Miriam's Talisman (35 page)

Of course it was just an old tale, one that had become more fanciful with every telling. Woven through it, as always, were elements of other stories I had gathered, but an interesting variation nonetheless. And that was all I knew when they opened the tomb.

All morning I waited, counting the minutes until I was allowed to join the men at the site. When the sun reached its height, I started out, walking the main road that skirted the hill. A pleasant walk on any other day, but that day my whole body felt alive with eagerness. It was as if she were calling to me, impatient for what would come.

I knew, when I set foot over the threshold, that I had
crossed a line in time and that I could never be the same. As I walked down that tunnel between the stone-slab walls, I could feel her all around me, as close as her breath on my skin. The lamplight pierced the darkness, and there she was.

I asked questions, but I already knew the answers. I knew the name of the tight little body bound beneath the shroud. I knew how her hair twisted into curls the colour of copper and rusted iron. Harold showed me how she had died with the fall of the axe and the blood that stained her winding sheet. I could sense the haste in which she had been hidden. But why? Why had they hidden her?

And then I saw it. A glint of silver, the only bright thing in that dark grave. It screamed at me as if it had a voice of its own and it were pleading for its salvation. I knew why I was there: it was because she wanted me to have it. My hand was pulled towards her. Harold probably tried to stop me, but if he shouted or swore, I did not hear him. All I knew was my hand closing around the silver light, and if I had had to pass my fist through white-hot fire to reach it I would have taken it just the same.

And then I was running. I saw no one, heard nothing. There was only me and Eriu and what I held in my hand. I locked and bolted the door, looking desperately for some way to keep it safe. Then I knew it was simple. All I had to do was to put it on, to wear it around my own neck, and we would all be safe. So that's what I did.

Naturally Harold was furious. We argued for days: in fact we never stopped arguing about it. I only half heard him. He must have told you the rest.

I went back to the old woman of course, very soon after. The talisman lay hidden beneath my clothes, but she knew. She poked the damp peat with her stick until sparks rose like a bonfire on a frosty night.

‘So you found her, did you? Well, she was never at rest. Perhaps now she can sleep, now that you have taken the burden from her.'

‘What do you mean?' I asked.

She told me more of the story—not all of it, but enough.

‘So, what happened to him?' I asked her.

‘Have patience. You may come back here once more, but not yet a while, you will know when. For now, let our lady rest in peace.'

It was after that that I began to see him. It was in a little wood near where we lived. I thought at first I had caught sight of a bird, an eagle. Then he was there. It was as if he came from nowhere, stepping out from behind a sapling that was no thicker than my arm. At first he asked about the talisman, but I held it fast.

After that I saw him often, but did not make the connection. It was too easy to make rational excuses. But then there were things that happened, things about him
that I could not continue to ignore. You will know all about that by now.

Harold left and I remained in Ireland. We were together.

I said I have had an enchanted life, and that is literally true. He showed me things, wonderful things, took me to places where mortals never go. And he told me stories and how to read the languages they were written in. With his aid I learned Gaelic in one night. I dreamed I was reading it from a book and I woke with the letters and the language in my head. He told me things about the history and the land, how they came about and where things would be found. I started to write down more of the stories, and my books were published.

It was not long before he grew impatient. Not with me, you understand, but with the life there. He listened to the radio and then he wanted a television set, which he watched for hours. He found that the world had changed and Ireland had not. He wanted to see more. So we made the journey to England. It was painful for him, but he was determined. I told myself it was for Hannah: she was unhappy in Ireland, and besides it was no place for a teenager. But that was a lie to myself. It was for him that we came to the fenlands and the cottage, and later, after Hannah had left home, we travelled Europe. By that time there was plenty of money to play with and we chartered a small aircraft to cross the Channel at the narrowest point.

He was like a child in a toy room. As you will learn, he loves wine and good food, the theatre and the arts. He also loves gambling, but always cheats. He was shocked by the level of technology, communication, jet planes, computer tech nology. No wonder people ceased to believe in our magic,
he would say, they have enough magic of their own now. But that never stopped him from showing off with his.

Mine has been a strange life, but I would not change one day of it. My only regret is that I could not love Hannah the way I love you. She is my blood and bone, but there is none of my spirit in her to bind us. Eventually she married and David was born. And then you came.

He saw it straight away: the green eyes, the red hair. Our Little Wren, we called you. Though I must tell you that there were times when he seemed confused, as if the threads between him and his Eriu were not completely broken, and that she and I were one and the same. When he saw you, it was as if he had found her all over again.

And when I thought I had lost you, that Hannah had taken you from me, I vowed that you would take my place. I swore that I would make it up to you, Cliohna, and I will.

I have.

There is one more thing you must know.

Before we left Ireland, I went back to the old woman for the last time. What she told me that day I must tell you now. She still sat by the fire, and I wondered if she ever moved from there. Perhaps she would die if she let the fire go out. She did not look up when I came in. I thought she had not heard me, but she said, ‘So, you understand now, do you?'

I nodded and there was silence between us. Only the fire crackled and, somewhere outside the window, a raven called to its mate.

‘You said you had more to tell me. What happened to him when she died?'

She turned and looked at me for the first time. Her eyes were covered with the milky white of cataracts, yet I swear she saw right through me.

This is what she told me that day.