a glowing brightness all around her. She looked like some goddess of old.

  “Eh, Muirteach, it is lovely. I feel like a queen. Such a lovely thing to have such evil intertwined with it. The deaths of so many—”

  “I know, dear heart.”

  “Well,” she said with a sigh, “I will have to take it off now. Come, Muirteach, we can not stay here all the night. They will come looking for us.”

  “I know,” I repeated, my mind on something else entirely.

  Slowly Mariota began to take off the bangles and wrap them in the cloth. “And so it is to go to His Lordship?” asked Mariota. “That is a pity. It has brought nothing but suffering with it.”

  I nodded, thinking of Niall. And of Lulach and his mother. “That is what His Lordship was ordering. And I am thinking he will see that he gets it.”

  “But it is the faeries’ gold!” The words burst out of Mariota vehemently and I turned, surprised by the passion with which she spoke. “It will only bring ill to others, Muirteach.”

  “And how will we be explaining that to the MacDonald? For I am thinking he is a greedy man himself, for all that he is a lord. No, now, we must give it to him. And how would we be explaining Liam’s body to him and to the MacLean?”

  Mariota’s face fell. “It was a fancy. That was all. Come, let us go back to the dun.”

  We placed Liam’s body on his horse; the horse did not want to carry its burden—I could tell from its widened nostrils, but being well trained it eventually did. We carried the gold and Mariota sat in front of me on my horse, which did not complain. Neither did I, enjoying the warmth of her pressing against me. We led Liam’s horse behind us.

  The sun was low in the sky, flaming all the western sky a brilliant red. We slowly picked our way down the rocky track that led downward from Carnan Eoin. I felt Mariota move suddenly.

  “Look, Muirteach,” she cried, “over there—”

  I turned my head to follow her gaze, and there, down on the sands, I saw a moving figure.

  “Who’s there?” I called. The figure seemed to melt away in the growing darkness by the shore.

  “Muirteach, I think it is Gormal.”

  “Aye, and if so, well, we must go and get her.”

  We rode down onto the beach, and our horses made their way through the sand towards where we had seen the figure. We soon caught up with her. Indeed it was Gormal. She stopped when she saw us approach and waited until we reached her, her back towards the pounding waves on the beach.

  “What happened to you?” Mariota asked. But Gormal had a wild look in her eyes and did not reply. “We were afeard,” continued Mariota, “that Liam had tried to harm you. He is dead. He tried to kill Muirteach.”

  Gormal stood there, still unspeaking. “Come now,” said Mariota soothingly. “We will go back to the dun, and then back to Scalasaig. Come,” she said, dismounting, as did I. Both horses stood quietly, waiting. “Come away with us.”

  Finally Gormal spoke. “What have you done with their gold?”

  “It is safe, here, with us.”

  “It does not belong to you. It is theirs; their son was guarding it for them. You must not be stealing their gold. That’s what I tried to tell that other one. He would not listen to me. Then I ran away, for the vengeance of the shining ones is a terrible thing. I did not want to be there to incur their wrath.”

  “Their gold is safe enough,” I said. “Here, we will show you.” I dismounted, and opened the pouch to show her. “Here, come and look for yourself.”

  Gormal approached closer and e
xamined the pouch. She bent her head over it.

  “Let me see more of it. It has caused so much sorrow.”

  And fool that I was, I took the pouch and held it towards her.

  She looked closer. “Aye, it is here.” She paused and her eyes got a faraway look in them again. “I remember when he came, years ago, to this same island,” she said, after an instant.

  “And who was that?” I asked, reaching out to take the pouch back from her.

  Gormal laughed, ignoring my gesture. “Himself it was, His Lordship. And a fine young man he was then. He had come visiting, been out riding and lost his way a bit. And there I was in the hills with the sheep. The mist came down all around us, like an enchantment, and we sought shelter in an old dun. He took me then, and didn’t I have a fine son by him. But the faeries took my son away. And His Lordship shall not take their gold, or they will never be giving my son back to me.”

  Then, like the shape-shifters of the sithichean, she clutched the pouch to her and ran with it towards the waters of the bay. Mariota and I both tried to catch her, but she was fast and had the strength of the mad. She wriggled from our grasp like the water horse and ran into the waves, floundering as the water reached her chest and neck, but she continued deeper into the sea.

  “Muirteach, we must stop her. She means to drown herself.”

  Gormal was far out in the water now, not heeding our calls.

  “And take the gold with her, too,” I said as I stripped down to my tunic and entered the water.

  Chapter 23

  I am a strong swimmer. The water was icy so late in the year; the waves pounded against me, and I could not find her in the black coldness of the bay. The tide was going out and pulled me with it to where I judged we had last seen her, but I could find no trace. Gormal had vanished beneath the waves, and the gold with her.

  I dove and dove again, seeking her in the water. But the tide was strong and must have pulled her out to sea. When I glanced towards the shore, I found I also was being pulled far from land. I could barely see the shore, a different blackness from that of the water.

  My arms and legs grew numb with the cold, and I heard Mariota calling faintly. Finally, frustrated and helpless, I gave up the search and turned and started for the land. It was slow going, the tide pulling against me. I stroked harder as the fear grew in me that my own feet might not touch the land again, and that the sea would claim me for her own. Then suddenly, I felt the welcome sand beneath my feet and I emerged, shivering with cold and fear, to find Mariota had started a bonfire on the beach.

  Mariota rushed towards me and wrapped her arms around me, walking with me towards the fire.

  “My love, I thought you were lost too. You were out there so long, and I could not see you in the blackness.” There were tears running down her face, and I kissed them from her cheeks.

  The light had attracted some islanders from near Àine’s cottage. They stood curiously by the fire while I limped, trembling violently from the cold, over to the flames. Gratefully I warmed myself, although the core of my being felt like it would never be warm again. Mariota wrapped my brat warmly around my shoulders as I stood there shaking in the darkness. One of the islanders offered me a drink from a leather flask of uisgebeatha. My hands trembled as I reached for it. I felt the welcome burning of the drink down my throat and clasped the flask a moment, feeling the texture of the surface, before I handed it back.

  “We will come back and search at daylight. But I am not thinking we will find her there.” The last rays of the sun flamed the western sky to red as I spoke.

  “Nor am I thinking we will find the gold. She has given it back to the shining ones. Poor creature,” murmured Mariota. “I failed her in the end.”

  “White love, you must not think that. You tried to stop her. We both did. She was crazed and had the strength of the mad.”

  “And I nearly lost you as well. Thanks to the Blessed Mother and all the saints you came back to me.” Mariota clung to me by the fire, and I held her warmth against me. The dusk of the early evening faded to black night.

  “Yes, I heard you calling. That turned me back.

  “Although,” I said, breaking away from her for a minute with a wry smile, “I’m not thinking the MacDonald will be too happy to hear the gold is at the bottom of the sea. I may be sorry indeed that I did not drown when he hears of it.”

  “She was mad,” Mariota said. “And I killed a man today.” She shuddered. I could feel it as I held her while the flames burned lower on the beach. “Muirteach, let us go home and be away from this place.”

  And so we left and rode back to Dun Evin by torchlight.

  * * * * *

  We reached Dun Evin late and had to call out for the gate to be opened for us. People wondered at the body of Liam, and my aunt clucked and made noises over both Mariota and myself. She fed us hot broth as though we were both invalids, wrapped us in warm plaids and set us by the great hearth in the hall, all the while marveling at the events of that day.

  “To think I harbored that viper at my own breast,” she muttered. “And trusted him. No, no, I never trusted him. There was always that look in his blue eyes. And all the while he was here eating my food and drinking my drink, full of his sin and his guilt. With never a whisper of it. To think he himself killed poor Niall…” She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and went off into the kitchen, leaving us to speak more privately with my uncle and the Beaton.

  We recounted the events of the day and both men listened intently.

  “Himself will not be pleased at this,” said my uncle, drinking some more uisgebeatha.

  “Yes, well, he should be pleased that the murderer is found.”

  “I am thinking of the gold. He will hold us accountable. Or perhaps he will try to drain the bay to find it again.”

  “Even His Lordship can not drain the seas,” returned the Beaton. “He will not be pleased, but what is done is done. And he is a canny leader. If you can convince him that you have told the truth, I am thinking he will accept your words. He has no choice and in fact has other concerns on his mind, what with the MacRuaris to contend with the now. They are stirring up trouble again. Were you hearing that his son, Niall’s father, killed that Raghnall? He accused him again of murdering the lad, and they came to blows. And now both clans are at each other’s throats.”

  I felt a pang of guilt. “If I had suspected Liam earlier, perhaps it would not have come to that. I failed to find the murderer until too late.”

  My uncle looked at me strangely. “But you did find him, Muirteach, and he a child-killer. He’ll be burning in hell the now, and justice that is.”

  “Aye,” added my aunt, who had returned from the kitchens. “And glad I am of it,” she said with unusual vindictiveness. “My poor wee bairn.” She left again, her eyes brimming with tears.

  “Well, perhaps this news will put a stop to that feud,” the Beaton commented. “If His Lordship can speak reason to his son.”

  “Let us hope he sees reason about the gold as well. And is believing Muirteach’s tale,” replied my uncle.

  I had not thought that he might not believe our story. “Well, he can search all he wants, but he’ll not find the gold,” I said with more bravado than I felt. “It’s at the bottom of the bay now or swept out in the sea, and Gormal’s body with it.”

  “Aye, and half the island will be watching the beach for any gold that might wash up. Or corpses,” said my uncle darkly.

  It was late, and I suddenly realized how exhausted I was. “Uncle, if you can spare a torch, I will just go on back to the village,” I said, stifling a huge yawn.

  “You’re not wanting to sleep here?” asked my uncle. “It’d be no trouble.”

  The events of the day had unnerved me and I wanted quiet. And Somerled was still at home.

  “No, I think I’ll be going down there. I must see to my dog. But thank you.” I stood to go, surprised when Mariota stood as well.

  “I’m
going with him, Father,” she said to the Beaton, not once looking at me. Her father gave me a look, and I could have sworn there was a smile hiding there. He sighed.

  “Aye, Mariota, I thought you might be.” He embraced her. “Go, my treasure, and with my blessings.”

  * * * * *

  Saying little, we left the dun and rode the short distance down to the village. I keenly felt Mariota’s presence as she sat before me on the horse while we made our way down the steep hill leading from the dun and down the road to Scalasaig. Most of the houses were already darkened, and it was quiet. We entered the cottage and I struggled to start the peats burning, my fingers suddenly all thumbs. Finally a little bluish-yellow flame started up along one edge of the peats and gradually grew in strength. I stood up and faced Mariota across the fire.

  “It is a poor enough place I have brought you to, my love,” I said.

  “There is no other place I would rather be than here with you.”

  Then I crossed the cottage to where she stood and I took her into my arms.

  Epilogue

  His Lordship did near drain the bay in his efforts to find the gold. But Gormal’s body washed up on the shore some days after she walked into the bay, which lent some credence to my story, as did the witness of the islanders who had seen me emerge from the sea. Sister Morag also had the wound on her neck to prove our story. I did not mention the tiny bones in the cave, nor did anyone else.

  If any of the islanders found any faerie gold on the beach of the Tràigh Bàn, they were too canny to speak of it. In the meantime, the MacDonald near tore the cairn apart stone by stone in his effort to find any remaining gold, but none was ever found. Liam’s family on Mull paid an honor price for Niall’s death and that mollified His Lordship somewhat, although that gold went to Niall’s father, and he was himself owing the MacRuaris for Raghnall’s murder.

  Mariota and I were handfasted soon after, before Christmas. We stayed in Scalasaig until after the Christmas feast, and then returned to my farm in Islay in the new year. But later that spring my uncle called me back on business to Colonsay. As I disembarked, I saw two sisters wearing pilgrims’ hats and cloaks as people waited to board ship in Scalasaig. One was Sister Morag.