Read Online Elizabeth McBride by Arrow of Desire - Free Book Online

the fields below the fort.
    "I suppose so," Mhoire answered absently. She was gazing at a grove of trees to the north, set like a dark green
jewel in the grassy countryside.
    "I'm going to find Drosten and tell him that we're moving our things out of that horrid cave and into the hall, and
we don't care what he thinks of it." She noticed Mhoire's
preoccupation. "Why don't you go for a walk to that grove?
It will do you good to move about."
    "I keep wondering if those are oak trees," Mhoire mused.
"Dun Darach-'Fort of the Oaks,' remember?"
    "You go on. Don't worry about us." She tapped a long,
bony finger on Mhoire's chest. "We don't need any men."
    Mhoire gave her another slight smile and then slowly
walked off.
    Rather than plunge across the overgrown fields, she
headed for the beach. The sand was damp there, and her
soft leather boots sunk into it only a little. Still, the weight
of her worries hung heavy on her shoulders.
    Rock pipits hopped among the rocks in the water close
to shore as she trudged along. A little farther off, the sleek,
dark heads of seals bobbed in the swells.
    After half a mile, she left the beach and struck inland,
cutting across the weedy fields and pastures to the grove, which was tucked into a great green hollow. A flat-topped
stone wall enclosed the entrance.

    Mhoire went through the gate and found herself amongst
not oaks, but cherry trees. A cluster here. A cluster there.
Upright, slender, and graceful. In the center of the hollow
stood a small stone building. As Mhoire approached, she
noticed the roof was missing, and the interior lay empty.
Nila, the older woman who had watched her so steadily the
day before, sat on a bench against the outer wall.
    Mhoire lowered herself beside her. "What is this place?"
she asked softly.
    "St. Blane's Chapel."
    They faced the low side of the hollow. Directly before
them, a little distance beyond the stone wall, rose the large,
hummocky hill Mhoire had noticed when she had first approached the hillfort.
    "The fairy hill," she said, nodding toward it.
    Nila smiled. "The monks named it Suidhe Bhlain-St.
Blane's Hill-after they arrived many generations ago. But,
aye, it's a fairy hill."
    Mhoire glanced at her. Although Nila was Elanta's
mother, in some ways the two were very different. Elanta
was fair and thin as thread; Nila was stocky, almost squareshaped, with iron-gray hair. Elanta carried an air of earthy
femininity; Nila seemed veiled in mystery.
    "Is this where you hid from the Danes?" Mhoire asked.
    "Aye. There is a root cellar behind us in the cliff. The
Danes burned the chapel, as you can see. And they killed
all the monks."
    "Killed the monks? My God!"
    "The Danes are pagan, child. They wanted the gold chalices and the silver crosses. The monks would not easily
give them up."
    They talked for a while. Dun Darach had been a crossroads, Nila explained, with ships constantly sailing past.
Tradesmen had brought coriander and dill from France;
nuts, dates, and sweetmeats from the Mediterranean. In turn, Dun Darach and the other surrounding holdings had
exported leather, eider down, and furs.

    "The destruction of the hillfort and the chapel was a
grievous blow," Mhoire noted.
    Nila nodded gravely.
    "Why didn't you leave Dun Darach? Once everything
was gone?"
    Nila met her eyes. "Because sometimes you must choose
your ground and stay on it."
    Mhoire considered Nila's statement. "Well, I'm beginning to think that the best thing I could do is run up that
hill and let the fairies take me away."
    "Why did you come here?"
    Mhoire scanned the view before her-the sturdy hill, the
grassy fields, the blue plate of the sea beyond them. "I
thought if I journeyed to a new place, everything would be
different. I wanted a place that had ... life."
    She looked down at her lap. A familiar emptiness fell
over her like mist. In her father's holding, she had had no
friend but Grainne. The dark fort had welcomed few visitors. It had