“They said he became upset with ye for forcing yer way into his room.” He pulled the sack from his belt, opened it, and withdrew a square, jeweled box. “And that ye had sentthisto him in apology for upsetting him.”
Beibhinn’s face went white, her eyes wide. “I… I do not recall.”
“Ah, Beibhinn, what have ye done?” Fintan’s sad question went unanswered.
Diarmuid kept the item closed and flat on his open palm. “Doran has always been well protected and surrounded by his men. Even ifyeforgot,theydid not. They said ye begged him to forgive ye, to allow ye to return to the clan of yer youth.”
Beibhinn closed her lips flat, her face becoming stoic, and said no more.
“Ye should speak in yer defense.” Fintan’s eyes remained on her. “Do ye wish to tellme?”
Her eyes darted from him to Diarmuid and then back again as if she were a trapped animal looking to escape. Or a crazed woman. She did not move.
“Doran told his men ye were never to be allowed back.” Diarmuid glanced at Pádraig, who slowly approached, an expression of dread on his face. “He also told them ye were not to be trusted.”
“I’ve seen that box.” Pádraig’s distress was apparent. “It sat beside my father’s bed when we found him. I don’t remember seeing it before that time.”
“Beibhinn, do ye wish to explain about the box?” Diarmuid asked.
It was as if she did not hear the question.
Diarmuid lifted the lid to reveal the dark leaves of the chamomile bush, dried and brittle. He pinched it a bit, rubbing it between his fingers, before dropping it back into the pile. Beibhinn looked on with wide eyes, her breathing labored, as he reached in again. When he pressed his finger deeper into the box, Beibhinn could hold back no longer.
“Cease!”
Diarmuid’s hand stilled, the leaves no longer touching his fingers. “Is aught amiss, dear mother?”
“Do not touch the leaves… they are… poisoned.”
A gasp went up from those around them, Pádraig’s being the loudest. “What say ye? Ye gave my father poison?”
Beibhinn gulped, her eyes wide as she spoke. “Doran promised me if I were to win over Colmán, I would be married to an even more powerful king when the two clans were united. He promised he would step down and Colmán would rule alone. I had only to woo him into offering for my hand and all would be seen to.
“But that witch from the islands came and”—Beibhinn snapped her fingers—“Colmán fell in love with her. He couldn’t set me, or his ambitious dreams, aside fast enough. I was in love with him, but Doran refused to enforce the agreement we had reached. I was given to Kane instead.”
“Yekilled my father?” Ian’s words were quiet against her loud, harsh explanation. He came to stand beside his brother and they exchanged glances.
“Did ye believe ’twas me, little brother?” Pádraig asked.
“It had occurred to me,” Ian said haltingly. “Ye were both so angry.”
Pádraig lowered his gaze. “I loved him, but not his fists… and not his fists on our sister.”
“I am sorry, Pádraig,” Ian said.
Searching Ian’s face, Pádraig seemed to be looking for something. “I see yer mother in ye. She was obedient and thoughtful, which pleased our father greatly.Mymother was willful and defiant, and he wished to break her. He sawherbehavior in everything Daimhin and I ever attempted. We could not escape his wrath.”
“God rest his soul,” Thomas said, watching Fintan lead Beibhinn to settle on the bench a short distance away. “She is not right in the mind. For so long, she has let her thoughts be poisoned with anger and resentment.”
“As ye know, Diarmuid,” Murdoch’s voice carried to them, the crowd moving aside so the older man and thericould face each other again. “The punishment for murder is the honour price, and theenachrequired of a king is considerable.”
“And if I haven’t the fee to pay?”
“She’ll be put to death.”
Astrid’s next breath stilled in her chest. She did not want her mother to die no matter what kind of horrible person she was.
Her throat tight with tears, she said, “Diarmuid! Do not let—”
