The Pure Heart

by Trudi Tweedie

  But if, as Father Ronan and William suspected, he had lied . . . My heart soared at the thought that Artair was back on the island – that his intention to marry me had not wavered since the day I had left in the boat. Now looking up at the twinkling night sky, I felt more than ever that he was still waiting for me. His heart still true.

  I looked down as the pearl round my neck caught the rays of the moon. Plaustrell believed that the stone only remained white when the wearer was of pure heart. It was, however, just a sea-pearl – prettier than the ones I had at home, but no more magical. No one could change the colour of it just by pressing it to their skin. But . . . I would use his silly belief to my advantage. Even if Maria was not exactly kind-hearted, or good with animals, perhaps seeing the pearl unchanged against his daughter’s skin might be enough to convince Plaustrell she could tame the unicorn herself, once she was cured. That it was best just to let me go.

  But I had to pick my moment. All evening the servants had bustled about, discreetly packing up boxes and crates of belongings, ready for the journey to Venice, whilst the merchant remained in his tower, working on the potion. I hoped he would not be angry with William on learning of the return of the stable boy’s voice.

  Sylvia passed me by on the landing. ‘Stai lontana da li!’ she warned, pointing to the merchant’s bedroom and I nodded.

  ‘I won’t disturb her,’ I reassured the maid. ‘I’m going to bed soon.’ And I pointed towards my own chamber. Satisfied, she left me on the landing, watching clouds scud over the full moon.

  The wind had picked up, rattling the windows and dark clouds formed a fluid veil over the silvery disc hanging in the sky. It looked like there was a storm brewing. I made my way to the master’s bedchamber.

  I opened the door slowly, this time prepared for the wall of heat. The girl was laid out exactly as I’d seen her last. On her back, asleep on the bed. The air was filled with the usual spicy incense.

  ‘Maria,’ I whispered loudly, shaking her gently. But once again, she did not wake.

  I untied the leather twine of the necklace, realizing that I had not taken it off since Marcus Amanza had given it to me on the boat. A test, he had said, to make sure he had the right kind of girl. The pearl seemed to pull back to my own skin, like a magnet.

  Giving it a sharp tug, I held it up by the twine, the flames of the fire gifting it with a soft, orange glow.

  Leaning over the girl, I placed the pearl against her neck.

  As I’d suspected: the colour of the pearl remained just the same as the girl stirred a little. I stroked her hair which was tangled with sweat. She looked awful, poor thing, her fine cheekbones cast with greenish shadows. I prayed that the merchant’s potion was a success, that she could go back to Venice and live a full and happy life. A life, that is, without me. For she could have her father all to herself.

  Maria stirred again, muttering something in her sleep. It was best that I leave her now, but I would show the merchant tonight – show him how . . .

  But then I looked back down at the pearl. Although I still held the twine firm against her neck, I could not make out the stone any more. Because the pearl had turned completely black!

  I snatched it up, convinced my eyes were being tricked by the dimness but it was true. The pearl was shiny black, its sheen not unlike the purpled feathers of a crow. Now it was away from the girl’s skin, its hue shifted again, shimmering dark silver before returning to white.

  ‘Iseabail!’ came the gruff voice behind me.

  Quickly, I tucked the pearl into the cuff of my sleeve and stepped away from the bed.

  It was the merchant; he was standing on the threshold of his bedchamber.

  ‘I gave strict instructions that Maria was not to be disturbed!’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I began. ‘I just wanted to check that she was all right.’

  Pacified, he approached the bed and looked over her with concern. ‘Trying to work your magic on her, were you, like you did on William?’ he said, turning to me with a knowing look.

  ‘It was an accident—’ I began.

  ‘Don’t worry, William has explained the situation. Seems like you are quite the miracle worker!’

  ‘You are not angry, that the boy’s voice has returned?’ I said, aghast that I may have made myself even more indispensable to the household now the merchant thought I was capable of performing miracles.

  ‘Why would I be?’ he replied. ‘Surely it is testament to the power of the creature’s blood!’

  It was true that Plaustrell did not look angry. In fact, he looked jubilant, his eyes shining with excitement. How I wished I had something heavy at hand to smash that look off his face. After all the deceptions he had piled upon me. Then again, he hadn’t been lying about the necklace.

  I looked down at the girl and my skin crawled; why had the pearl turned black against her skin? Wasn’t she just like me, just an innocent? How could it be that her heart wasn’t pure?

  ‘Now if you would be so kind to give Maria her rest, Iseabail.’

  I let Plaustrell usher me out of his bedchamber on to the landing. He was still wearing his crumpled work clothes rendering him shabby besides the walnut panelling of the corridor which was lit conker-shiny by the rays of the moon.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked as he closed the door behind us. ‘You seem out of sorts.’

  ‘You lied to me, didn’t you?’ I blurted out without proper consideration. ‘That tale about the rejected supplies. It’s not true, is it?’ My heart was pounding as I stared at him, daring him to deny it, half hoping I was wrong.

  The merchant looked at me wide-eyed. Then he smiled. ‘Why did I think for one moment that I could fool Iseabail McCleod?’ he said, shaking his head.

  ‘So you admit lying to me?’ I asked, staring boldly into the merchant’s amber-flecked eyes. ‘Why? Why do you keep deceiving me?’

  ‘Simply, I was terrified you would run away before you took the creature’s blood,’ said the merchant regretfully. ‘Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for Maria.’

  ‘And what about me? Now she is to get her cure, you will fulfil your promises?’

  The merchant smiled and placed his hand on my arm. ‘As we speak, a caravel of supplies is being readied for its treacherous voyage,’ he said with a tight smile, as if fulfilling his promise had been the greatest inconvenience. ‘Set to leave North Berwick tomorrow evening.’

  ‘And can you also confirm that that girl sleeping on your bed is actually your daughter?’

  As I said this, my hand flew to my mouth. I could hardly believe that the words had slipped so easily from my lips. I had never believed them, but the pearl turning black had unbalanced me.

  A look of genuine hurt passed over the merchant’s face and I knew my instincts had been right: Maria was his daughter.

  ‘That priest and his tittle-tattle,’ he said, pursing his lips like he was trying to hold back tears.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, chastened by his expression. ‘I should not have said such a wicked thing. I don’t know why I did. It’s just . . . I’m finding it difficult to tell what is true and what is false.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ said the merchant with regret. ‘You must be very confused by my actions. But you have almost fulfilled your duties here, so if you like I will arrange for you to go back on my ship to your island, though I fear that at this time of the year it will not be a smooth voyage.’

  I gave a sharp nod of the head, grateful that the merchant wasn’t livid at the terrible thing I’d said. If he was to agree to let me go home, I needed to swallow down my mutiny.

  ‘If it’s all right, I would like that. Thank you for all that you’ve done . . . all that you’ve shown me. And the offer to come to Venice. But . . . I’d like to go home now, please,’ I said.

  ‘Very well. A message will be sent at first light to inform the captain that he will be taking a passenger along with his supplies.’ He went on, ‘Only . . . if you would be good enough as
to help me with one more thing tonight? Then you will be free to leave my estate tomorrow.’

  ‘Just one more thing. All right,’ I said, bowing my head in mingled gratitude and relief. If this promise is also false, I thought, I shall take up Father Ronan on his offer of passage to Ireland.

  ‘I require you in the chapel tonight – that is where I intend to give Maria her potion. In the presence of God,’ said the merchant, brisk again, making towards the stairs. ‘Be there at eleven o’clock sharp.’

  ‘Of course,’ I conceded, though I had no idea why I had to be present too.

  But then he stopped, stooped his tall frame and picked something up off the floor. ‘The necklace?’ he said, puzzled, and I realized the cord must have slipped out of my sleeve. He held the pearl up to the moonlight and I prayed that it did not show any signs of having embraced another’s neck.

  Luckily, the pearl glowed with pure, brilliant white.

  ‘Really, Iseabail, you should be more careful,’ he said, walking back and handing it to me.

  ‘What is going on out here?’ came the dull voice from down the corridor.

  ‘Maria!’ said the merchant, snatching his hand away from mine. ‘I’ll come and attend to you now.’

  But the girl emerged from the room, her outline dark against the backdrop of the roaring fire in the merchant’s chamber. I couldn’t make out her face, but I could guess she was annoyed at finding me with her papa.

  ‘Why were you holding his hand?’ she cried out. ‘I told you to stay away from my papa!’

  ‘You’ve misunderstood,’ said the merchant, running to her side as she leant on to the wall for support. ‘I was just asking Iseabail to go tell Sylvia to prepare your bath. Tonight’s the night, my dear – and tomorrow, you will be better.’

  ‘Oh, Papa, I feel terrible,’ said the girl, beginning to cry as Plaustrell led her back to his room.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Plaustrell. ‘Everything is in hand – Iseabail, go instruct Sylvia immediately. And make sure you take another bath too!’

  Iwas in no mood for a second dunking that day though once submerged in the fragranced water, I consoled myself that this might be my very last bath. I closed my eyes, exhausted. It had been a very long day.

  And tonight, after whatever duty I was expected to perform in the chapel, I would seek out Father Ronan. If being in this house had taught me anything, it was that I couldn’t rely on Plaustrell, although I hoped desperately that – just this once – he would be true to his word.

  I began to drift into a sleep when Sylvia fussed into the room with towels, muttering something about it being Maria’s turn. I hauled myself out and went to find the clothes I had only put on fresh that morning, but they had been removed. Hanging in their place was an exquisite silk robe, rippling shiny, sapphire blue. I had no option but to put it on, though I wondered for what purpose I was to wear such odd clothes.

  Sylvia appeared to comb out my hair, after which she helped me on with the robe before leading me up to my bedchamber. She ordered that I wait there while she fetched me some food.

  My tummy rumbled loudly. I hadn’t eaten all day.

  Nell was wide awake now, fiddling with the catch of the door of her cage, which had been placed in the room after Maria had left. I let the creature out and tried to entertain her with a game of dice. But it was obvious that Nell was missing her real master. At one point she jumped up at the door of the bedchamber, almost succeeding in twisting the handle open.

  Thankfully, Sylvia appeared with food for us both: some biscuits for Nell and a cup of hot broth for me. The maid urged me to drink it while it was hot, but I was so hungry I didn’t need encouragement. I wolfed it down in her presence, wondering what delicious meat it had been broiled from.

  But after eating her biscuits too quickly, Nell seemed intent on getting her hands on my broth, trying to pull the flagon out of my hand at every opportunity.

  ‘You are too much of a bother and I must go soon,’ I said, knowing that there was only a quarter of an hour before the merchant and Maria were expected in the chapel. The meal seemed to have given me back my strength and I was now desperate to get this whole fiasco over. ‘In fact, perhaps I shall go ahead and pray. It would be good to make my peace with God before everyone arrives.’

  To the monkey’s annoyance, I put her back into her cage.

  Once outside the chapel, I clicked the secret latch so that the concealed panel door popped open. Then I knelt on one of the cushions and prepared my beads for prayer.

  ‘Dear God,’ I said. ‘Thank you for giving William his voice back. Please let the merchant’s potion work, so that he can take Maria back to Venice. And please guide me, Lord, let me find my way back home. Amen.’

  My eyes were full of tears as I gazed around the extravagant chapel. But I wasn’t looking at the richly painted Bible scenes, nor the fine carvings or exquisite tapestries. All that filled my mind was returning to my simple life on the island. The cooling dank of the black-house, the genuine love of Artair.

  Just then I heard footsteps outside in the corridor.

  The panel clicked open and the merchant entered the room. ‘Good evening, Iseabail,’ he said, regarding my robe favourably before walking past me to the front of the chapel. He crossed himself and knelt on a cushion at the front.

  I stood still, listening to him praying quietly in Latin and I noticed he’d placed a glass jar full of brownish-green liquid up on the altar. Was this the potion for Maria? I wondered.

  The door clicked open once more and this time it was Maria who entered, guided by Sylvia, who led her up to join the merchant before returning to the corridor. Strangely, Maria was dressed in an identical sapphire robe to mine, her hair still wet from the bath, but her cheeks were puffy and swollen, as if the water had been far too hot even for her.

  She forced a smile at me and I returned the gesture, trying not to think about the texture of her skin nor the cloying sweetness of her fragrance as she passed. Poor Maria. She was far sicker than I had imagined. I guess that explained her foul tempers, her paranoia about me and her papa – and maybe even the odours that she took such pains to cover up.

  ‘Sit down here, Maria,’ said the merchant, guiding the child to the front pew. ‘And Iseabail, please come and join us.’

  I did as he asked, though I still wondered why I needed to be there.

  I had assumed he had requested my assistance tonight because of another task involving the unicorn, but as far as I knew the creature was still shut up in the tower.

  Just then the door clicked open, this time with some force, and Father Ronan barrelled in. ‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded, looking around at the gathering in bemusement.

  I was heartened to see that Father Ronan had tidied himself up since the last time I saw him, his habit clean and his gaze sober. Maybe there really was a chance that he could help me to escape, if Plaustrell had been lying once more.

  ‘Papa?’ said Maria, desperate-looking now. ‘Can we just get on with it?’

  Plaustrell glanced up at the jar on the altar, an anxious look on his face. ‘Please leave us now, Father,’ he said. It seemed to be an effort for him to keep his voice calm. ‘This is not church business.’

  ‘Tell me first what blasphemy takes place in this house of God?’ said Father Ronan, striding to the front of the chapel. Then seeing Maria, he pointed. ‘And what is wrong with that unnatural child?’

  At this Maria began to cry.

  ‘Get out!’ demanded the merchant, standing in front of his daughter to push Father Ronan away. ‘Or you’ll regret it.’

  Despite the merchant’s willowy frame, he was strong. Father Ronan was no match for him.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m leaving this house tonight,’ spat Father Ronan, making for the aisle. ‘Before whatever is in that tower finally escapes. There’s a tempest brewing on the moor. Brought on, no doubt, by whatever evil is afoot.’ Then he stopped and turned to look at me. I tried to beg him w
ith my eyes not to leave tonight. To wait until the morning, when I could go with him if I needed to. ‘Iseabail, come with me now,’ he said. ‘Whatever that fiend has promised you, don’t believe it. Leave with me while you can.’

  At this the merchant completely lost patience. ‘Get out!’ he screamed, picking up the ornamental silver arm from the altar and throwing it at the priest.

  The reliquary whistled past Father Ronan’s head, smashing down on to the flagged floor, scattering its dusty contents as the priest stood there incredulous. He seemed more alert than I had ever seen him before, staring at the broken pieces in pure shock. Slowly, he started to gather up the remnants in the pockets of his robe, heedless of Plaustrell’s raging.

  ‘That was a genuine relic,’ he muttered. ‘Just wait until the abbot hears about this – and whatever godless ritual you are about to perform in this holy place.’

  But just then, Nell crawled from beneath a pew. I realized with horror that I must have left her cage unlocked.

  ‘Who let that animal in here?’ said the merchant, who had gone to the altar to retrieve the jar. Father Ronan was now standing staring at me like he did not know what to do next.

  While Plaustrell’s back was turned, I mouthed to him: Wait for me by the tower.

  The priest gave me a covert nod of recognition and my heart sang with relief.

  But now Nell was intent on seeing her master. As she ran and jumped up at him, the glass jar was knocked from his hands.

  Miraculously, it didn’t smash nor spill its contents, but rolled across the smooth flagstones.

  Plaustrell batted away Nell angrily. ‘Stupid beast!’ he said, scooping up the jar.

  But Nell was not to be deterred. This time, as she approached the merchant again, the girl blocked her way. ‘Get away from my papa, you filthy ape,’ she said, attempting a weak kick at the monkey’s head.

  Baring her teeth, Nell took a swipe at the girl.

  Maria gasped, doubling over. ‘That wretched monkey!’ she cried out. ‘Its awful sharp claws have scratched me!’ At this she sat back down on a pew and pulled up the hem of her blue robe.