A MASS FOR THE DEAD (16 page)

“Are you speaking of your father?”
And mine too
, I thought.

“Aye.” He nodded. “I was to sit quiet, or go away outside.”

For sure, Sheena would not be wanting her children to be annoying their father. But children had been annoying their fathers since the dawn of time, and it seemed a little reason for the girl to be taking on so about it.

“But then, he was not coming to see us,” Sean added with an adult practicality which surprised me. “Most times he came at night and we were supposed to lie still in our cots and sleep, when he was there.”

“And did you?” I asked.

“Aye.”

“Was he there often, at your house?”

Sean looked puzzled. “He did not come to visit every night, but often enough. And Mother said he was our father, and a churchman besides, and so we should greet him respectfully when he did come and we were not yet asleep. But most times we would already be in bed when he came to visit.”

“Were you knowing, Sean, that he is my father as well?”

Sean looked uncomfortable. “I was hearing that he was your father, but I was not sure, as you are so old, I was not believing it.”

“And how was he treating you?”

Sean beamed. “He was proud of me.” As he was not of me, I thought, with a touch of bitterness. “He would pat me on the head and say I was a handsome, well-favored boy.”

Well, all this was fine enough, and it was a pleasant enough conversation with my half-brother that I was having, but it did not answer my questions.

“Are you remembering the night your father was killed, Sean?”

He looked puzzled. “The night before you came to visit us at our house, that day?”

“Och no, it would have been two nights before that day. Are you remembering that night?”

Sean nodded.

“Well then, was there anything unusual about that night? Did your father come to visit that evening?”

He nodded again. “Aye, he came, a little late he was. I am knowing because I was still awake, it being so light and all. But then Mother had said I must be getting into bed, that himself would be coming soon. And I was almost asleep before he did get there. But then he was aye angry when he came.”

“Was he saying why he was late?”

“He was saying he met someone on the way. He did not like to be doing that,” Sean added confidingly. “Mother said it was because he was of the church and all. That is why he was always coming at night, I am thinking. So no one would see him in the dark. But it being summer and all, the night was not that dark.”

“Did he say who it was that he was meeting?”

Sean shook his head no. “I was not hearing. But he was hitting my mother over it all.”

I remembered Sheena’s bruise. Had she had another lover? Is that why he hit her, and was that who had killed him? But then, why had that person killed Sheena?

Perhaps, my father being the man that he was, he had not needed a reason such as another lover to hit her. He may have hit her before, regardless. For my father had a lot of anger in him.

As I had, I suddenly realized. The anger I felt for him, the anger I felt about my leg. In that, I resembled my father.

But this realization, for all that it made me feel somewhat ashamed of myself, did not go far to solving the question at hand. While I had been mulling this over in my mind, my half-brother had found another two eggs. He arranged them carefully in the basket while I asked him one more question.

“That day your mother had her accident,” for that was all I could bear to call it to his face, “was there anything unusual about it, Sean? Did anyone come by who you did not know?”

“No.” Sean shook his head decisively. “I would have seen if they had. For was not yourself just telling me what a sharp pair of eyes I have. Mother used to tell me that as well.”

He looked as though he was going to cry for a moment, but then he bit his lip and stopped its trembling.

I felt cruel for continuing, but I remembered the pin Mariota had spoken of. “When she left that day, what was she wearing?”

Sean frowned.

“Perhaps you will be remembering, with those keen eyes of yours.”

His brow wrinkled with the effort. “Well, she had her plaid, and her shift and tunic. Nothing out of ordinary I am thinking. And a basket, for the rush flowers.”

“Are you remembering that fine pin she had?”

“The silver one? With the birds on it?”

“That is the one. Was she wearing that, that day when she left?”

Sean screwed his blue eyes shut, trying to remember. “Mother is walking out the door,” he said, “She called to Maire to watch the baby, that she would be back in awhile to feed him but that she was going to pick the plants for the dyeing. She turned to me and told me to turn the peats and after I had done that to go and collect dulse from the beach. And that is the last thing she tells me. I am thinking she is wearing her fine pin because I can see the glint of it in the sun as she turns to go.”

“You are having the fine eyes for sure,” I praised him. “And a good mind to go with them. Do you know where your mother was getting such a pin from?”

He shook his head no. I guess speaking of his mother had made the boy feel his grief again, for he looked as though the tears were not far away. I was minded of when my own mother had died of the plague so long ago.

“Well, Sean,” I promised quickly, hoping to distract him, “Aorig and I will be talking to your sister. And I am sure she will be letting us go to the faerie-fort before much longer. Perhaps Seamus will come too.”

Sean’s expression brightened and I sighed in relief. He idolized Seamus, who would good-naturedly carry the boy on his shoulders, seemingly without tiring. I could not do such things, not with my leg as it was. But I was learning that my friendship had other attractions, mainly, four-footed ones.

“And will Somerled come, too?” asked Sean.

“I am thinking that he will have to,” I assured him solemnly. With that, satisfied, Sean took his basket of eggs inside to Aorig, and I was left to puzzle over what he had told me.

If Sheena had had a lover, who would it have been? I had no idea, nor did I have much idea whom to ask about it. If Mariota had been here, she would have been able to ferret out the information from someone. But Mariota had gone back to Islay.

For sure I could not be asking Angus and Alasdair who else their sister had been sleeping with, the two of them were angered enough with me already. Ever since I had found the body of their sister at Dun Cholla the two of them glowered at me over their drink at Donald Dubh’s.

Perhaps Aorig had heard something, or perhaps she could glean something else from speaking with the children. For I, myself, did not think that young Maire would be telling me much, not after her ranting last night. What had gotten into the girl?

Perhaps the poor thing was just reacting to her mother’s death. Although I felt a twinge of sympathy, I found myself wishing my half sister would stop regarding me as though I were the
ùruisg
himself, come to snatch her brother away.

I resolved to ask Aorig about it, and see what she could tell me. But Aorig knew nothing, when I asked her later that day.

“Sheena kept herself to herself,” she said, “living down there alone, as she did. So I am thinking that your father was wanting her close to the Priory. Poor love, she was not even that close to her own brothers’ house.” Aorig continued her weaving for a moment, thinking.

“So no, Muirteach, I am knowing nothing of other men,” she finally continued, after winding some more yarn on her shuttle. “I would have been telling you, if I had known anything of it. I have heard nothing from the women here either, so I am doubting, if she had a lover, that it was a Colonsay man, at all, at all. Everyone knew she was the Prior’s hand-fasted wife. I am not thinking any Colonsay man would be risking your father’s temper over it all. And I am not thinking that your father would be needing such an excuse to hit her, either.”

“You may be right,” I agreed glumly. “But then whoever was it my father was seeing that night, before he got to her house?”

“I am not knowing, Muirteach. It could even have been Alasdair Beag, for all that, out digging oysters while the tide was low. For the sun was not setting until very late.”

But Alasdair Beag had told me he had gone to sleep early that night. So I doubted that was whom my father had seen that night.

But if Sheena’s lover had not been a Colonsay man, then who was it? Islay was the closest island, but that was a long way to go to meet a lover.

Chapter 14

I
decided to go to Islay myself. It had been years since I had seen any of my Islay relations. Although in my soul I seriously doubted they had sailed across the sound, killed my father, and then returned to Islay with no one being the wiser for it all, I told myself I might as well go myself and check on it all.

Especially since, as each long summer day passed, it grew clearer and clearer to me that I had no idea who had done these murders. Perhaps Mariota had discovered something.

As for the possibility of running into His Lordship on Islay, I told myself that would be unlikely. The Lord of the Isles no doubt had other, weightier concerns. Although he had said he wanted to hear of my results soon, as yet, I had nothing to tell him. At least if he sent someone to look for me here, in Scalasaig, he would not be finding me.

So I borrowed a small
nabhaig
of Uncle Gillespic’s, taking Seamus along for crew, and we set out for Islay. The day was fine and the sailing easy. I have always enjoyed sailing and the sense of freedom I feel in a small boat skimming over the waves, and the trip to Islay gave me pleasure.

We sailed around to the Rhinns, and landed in Kilchiaran, where my mother and I had lived. I still had uncles and a great-aunt there, although it had indeed been a long time since I had visited. Once my mother had died and I had been fostered at my uncle Gillespic’s, I had not often returned there.

Truth to tell, we had to ask directions from some local girls mending fishing nets on the sand, it had been so long since I seen the place. The girls giggled and blushed, and directed us inland, towards the village. We headed towards my Great-aunt Morag’s cottage.

Great-aunt Morag sat spinning, on a bench outside her cottage. “And whoever is it then?” she wondered, as we approached her.

“Great-aunt, it is Muirteach. Seonaid’s son.”

“Eh, Muirteach.” She put down her spindle and stood to meet us as we approached. It seemed to me that she had shrunk since last I had seen her. Perhaps she had in fact, for age does that to a woman. But sure enough it was that I myself had grown since the last time I had seen her, as a boy of eleven.

“Is it you indeed?” she wondered. “Let me look at you lad. Come close, for my eyes are not what they once were.”

I went nearer and Great-aunt Morag touched my cheeks with her hand. Her old skin felt papery and cool as she ran her fingers over my face, peering at me closely with clouded blue eyes.

“Sure, and we were thinking that the
each uisge
himself had been swallowing you, for all that we have heard of you these last years. You have grown, lad,” she added. “I would not have been knowing it was you, although now I can see a bit of your mother in you. Aye, and the look of your father as well. He was a handsome man, indeed, when he stole your own sweet mother’s heart away.

“But what is it you are doing here, the now? We were hearing, awhile back, that you had left the Priory. We hoped to see you then, but you were not coming home at that time.”

“No, Auntie,” I replied, surprised at how good it was to see the old woman. “I have been with Uncle Gillespic, on Colonsay. I scrive for him, when he is needing things written.”

She smiled. “Och, and so you can be reading and writing then, Muirteach. It is a grand thing, the reading and writing.”

It crossed my mind to tell her that it was all I could do, since I could not run like other men, but I gentled my tongue, and merely agreed with her, that indeed it was a fine thing.

“But now sit you down, and we must be getting you some refreshment.” She called inside. “Eilidh, be bringing out some refreshment for your cousin Muirteach who is just coming. Some cheese, and milk, and some of the oatcakes from this morning.”

And so my cousin brought us some refreshment, and we ate our fill. The milk was creamy, rich with the taste of the good grass of the Rhinns, the oatcakes still fresh and crumbly, fair melting on the tongue.

“And where are Uisdean and Dougall?” I asked, after eating my fill of the oatcakes. These were my uncles, whom I dimly remembered as teen-aged boys with little time to spare for their crippled nephew.

“Eh, they’re away the now. Uisdean is with His Lordship for a time, and Dougall is away to Antrim, fighting for the Sweeneys. He was leaving Eilidh with me, for the company. I am thinking he is trying to save enough money for a bride price. He is wanting to marry again. A girl from Kilchioman, it would be, that he is wanting to marry.”

Eilidh listened silently. Dougall, my uncle, was her father. Her mother, Dougall’s first wife, had died some twelve years back in childbirth, along with Eilidh’s infant brother.

“Are you liking the girl?” I asked my cousin.

“Well enough,” replied Eilidh, evasively, “but she is not that much older than I am myself.”

“And how long have they been away?” I asked my aunt.

“Eh, Uisdean was leaving some two months ago, in April it was. And Dougall, well, he has been in Antrim since March. But whatever is it that is bringing you back to Kilchiaran at this time, then?”

“You were not hearing of it, then, Great-aunt?”

“Heard of what? It has been little enough the news we’ve heard here the past few weeks.”

And so I told her and Eilidh of my father’s death. Great-aunt Morag seemed suitably shocked, making horrified little murmurs and crossing herself, particularly when I came to the part about the Sanctuary Cross and Sheena’s death.

“Eh, Muirteach,” she said when I had finished the grisly tale, “sure and it is not surprised I am that your father should come to such an end. A godless man he was, for all that he was of the Church. And it is glad I am that someone finally revenged themselves on him. I am thinking your mother is resting more easily in her grave now, the white love.”