Miriam's Talisman (36 page)

‘Only if it were returned to him freely would he be released.'

I have often wondered what I would have done if I had known all this when I entered that tomb. Would I have acted differently? But by then the spell was upon me also, and there was no turning back. I could never let him go. He was my life.

And now, my dearest granddaughter, I commend him to your love and care, and you to his.

I reached the last word on the last page and continued to stare at the inky trails swimming in front of my eyes. I was aware of the silence in the room and, beyond, the murmuring of voices from a distant part of the house. No doubt they were waiting for me, expecting me to share their innocent pleasure.

But I was far away in that antiseptic room with its unremitting light. Miriam lay against harsh, white sheets. I could feel her hand tight around my wrist, her nails biting into my skin.

Never take it off
, she pleaded.
Never give it away. Promise me
.

I don't know how long I sat there, held tightly in my own arms, rocking myself back and forth, and whispering the same words over and over again. ‘Oh, Miriam, Miriam. What have you made me do?'

I
FOUND MY WAY
back to the village. By then it must have been nearly midnight. As I approached the cottage I heard music. It was that same tune, that sweet lament that Miriam loved so much. It reached out, gathering me into its shimmering web. Each note hovered above me, clear and pure, a single droplet hung upon the night air, living for a moment then turning to vapour as its successor was born. I don't know how long I listened. I could have waited there forever in the stillness, flecks of dew gathering on my hair. But, of course, he would know I had returned and there were so many things that we needed to say. A warm glow of light at the window beckoned to me, and, as I opened the door, the music billowed and fluttered around me, carrying me towards him.

I found him seated in the centre of the dining table, cross-legged, his bare feet long and graceful. Flames skipped over logs in the hearth, casting a red glow on the white plaster walls, like sunset staining undefiled snow. He leaned forward, his head slightly angled and his lips drawn tight as he blew across a flute, its dark, wooden curves as warm and mellow in the firelight as the notes
that tumbled around it. I stood before him, waiting. He raised his eyes to welcome me, but continued playing until the tune had ended. Then he laid the instrument down.

‘So, now you know everything.'

I didn't move. I tried to smile, to keep things light. He smiled in return.

‘I know some of it. That was a fine chase you led me. Halfway around the world and back again. Why couldn't you have told me?'

‘Oh, yes? And you, of course, would have believed me, wouldn't you?'

I faltered. He stretched his hand out towards me and still I could not move.

‘I don't know,' I said. ‘I don't know what I believe any more.'

He shook his head. His hair fell loose each side of his face, black as raven wings. The firelight turned his eyes to molten amber. I had never thought of beauty in a man before, but he was beautiful. One day, I thought, I will paint you like this.

Aloud I said, ‘All that time, all those years. How could you bear it?'

‘I knew you would find me. I knew that if I waited you would come for me. You always do.'

‘What do you mean, I always come for you?'

He looked away, turning toward the fire. ‘That's how it has always been. I knew you straight away, even when you were newly born. You knew I was there, you could see me. You smiled and lifted your arms to me as if you would have me lift you up. I was almost afraid to touch you, so small and fragile you were with your bright hair. Like a tiny bird.'

‘Like a wren you mean, like the king's Little Wren?' I felt as if something had entered me, a cold, white hand, clutching deep inside where I could not resist it.

‘Yes, like a little wren. But I knew you. I could see her in your eyes.'

‘Who? Who did you see?'

‘You came back for me. You saved me.'

The cold hand squeezed tighter. ‘It was Miriam who saved you. She brought you back.'

‘Yes, that's right. Miriam. She called me back. There was nothingness. Endless and forever. No beginning, no ending. On and on and never moving. And then I sensed something, like the faintest breath of wind touching my mind. It became stronger, firmer. A feather-light sound, as if she were calling me from far, far way. Then there were colours and taste and smells and light. And it was her, Miriam. And she was so bright and clear. I had thought never to see those green eyes again. But there she was and we were together again.'

‘No, surely…you were mistaken. Miriam wasn't the same as …'

He looked at me, but there was confusion in his face. His mouth moved, as if he were struggling with the words. ‘Of, course it was her. She was mine again. Do you think I would not know her?'

There was no point in pursuing this; he was beyond logic and reason. I tried another path, my voice still gentle. ‘Miriam had a husband. And a daughter. She cared about them.'

‘No, we cared for each other. It was as it always was, as it always will be.'

We fell silent. Logs cracked and fell in the hearth. The
icy hand lay heavy, as if something inside me were dying. I moved around the table to the bookcase, to the row of green leather covers embossed with silver, her name, her work.

‘You taught her to write, didn't you? As you showed me how to paint?'

‘There were so many memories of my people and hers. I unfolded the past for her, opened up the gift of seeing and telling.'

I stood almost behind him now. ‘And then you both left Ireland.'

He tossed his hair and looked at me over his shoulder. ‘Oh, everything was new. It was amazing how the world had changed in that time. As if the whole human race had learned the secrets of magic. So many things I would never have dreamt of—electricity, music and pictures travelling through the air …'

‘And fast cars?'

That made him laugh. It rekindled some of the sparkle there had been earlier, and we both laughed longer than was justified.

‘But somehow Ireland itself had not changed. There was talk of these new wonders, but often it was with frowns and whispers as if they were afraid to let the new world in. I wanted to see it all. And, of course, Miriam's name was known. Demands were being made on her to visit places, talk to people.'

‘So you made the journey.'

‘Yes. It was painful but swift. As you see, I survived.'

I walked around to face him again. ‘And Hannah. What about Hannah?'

‘What about Hannah? She was nothing to me. A very
strange child. I never could understand her. I don't think her mother understood her either. Her…essence…it was so different from Miriam's. She had no sense of mystery. But the girl had strength and self-discipline, I suppose. She was given the space and freedom to be herself. I think Miriam was relieved when she went her own way.'

‘Didn't the pair of you know how unhappy you had made her? Didn't you care? And what about David and me?'

‘Ah, with you it was different. We leaned over your cradle and you smiled at me and I knew you. I thought I'd lost you when those men took you away to that evil place.'

‘What evil place? You mean when they put her in the tomb?'

He shook his head, frowning as if he were grasping at something half-seen. ‘No. It was an ambulance. You were so ill and there was nothing I could do to make you better. They took you away from me.'

‘It was Miriam they took away. Miriam! It wasn't me.'

He looked up and tried to smile. There were tears in his eyes.

I struggled to hold my voice steady, to move so carefully. ‘Do you know how badly you hurt Paul?'

‘Not nearly as badly as you hurt each other. At least the injuries I inflicted will heal.'

‘Don't you know you could have killed him?'

‘But I didn't. Besides, all that doesn't matter now. You are here. We have each other.' He held his arms wide, his hands open, submitting, surrendering. ‘And I love you.'

‘No. No, I don't think you do.' It was at that moment I knew I loved him. It was the heart-tearing love a mother feels for her broken child, the brittle, biting love born of pity. ‘It's all an illusion,' I said. ‘Can't you see that? Whatever it is that you're feeling, it's not real. I don't think you even know who I am.' Hot tears swam in my eyes, cruel prisms that split the firelight and filled the room with flashes of red and gold.

‘Of course it's not real,' his voice rose in anger. ‘And do you think your mortal love is more real than this? Do you think any love is more than illusion?' His hands were gripping his thighs, digging into flesh. ‘Do you know what human love is? It's a ragbag of hopeless wants and needs that you tie into a bundle and throw at anyone you think might wear it for you. And if you're lucky they'll do the same to you. Then you cling to each other out of loneliness and desperation until one of you changes so much that you can no longer bear the pretence. So you strip off your disguise, show who you really are, and the whole damned game is blown to pieces. Isn't that what your love is?'

‘No. It wasn't like that.'

It was a feeble protest. It
had
been like that. Exactly like that.

‘Is that the reality you want from me, Cliohna?' There was no way I could answer him. He softened, moving towards me. ‘I will never pretend to be anything other than I am. I will love you whatever you are, whatever you might become. I will always love you. I cannot do anything
but
love you. No one else can give you that.'

‘But you have no choice.'

‘Does any lover have a choice?'

‘Can't you understand? It makes you my prisoner.'

‘Is not everyone a prisoner of something? Is it not the very nature of humanity to give away your freedom? We will make it our gift to each other.' He held out his hands to me again. ‘Trust me. It will be all right between us.'

I knew that every moment of my life had brought me to that time and place. Every thought that I had ever known was held within the silence of that room. His hands were so close to mine. I felt his breath stir the air between us. But for all that I dared to touch him, he might well be on the far side of the moon.

I turned away. ‘I need some time. Please, can you leave me for a while?'

‘Leave you?'

‘Yes, go…Wherever it is you go to when you're not here. Just for a while. I have to think. Please.'

He sighed.

‘Please?'

‘If that's what you truly want.'

‘Yes, it's what I truly want.'

‘Very well, then. Just for a while?'

‘Yes, just for a little while.' I wiped the stinging wetness from my eyes, and when I looked up again he had gone. The wooden flute lay on the table, rolling gently from side to side.

I shivered. Despite the heat of the fire, the room felt suddenly cold. Crossing to the fireside I curled into Miriam's chair and wrapped my coat over me like a blanket. I did try to think, but there was too much to think about and my head was aching. All I could do was watch the flames split the blackened logs apart and open the red-hot heart of the wood. Warmth stole up my body and I gave way to the comfort of insensibility.

I was in an empty place, a barren place, cold and desolate. Heavy clouds hung over black mountains against a charcoal sky, shadows upon shadows upon shadows, until there was no discernment. I stumbled over cold rocks whose knifed edges cut my bare feet. Leaden pools of water barred my way at every turn
.

At the edge of one of the pools I knelt and bent over the water. A sallow moon shed no light upon its surface. Instead I saw my own reflection, skin as white as the sickly orb above me. Only my eyes gave light, flashes of green ice. Unruly hair curled around my head like the red serpent-tresses of some pale Medusa. In the measureless depth I could see a face beside my own. As it rose towards me, I knew that it was Miriam, her eyes smiling and warm, her face my own face but finely moulded and graceful, her hair a swathe of red satin. And then there was another face that rose on the other side of mine. She was like Miriam, but more like me with her serpent hair and her worried eyes. There was something on her cheek. Something dark that oozed and trickled down from her forehead, matting her hair and staining her skin. Then the surface rippled and our three faces merged together, making us one. I was overwhelmed by a surge of fear and loathing
.