by Jianne Carlo
Brand’s footsteps quickened as he recalled Mac Eiccnigh’s careless dismissal of Brand’s concern. If he and Nikolas did not take charge of the keep immediately, none would survive the imminent threat posed by Gunnar the Godless, Fagan the Fire-eater, and Irvin and their alliance. Jaw set, Brand did not bother knocking on the door to the king’s meeting room, but threw it open and marched inside.
“Is Étaín well?”
Surprised by the barked question and the king’s hostile expression, Brand stumbled, righted himself, and tucked one thumb under his sword belt. Determined to jolt Mac Eiccnigh out of his passivity in the face of the imminent invasion, Brand stated, his tone rougher than normal, “Aye. She spoke to me of Eachan and the babes he murdered. She cried a little.”
Hand to his chest, Mac Eiccnigh mac Dalagh collapsed into his chair. “My daughter shed a tear?”
“Or two. Aye.”
“She has ne’er spoken to me of her ordeal. I only know what I gathered from Eachan’s men. Oft I have wished I had held my temper and not had every single one of Eachan’s warriors killed. The summer I brought Étaín home, I despaired of ever hearing her speak again or seeing her smile. ’Twas a full year before she uttered a word, and longer until she laughed out loud.”
Brand had not considered how Eachan’s torture would have affected a young, innocent girl. He could not picture Étaín sad and unsmiling. His fury dissipated and he sought to reassure his wife’s father. “I would ne’er harm her, my liege.”
“My given name is Monroe. Sit.” The monarch waved at the seat opposite him. “Irvin departs on the evening tide. He claims to have sent a skiff to scout the storm and declares that ’tis over and now safe for him to leave.”
Brand adjusted his sword and sat. “Why would Irvin lie about this?”
“The storm still rages.”
The man had a way of irritating Brand by being coy with his declarations. Repressing a sigh, Brand asked, “How know you this?”
“I assume you have heard Diarf the Devil ravaged Caul Cairlinne many winters past and that he killed my second wife and all of our babes.”
Brand fought the urge to knead his neck in an attempt to ease the spiraling irritation bunching his muscles. What had the events of nigh on a score years past have to do with Irvin departing, a storm, and a deliberate falsehood? “Aye.”
“My third wife was the daughter of King Egogabal of the Tuatha dé Danann and one of his mortal consorts. Knowing Diarf had murdered my family and ravaged the settlement, King Egogabal cast a spell of protection o’er Caul Cairlinne before he agreed to our union. None can invade the holding. The storm will rage until Gunnar the Godless and Fagan the Fire-eater retreat or their ships sink.”
Brand’s jaw sagged. The monarch had lost his wits.
“I can see your thoughts writ upon your face.” Mac Eiccnigh chuckled. “You believe naught I have said. Did you not wonder why I was not interested in your plans to improve our defenses? Or why, since Diarf the Devil, none has e’er taken or pillaged Caul Cairlinne?”
Both he and Nikolas had discussed the latter topic the day before. Brand considered the king’s explanations for long moments before replying, “I am not wont to believe in your ancient fairy myths. But I have witnessed magik with mine own eyes and would not disdain what you say. Howbeit, I see no reason not to continue with my plans to triple our defenses. ’Twould only be beneficial.”
“I have no objection. After all, when your first son is born I will hand o’er the crown to you. ’Twill be a great relief. I am weary of the weight of my duties.”
Today, the king’s responsibilities showed on his face. The grooves bracketing his mouth appeared deeper, and his normal ruddy complexion had taken on a gray cast.
Then the significance of Mac Eiccnigh’s declaration hit him. “You would give the crown to me freely?”
•●•
Étaín, accompanied by Gavin, hurried down the stairs.
Anxious to have the listing of the keep’s stores completed quickly so she could slip away to visit Margie, and ask the barrage of questions whirling around in her head, Étaín strangled a groan when Irvin hailed her.
“Cousin, how fare you this fine day?” Irvin’s wide smile never reached his ice-blue eyes and always made her uneasy.
Gavin growled, “Why is he in the kitchen?”
She made a hasty curtsey after hopping off the last step. “I am well, cousin, though surprised to see you here. Da said you departed on the morn tide.”
A muscle under Irvin’s eye twitched. “A sudden gale forced our return. We had to toss our cargo and needs replenish our food and drink before we attempt the crossing. ”
Irvin offered Étaín his arm.
Loath to touch him, but knowing ’twould be insulting to refuse, she rested her hand as lightly as possible on his forearm. “Lady Hilde has agreed to let us have a cask of the wine your father favors.”
Étaín frowned. Hilde had no fondness for Irvin and did not take any care to disguise her dislike of the man. “Do you leave on the evening tide, then?”
“Nay. We will stay the night. You have lost your special glow, cousin.” Irvin halted abruptly and tipped her chin with his finger. “Know you, you have taken a Viking to your bed? Think you, your father will approve of this union once he learns of this?”
She flinched and stepped behind a stone table, all too conscious of the eyes trained on her and Irvin. “’Twas Da who insisted on a full marriage with a priest.”
How she yearned to shout at him. That he dared question her choice of Brand annoyed her greatly.
“I have had my men spying on Lord Brand and his brother. The talk in the taverns is that he came to invade Caul Cairlinne, not to wed the king’s eldest daughter. Believe you this, truthsayer?” Irvin’s stare pinned Étaín.
“Mayhap you should direct your query to Lord Brand.” Gavin moved to stand behind Étaín. “Princess, Lady Hilde signals for you.”
Scanning the room until she sighted Hilde jangling the keys to the keep in the far corner of the cavernous room, Étaín muffled a relieved sigh. “Pray excuse me, cousin. ’Tis much to be done, and I needs meet with Hilde.”
“Ah, I see her and also need to speak with her. Come, cousin, let us walk to her.” Again, Irvin offered his arm.
Étaín spread her lips in what she hoped passed for a smile. ’Twas the smile Eachan had forced upon her on threat of another babe dying.
Knowing ’twas best to get this over and done with, she swiped her damp palms on her skirts and stepped around the table, but flinched when Irvin tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.
He smelled of brine and leather.
“I had thought to court you, cousin. A match ’tween us would unite two kingdoms. ’Twould be a formidable alliance.”
Dread, icy and damp, crept across Étaín’s nape. “We are cousins. The church would ne’er consent to our union.”
“Nay. I am but a step cousin. I have spoken with the bishop on this matter and he assures me ’twould not be opposed by the church. Since you are now wed, I must turn my attentions to Alana.”
Étaín gasped. “Da would n’er countenance your suit. She is too young.”
“Alana should have been fostered these many winters past. She would be well served by my mother’s training.”
The idea horrified Étaín. While Alana had not suffered the trauma Étaín had, she had more magik in her and was not coping well with her emerging powers.
They neared Hilde.
Étaín tugged her arm from Irvin’s grasp, forced her lips to curve, and dipped a quick curtsey before turning to address Hilde. “Lord Irvin tells me we are to supply him with a cask of wine. Gavin, pray assist Lord Irvin in bringing a cask up from the cellars. I will see you at the evening meal, cousin. Come Hilde, I have a craving for that wonderful poached salmon you make. The fishermen await us.”
Étaín did not hesitate for a single breath. She captured Hilde’s hand, dragged her forward, and m
arched across the landing between the kitchens and the stone platform that served as the docks for the local fishing boats. Near a half-dozen skiffs were tied up to sturdy wooden posts.
“Did you really wish to barter with the fish peddlers? E’en I do not do so, and I am in charge of the kitchens,” Hilde whispered.
“Nay, but I could stand Irvin’s presence not a moment longer. Let us take the stairs yonder to the drying rooms.”
“Why do you continue with this counting of our stores? I was cert by now either you or your da would tell the Viking we can no be invaded.” Hilde yanked open the door to the tower where the drying rooms were located.
The two women greeted the boys stoking the glowing coals that fed consistent heat into the drying rooms. They climbed the narrow, steep stairs.
“Brand meets with Da as we speak. I believe Da will tell him the all of it this day.”
“All?” Hilde asked.
“Aye. All. I told him myself about my time under Eachan’s rule. Mayhap I should have spoken of it afore, for ’twas as if saying it aloud washed away the evil of it.” That she could now even form the words amazed her.
Hilde had been through a terrible loss too, and the two women had oft found comfort by simply being alone together. Neither female discussed their ordeals in detail, but their common sorrow and grief had formed a resolute bond.
“When you have your own babe, ′twill ease the remnants of your grief. This past fortnight I have thought of naught but having another child. Would that I could plant the seed myself, for I do not want another husband.”
“′Tis wondrous that you wish to have another babe. Mayhap you will find a man like my Brand. I wish for you naught but happiness.” Étaín impulsively reached out and hugged the other woman.
Hilde wrapped her arms around Étaín and squeezed. She sniffed, drew back, and swiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “We are two women who do not cry, and here we are blubbering like babes.”
“Aye.” Étaín grinned. “Brand told me to cry, to let out the tears that I’ve damned inside.”
“Methinks he has the right of it. I had not shed a tear since Heremon and Seamus died. Then this past Sabbath, on my walk to church I spied a late butterflying sipping nectar from a daisy. All I could see was Seamus toddling after the insect and trying to catch it with his cupped hands. ’Twas truly like a damn bursting. I could not stop bawling.”
“Oh, Hilde. I am sorrowed that you have to endure such pain.” Étaín stroked the other woman’s arm.
Hilde shook her head. “Nay. I refuse to stand here and talk of this. ’Tis better we concentrate on the lists. We counted the sacks of barley, root vegetables, fruits, and the stores of salted beef, pork, and fish. That plus the barley from the harvest will see us to mid-winter.”
Étaín gave a nod of satisfaction. “My husband will be pleased to learn this.”
“His brother, Lord Nikolas, and his captain, Thorkell, are most annoying. He pesters me with question after question. How are the gates to the kitchen docks lowered? Who guards the gate at night? What time on a morn do the first peddler boats arrive?” Hilde fiddled with the keys hanging from her gold chain link gyrdel, and the clanking resonated around the circular stairwell, and spiraled up the tower.
“I have not spoken to Lord Nikolas at any length.” A situation she intended to remedy that very eve. Brand held much affection for his brother.
“Hmpfh. Warriors are all the same. They grunt and complain and devour food. Do you wish to examine the wine casks? They are already counted, as are those of ale and mead.”
“Nay. I itch to discover how Da and Brand are faring with each other.” Étaín tucked a few errant locks back into her long braid.
The two women wound their way back to the kitchens to find Cedilla frantically searching for Étaín’s youngest sisters.
“Have you checked the stable? The tabby cat had a litter of kittens last eve.” Hilde asked.
“Nay. I will go there at once.” Cedilla waddled out of the room.
“Where is Gavin?” Étaín wondered why her guard had not followed her to the tower.
“He went to the cellars with Lord Irvin.” The answer came from one of the young lads attending to a haunch of venison on a spit.
A frowning Hilde caught Étaín’s gaze. “’Tis taking two men an age of time to select a meager cask of wine and haul it up here.”
“Agreed. I will go down and check on Gavin and Irvin.” Étaín picked up her skirts and ran-walked to the stone staircase leading to the cellars. She took the steps two at a time and then skipped down the shadowed corridor that snaked through the bowels of the castle. ’Twas always chilly below ground and she shivered when a glacial draft peppered goose bumps on the back of her neck.
A faint groaning reached her ears. Alarm shot through her. She hiked her skirts higher and broke into a run. When Étaín raced through the open doorway to the wine cellar her heart nigh about jumped out of her throat. For Larkin and Gavin both lay sprawled on the stone floor.
Blood oozed from a deep gash on Larkin’s temple.
She knelt and laid her hand on Larkin’s face. His skin was damp and icy, but his chest rose and fell evenly.
Étaín pivoted on her toes when Gavin groaned again. She brushed a lock of hair back from his brow and gave his shoulder a gentle shake. “Gavin. Awake. What happened?”
Gavin’s eyelids slowly lifted. He blinked and rubbed the back of his head. “Irvin. That blackguard. He knocked me out. Where is Larkin?”
"Behind me,” she answered and shifted so Gavin could see the other man. “Why would he do such a thing?”
“I know not. I set Larkin to following Irvin. Your Da believed he was up to some mischief. Larkin was to report to me here. After I helped Irvin with the wine cask, I returned here to wait for Larkin. We were in deep discussion and then—I remember naught else.”
Gavin eased into a sitting position and shuffled on his behind to get closer to Larkin. He peered at the other man’s wound. “’Twill need a stitch or two. My lady, you must call for help and sound the alarm.”
“I will go at once.” She bounded to her feet, sprinted down the hallway, and raced up the stairs. All the while her mind buzzed. What was Irvin up to? Why would he hit Larkin and Gavin? Why would he risk Da’s anger and retribution?
Their earlier conversation rushed back to her. “Nay. He could not mean to take Alana. Mother Mary, please let her and Keara be in the stables.”
Étaín could scarce draw breath when she arrived in the kitchen. “Sound the alarm. Lord Irvin attacked Gavin and Larkin. He may have stolen Alana and Keara. Both Gavin and Larkin lie injured in the cellars. Send for the healer, Hilde. I must find Brand at once.”
Chapter Seven
Brand paced the deck of his langskip and scanned the horizon. The full moon had not yet begun to wane, and the rippling surface of the sea glimmered under the powerful rays of its beams.
“Irvin has three ships to our two. He must have sighted us at the same moment we did him.” Nikolas scraped his jaw. “Which ship think you he has her on?”
“Methinks he would not risk keeping her far from him, and he would avoid the obvious. I’d lay odds she is not on his main boat, nor is she on the one designed for cargo. The middle ship. ’Tis fast and small enough to maneuver into the narrow channel he’s headed to.”
Nikolas shaded his eyes. “We cannot follow him into that bay. The entrance is too narrow for our langskips, and we could founder on the rocks.”
“Aye. You have the right of it. We must use cunning and stealth to retrieve Alana, else we risk her being harmed.” The vision of Étaín’s wan complexion and the dreaded fear glinting from her brimming eyes crowded Brand’s mind. Thank Odin, they had found Keara in the stables with the kittens. ’Twas bad enough that Alana had been taken, but at least she had seen ten and six summers. Keara had seen only ten and three. He shook his head. No time to brood on Étaín and her youngest sister when the middle one needed
rescuing.
“We need a ruse. He will expect us to attack the main ship.” Nikolas propped a booted foot on the oar bench. “I see naught for it but for one of us to take a dunking.”
“Swim to rescue her? ’Tis a sound notion, but we cannot risk bringing her back through these icy waters. She is but a wee girl.”
“Have a skiff follow?” Nikolas suggested.
Brand considered his brother’s idea and a strategy formed. “Aye. We will pretend to be bent on attack. You will captain the other langskip and head for Irvin’s cargo boat. I will swim into the lee of the last and smallest langskip.”
Nikolas straightened, and his teeth gleamed in the moonlight when he grinned. “’Tis obvious now. I will have Thorkell take the rudder when we are within boarding distance of his cargo ship, and then take the skiff and follow you.”
“Aye. By then I should have found Alana. I will hand her off to you, and you will both return here. Irvin will be too busy defending his precious cargo to pay any attention to the skiff.”
“’Twill be nigh on impossible for you to board without the crew noticing. ’Tis best we swim to the small boat together,” Nikolas argued.
“Nay. I go alone. If a battle ensues, I will let my beast loose. It matters naught what Irvin’s crew sees. None will live to tell the tale. ’Tis the reason I want you to bring Alana back here right away on the skiff. I do not wish her to see the beast in me.” Brand did not intend Alana to suffer from the same trauma as that which had broken his wife’s spirit.
Étaín had come to him first when Keara and Alana disappeared. She had trusted him to rescue her sister. He would not fail his treasured wife.
“We close on him,” Nikolas said and pointed to the three ships hovering between the narrow, jagged rock strewn promontories of the tiny bay. Moonlight cast no shadows on the shimmering white capped waves crashing onto a silvery stretch of pebbled beach.
Brand positioned himself behind the mainsail and stripped to his breeches and bare feet. He strapped knives to his calves and then had Nikolas strap a dagger to each arm.
“All will go as planned, and I will sacrifice a bull to Odin when we return to Caul Cairlinne,” he swore, and lifted his sword to the black night sky and faint stars.