by Mia Pride
“You know why I have come, Garreth,” Aonghus finally stopped laughing and grew serious as he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword at his hip. “I’ve come to finish this. I want your land. I want your cattle. I want your wife. And I will have them all.”
“You have never even met my wife. What if she is not to your liking?”
Aonghus snorted and shrugged, “I care not what she looks like. I will have her, and then give her to my men if I am unsatisfied.”
Garreth tensed his legs, preparing for battle. His breathing grew heavy and his need to take Aonghus out of this world consumed him. Aonghus meant only to rile Garreth, but all he was doing was sealing his own fate.
“I’ll make you a deal, Aonghus. You cannot get through these gates on your own. I have three score more warriors on the other side awaiting my command. One word and you and your men will never return home. But this need not be a bloodbath. Nay. This is between me and you. Fight me now, man to man, and if you slay me, you shall call Coraindt and its people, land, and cattle yours. My men will willingly open the gates for their new king, as long as you promise not to harm any of them.”
Aonghus stroked his long red beard with the hand that was not on the hilt of his sword and straightened up with clear interest. “Tis a mighty promise you offer me. And what do you get if you prevail?” he narrowed his gaze warningly. “You cannot have my land. There are too many men willing to take my place.”
Garreth laughed mockingly, finally seeing an opening to insult Aonghus in a way that would hurt the most. It was said that the man cared not for his wife or even his children or his people. But his land...aye, he took great pride in that scrap of land called Erdini. “I have nay wish to claim your worthless plot of land as my own. I think you know Coraindt has all I shall ever need. Tis why you seek it. We have access to the river and more cattle in one byre than you have in all your land combined. Our warriors are strong, our lassies are bonny, and we have more crops than we know what to do with. Nay, I have nay desire to obtain your useless tuath.”
Aonghus growled and bristled, feeling the sting of Garreth’s words. “Then, what is it you wish to gain, King Garreth?”
“Nothing more than vengeance for the death of my father!” Garreth roared, planting his feet wide and readying his sword.
“You cannot win, Garreth. I outweigh you and I am much taller and stronger. I cannot wait to plow your wife tonight,” Aonghus growled as he copied Garreth’s stance and began to step forward.
The men circled each other for a moment, sizing one another up and waiting to strike. Garreth knew he had rattled Aonghus. Not only was Aonghus emotionally weaker, he was also a weaker fighter. He believed himself superior because he was taller and heavier, but Garreth had the skill, speed, and a lust for revenge that would guide him toward victory. He had something to fight for and knew he would take the day. Knew it so well, he offered Aonghus everything he owned, because he knew Aonghus would never earn it. He could not beat Garreth.
Deciding the time had come to truly rattle Aonghus once as for all, to show the man his skills were nothing compared to Garreth’s, he let out a roar that seemed to shake the very earth around them and clashed his sword down onto Aonghus’s with all his might. He felt the reverberation of the metal running through his forearms painfully, but he knew Aonghus had felt it as well. Aonghus shouted and thrust his sword directly toward Garreth, trying to go for his belly, but Garreth shifted on his feet and stepped away, watching Aonghus falter clumsily. The man was brash and fought the same way he ruled: with brute force, instead of strategy.
Garreth evaded him a few more times and watched as Aonghus grew red with anger and embarrassment. The man looked like a fool swinging and missing, while Garreth taunted him and danced away from every blow. “Curse you Garreth Mac Cecht!” Aonghus bellowed as he swung again and missed.
This was it. Aonghus was so thoroughly flustered that he had no idea Garreth had only been saving his strength and biding his time. Stepping straight in front of Aonghus, Garreth watched as the man heaved and narrowed his eyes, raising his sword high above his head. Everything slowed down until Garreth could feel every pound of his heart, every breath from his lungs. He could hear the leaves rustling in the breeze and feel the wind softly blowing across his neck. Every sense was heightened as he honed in on his target.
Just as his enemy began to lower his sword for what would be a lethal head blow, Garreth swiftly thrust his own sword forward, straight into the heart of the man who had slain his father. He could hear bone crunching and felt his weapon sliding deeper into Aonghus’s flesh.
Yanking his sword out forcefully, he watched as Aonghus fell to the earth, dropping his sword and clutching at his chest as his eyes glazed over and blood spilled from him like a river.
“That was for my father, King Connor Mac Cecht of Coraindt!” Garreth roared, feeling the relief of victory coursing through his veins. Then he spit on Aonghus and leaned down toward the dying man’s ear. “And that was for my wife, Queen Ceara Mac Cecht of Coraindt. You will never dishonor her ever again.”
As Garreth stood up and backed away, he saw Aonghus’s eyes slip closed while more blood flooded the ground surrounding his limp body. He heard one last gurgling breath leave the man’s lungs and watched as the life left Aonghus forever.
Killing a man was never easy. It never made Garreth happy or filled him with pride as it did for some warriors. It left scars on his soul that he knew would never heal. But sometimes it was necessary and, as hard as it was to see the lifeless form of a man he had killed lying at his feet, he felt relief that his people were finally safe and he had avenged his father. Too many innocent people had died by Aonghus’s hand just in Coraindt. Only the gods knew how many of Erdini’s people had also suffered. Garreth hoped this would be a new beginning for the people of Erdini.
Looking up, he saw the wide-eyed stares of the warriors still on their horses. Some stared at their defeated king, now nothing more than a heap of lifeless flesh lying in a pile of blood and leaves, and some stared at Garreth with wide gaping mouths. But none looked sorry to see their King dead. None looked like men ready to dismount and seek their own revenge. Nobody cared to defend his honor. And Garreth knew then, in that moment, this was the result of a man who lived his life cruelly, never truly earning the respect of his men. He vowed to himself in that moment that when he became king, he would always be humble, kind, and gentle to his own people. He would earn respect because he deserved it, not because he forced his will on his people.
Looking up at the warriors, Garreth cleared his throat. “Take him away from my lands. I never wish to see Aonghus Ó’Néill’s face again. And warn your next chieftain to never come seeking to honor his predecessor, for he shall not defeat me either.”
The warrior leading the group dismounted and walked up to Garreth slowly. The man looked down at Aonghus and then back up at Garreth. “Nay man will ever seek to defend this man. You have my word on that. Nay man would ever choose to lose his life to honor a man who never honored him.”
Garreth nodded in understanding. “I only hope we can seek better relations between Coraindt and Erdini. Tis all my father ever wanted. Tis all I want. I meant what I said about our supplies and crops. We have much and we are always open to fair trade.” He put his arm out to the warrior, hoping they could finally put these skirmishes to rest. Relief flooded Garreth as the man smiled back and clasped Garreth’s forearm.
“Aye, we would like that. None of us ever agreed with Aonghus. But he threatened to kill or harm our families if we did not follow.”
Garreth grimaced as he thought about what sort of man could do such a thing. It made his stomach churn to even think about it. “I must get back to my people. Please tell your new king that he is always welcome here at Coraindt and we are willing to put the past behind us if he is.” The man stepped away, mounted his horse and with a nod at Garreth, directed his men silently and slowly away from the gates of Coraindt.
I
T STILL DID NOT FEEL real when Garreth walked back through the gates of his village and saw the worried looks on the faces of his people. They must all know what transpired outside already, but his revenge was a hollow thing. It did not bring back his father and his people must see the grief in his eyes as he limped his way toward the gathering hall.
Where was Ceara? She must have known he had just been fighting to the death outside the village. Everyone had run and screamed when the Erdini warriors approached. Was it so much to ask that the very woman whose honor he defended should meet him at the gates after a deadly battle? Perhaps it was too much to ask for Ceara. She obviously did not love him as he loved her.
The thought tore at his heart. Aye, he had finally avenged his father, but for what? King Connor’s body still lie on a table in the gathering hall, lifeless as it had before, and his wife was nowhere to be found. He felt empty inside. He wished he could control his emotions now as he had while fighting Aonghus, but with every step toward the hall, closer to where his father’s body lie and with no sign of his wife, he felt himself shattering, ready to collapse with grief. Ready to give up. Why did Aonghus show up today of all days? On the day they would bury his father forever?
When he stepped foot into the gathering hall, all voices silenced, and all eyes locked on him. The frowns and pitiful stares were enough to break him, but one look at the table in the center of the room with his father laid out on it, garbed in all white and a shining golden crown adorning his head, sent him crashing to his knees.
Loud gasps filled the crowded room and suddenly the smoke from the hearth was stifling. The pain in his chest at the loss of his father doubled at the sight of his cold body. King Connor looked as if he were merely sleeping, as if the life-stealing gut wound he bore did not exist beneath his pristine white robes. His long gray hair had been meticulously combed and small fresh flowers surrounded his body, along with sweet herbs to overpower the scent of death.
Oh, gods, nay. Death. His father lay before him, dead. This was his wake. The wake his wife had worked so very hard to set up for him, and yet he felt a scathing resentment burning inside his chest toward her. Where was his wife? Garreth lay crumpled on the earthen floor, tears streaming down his face after fighting a deadly battle, and his wife, the woman whose role it was to comfort him, who had vowed to be there for him in all ways, was not here next to him as his heart bled onto the floor.
A warm hand slid down his hunched back and he reached out to grip it hard. “Ceara.”
“Nay,” the familiar voice whispered in his ear. He looked over his shoulder and saw Hannah kneeling down next to him, running her nails over the linen fabric covering his sweaty back.
He flinched at her touch. He did not want her touch. He wanted his wife. “Where is Ceara?” he whispered, looking down at the ground to hide his pain.
Hannah snorted rudely and came around to face him. “She is not here. But I am.”
Garreth growled, feeling all the pent up emotions beginning to bubble to the surface. He tensed under her continuous stroking over his back and grit his teeth. “I asked where my wife is,” he demanded, slowly coming up to his feet. All eyes were on him and Hannah, but he could not care. He scanned the room, seeking a small lass with fiery red waves and eyes as green as the rolling hills of Ériu.
“Last I saw her, she was breaking her fast with warriors from Iverni,” Hannah smirked and he wanted to strangle her. How dare she revel in his pain.
He spun around to storm out of the hall, when he felt Hannah grip the sleeve of his tunic. “I cannot imagine why you married that lass when you could have had me instead.”
Garreth saw red. Not even Aonghus’s spiteful words had affected him as much as Hannah’s did. All the blood in his body went straight to his hot head and the anger he always tried so hard to control boiled over. Spinning around to face her, he gripped her shoulders tightly and gave her a small shake. She would learn to never doubt his marriage to Ceara again. And yet, there was still no sign of his wife. Perhaps Hannah told the truth. Perhaps the connection he thought was growing between him and Ceara would never go beyond the physical.
Before he could say what he wanted to say to Hannah, to tell her to stay away from him, to stay away from his wife, he saw her glance over his shoulder and smile smugly. “Poor, Garreth. Your wife has left you to grieve alone. I will not allow that.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted her lips firmly on his. He grunted and gripped her shoulders tighter, trying to pry her claws away from his neck. Her nails dug into his flesh and he was certain she would draw blood.
A loud sob broke the silence just behind him as he finally yanked Hannah away from him. His heart plummeted before he could even turn around. He knew his wife stood behind him now. Knew she saw Hannah kissing him. Knew she believed he had already betrayed his vow to her.
“Ceara,” he pleaded as he turned slowly, hoping she would allow him to speak before she ran away. The fire in her eyes told him she was not some weeping lass who would simply flee the scene.
Dropping the basket she held in her hand, Ceara stepped forward, balling her fist tightly at her side and then took another step closer. Her face was red and her eyes narrowed “Ceara, mo chroí,” he whispered. “I was looking for you.”
Stepping up to him, she lifted the back of his hair and looked at his neck. Her finger ran along the base and he winced at the sting he felt. Her fingers came up to his eyes and, as he suspected, Hannah had drawn blood.
Ceara swallowed hard and narrowed her eyes at him again, biting her bottom lip as if trying desperately to control her tongue. Then, her gaze shifted to Hannah, who still stood behind him, looking smug and victorious, clearly thrilled to have been caught kissing him and causing mistrust in his new marriage.
Ceara clenched her fist again and stepped forward. He was certain his wife was going to knock him senseless. He would prefer a sad lass who ran away.
He watched in awe as she stepped passed him and swung the full strength of her right hook into Hannah’s nose. The sound of cartilage crunching seemed to echo off the walls of the hall as all mouths gaped wide. Hannah hollered and cried as she fell to the ground, holding her nose as blood burst forth, shuffling on her arse to try and evade Ceara.
“You nasty wee bitch,” Ceara whispered eerily. She held up her finger, still damp with Garreth’s blood, and wiped it on Hannah’s yellow dress. “If you ever touch my husband again, it will be more than your nose that I break. Understood?” Ceara stepped closer to Hannah and Garreth heard the lass whimper as she nodded and shuffled further away.
Ceara turned on her heels to glare at Garreth. Their eyes locked for a moment and he could see the triumph in her green irises boring into him. “We are even now,” she winked and smirked while she bent over to grab her basket and strode out of the hall.
His mouth hung slack with shock. His wife had just taken Hannah down! Her parting words rang in his ears and a burst of laughter blossomed in his chest. The wee lass sure had a devious mind. He had broken Mac Tavish’s nose, claiming her publicly, and now she had gone and done the same.
The murmuring voices in the hall increased to booming cheers and hoots as the rest of the village clearly gave approval of Ceara’s play on events.
“Whew, laddie!” a voice rang out above the din. “Tis a wee feisty lass ye married! Fortunate bastard!”
Another voice laughed and shouted, “Aye! She would have been the one dragging ye away over her shoulder this time, if she were not such a wee thing!” More laughter followed and more bawdy comments surrounded his ears. Hannah had disappeared, no doubt running from the embarrassment and seeking aid for her broken nose. He wanted to pity her, but with the sting of her nails still fresh on the back of his neck and the look he saw her send Ceara, he could not find it in himself to care. She tried to come between him and his wife, and it might have worked on a lesser woman. But not on his Ceara. Nay, she was a force of nature.
Running after her, he left the hall and barre
led through the crowd, searching for his wife. He found her walking through the market and he sprinted up behind her, whipping her body around to face him and crashing her into his chest. A crowd of onlookers encircled them as he dipped her backward and kissed her like she was the air he breathed. She was the air he breathed.
In only a few short days, Ceara had come to mean everything to him. The resentment he felt at her absence the last few days slipped away. She was a good wife. She had worked tirelessly to give his father a wake fit for a king. His heart grew four times larger as he realized how fortunate he was to have a woman like her. She would never question his loyalty, he knew that now. And he would never question hers. He did not care if she broke her fast with Iverni warriors, for she was his and his alone. Still, he did wonder where she had been when his battle ended.
More cheers surrounded them as he broke away from the intense kiss he planted on her now swollen lips. Her face flushed prettily and he loved that, despite the many new ways he had taught her to use her body in private over the past few days, he could still make her blush like an untouched lass.
“I am sorry I was not there after your battle, Garreth. Once I heard you survived and had defeated Aonghus, I ran back to the house to gather my basket of clean linens and healing herbs in case you were wounded. When I came back, you were gone. Och, I was worried out of my mind and not thinking straight. Gods, Garreth! I thought I might lose you!” She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and placed her ear against his wildly beating heart. “I knew then that you must have gone to visit your father.” She looked up at him and frowned. “I am very sorry you had to see your father without me by your side.”
“What you did for my father...” his voice broke off and he shook his head. “And just now, you could have believed I betrayed you, but you did not. You trusted me.”