“I heard he’s in mourning,” she said quietly. “Word reached Cashel from Cill Airne that his father has died. Desmond is the new Laird Tierney.” She waited, likely expecting Ravenna to call on her to reaffirm her oath, but instead the princess beckoned Marcus O’Reilly forward.
“Your Grace.” The old man stooped and kissed her hand.
“I have heard you told my mother of your intention to step aside.”
O’Reilly nodded. “The weight of my years is upon me, Your Grace. I long to return to Cóbh to live out my days in peace.”
“I’m sure you do,” Berengar interrupted, and all eyes fell on him. “And I think we both know why.”
“I beg your pardon?”
When the warden stepped forward, Seamus and his companions walked the length of the throne room behind him, carrying a heavy chest.
“I dispatched Seamus and his friends to your estate at Cóbh. Care to see what they found?”
The guards heaved the chest onto the floor, where it overturned at O’Reilly’s feet, spilling gold coins across the floor.
“These are coins from the royal treasury!” Ronan exclaimed. “What is the meaning of this?”
“It seems Marcus here discovered the true nature of King Mór’s arrangement with the Witches of the Golden Vale,” Berengar said. “I’m surprised I didn’t see it sooner. If anyone could have uncovered such a well-guarded secret, it would have been you.”
Most of the court appeared taken aback, but Ravenna seemed to have pieced everything together. The princess’ eyes narrowed in O’Reilly’s direction. “It was you. You were the blackmailer.”
“I would never—”
“Don’t bother,” Berengar said. “Your handwriting matches the alterations made in the Exchequer’s records. You used your position to extort the king of Munster to enrich yourself and then tried to cover it up. With the investigation into his murder, you were afraid of being exposed, so you sent your servant to raid his chambers in a search for his journal. It’s funny—the king’s journal never mentioned you. If you hadn’t told your man to spy on us, I might not have suspected your involvement.”
The reason O’Reilly had tried so hard to convince him that Alannah and Ronan were engaged in an affair suddenly became clear. He was trying to deflect blame away from himself. O’Reilly probably planned to step down from the very moment he learned of the king’s death. He wanted to be as far away from the castle as possible.
“This is an outrage,” O’Reilly protested.
“I’m betting you tipped off the Danes about the shipment of gold as well, which probably means you helped them enter Cashel on the night of the queen’s coronation. You were working with Stormsson all along, weren’t you?”
“You treacherous snake.” Ravenna’s voice was full of wrath. “You killed them.”
O’Reilly glanced around the room, looking for allies, but he had none. He bowed his head in defeat. “I admit I knew of the affair with the witches. I used that knowledge to extort King Mór, but I never conspired to murder him. You have to believe me! I would never have wanted him dead, or Queen Alannah for that matter. I cared for them.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” Berengar said, inches from O’Reilly. The old man swallowed and took a step back, but there was nowhere to flee to. He was caught like a rat in a trap. He turned instead to Princess Ravenna. “I never helped Gorr Stormsson. I knew nothing of the stolen shipments.”
Berengar frowned. O’Reilly was a talented liar, but there was something in the old man’s desperate plea that gave him pause. While O’Reilly had confessed his culpability in the matter of the king’s blackmail, that didn’t necessarily mean he was the assassin, even if it provided ample motive for the crime. No, there was something else that concerned the warden, but before he could proceed, he needed to be certain.
Ronan reached for his sword. “Princess, allow me to bring you this traitor’s head.”
O’Reilly threw himself at the princess’ feet. “Show mercy, Your Grace—I beg you.”
“You shall not die.” Ravenna’s voice was full of venom. “You would have had me live out my days as a prisoner. It seems only right you should suffer the same fate. You will spend the rest of your wretched life locked within the dungeon, under the very halls you once walked. Captain Corrin, see to it this filth never sees the sunlight again.”
For once, O’Reilly had nothing to say. The guards seized him and carried him from the throne room.
“What of Gorr Stormsson?” a member of the Rí Tuaithe asked the princess. “He must be brought to justice for his part in the queen’s death. We cannot allow the Danes to attack our city unanswered.”
“Gorr Stormsson is dead.” Ravenna’s remarks were greeted by a stunned silence. “Warden Berengar defeated him in combat and overthrew his stronghold, yet the Viking threat remains.” She looked again to Ronan. “That is why I entrust you with this additional responsibility. In your last act as thane, you will take half of our army to the coast to destroy their fleet. When they see their captain is dead, they will flee and never return.”
Ronan bowed low. “It will be done, Your Grace.”
Ravenna returned to the dais. “With the Witches of the Golden Vale, the crone of the Devil’s Bit, and Gorr Stormsson dead, it will not be long before Munster will again be at peace. I will require your help to restore our land to greatness in the days to come.”
“You’ll need someone here to keep order while I’m gone,” Ronan said. “If I’m to take half the army, our forces will be stretched thin. I advise you to appoint a new thane at once.”
“I have a suggestion,” Berengar interjected. “Why not Desmond of Cill Airne?”
“Desmond?” Ronan asked, surprised.
Berengar nodded. “He has proven himself loyal many times. It was Desmond who helped me rescue Morwen from Innisfallen. He has experience running a large city, and he and the princess are childhood friends.”
“Very well,” Ravenna said. “I will summon him here at once.”
“Actually, I was hoping to be the one to deliver the news.”
The princess raised an eyebrow. “As you wish. Now, my lords, I take my leave of you to pay my respects to my mother.”
The warden departed the castle once more outfitted in his armor and bearskin cloak. It felt good to have his weapons at his side again. After a lengthy walk, he came to Desmond’s city dwelling, a lofty mansion built into the hillside to look out over Cashel. It was said to have been in Laird Tierney’s family for generations. Berengar arrived at the residence with only Faolán for company, the princess’ letter in hand. Well-dressed servants immediately ushered him inside. The chamberlain led him into a sunlit hall adorned with windows and gold tapestries, where Berengar waited until Desmond appeared.
“Word reached me of your return, Warden Berengar. I’m glad to see you here safely, my friend.”
“It’s been an eventful day.”
“Indeed. I’ve heard the rumors of that nasty business with Marcus O’Reilly, although I can’t say I’m surprised. I gather he was the man responsible for the king’s murder?”
“Perhaps. But I didn’t come here to talk about the king’s death. I’m here at the princess’ behest.” Berengar handed Desmond the princess’ message and watched as he digested its contents. “I believe congratulations are in order, Laird Tierney. Or should I say, Thane Tierney?”
Desmond smiled. “You honor me, Warden Berengar. I thought I had fallen out of favor with the princess when she rejected my proposal, but it says here you personally advised Ravenna on my appointment. This calls for a celebration.” He summoned a servant, who produced a pitcher of wine.
“None for me.”
“I take it you’ve heard of my father’s passing, then,” Desmond said.
“You were quite devoted to him, as I recall.”
“He was ill for a long time. I am content his suffering has ended.” Desmond took a goblet and raised it to his lips. “Now we must
look to the future. Rest assured, I will not forget the role you played in my ascension. Tara will have a friend in Munster’s thane whenever you require.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” They walked together down the hall. The guards Desmond brought with him from Cill Airne stared forward blindly, motionless at their posts. “There were those who spoke against your appointment. Some found your absence on the night of the queen’s coronation suspicious.”
“Utter nonsense,” Desmond said with a shake of his head. “I knew Alannah from our time at Tuathal’s Keep. I would never have harmed her.”
“That’s exactly what I said.” Berengar laid a hand on Desmond’s shoulder and lowered his voice, as if they were two old friends speaking about old times. “Of course, I did find it curious to discover that Gorr Stormsson had taken you prisoner some years ago.”
Desmond’s expression betrayed a sign of unease. “Where did you hear that?”
“Princess Ravenna told me on the eve of the coronation. It came as a surprise, since you denied any dealings with the Danes. Still, I was saddened to learn your father refused to pay the ransom. It must have been awful for you, a Viking prisoner for months.”
The muscles around Desmond’s jaw tightened. “It was unpleasant, yes, though I understood sacrifices must be made in the name of the realm.”
Berengar removed his hand. “Of course, then I learned that you studied alchemy from the masters at Cill Airne in your youth, before your father forbade it. That’s when it struck me—for someone skilled in such arts, arranging a poisoning would have been an easy matter.”
Desmond came to a sudden stop. “What are you saying?”
“I suspect it was easy to poison your father. He was an old man to begin with. But why stop there, when your bloodline puts you within reach of the throne? The Demon’s Whisper was likely more difficult to manage. Thankfully you had the Witches of the Golden Vale to lend a helping hand. I wonder if you hatched the plan before you were taken captive, or if it was in your mind from the start? Perhaps you and Stormsson planned to divide Munster between you. The Danes would rule to the east, and you to the west. That’s why you weren’t at the coronation, wasn’t it? You smuggled the raiding party into the city to murder Alannah and abduct Ravenna.”
“Have you shared this theory with anyone else?”
“No. I wanted to discuss it with you first.”
Desmond relaxed, and the smile returned to his face. “I’m afraid it’s true. You’re cleverer than you look, Warden Berengar, but not as clever as you think. Guards!”
Desmond’s guards drew their weapons and stepped forward. Faolán barked a warning, and when the warden glanced around the room, he found himself completely surrounded.
“I won’t go down without a fight,” Berengar said, reaching for his axe.
Desmond laughed. “I believe you. With you out of my way and Ronan kind enough to leave the city with half the army, I only have to reach out my hand and take the castle for myself. Given my new powers as thane, it should be an easy task. Then I will be king of Munster. This is how it ends for you, my friend. It seems the famous warden is only a man after all. You were a fool to trust me.”
“I didn’t.”
Desmond’s look of triumph faded. At that moment, a host of castle guards stormed inside the hall, vastly outnumbering the opposing forces. Archers trained their arrows at the guards surrounding Berengar, who broke ranks around him to form a single unit.
“We heard his confession,” Corrin said. “Just as you said.”
“What is this?” Desmond demanded.
Berengar nodded and pointed his axe at Desmond. “Laird Tierney, for the high crime of regicide, I sentence you to die, in the name of the High Queen.”
“Kill them!” Desmond shouted to his men.
The two sides regarded each other before Berengar issued a battle cry and charged at Desmond, and open conflict broke out within the confines of the hall. In such tight quarters, the fighting was close and bloody. Corrin’s archers unleashed their arrows as the foot soldiers marched forward with their spears out. Though fewer in number, Desmond’s guards stood their ground, even as their comrades dropped left and right. Berengar hacked at the enemies’ shields while Faolán attacked their legs, until at last he broke through the enemy ranks and ran in pursuit of Desmond.
The clamor of battle echoed at his back as he sprinted into the adjoining chamber, a narrow hallway that ended in a balcony overlooking the city. Desmond appeared to have vanished from sight. The warden slowed his pace and advanced cautiously. Faolán growled low, alerting him to the presence of a servant girl crouched low, shaking in fear. Berengar looked at her, and the girl’s eyes shifted toward an open doorway a short distance away, from which Desmond leapt at him, wielding a sword.
“It’s over,” Berengar said, meeting the first strike with his axe. “Your forces are outmatched. You’ve lost.”
“Never.” Desmond’s movements were swift and dexterous. Each attack was timed with near perfect precision. It was clear he had been well trained in the art of combat by the sword masters at Cill Airne.
The pair exchanged blows several times in rapid succession. Each time, Berengar countered Desmond’s attack and forced him back, but the tight space limited his advantage in size. The duel took them the length of the hallway, and the fight spilled onto the balcony, where at last Berengar overpowered his foe, striking repeatedly with his axe until Desmond lost his footing and fell. The sword went flying over the side.
“Surrender now,” Berengar said.
When Desmond grabbed a hidden dagger in his sleeve and lunged at Berengar, Faolán pounced on him and sank her teeth into his forearm. Desmond stared into the wolfhound’s amber eyes, paralyzed by fear.
“I’m tempted to let her have you,” Berengar said. “Though I suppose I should take you to the princess to give an account of your misdeeds and answer for your crimes. On your feet.”
Desmond stood, Berengar’s axe pointed at his chest. He opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped suddenly. He looked over his shoulder, and a strange look came over his face.
“Don’t try it.” Berengar reached for him, but it was too late.
Desmond jumped from the balcony, falling to his death.
Berengar again faced the throne. The attention of every soul in the room was fixed upon the warden, from the lords of Munster to the guards at their posts. None uttered a word as he delivered his account to the princess. Starting with his initial summons from King Mór, Berengar recounted all the events that followed, detailing his investigation into Mór’s death. He did not do so alone. In front of all those gathered in their midst, he acknowledged Morwen’s assistance as she stood at his side. The magician was unusually reluctant to speak, which was easy enough to understand. As the king’s secret daughter, she’d spent her entire life in the shadows. For once, it was her time to be seen for who she truly was.
As scribes transcribed his words, Berengar pieced together all that occurred. No one stood to gain more from the death of the king and his family than Desmond, who was fourth in line to the throne. Having poisoned his father slowly over time to gain power within Cill Airne, he conspired with Gorr Stormsson to assassinate King Mór. Desmond used Laird Tierney’s wealth to finance the déisi and contract the Brotherhood of Thieves, and Stormsson recruited the Witches of the Golden Vale to their side. Though Marcus O’Reilly had indeed blackmailed the king using the knowledge of Mór’s affair with the witches, he was never a part of the plot. While some details were still unclear—Berengar remained uncertain how Desmond managed to uncover the route of the gold shipments—for the most part, everything fit.
A small uproar ensued when he revealed Desmond’s role in the plot, until Ravenna held up a hand to silence the court. The princess remained stoic throughout. While the scribes completed their transcriptions, he took a moment to study her when he was finished speaking, unable to forget the softness of her lips against his. The vulnerability he�
�d witnessed in private had been replaced by the hardened expression she showed to the world. It wasn’t the first time she’d been betrayed by someone close to her.
The room’s occupants followed his gaze, looking to their new monarch. Ravenna ordered word of Berengar’s discoveries to be spread through the city. Copies of the scribes’ transcriptions were to be sent to Tara, the four remaining kings and queens of Fál, and each of Munster’s noble houses.
Ravenna addressed the court. “This has been a dark chapter in Munster’s history. But now the darkness has passed. In my father’s name, I swear to you our kingdom will emerge stronger and more united than ever before. Now is the time to remember the fallen and honor the living.”
Starting with Berengar, she thanked those who had stood by her side, including Ronan, who had already left Cashel with his soldiers, and Corrin, who confirmed the warden’s account of Desmond’s admission. Last of all, she beckoned to Morwen from the throne.
“Lady Morwen, step forward.”
Morwen knelt before the dais. “Your Grace.”
“We have an ugly history,” Ravenna said quietly before raising her voice. She looked not at Morwen, but at the crowd. “Was Munster not complicit in the purges that followed the Shadow Wars? Did you not allow Leinster’s witch hunters into our realm to hunt those whose only crime was being something other than human? After my father’s death, how quickly the tolerant and accepting people of Munster began burning imaginary fairies and running goblins from their businesses.
“Yet before you stands a magician who rescued the kingdom from destruction. So I say to you now—from this day forth, magic and nonhuman creatures are to be brought under the protection of the crown. Anyone who harms someone on suspicion of magic will have such harm done to them.” There was grumbling in some corners of the room, and the princess’ eyes flashed with anger. “If you do not enforce this proclamation, your lands and titles are forfeit.”
The Blood of Kings Page 30