Legacy of Luck

by Christy Nicholas

  With a gasp, she realized she didn’t know which ‘MacCrimmon lad’ she’d been sold to.

  Oh, please don’t let it be Donald. Please, please, please! Not that she was resigned to her fate, but at least Lochlann acted kind. Donald reminded her far too much of her father. Perhaps it was why he had made the match. What a neat little trap. To escape one brute into the arms of another.

  What could she do? Perhaps run away, but again, to where? Éamonn might help. Could she find him in a half hour? She would have to find time to wash as well, or her mother would know.

  Rushing to the river, she slipped several times in mud and wet grasses. She didn’t care. She went for a wash anyhow. On the way back she would have to be more careful, but she at least gained several precious minutes to search for Éamonn.

  She removed her shoes and walked right into the river. Gasping from the chill, she dunked and got her hair thoroughly wet. The water rushed high with the rains, and it cleaned her clothes in no time. She wouldn’t be staying in them after she got home anyhow. She would just tell her mother it still rained near the river.

  With some mad scrubbing in her hair—the brushing would take forever—she loped back to the fair. First, she checked the tanner’s booth. She saw Ruari, but there was no sign of Éamonn. Her heart fell. Wait! He stood there. Ruari’s bulk had completely eclipsed his slender brother.

  “Éamonn, I need your help, quickly!”

  “Katie? Why are you soaked? Are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine, but please, come away! I must speak to you.”

  With a confused nod to his brother, he came out and pulled her by the arm until they were behind the booth, away from prying eyes and curious ears.

  “What in the name of all that’s holy has gotten into you? What’s going on?”

  “I need your help, Éamonn.”

  He grinned, his dimples showing. “Anything, my sweet. Shall I fetch you a carriage? A rose?”

  Katie rolled her eyes. “Éamonn, stop messing about. My da is marrying me off today. We’ve got to find a way to stop it!”

  That rocked him. The shock showed in his eyes. He took a moment to digest the news. “Marrying you off? But you can say no! Please refuse, Katie. I can make a counter-offer! Wait… who is the groom?”

  “One of the MacCrimmons. He didn’t say which. I don’t think he really cares. Éamonn… if I don’t do this, he’ll… he’ll beat me. I can’t refuse him. And… and he traded me for a horse!” Her indignation came back strong.

  “Hmph. I’ll bet I know which horse, too. He is a beauty, I’ll grant you.”

  She stared at him. “Are you saying you approve of me being sold for a horse?”

  Hastily he shook his head, “No, no, of course not, a muirnín. Nothing of the sort. Just an admiration of the beast in question. I’d wanted to buy it myself.”

  “Focus, Éamonn! I have to get back. Ma is expecting me back any moment. To dress me like a prize for my new husband.”

  “I’ll find your dad and offer him… I don’t know. I’ll offer him something. He must be more interested in a love match if I can just offer him what he wants.”

  Katie had doubts about that. Her happiness had never been high on her father’s list of concerns. It must have shown on her face.

  “Hey, now, my love. My own true dear love. I will find a way. I promise. I promised before to protect you, remember? I will do so now. I swear I will protect you with my body, my name, whatever I have to give. Do you believe me?”

  “I want to… I do! But—”

  “Shhh. I’ll find a way.”

  She nodded. “I must fly. The wedding is in a few hours. Find him quickly!”

  She dashed off, careful not to slip again in the mud.

  PART II

  Chapter Six

  Éamonn paced the stall, digging a trench in the mud with his anxious footsteps. What could he offer? His family had some wealth, but a horse remained an expensive commodity. They had two work mares to pull the wagons, but nowhere near the same class as the grey stallion. Ciaran had a beautifully tooled saddle, a piece they put out in front of the booth to draw customers in. But what use would it be to a man who had no horse?

  He went to find his father.

  After a speedy explanation, Turlough shook his head.

  “I don’t know, son. Our wealth is our music, not our coin. I don’t suppose the fact you love the girl has much weight with her father?”

  “She says no. He doesn’t seem to have much affection for either girl, from what I’ve seen.”

  “How about arranging a deal with the MacCrimmon lad? Convince him to back out of the deal? After all, who wants to marry a girl whose heart is already given to someone else? It is just the heart, is it not?” Turlough narrowed his eyes at his son, knowing full well his reputation with the ladies.

  “Yes, Da. We’ve not even kissed yet. I swear. Da, she doesn’t even know which brother it is! If it’s Lochlann, there may be a chance. He seems a decent sort, despite all. But Donald—”

  “This is a right fine mess, no doubt. Here, let’s go approach Lochlann.”

  “Can… I don’t think I’ll be much help with him after that night at the dice ring—”

  “No, I’ll not do this for you. Perhaps it will make you realize your actions have consequences. I will come with you, though.”

  Éamonn heaved a sigh of relief. He’d have no chance at all on his own. But Turlough was a bard. Like the bards of legend, he could talk his way out of most situations armed with nothing but charm and sweet guile. Not a large chance—especially if Donald was the groom—but a chance.

  Lochlann wasn’t at the horse corral. The grey stallion stood tall, coat shimmering in the misty afternoon. Éamonn experienced another tug of envy at the beast.

  Next, they checked the boys’ wagon, off on the other side of the fairgrounds. Lochlann stood out front, washing his face with the water in a barrel. Éamonn hoped it meant he would be the groom. He held his breath as Turlough made his greetings.

  “Lochlann, how are you this fine, soft day?”

  Lochlann stared at Éamonn with narrowed eyes but answered pleasantly enough. “Just getting clean. I’ve business to take care of this afternoon, and want to appear nice.”

  “I don’t mean to pry into your business, certainly. However, I think I know what the business involves, and we’d like to propose a deal to you.”

  Lochlann stared at Turlough for several long moments. He stole a quick glance at Éamonn. Finally, he nodded.

  “I’ll talk to you, Turlough. You’ve always been fair to me. Him, though,” he flicked his hand as if shooing a fly, “I’m not interested in discussing anything with that arse.”

  Éamonn glanced at Turlough. How would this work? Turlough took a deep breath and turned back to Lochlann.

  “The matter concerns Éamonn, Lochlann. I need him to be part of it. Please, reconsider? It’s important. Otherwise, I wouldn’t ask. I realize my son has been unjust to you in the past.”

  Éamonn wanted to protest but he had to bide.

  “Fine. Let’s sit inside, then. No need to let the rest of the world know we’re talking.”

  Éamonn tried not to seethe. He just stood outside like an idjit while Turlough and Lochlann discussed his love for Katie, the marriage contract, her father, the horse—as if he had no part of any of it. His mind drifted. He thought of Katie and her temper. How had she reacted when her father had announced his ‘bargain’? Had she flown at him in a rage? Simmered until she burst? Comparing her to a hot pot of stew made him smile, but he quickly schooled his expression lest Lochlann believe he laughed.

  “But we’ve already made the deal, Turlough. It’s shaken on. Liam owns the horse, and I’ll be married to Katie in a few hours. There’s really nothing I can do to change it.”

  So Lochlann would be the groom. That was something, at least.

  “You could refuse to marry her.”

  Lochlann ‘s mouth dropped open, aghast. �
��Jilt her at the altar? I would never do such a thing to a lass! Besides, that would mean I reneged on a deal. I’m a horse trader, Turlough. My reputation is my life.”

  “You’re headed back to Scotland after this, aren’t you? Who cares what they think of you in the backwoods of Ireland?”

  “We’re Travelers. Word always spreads.”

  “There must be some way. She is already in love with my son, here, Lochlann. Surely you don’t want to marry a woman already in love to someone else?”

  Lochlann gazed at his feet before answering. “I… I don’t have much of a choice here. It really wasn’t my idea, but I have to go along with it. You’re right. I’d much rather marry a girl who loved me. But who does that? Parents arrange marriages so their children are well cared for. I have a decent business and a good family back on Skye. My father has a position as a piper with one of the great clans. Katie will be well taken care of, trust me. I won’t mistreat her.” He gazed at Éamonn now, eyes wide as if asking forgiveness. Not his idea? This must be Donald’s plan, then?

  “What if I were to… trade in exchange for your refusal?” Éamonn seldom heard his father talk sly.

  “Trade? Trade what?” Lochlann blinked owlishly a couple times.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve seen the fine saddle Ciaran made at our booth—”

  Éamonn held his breath.

  “The saddle? ‘Tis indeed a work of art. There must be hundreds of hours of work in it. You’d trade that, just for your son to have a shrew for a wife?”

  Turlough nodded. “I would. His happiness means everything to me.”

  Tears prickled behind Éamonn’s eyes. He must not allow them out while Lochlann watched.

  Lochlann glanced at his feet again, his mouth moving as if he spoke to himself. Finally, he shook his head. “I can’t, Turlough. This is Donald’s deal, and I can’t break it for him. He’s the eldest. I hate to admit it, but father put him in charge of me. I think he promised father that he’d find me a wife this trip, to ensure the family line.”

  Turlough brushed his hands through his long hair, a gesture Éamonn recognized as his own.

  “Is there aught I can offer which would change your mind, Lochlann? Anything at all?” Éamonn made a final, desperate offer.

  As if surprised Éamonn still stood there, Lochlann glanced up. Éamonn expected resentment, but he saw only defeat in the other man’s eyes.

  “No, Éamonn. I do wish we could find a way. I’m fond of the girl, and I don’t want to hurt her any more than you do. But Donald and her father are determined to make this happen.” His shaky tenor voice sounded choked.

  Turlough, Éamonn, and Lochlann all sighed at the same time. Éamonn smiled wanly at his erstwhile rival, and Lochlann returned it. At least he had repaired some of the damage he had caused with the cheating accusation.

  They left with desultory handshakes and returned to their own booth.

  “Da, I can’t just leave it like this. I can’t! I promised Katie I’d protect her.”

  “I can’t think of what else to do, Éamonn. I tried everything with Lochlann. And he doesn’t seem a bad sort. He’ll not mistreat her, after all. She’ll have protection, though it isn’t your own.”

  “We could… we could run away together. I’d spirit her out before the wedding and take her away, far away where we’d never be found.”

  “Son, don’t even think about it. Life on your own, without a Traveler group? You could never contact them again. Word would be out, and any Traveler would turn you in. You would constantly be on the run, like Diarmuid and Gráinne. And what would you do for a living? Your skills are gambling and horse trading—you need people for both of those. And when she is with child? How could she do all that alone? No, Éamonn, that’s no solution. Remember, I’ve been on my own on the road. It’s not as romantic as the tales want you to believe.”

  “There must be something, Da! I’m ready to go to the stones and ask the Fair Folk for help at this point.”

  “Don’t even joke about it, Éamonn. The Fair Folk are not to be called upon lightly.”

  “This isn’t lightly! It’s my life and my love!”

  “Sing me another song, son. You’ll have another ‘love of your life’ next fair. I’ve seen it happen.”

  “No, Da. This is the one. She’s the match for me, I swear to you!”

  Turlough sighed. “Éamonn, calm down. I know it seems like the end of the world just now, but in a few years, you’ll—”

  “You don’t understand, Da! I won’t be here in a couple of years unless I’m with Katie.”

  “Stop it, Éamonn! Get hold of yourself. If you’re that certain she is your love, there’s one more thing we can try, but I need time to prepare. I don’t know if it will do much good, but it’s a small chance.”

  “What? What are you going to do?”

  “You’ll see. Meet me out at the stones in about an hour.”

  “An hour? We don’t have much more time than that. What is it?”

  “Not now. Go.”

  Éamonn didn’t want to. He slunk away and thought of what he might do. Should he go find Katie? She likely wouldn’t be allowed to talk to him. Deirdre! She could carry a message to her sister. Where would she be? He went in search of Ciaran.

  He thanked Jesus Christ and all his saints when he saw the raven-haired lass chatting with his cousin. They were giggling over a flower Ciaran had in his hands.

  “Deirdre! I need your help. Would you do a favor for me?”

  Ciaran scowled at the interruption, but Éamonn brushed it off.

  Deirdre glared at him. “And a good morning to you, as well, Éamonn Doherty.”

  Bowing his head, Éamonn said, “Good morning, Deirdre, I’m sorry if I acted rudely. But I have an urgent need for your help.”

  Deirdre smiled. “Of course, Éamonn. I’m at your service,” she said in a lilting, cajoling tone. Ciaran’s scowl deepened.

  “I need you to take a message to your sister, right away. Could you?”

  She blinked a couple times. “To Katie? Whatever for? She’s busy this afternoon, anyhow. Family matters.” She flicked her hand and smiled.

  “I know what she’s busy with. I must get her a message. Can you bring it to her?” He tried to put all the urgency of his need in his voice. It must have gotten through for her light tone hardened.

  “Certainly I could. But I won’t. And if you truly know what she’s busy with, then you’ve no business sending her secret messages. Perhaps you should contact her fiancé if you’ve business with his bride.”

  With a sniff and flick of her hair, she turned her back on him and smiled sweetly at Ciaran.

  “Deirdre! Please, I need your help.” He’d never pleaded like this before. “What do you want from me? Anything, just help me tell Katie I’ve not given up.”

  She glanced back at him with a contemptuous sneer. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever you do won’t work. The deal’s done. If you knew my father at all, you’d know he never goes back on a bargain shaken upon.”

  “I do believe you are a spiteful wench, Deirdre O’Malley. Are you jealous of your sister, is that it? You want to see her suffer?”

  She drew herself up to her full height and placed a hand on her chest. “Me, spiteful? You don’t know Katie half as well as you think you do if you call me spiteful.”

  “You should find yourself a looking glass just now, Deirdre. You’ll see what I’m talking about. Ciaran, have your fun with her, but I wouldn’t keep her. She’s spoilt.”

  He stomped off to find the stone circle and his father.

  The mists conspired to confuse him. He knew where the circle stood, he’d been there several times. He’d even brought Katie there. But the rainy day had made the fog as thick as soup. It swirled and circled him, making his footfalls sound flat and distant. He thought he recognized one of the trees, but it might just seem familiar.

  Finally, he made it, soaked to the knees from the wet grasses. He shivered and pulle
d his cloak more closely around his shoulders. His father sat on the large flat stone at the center of the circle.

  “Come, Éamonn. I’ve something to show you.” He cradled a small thing in his hand.

  He held out a large, penannular cloak brooch. Exquisitely made from silver chased with gold knotwork, several rose-colored stones studded the piece. The interlaced design had birds and other animals. Éamonn let out the breath he held. It was as big as the palm of his father’s hand.

  “Do you think Lochlann would take this to refuse Katie?”

  “No. That’s not what I plan to do with it. We can never trade this away.” Turlough caressed the edge.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Nor should you. Let me tell you a story.”

  “Da, we don’t have time for a story!” Sometimes his father wasn’t completely anchored in reality.

  “Yes, we do. It’s not a long one, and I must tell it.”

  “Fine, tell your story then.”

  Adopting his storytelling posture, Turlough began. “Many generations ago, our family helped out a druid in distress.”

  “Father! Seriously, what does such a thing have to do with Katie?”

  In an unusually sharp tone, Turlough said, “Be quiet and listen, Éamonn. You will find out.”

  Éamonn settled on the stone across from his father with poor grace. It felt strangely warm. They sat on the enormous, low altar stone, like two monks at prayer. Turlough caressed the brooch while he spoke. Éamonn fancied he saw some small blue sparks as Turlough touched it, but it must have been his imagination.

  “Family legend says the druid had been hounded by the Christian monks, before even the arrival of St. Patrick to our shores. We don’t know what our family did to help him but help him we did. He rewarded our family for our assistance. This brooch became the reward. It is tied to our blood and gives the bearer… a gift.”

  “A gift? Father, stop being vague. What does it give?”

  “It depends. Each person is different. It gave me the music of the Fae.”

  For once, Éamonn considered before he spoke. This brooch was why his father played so sweetly? The idea had merit. Whether he was truly the son of Turlough O’Carolan or not, he absolutely sang the angels down from the heavens. Éamonn reached for the brooch.