The Seventh Son

by Ashley York

He settled himself again, leaning his head back against the cave wall and closing his eyes.

  Tisa sat down as well, hidden by darker shadows.

  “Is this where ye live?” Tadhg didn’t open his eyes.

  “Sometimes.” Her voice low and deep.

  He looked at her. “And when is sometimes? When it’s hailing outside?”

  Tisa laughed at his sarcasm. “Aye.”

  He continued to watch her a few more minutes before closing his eyes again.

  She pulled the fur close despite the warmth that flooded her. Unlike on the road or when others were around, she could take in her fill of him. They were alone. His hair had grown quite long as if he’d not the inclination to see to such things. Where he’d had shorter curls, he now had longer waves making his chiseled features even more pronounced. More handsome. His legs were firm and dark with hair. The brat he still wore was held at the neck by a circular pin and his broad shoulders rose with each breath. She could almost feel his breath on her face.

  He opened his eyes, piercing her with his look. “Save me from my own dark thoughts. Tell me of yerself.”

  Her breath caught, recognizing that familiar quality in his voice from when they were young, the bitterness gone.

  “I am an outcast.” She decided to tell the story of the people she had come to meet. “The chieftain finds a reason to throw us away and we live out here, in the wilds.”

  “We?”

  Damn, she hadn’t thought about hiding that fact. She should have spoken of only herself. “Aye, my brother and I.”

  “Oh, ye’ve a brother? And where is he?”

  Tisa looked around, trying to come up with some plausible reason they were separated. “He must have been caught in the storm as well.”

  “Ye needn’t lie on my account. Ye are safe with me even if ye are alone. I will not harm ye.”

  “I dunna lie.”

  “Then where is this brother? Why would ye not stay together?”

  Tisa shrugged. Tadhg snorted and unhooked his brat. He stood and spread it out on the ground. Lying on his back, he used his arms to pillow his head and looked up at the ceiling. She licked her dry lips and thought of going to him, laying her head on his solid shoulder, his strong arms closing around her. Just like in her dreams.

  “Strange how the storm just comes upon ye suddenly here. I suppose it is the sea that hides the oncoming storm.”

  Tisa laughed then covered her mouth. He tipped his head back, lines on his forehead, to see her.

  “Why do ye laugh?”

  “The storm canna hide.”

  “Aye.”

  She’d always found him very entertaining. He often laughed at things that would cause another consternation. “‘Tis important to be able to laugh.”

  He closed his eyes. “I’ve not much to laugh at of late.”

  The voice of a sad man and it tugged at her heart. “No doubt ‘twill get better.”

  “Nae. Despite what I wish to have happen, I will not spend my days laughing. Instead, I will pine over what can never be and dream of a woman I can never have.”

  Tisa’s breath caught. She waited for him to say more but he did not. To whom did he refer? Certainly it wasn’t her. He could barely stand to be in her presence. He must have met another. Her heart squeezed. She should be happy for him but she would never stop loving him. His foot slid. He cleared his throat.

  “Why do ye think we have a heart? To have a deep love for people who will never accept what ye offer?”

  He deserved to be happy. She wanted that for him.

  “Mayhap if ye go to her again and tell her how ye feel,” she said.

  “Ah, ye are a romantic, my friend. ‘Twould be a wasted gesture. She cares not for me or my feelings.”

  How could anyone not love this man? “Have ye told her how ye feel?”

  “I have. And she swore she felt the same. Then she went to be with another and left me alone.”

  Tisa would never have chosen another over Tadhg. She’d fought in the only way she knew how to keep him hers. Even now. He was the husband of her heart. Her one true love.

  “Mayhap she had no choice. Women have little choice. They are married off by their fathers and uncles,” she said.

  “That was the way of it.”

  She stilled herself, forcing her breathing to remain steady. In. Out. In. Out. “She was married to another?”

  “Aye. Betrothed to me but her father gave her to another.”

  Tears blurred her vision. “And ye love her still?”

  “It matters not. She warms his bed.” He took a shaky breath. “She’ll bear his children.”

  Never! “Mayhap she would choose to be with ye if she had a choice.”

  “Nae. Women are vile creatures,” his tone hardened, “they feign adoration, and love, and faithfulness but when ‘tis cold at night? They seek the arms of another and worry not about the consequences.”

  Tisa had never done that. What was he talking about?

  Tadhg sat up and leaned against the cold wall. He blew out a breath as if to push away his sad reminiscences. “What of ye? Has love served ye well?”

  “Nae. I was taken from the one I loved and now can find no way back.”

  “There is no way back. Ye must live the life ye have until, God willing, it ends quickly.”

  “That is no way to live.”

  “A life without love is no way to live.”

  “No way to live,” she repeated his words as if they had sworn a solemn vow.

  Tadhg stood suddenly, grabbed up his brat to wrap around himself. The hail had stopped.

  “I’ve enjoyed our talk.” He turned to her and said, “Safe travels.”

  “And to ye.”

  And he was gone. She stood looking out for a long while, long past the time she could hear his horse. The little space was empty and cold despite the fire that still burned. Tadhg turned angry scowls on her and showed her little patience but he’d professed his continued love for her. Her chest hurt from the loss of what might have been. Surely theirs would have been a deep, abiding love if they’d only had the chance to be together.

  “Tisa?” Will spoke to her from the passage.

  Turning, she tried to smile at him. “All is well. The man has left. He came in to be out of the storm not to follow me. Please let Aoife ken that. Ye are safe. He dunna ken ye are here. I need to get back before I am missed.”

  With a heavy heart, she walked back to the village, her face awash with tears. It would be even more difficult to face Tadhg now. She needed to tuck away what she knew, what she felt, the deep loss for the husband of her heart.

  Sean stood at the entrance to the longhouse, a mug of mead in his hand. Aodh, Darragh and Godwin sat at the head table.

  “Where have ye been?” he asked.

  “I saw our friend off with my missive. Mayhap he will not be missed with so many more here now. Were there any details forthcoming?”

  “We are to remain at the ready and continue our practicing.” Sean tipped his head at Tadhg, a crooked grin tucked in the corners of his mouth. “And we will have a celebration.”

  “For what purpose now?”

  “A wedding. The arrival of more forces. The sun coming up in the morning.” Sean’s tone was flat.

  “More forces than those here?”

  “Many more. It appears there are clans from across Eire that come to support Leofrid Godwin as King of England.” Sean drank from his cup. “I heard Gerrit and his men battled the western clans into submission, the ones with the ships.”

  “Ah. And they do enjoy their celebrating.” Tadhg retrieved his own libations, nodded to Darragh when he noticed his eyes following him, and returned to Sean. His back to the head table.

  “Darragh is a strange man.”

  Sean’s face showed no expression. He remained silent.

  “Ye can agree with me, Sean. ‘Tis not the same as speaking of his wife.”

  Sean nodded his head, a slow, deliberat
e movement.

  Tadhg narrowed his eyes at his friend then turned about and settled at a table not far from the back door, situating himself so that he could see all comings and goings. Tisa came in the back, her cheeks pink, breathing hard.

  The sight of her set his heart to beating faster. A lock of hair tucked into the corner of her mouth. Her lips a dark red. He glanced at Darragh and was surprised to find him not looking at Tisa but still watching him. When their eyes met, Darragh compressed his lips into a thin line. Tadhg preferred to watch Tisa. He followed her with his eyes as she went to her husband’s side, pulling out the hair as she spoke to him. Her backside as comely a sight as any other part of her.

  He forced his face away but could still feel Darragh’s eyes piercing him.

  Aodh stood, his embellished gold chalice in hand. “Tonight we celebrate for tomorrow my man, Malcolm, takes a wife!”

  Cheers went up although Malcolm was not present. The men glanced around but did not seem overly concerned at his absence and drank as enthusiastically as if he were there.

  Aodh continued. “And in a fortnight we sail for England with the best warriors in all of Eire. Victory will be ours. Huzzah.”

  “Huzzah!”

  Aodh drank deeply from his cup. Tadhg held his mug to his mouth but searched over the rim to lock eyes with Sean. Even riding like the wind, Cormac did not leave in time to get any word to the Normans of the impending attack. If they were to get the information to England, they would have to think of a new way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  ~

  THE SUN WAS BRIGHT but did little to ward off the chill in the air. A priest had been notified of the impending nuptials of Malcolm and Caireann. He arrived in time to break his fast before the ceremony. Although not considered a religious event, a blessing was always considered a good omen. Tisa sat at the high table beside her husband and considered there was definitely something to say about that, not having had a blessing herself.

  Darragh seemed in good spirits although totally ignoring the priest who sat at his elbow. His interest in Ian had not waned even with Breandan’s return. That one was not taking it well and Tisa worried for him. He seemed so lost without Darragh’s attention. After his sister had delivered a healthy son with no complications, he returned, no doubt expecting to pick up where he and Darragh had left off. Mayhap it would have been best for him to stay with his family.

  “Do ye come by for mass often?” Tisa spoke to the priest before spooning warm oats into her mouth.

  “I come by when I am asked. There has never been a regular time for my visits.”

  The man had a full head of short, gray hair. He glanced toward Darragh who sat between them. Her husband merely looked off over the men in the room as if searching someone out. Ian had not yet arrived.

  She smiled her encouragement at the priest and he continued.

  “Was it not so where ye come from?” he asked.

  “Nae,” Tisa said. “We had a chapel and a priest always at hand. He saw to the needs of the surrounding villages as well. We offered our protection and saw to his well-being when ‘twas necessary.”

  “Ah, not quite the way of it here.” The priest darted his eyes toward Darragh who again showed little interest in conversing with him.

  The priest turned his attention to his food. Tisa sighed. It had already been a trying morning. Caireann was certainly happy but her jumpiness was contagious. Tisa had helped with her gown, fixed her hair with a ring of new spring flowers, and tried to reassure her friend.

  “Malcolm loves ye! He will be kind. Thoughtful. Patient. Ye have no need to be concerned.”

  Tisa’s words had little effect. Nothing was beyond Caireann’s worry. The ceremony. The crowds of well-wishers. The fact that Malcolm had decided to accept his right for a honeyed-moon, even taking her south so that she could meet his mother. Caireann focused only on what could go wrong.

  “I’m afeard I will have no one to talk to. He’s taking me away even from ye.”

  “Not forever. And ye’ll have him to talk to! That is the way it should be. Ye’ll not need to have me to speak to.”

  Caireann had broken into a fresh flood of tears which nudged Tisa out the door. She was not helping her friend feel any better. On her way to the longhouse, she’d passed Malcolm. Unlike his bride to be, he seemed to be walking on clouds, greeting her with a wide smile.

  “Caireann is within. Methinks ‘twould be well for ye to spend time with her.”

  “I want nothing more than to do just that.”

  Tisa nibbled at her lower lip. “No one should bother ye if ye need some time.”

  Malcolm bowed. “My thanks, sweet lady. I will see to her.”

  Mayhap if the joining were seen to—no, Malcolm was not that sort of man. He’d wait for years if need be for her to be comfortable with him. He loved her most deeply. Her needs would always come first.

  “Tisa?”

  Darragh’s annoyed expression brought her out of her own thoughts. “Aye?”

  He rolled his eyes.

  She glanced around and saw Ian standing by the side door. “Ye are saying goodbye?”

  “Nae! I was asking if I needed to stay with ye for the joining ceremony.”

  Tisa didn’t miss the priest’s wide-eyed expression of surprise. The ceremony was not very long. Caireann and Malcolm would pledge themselves to each other before God and receive a blessing. The warriors were given the morning off to partake, no doubt since it was one of their own taking a wife.

  “Whatever ye think best,” she said.

  He smiled, walked toward Ian, and they left by the same door. The priest kept his eyes on her.

  “Is there something ye need?” she asked.

  “Ye are from the O’Brien Clan?”

  “I am Roland O’Brien’s youngest daughter.”

  “Ah, I remember Roland. He was very close with the MacNaughton?”

  She nodded.

  “I was the priest for the MacNaughton for many years.”

  “I dunna remember ye.”

  The man looked down into his food. “‘Twas very unsettling times when ye were young. There was much fighting. Many dying. Life itself so momentary.”

  “I have heard some of the stories.”

  “The MacNaughton had many sons, some who went with him to battle.”

  “But none were lost.”

  The priest jerked his head up. “Aye! The eldest son was lost. ‘Twas a terrible blow to Padraig. A son from the bride of his youth.”

  “He’d been married to someone before Moira?”

  “Not for very long. She died right after the birth. A high fever.”

  “What was his name?”

  The man frowned. “I dunna remember. He was raised by his mother’s clan. Only coming to the MacNaughton when the battles started. His own mother’s clan had been destroyed. He was a young man by then. That is how he came to fight beside Padraig.”

  “I have heard nothing about him.”

  “Mayhap I am speaking of what I should not. Beg pardon. Ancient history now.”

  Tisa smiled. She enjoyed the stories told at their gatherings with the MacNaughton and would have remembered one so intriguing as that. “Tadhg is here.”

  “Tadhg? I remember him very well. I hope to talk with him before I am sent away.”

  He reddened.

  “Sent away? They dunna like yer presence here?”

  “This clan has been close to the Norsemen who remain outside of the Christian faith. I am a reminder of things they would rather not be reminded of.”

  “How did ye come to be here today?”

  “Malcolm has been part of this clan since before Darragh’s father, when Eirnin was chieftain. He asked for me.”

  Tisa frowned. Malcolm’s loyalty to Aodh was so strong. It was surprising to hear he was not always his man.

  “Was Aodh not from this clan?”

  The priest looked around before answering. “He may have come from a
more southern clan, near the Liffey.”

  “I believed there were Christians to the south.”

  “Not all. The ones who kept to the pagan ways found themselves alone. Aodh came here with his young wife and son. Outcasts. When he put her aside to wed the chieftain’s daughter, Lilith, the church objected. That priest has since passed on but Aodh still prefers to not have me nearby, a reminder that he lives in sin.”

  Aodh chose that moment to swagger in. “Priest, yer talents are required.”

  The priest extended his hand to Tisa as he rose. “My name is Matthew. If ye ask for me to come, I will be here without hesitation.”

  “My thanks.”

  Matthew went to Aodh who kept his distance, indicating the man precede him out the door. Tisa followed behind to where the crowd had gathered. Caireann looked lovely wearing her best dress and the flowers in her hair. Malcolm’s hair was combed and his clothes were cleaned. He held his hand up and the crowd grew silent.

  “When I was a boy and came to learn my warrior skills from Eirnin, we had a building on the hill that served for our services. With Aodh’s permission, I would like to pledge to my wife and receive God’s blessing at that place.”

  Aodh shrugged his shoulder as if it mattered not at all to him. Tadhg stood outside the crowd, his back to her. Did he recognize Matthew? She should have asked how much time had passed since the priest left the MacNaughton Clan.

  The large group followed the path that circled up to the building Malcolm had shown her that first day when he told her she needed to learn the lay of the land. Tears welled. It seemed like such a long time ago now. Malcolm had been her very first friend here even if she hadn’t recognized it at the time. Now he seemed like a different man. A man fulfilled. His total focus on his love and seeing to her. When a few crude comments were made regarding their wedding night, Malcolm’s expression shut them down. No one dared go against the man. No doubt he’d noticed how upset it had made Caireann.

  By the time they reached the little building, it looked quite a bit different from her earlier visit. The entrance had been cleaned and set right. The interior was bright and welcoming with candles burning within. Caireann’s face broke into a huge smile and she reached up to kiss her husband. Malcolm bent to accept her thanks, hugging her gently to him.