The Last Sin Eater

  “And if you and Iwan are off hunting?”

  “Bolt the door and dunna give him so much as a by-your-leave. Iwan will do the same if I’m gone.”

  “Ye told Iwan? When? I thought he was off hunting.”

  “He was at Byrneses’ when Brogan stopped by.”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “Cluny’s growing up. Or haven’t ye noticed?”

  “Cluny?” Mama sounded sad.

  “Take comfort in it, Fia. She may be the chain that binds him to this valley. He mightn’t leave at all.”

  I heard Papa’s footsteps cross the room and go down the steps. Mama was weeping. Pushing myself up, I ran into the forest. I kept running, branches lashing my face, until I was too tired to go on. Sinking down, I leaned against the trunk of a great pine, my chest heaving for air, wishing I could die right there and never hear them tearing at one another again.

  After a while, the birdsong and the wind in the trees com forted me. I wandered down the mountainside and sat in the sunshine among the yellow-faced daisies stretching their faces heavenward. Lying back, I stared up at the clouds moving slowly across the sky. Shapes changed, shifting billows of white. One looked like a hound sleeping. Another was like someone sitting on grass, one arm stretched out toward the horizon.

  I started thinking on the man of God, wondering what he had come to say, wondering, too, why the Kai was so determined he not be heard. I reckoned it must be my contrary nature rising in me again, for what else could it be that made me rise and head down toward the valley floor despite the fear I had of both men?

  The questing spirit in me, I reckoned, ever seeking what it would never find: a way back to the time before—

  I cut off the thought, turning my mind away. The Kai had given his command, and Papa said heed it. So why did something deep down inside me gnaw at me to hear the man out? God had sent him. Who can stand against God and not come out the worst for it? Didn’t God see and hear everything and bring judgment? Was I not already condemned?

  I went down until I stood at the edge of the trees looking out across the valley floor. A curl of smoke rose into the morning air and a man sat close by, roasting a fish. My heart beat faster, and taking a deep breath, I sneaked closer, finally going down on my hands and knees. Swallowing my fear, I crawled through the tall grass until I reached the shrubs that lined the river. Inching closer, I peered down the bank and across the ripples to where he sat, head bowed. He ate, rose and washed his hands, then sat again, head bowed.

  “A day in the presence of the Lord is better than a thousand lived without him,” came a soft whisper.

  Glancing behind me, I saw Lilybet standing close by. Afraid she’d be seen, I motioned her to sit down and be silent. She came closer, stretching out on her stomach beside me.

  “He knows we’re here, Katrina Anice.”

  “I was very careful.”

  “And intent.”

  “Is that so wrong?”

  She smiled. “You’re not far from the truth.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Since the day you saw me at the river.”

  Sometimes there was no talking to her and making sense of it.

  The sound of rustling made my heart leap in fear. Copperheads sometimes slithered among the brush and rock of the riverbank. I looked about me, muscles tense. Fagan appeared, briefly startled at the sight of me. He had crawled on his belly through the grass, same way I had.

  “What’re ye doing here?” he growled low, a look of pure disgust on his face.

  “I could ask the same of you!” I whispered back, resentful of his presence.

  “Dinna my father tell ye to stay away?”

  “Same as he told you, I reckon.”

  His mouth tightened. He got that look on his face that he was going to do what he wanted no matter what and started crawling forward again, using his elbows and snaking his body along until he came up alongside me where Lilybet had been. Bold with me, she was shy of others. And strange beyond my ken.

  In truth, I was glad of Fagan’s company and didn’t mind him knowing so. “I seen him when he first came up the trail through the Narrows.”

  “And?”

  “He was talking to God. And God answered.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I am not!”

  “Shhhh!”

  Tears pricked my eyes as I glared at him.

  “Has he said anything?” Fagan said.

  “No.”

  “Done anything?”

  “Ate a fish he roasted.”

  “Maybe he’s sleeping now,” he whispered. “Can’t tell nothing from this distance.” He edged closer and one of the branches snapped back, smacking me in the face and drawing a startled cry of pain. The branch waved and shuddered over my head as I ducked and covered my stinging cheek.

  “Well, now ye’ve done it.” Fagan’s voice trembled.

  I looked up again, and my heart bounded around in my chest like a rabbit before a hound, for the man had raised his head. His bearded face was cocked to one side, like an animal alerted that an enemy was near. When he rose to his feet, my heart stopped and then began beating again so fast I thought it was coming up into my throat. I could scarcely draw breath.

  “He’s looking this way,” Fagan whispered.

  “I con see. I con see.”

  “Don’t move. I don’t think he’s seen us.”

  The man came a few feet closer to the edge of the river. “Blessed is the one that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly,” he called out, “nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful!”

  He was looking straight across the river toward us, and I moaned. Fagan shimmied back quickly and clamped a hand over my mouth, his fingers digging in. “Shhhh!”

  “And the one who delights in the word of the Lord and meditates on it day and night shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season. His leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.”

  Fagan’s grip eased as he watched the man.

  “The ungodly are not so!” the man shouted. “They are like chaff which the wind driveth away!” He waved his arms and stepped closer. “Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous. For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish!”

  Fagan let go of me, fascination on his face, and I took the opportunity to edge back further into the thick brush and out of sight of the man of God.

  “Where ye going?” Fagan said.

  “He wants to kill us,” I whispered, keeping my head down.

  “How so?”

  “Can ye not see? Can ye not hear? He comes in the name of the Lord.”

  “That’s the reason I want to hear.”

  “Ye’ve heard.”

  “But not understood.”

  “So ye’ll stay until he calls lightning down on you?”

  “He dinna strike ye dead the first day, did he?”

  “I dinna give him the chance!”

  The man came to the very edge of the river. “Hear the word of the Lord!” he called out so loudly that his deep voice carried across the waters. “Take heed what ye hear! With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured unto you; and unto you that hear shall more be given. For ye that hath, to ye shall be given: and ye that hath not, from ye shall be taken even that which ye hath!”

  “What does he mean, do ye think?” Fagan said.

  “He’s saying what I done will be done to me and more.” Unless I found the sin eater first. If I could talk him into taking my sins away now, maybe then I could come back and get close enough to hear what the man of God had come to say and not fear being struck dead in the doing.

  Fagan was pale but determined. “I’m staying.”

  I left him to his own conscience, figuring he didn’t have the sins on his head that I had on mine. I made
my way cautiously back through the tall grass and then darted into the cover of forest as fast as I could. Ducking behind a tree, I looked back around the trunk to see if my departure had been noted. No dark clouds or rumbling in the heavens. The man was still standing near the water, looking toward the place where Fagan was hiding. And he was talking, though not as loud as before. Leastwise, not loud enough so I could hear him.

  Thankful Fagan was keeping the man’s attention fixed, I climbed a tree where I could see more clearly what was happening. Sitting high in my leafy bower, I watched the man pace and raise his arms. It was a long time before he stopped talking and sat down again. Fagan had never once come out into the open, and he was in no hurry to leave his hiding place now that the man was finished saying whatever he had to say. I wondered why Fagan was staying put. Maybe he was too scared to move. Maybe the man had cursed him so he couldn’t.

  I was gathering my courage to go check on Fagan when I saw him wriggling on his belly through the tall grass. By the time he reached safety and could get up and dust himself off, I was there, waiting. “Why’d you stay so long?”

  “I wanted to hear more.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “Lot of things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Go listen for yourself,” he snarled. When he raised his head and glared at me, I saw the tear tracks down his dusty cheeks. Before I got over the surprise and had the sense to ask why he’d been crying, he’d already run off, leaving me standing in the shadows with my mouth open.

  Fagan’s tears over the man’s words filled me with a lethal curiosity. I wanted desperately to hear what the man of God had come to say but knew I’d better find the sin eater before daring it. We’d never had anyone like this stranger in our highland valley before, and I was in terrible haste because I didn’t know how long he’d stay. God could call him away anytime, and then I’d never hear what the Lord had told him to say.

  So I set off to find the sin eater again. He hadn’t come for the preserves. They were still sitting on Granny’s headstone. Maybe he didn’t like blackberries. Maybe he didn’t like me.

  Soon as I fed the chickens and collected the eggs the next morning, I left. All along the river, there were places to cross over, but I waited until I saw the creek that came down from Dead Man’s Mountain running into it. Looking up at the craggy peak, I was filled with despair, wondering how I was ever going to find a man who didn’t want to be found. There must’ve been a thousand hiding places up there.

  “Talk to the lady,” Lilybet said, having kept me company.

  I found the small cabin again with no trouble and took up watch in a cascade of mountain laurel, trying to gather my courage. The lady was out working in her garden and looked harmless enough. But who was she? What was she that no one even mentioned her?

  “Come on,” Lilybet said, standing out in the open and beckoning to me. Rising from the thicket, I stepped out into the open. “Call out to her.”

  “Hello!” I called out.

  The woman straightened sharply, staring at me.

  “Hello,” I said again.

  “Go away!” She backed a step and looked over her shoulder toward the mountain. “Go away, I tell you!”

  I’d come too far to retreat now. “I’m looking for the sin eater.”

  She hesitated, lowering her hoe. “Ring the bell.”

  “No one’s died.”

  She cocked her head in surprise. Her stance relaxed some. “Why, ye’re Cadi Forbes, ain’t ye?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Well, go on home, child. Ye dunna belong at this end of the valley. This is no-man’s-land and no place for you.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I belong here.”

  “Please. I want to find him. Can ye help me?”

  “Leave the mon be! He’s got sorrow enow without ye adding to it. Now, go home. Go home and stay away from here!” Rather than return to her gardening, she went inside her cabin and closed the door.

  I stood for a few minutes longer, waiting and hoping she would come out again. I didn’t go home. I went back into the cascade of mountain laurel and sat down to watch and wait upon her. She came out after a long time and returned to her work.

  Who was she? And why was she living so close to a forbidden place?Why was she all by herself? Everyone in our valley had family aplenty, even Miz Elda’s who’d chosen to go over the mountains. Maybe that was what happened. Maybe this woman’s kin had gone on to Kantuckee or back to the Carolinas.

  She straightened once and wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Leaning on her hoe for a few minutes, she gazed toward the mountain again. She stood staring up at the peak for a few minutes and then went back to work. Once or twice, she seemed troubled by something and glanced my way. I supposed she was like an animal that sensed the presence of an enemy. I was not her enemy, but she didn’t know that. Not yet, at least. If she’d only let me get closer, I’d tell her myself.

  When the sun was high and hot, she took up her weed bucket and carried it to a burn pile where she dumped it. The rake and hoe she took inside. When she came out again, she was carrying an empty jar. She headed straight to the bee gums standing near a sorrel tree. There were four of them, big and active with bees. Granny had always robbed our hives at night and used smoke to put the bees into a stupor before raising the lid. This lady opened a hive in broad daylight without the least sign of fear. I thought for sure she would be stung unto death, for I could hear those bees from where I was hiding in the curtain of laurel. They came swirling out and around her in a gray, humming cloud.

  She stood perfectly still and calm, arms hanging limp. They covered her hair, shoulders, and part of her face, resting upon her like a great bee-shawl, sagging her with their weight. Covered like that, she leaned over slowly and lifted one of the combs out, holding it over her jar. The amber honey drained into it until it was glistening gold in the sunshine. Laying the comb atop the jar, she replaced the bee gum lid and started slowly back toward the cabin. The bees lifted away like smoke above her, swirling and humming and returning to the hive. By the time she neared her garden, all had gone from her. Lighter of foot, she went up the steps and disappeared inside her cabin.

  Entranced, I sat back on my heels, amazed at what I’d seen. Leaning forward, I peered through the tangle of leafy vines wondering what more magic this woman could perform.

  I saw her a while later, leaning out the side window. Cupping her hands, she whistled, a high melodic sound like birdsong. She placed something wrapped in a cloth on the sill and drew back inside where I couldn’t see her.

  I waited a long time to see what would happen next.

  Nothing did.

  She leaned out twice more to whistle that melody. The day wore on until I knew I had to leave. Creeping away, I glanced back once and saw her framed in the window, leaning out and looking up at Dead Man’s Mountain.

  E I G H T

  "Ctharms Bees, does she? Miz Elda said. Never knew that about her, but it dunna surprise me much. She always was fey.”

  “Ye know her? Who is she?”

  “Her name’s Bletsung Macleod. No one’s hadmuch to do with her for years. Or maybe that ain’t right. Maybe it’s the other way around.” She got her thoughtful expression, staring off toward the mountains. “Macleods never were much for company.” She looked at me. The troubled look gave way, and she got a set one instead, as though she’d made some kind of decision about something I didn’t ken. “Her father died of a sudden.”

  “How?”

  “No one knows how. Not that anyone cared. The man was cold cruel. When he was dead and buried, his girl stayed as much to herself as he ever did, though not for the same reasons, I reckon.”

  “What reasons?”

  “Ye’re full of questions, ain’t ye?” She leaned back, rocking her chair slowly in the cool morning sunshine. “Douglas Mac-leod dinna like people much. Had no trust for them. His daughter wa
s the only thing he cared about, if care is a proper way of putting it.”

  “Did she have a mother?”

  “Aye, she had a mother. Rose O’Sharon was her name. She up and died of a spring. By her own hand, some say. No one really knows for sure, just like no one really knows how DouglasMac-leod died. But it got people worrying. Some were already saying they’d seen Rose O’Sharon’s taint wandering the hills, and they were afeared when Douglas Macleod died, there’d be two haunting our highlands by night. Summat had to be done about it.” She sighed, leaning her head back. “And summat was.”

  “What?”

  “We chose the sin eater.”

  Chose? I sat up straighter, surprised. “I thought he was always here.”

  “Seems like, but that ain’t the truth of it. It was Brogan Kai’s father, Laochailand Kai, who brought us back to the old ways.” She stopped rocking and looked at me. “Ye see, we had sin eaters in Scotland and Wales. It were a custom I thought well left behind, but the old Kai wanted it otherwise. So the men threw lots into a mazer, and all the women stood by praying it wouldn’t fall and be one of their own.” She closed her eyes as though the memory pained her. “The man whose name was drawn left that very night with Laochailand Kai’s sin upon him, and that of Rose O’Sharon and Douglas Macleod as well.”

  “Then what happened?”

  She looked at me with impatience. “Nothing happened. He went to live on Dead Man’s Mountain, and no one has spoken his name aloud since.”

  “Will ye tell me his name, Miz Elda?”

  “No, child, I will not. It would do ye no good. The man knows his place and keeps to it. It was God’s will he be chosen, and he accepted that.”

  She seemed so troubled, I leaned closer. “Should he not have been the one?”

  “What a fool question.” She let out her breath and turned her face away. “It was a long time ago, Cadi. Too long ago to be undone.”

  “It burdens her,” Lilybet said, sitting on the bottom step and looking up at us.

  I could see she was right. “Did he have family, Miz Elda?”

  “Aye, but they’re all gone now.”