The White Mare: The Dalraida Trilogy, Book One (43 page)

‘Some people do not do what is right, Caitlin. They think only of themselves.’

Caitlin sighed and yawned, obviously exhausted from the high emotion. ‘And so we came here, and she told all the men who I was. They stared at me in the full light of day, Rhiann, and that nice druid, Declan, declared the story true. The elders were shocked. But then they started looking at me differently!’

‘So they might. Did Linnet explain your position here?’

Caitlin nodded, reaching for a bannock on the hearth-stone. ‘But I didn’t really listen; I don’t care, much. Belonging to someone – to anyone – is all that ever mattered to me.’ As she bit into the bread, she glanced at Rhiann with alarm. ‘That’s not ungrateful, is it, Rhiann?’

‘No,’ Rhiann assured her. ‘We think alike, you and I.’

‘That is because we are cousins,’ Caitlin mumbled through her mouthful, then swallowed and leaned across to take Rhiann’s hand. ‘This must be a shock for you, too, Rhiann. You know I won’t take your place anywhere, though. I couldn’t.’

The blood beat on Rhiann’s ears. ‘We don’t need such words between us, cousin.’

Sister
.

The word trembled in the air between them. But Rhiann knew the truth would strike Caitlin’s heart with guilt and confusion, and Rhiann could not dampen Caitlin’s joy at finding her family. Perhaps in time …

There was, of course, one other thing. ‘Caitlin.’ She paused to choose her words carefully. ‘Did Linnet explain everything about your position? You and I carry the king’s bloodline, but only I can be Ban Cré because of my priestess training.’

Caitlin nodded. ‘Of course! And thank the Goddess for that, for I have no desire to deal with the Otherworld, Rhiann!’

Rhiann smiled tightly. ‘But the blood brings something else, Caitlin. Another obligation.’ She steeled herself. ‘One of us must bear the next king.’

Caitlin’s face did not darken, but lit up with pride. ‘I understand, Rhiann, though I have pinched myself over it for two whole days! I cannot believe it!’

Rhiann was stunned. ‘You are happy about this?’

‘Who would not be!
I
could bear a king! A strong son to come after me … a babe to train in bow and sword … to see off to war in pride …’ At the incredulous expression on Rhiann’s face, she stopped short. ‘Don’t worry, Rhiann. You can be sure that I’ll pick a man worthy to sire a king. I may have been brought up as a commoner, but I understand this. He’ll have to fight for me, and well.’ She grinned.

Rhiann rested her chin in her hand, and watched Caitlin devour the bannock, hiding a smile. She wondered if she would ever understand this child-woman, who saw life so differently from her. She hoped not. Understanding would tame her, and Rhiann wanted her to remain just the way she was.

Sister
.

Chapter 41

I
t is better to face your fear than to hide
.

You are so like her, Rhiann
.

Some people think only of themselves
.

All these words – Caitlin’s, Eremon’s and her own – pounded on Rhiann’s mind from dawn to dusk, as she made her way around the dun to prepare for the Beltaine rites.

Beltaine marked the start of the season of fertility, the growth season, when all was renewed and that which was old was left behind. And Rhiann knew that, as Beltaine came, she must resolve this with Linnet. The breach between them ached like an infected sore, an echo of the agony she felt when such harsh words, such rage, had sundered her from the Sisters on the Sacred Isle. It could not happen again … no! She could not bear it.

The quickening of the earth, the warm smell of the sprouting grain, the house, which for once was filled with the laughter of Caitlin and Eithne … all of it passed her by because of the darkness that lay over her.

She decided to wait until her anger cooled, for she remembered some of the things she had said to Linnet with shame. But as time went on, the betrayal did not fade – it only grew greater.

She took to riding further afield on her own, willing the peace and beauty of the dawning sunseason to soothe her, nudging Liath into long races along the field strips, which left both of them sweaty and breathless. But nothing helped.

The other thing I share with Linnet is stubbornness
. Rhiann pulled Liath up at the shoulder of the hills that encircled Dunadd, and sat watching the haze of cookfires rising lazily on the high breeze. She sighed. In truth, that fault was hers alone. Linnet was not stubborn.

Then why has she not come
?

After all I said to her? Why would she
?

And underneath, a deeper child-voice still cried with a wordless anguish Rhiann could not understand:
I need her. Go to her
.

‘I cannot!’ She nudged Liath into a steep run, hooves and mud flying.

The next day Rhiann and Eithne went to Crìanan to see Eithne’s family, for the baby brother had been suffering from a troublesome, lingering cough. After treating him with a coltsfoot brew, Rhiann took up her gathering bag and left Eithne with her mother.

Eithne’s family lived near the place of the otters, a hidden bay silent with dark rocks, the water thick and smooth with kelp. The tide was out, and Rhiann wandered over the exposed rocks, picking the strands of purple and brown weed, for they made a fine dye.

When she reached a sliver of pale beach she stood, eyes half-closed, letting the sun’s reflection on the waves shatter into sparks.

‘Rhiann.’

At that familiar voice, she whirled.

Linnet stood behind her, eyes shadowed with the water’s darkness. ‘I came to Dunadd for you. Caitlin told me you were here.’

At the sight of those beloved eyes, something twisted within Rhiann. Seeing that regal form standing so straight, the calm purity of Linnet’s face … Goddess, Rhiann wanted to run to her, to bury herself in those arms, so much. But the depth of the wanting brought forth another, stronger impulse: to push her away, to keep such a love at bay for the hurt it could inflict. With a catch in her breath, Rhiann stumbled away.

‘Rhiann!’ Linnet’s cry was roughened with grief. ‘Speak to me! I have suffered enough!’

Rhiann halted, her throat closing. ‘
You’ve
suffered! High on your mountain, doing as you will, taking whom you will, and then disposing of the evidence because it would shame you? You’ve suffered?’

Why did these words spill from her mouth? Why was the font as white-hot, as overflowing as that day at Linnet’s spring? Time had healed nothing … time would heal nothing. ‘Just leave me alone!’ she gasped out, and went as if to go.

‘No!’ Linnet’s cry this time was arresting. The pain of it trembled in the air. ‘
I will not lose a daughter again!
’

Rhiann reeled, as with that cry, all the suppressed betrayal of the last two years came rushing through the breach in her defences. ‘But we have lost each other!’ She turned, brushing scalding tears from her eyes. ‘You say you love me, and yet you have kept so much from me! You hide things from me!’

Linnet watched her with tight eyes, her hands helpless by her sides.

The pain was growing now, an immense upwelling that threatened to break free of Rhiann’s body. She felt the burning consume her … and all reason at last slip away. ‘I’ve seen it in your eyes, the deep things you
will not share with me! Like Caitlin, like my father! And why did you not stop my marriage? What held you back? Why did you let them sell me? Why did you not protect me?’

‘Rhiann—’

‘No!’ Rhiann’s mouth twisted, holding back tears. ‘You were not there when I needed you most! When Gelert stabbed me with his hate … when the council sold me off like a brood mare … when that prince came to my bed … when those men took me—’ She gasped, slapping her hand to her mouth; her treacherous mouth.

Linnet’s eyes grew huge. ‘
What
?’ She strode forward, grasping Rhiann’s arms. ‘What did you say?’

Rhiann had lost the power of speech, her muscles rigid under Linnet’s hands, trying to hold the pain in. They stared into each other’s eyes, both naked, at last, soul to soul. And in that moment, all barriers between their senses melted, and the knowledge passed from Rhiann to Linnet as easily as a sigh …

Rhiann saw the storm descend as a dark veil over Linnet’s eyes. ‘No.’ The denial was a moan. ‘No! No!’

The moan turned to a shriek, but Rhiann, caught in the crystal web of pain they both shared, knew the denial had no power. Saying it did not take the truth away. Rhiann had tried, had tried it a thousand times.

And the twist of that futility wrenched her own tongue loose. ‘Yes!’ The relief of it coursed through her.
Let it consume me then … burn me to ashes … then I will be free
… ‘Those raiders did not just kill, they took my body. They lanced me, tore me, bled me. They marked me with their nails and teeth. They took me … and left nothing …’

Linnet jerked in horror, and her face looked human no longer. ‘My little girl …’ The words came out in a whisper.

‘No,’ Rhiann said bleakly. ‘No more. There is no little girl.’

Then she felt Linnet’s body sag, and they sank to the sands, Linnet clasping Rhiann to her breast. But her aunt’s arms held no tenderness now, only the bloody fierceness born of anger, of guilt, of grief as wild as a long dark storm.

She pressed Rhiann into her as if she would take her inside her own body, holding her in the womb as she had never held her in life.

And so the storm broke over both of them, bearing them down on the wet sand, and their tears became one river, and it carried them away.

Chapter 42

R
hiann opened her eyes to see blue wool against her cheek, and sand between her fingers. Her head was in Linnet’s lap, her body chilled by the rising dampness of the sand. Her aunt held her softly now, singing low in her throat. Hands smoothed the hair at Rhiann’s brow.

Linnet felt Rhiann stir. ‘The Goddess blinded me.’ Her voice was quiet, drained of all emotion. ‘She must have blinded me, for I did not know.’

Rhiann pushed herself to her haunches. ‘I never told you.’

Linnet nodded. ‘You felt that if you did not speak it, did not share it … it would all go away.’ She put her arm around Rhiann and tucked her head into her shoulder. ‘Oh, child! Was I so busy with my visions and my thoughts of the future … all our futures … that I failed to see what was happening under my very nose? With the person who was dearest to my heart? You are right. I failed you.’

Rhiann remembered the nights that Linnet sat, nursing her through the grief over the raid, forcing draughts down her throat, stroking her hands. ‘No, aunt. Without you, I would not have come back from the doorway to the Otherworld. When I wanted to die, to leave this place, you brought me back.’

‘To what? To be married off to someone when you … when you had been through all that?’ Linnet shifted restlessly. ‘Now I know why you resisted so much, why you were hurting.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, Rhiann, I was blinded. Forgive me. Forgive me.’

Now that Linnet spoke the words Rhiann had so often wanted to hear, she realized she did not need them. She was quiet for a moment. ‘Did anyone know about Caitlin?’

‘Only Dercca.’

‘And when you lost her?’

‘No one knew. No one ever knew.’

Rhiann sat straighter. ‘Caitlin said that we are very alike, you and I. We both have the strength to hide our innermost pain. The greater the pain, perhaps the better we hide it. How could you know, really, what had happened to me, when you were up against someone as strong as yourself?’

Linnet’s eyes roved over Rhiann’s face. ‘You are wise, daughter. But I feel that in this, perhaps we both were wrong.’ She brushed sand from Rhiann’s cheek.

‘Aunt, I still don’t understand why you hid Caitlin. If my mother did not love my father, then surely you could both lay with whom you wished?’

‘Such things perhaps do not concern the herders in their huts, Rhiann. But we were dealing with dynasties. My concerns were the concerns of my brother, the King, and his alliance with the Votadini through your father. Such things require control. Not uncontrolled lusts of the flesh, but controlled marriages. Controlled births. I could not have a baby by your father before the Ban Cré did. It would have cast grave doubts on her fertility.’