The Faithful Heart (22 page)

 

“Thank God you’re here, Morgana! I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been
all alone. Everyone’s been busy with the plowing and my family are
still out fishing. Your father, Morgana, he’s dying!”

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

 

Morgana reacted instantly to Niamh’s terrible news. She scrambled up
the spiral staircase and ran to the small sickroom urgently.

 

 

“What on earth happened?” she demanded over her shoulder as she ran.

 

 

“I left him with your sister Aofa for a little while.When I came
back she was screaming in terror. He had collapsed on the floor,”
Niamh panted as she struggled to keep up with her friend.

 

 

“Father, Father, my God! Father!” Morgana shrieked desperately, as
she touched his forehead and tried to hold him down as he writhed on
the bed uncontrollably.

 

 

There was vomit all over the once-clean sheets, and his skin was
cold and clammy. Morgan’s body was wracked by convulsions, and his
breath came in quick short gasps.

 

 

“Father, can you hear me? What happened? What have you eaten?” she
shouted.

 

 

But Morgan began to lose consciousness, his eyes dimming. Morgana
looked around desperately.

 

 

“Get me some milk and some golden rod and hops from below. Mary will
know where they are. And find Ruairc, hurry!” she instructed her
friend.

 

 

Niamh returned alone several minutes later. Morgana stripped down to
her shirt as she put her father’s head firmly into her lap and tried
to dose him with some of her home remedies. But the little that did
go down his throat came right back up again, and after a few more
tries, Morgan ceased to swallow.

 

 

“He’s slipping away. There’s nothing I can do,” Morgana murmured
dazedly.

 

 

As a last resort in her attempt to help her father, she demanded,
“Get Aofa now, bring her here!”

 

 

The petulant blond was brought, and insisted that she knew nothing
of her father’s relapse. “I was sitting here with him quietly, when
all of a sudden he became ill. He clutched his stomach, and there
was a horrible stench in the room,” she snivelled.

 

 

“And you’re sure he didn’t eat anything?” Morgana asked harshly.

 

 

“Well, now that you mention it, he did take a drink from one of
those little bottles under the bed,” Aofa said slyly, before she
escaped from the horrid smells of the sick room.

 

 

“Niamh, did you see him eat anything?”

 

 

“No, only drink. We all had such a hearty breakfast.But there was a
cup by the bed, only now it’s gone,” Niamh remarked in a puzzled
tone.

 

 

Niamh searched under the bed, and then shrugged. “I’m sorry, there
are no cups here. Perhaps I was mistaken.”

 

 

A commotion in the corridor caused Morgana to leave her father’s
side as Aofa’s hysterical voice went up several octaves. “You did
it! Guards, take him!” she screeched.

 

 

“What on earth are you talking about, Aofa? Have you run mad?”
Ruairc bellowed.

 

 

Morgana stepped between the two struggling figures and pushed them
apart. Ruairc’s velvet tunic shredded in Aofa’s hands before her
older sister finally forced her to let go.

 

 

“It’s Father, Ruairc. He’s dying, and Aofa swears that it was one of
the bottles from Aunt Agatha that poisoned him,” Morgana said
wearily.

 

 

“The lying little minx!” Ruairc growled, grabbing Aofa by the
shoulders as if trying to shake the truth from her.

 

 

Morgana could swear she saw a glint of triumph in the girl’s eyes
before Aofa began to scream for help.

 

 

Morgana called to the two men on watch as she endeavoured to
separate them again.

 

 

“Please escort Ruairc MacMahon to the dungeon immediately, and hold
him there until I give you further orders,” Morgana declared firmly.

 

 

“Morgana, I swear....” Ruairc began to rail, looking as though his
whole world was falling apart once more. "Morgan, let me see him! I
can help!"

 

 

For the benefit of her audience, Morgana held up one hand to demand
silence, and turned her back on the sordid little scene.

 

 

“I am the Maguire clan chief now. You will follow my orders without
question, all of you, is that understood?” Morgana said in her
haughtiest manner.

 

 

The two guards eventually managed to drag Ruairc away, though his
strength was like that of a mad lion.

 

 

“At least that one is finally getting what he deserves.” Aofa
smirked at both women, before turning to walk back to her room.

 

 

Morgana returned to the sick room, grief and pain gnawing at her
heart.

 

 

Niamh gazed at Morgana’s white face as she stared silently at her
father’s prone form, and she protested. “Surely you don’t think
Ruairc...”

 

 

“If you want the honest truth, dear friend, no, I don’t. But it will
silence Aofa’s hysterical outbursts for the time being. I will see
Ruairc when I can be spared here.”

 

 

Morgana tried to administer further remedies, but finally she
released the hand which had turned stone cold, and stood up to peer
out the window at the night sky.

 

 

“It’s over now. He’s at peace,” Morgana sighed.

 

 

“Oh, Morgana, I’m so sorry.I’m to blame for all of this....” Niamh
lamented.

 

 

“Don’t be absurd, Niamh. He was already suffering from poisoning
long before you came. The poor man was simply worn out with
suffering. One last large dose was enough to kill him. Trust me, it
is not your fault. But I swear to you, Niamh, by all that I hold
sacred, I will find out who is responsible, and they will pay the
reckoning.”

 

 

“Where are you going?” Niamh asked tearfully.

 

 

“We need water and cloths and a fresh set of clothes to lay him out,
and then I must see Ruairc.”

 

 

“I will help,” Niamh offered, rising from her chair.

 

 

“No, but thank you for volunteering. It is my office as his
daughter, and I shall do it.

 

 

“But you can help me in other ways. Please go see if you family have
returned from the hunt yet. If they have, can you ask one of them to
go over to Killadeas for a priest. We will dress him and lay him in
state in the great hall below, and bury him in two days’ time, so
that any who are returning home will have the chance to see him one
last time,” Morgana said distantly.

 

 

Niamh looked carefully at her young friend, and decided it was best
to leave her alone with her grief. Niamh went to do as Morgana had
bidden, and returned with the warm water.

 

 

Morgana, meanwhile, went to the linen cupboards, and then to her
father’s room for his best black velvet gown with green silk insets
in the sleeves. She searched for the matching boots, and then
fetched the linen shirt she had embroidered for him so lovingly only
the day before.

 

 

Morgana bathed and dressed the body, and a tap at the door heralded
the arrival of the O’Donnell men with a bier to carry Morgan’s body
down the spiral stairs to the main hall.

 

 

They laid him out with candles surrounding the bier, and Declan
returned a short time later with Father Doyle.

 

 

The whole village assembled in the hall, and and they all said
prayers for the dead according to the custom.

 

 

When they were finished and the wake had officially begun, Morgana
trudged up the stairs to the tiny sickroom, and began to clean up
the mess which had been left by Morgan’s last agonising death throes
and her feeble attempts to save him.

 

 

Morgana searched through the bag under the bed and sniffed each
bottle in turn, and then turned to the table. She saw a thin film of
white powder around a ring which had obviously been left by a cup.
She examined the bottles again, and looked at the bottom of each to
see if any powder had settled in of any of them.

 

 

Gathering up the bag, she crept belowstairs to the dungeon, where
she ordered the guards to leave her alone with Ruairc.

 

 

“Have you come to berate me for the murder of your father?” Ruairc
accused bitterly when he saw who had come to see him.

 

 

“No, Ruairc, I came to do this.”

 

 

Morgana uncorked one bottle, and drank it down, then took up a
second and a third to imbibe while Ruairc’s eyes widened.

 

 

“You see, perfectly safe.”

 

 

“You might change your mind in a few more minutes,” Ruairc muttered,
knowing himself to be innocent and yet still fearing the worse for
Morgana.

 

 

“I don’t think so somehow. I found some white powder on the table by
Father’s cup, or what was his cup until it disappeared. He poured
the cordial into the cup, and someone added the poison after.”

 

 

“Who on earth could it be?” Ruairc growled in frustration and grief.

 

 

“I doubt it was Niamh, since the O’Donnells have only just arrived,
and certainly knew nothing about the poisoning. Fergus is still in
the lower dungeon, so unless he somehow managed to convince someone
to help him....”

 

 

“It couldn’t be Aofa, could it?” Ruairc interrupted with a gasp.
“It’s unthinkable. Your father idolised her all her life. What could
she hope to gain by murdering Morgan?”

 

 

She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know, Ruairc. I can’t think
Aofa would do such a thing, for all the reasons you’ve just
highlighted, but all the same, I have to be suspicious of her being
with him at the time. And she was delighted to see you take the
blame. Not to mention the fact that those gowns in her room were all
stolen, from both Niamh and some other woman even more vastly
wealthy than the O'Donnells.

 

 

“Ruairc, if you will forgive my saying so, Aofa always seemed to,
er, like you in the past, rather more than mere friendship would
warrant. Why should she suddenly turned against you so violently?”
Morgana asked quietly.

 

 

“I, er, well, I resisted her, um, blandishments when I first
arrived, and I think she resents me. Now you needn’t look at me like
that!I certainly didn’t invite her attentions! She came to my room
when I was asleep!” Ruairc defended himself hotly.

 

 

“I see,” Morgana said coldly, turning her back to him.

 

 

“No, Morgana, no you don’t see, not if you are going to let Aofa's
spite and lust drive a wedge between us!” Ruairc argued as he
stretched his hand through the bars to touch Morgana.

 

 

“Nothing happened, I swear! I threw a blanket over her and got her
out of the room.I never laid a finger on her, so help me. Aofa has
only ever wanted to make trouble between us, because she envies our
love and all that we share. I beg you not to let her accusations
cast doubt upon my love and fidelity for you. I told you the truth
the other night. There has been no one since the moment we met,
though it's been damned hard all these years to just keep company
with my hand!”

 

 

Morgana blushed, and stepped further away for a moment. Her emotions
were so raw after what they had shared in the hovel. Once again,
guilt gnawed at her. Maybe if they hadn't stopped for dinner, maybe
if they had not taken shelter in the storm and begun to make love,
she might have been home in time to…
Perhaps if she hadn’t been
giving herself to Ruairc as a lover, Conor would still be alive…

 

 

She shoved the last two thoughts violently aside. No, the fault was
not hers, and not Ruairc's either. It was the fault of the killer or
killers. She couldn't see the pattern yet, but she was going to. It
was only a matter of time, and of watching, and waiting to see the
pattern emerge.

 

 

She turned to face her beloved at last. “I won’t let Aofa's actions
come between us, Ruairc,” Morgana sighed, “but you can see how you
must stay down here for as long as it takes to convince Aofa that
her little scheme has worked. And if the real assassin thinks you
are to take the blame, then that person might get careless.”

 

 

“That person might also go after you,” Ruairc pointed out worriedly.

 

 

“Don’t worry, I know what I'm looking for now. If I develop any
signs, I shall know what to do. Father was caught unawares, and
that’s why he died.”

 

 

“I want to get out of here so I can protect you, my love! There are
far more ways to kill than just poison!”

 

 

“Not now, in a couple of days when the funeral takes place. I’ll let
you out then.”

 

 

"I want to be at the wake, the funeral. I loved your father—"

 

 

"I know you did. I'll arrange something later."

 

 

"And what of me? The killer could just as easily give me poison and
say I killed myself with my own weapon out of guilt."

 

 

Her eyes widened in horror, but she had to admit, he did have a
valid point. She put her hand on the one that rested on the bars.
"You are to take no food from anyone other than me, then. You're
right. We're both in danger now."

 

 

“I love you, Morgana. Thank you for believing in me,” Ruairc said,
as he stroked her shoulder

 

 

“I do trust you, Ruairc, but it wouldn’t be wise to show it, not
until the traitor is caught.”