Wild Roses

by Miriam Minger

“Who can say? If he had to chase those rebels as the other day, it might be longer. He stopped here late last night to leave behind Lady Adele’s men and say only that your clansmen were gone from the place where—” Clement fell abruptly silent as Maire felt the blood draining from her face, the friar studying her with fresh concern. “Ah, child, I’ve no wish to distress you. There’s time enough to talk further. Rest now. Be at peace.”

  Be at peace? Maire thought incredulously, as Clement left the room. At least now she knew there had been no battle, but had Duncan guessed that the Wicklow Mountains … ?

  Maire made herself lie still in the bed for an interminable moment, just in case Clement might unexpectedly return, but finally she was convinced he had gone to the kitchen. Only one urgent thought dominated her mind as she threw aside the covers and rose, grateful that her legs no longer felt so unsteady.

  She had to find Flanna. Surely Duncan’s mistress had come for her last night only to find her sleeping as if dead …

  A faint memory suddenly stirred Maire as she moved through the outer chamber to the door, left ajar by Clement, and her gaze flew to the bench where she’d last seen Duncan’s mail shirt.

  A memory of a woman shouting and crying, yet try as she may, Maire could not place the voice or discern if she might have instead dreamed the strange clamor … aye, surely she had dreamed it. Just as she was certain she had dreamed that Duncan had kissed her—

  Her face grown hot as flame, Maire could not believe as she peeked out the door how fast her heart had begun to beat. Jesu, Mary, and Joseph, nor could she believe that she would conjure such an impossible vision in an opiate-induced dream or waking!

  Yet Clement had claimed she said Duncan’s name while she slept, another strange thing she had no desire to contemplate further. Telling herself that she would have mentioned him only because the Norman was so perplexing, Maire began to move cautiously down the stone steps, one hand braced on the wall while she lifted her silk gown clear of her feet with the other.

  In truth the descent was taxing. Duncan’s words from yesterday, when he had carried her to see Clement, came back to her. It was taking so long that Maire wished for the thousandth time she could walk as effortlessly as other women, and she began to fear that the friar would return before she reached the bottom.

  She had to find Flanna! She had to be gone from Longford Castle before Duncan arrived home with potential knowledge that might see her next bound in chains and dragged to a dungeon while plans were made to use her to capture her brother.

  She had heard of such terrifying places from Ronan, and of how he and her O’Byrne clansmen had once come upon a ruined and near-deserted castle laid waste during the campaign two years past by the Norman King John against his traitorous vassals. The few knights left to guard the place had been subdued, she believed one or two even cut down when they had foolishly tried to resist, but there had been little left of worth for Ronan and his men to take.

  And he had left soon after, sickened and made enraged by the stinking corpses found rotting in the dungeon, hapless Irish tenants he had judged who had failed to make their rent to their ruthless Norman overlords. Saints help her, did Duncan have prisoners shackled to walls somewhere deep in the bowels of Longford Castle? It seemed an incongruous thought with what she had seen thus far of the man, yet what did she truly know of him? Mayhap even now he was stretching the necks of rebels as fiercely determined to harry the Normans from Irish soil as her brother, the legendary Black O’Byrne …

  Shuddering, Maire forced such grisly thoughts from her mind as she reached the bottom of the stairs, yet her sickened feeling lingered and gave her impetus to make haste. But which way? The castle was alive with commotion, servants rushing here and there and so focused upon their tasks that none scarcely paid her any heed as she tried to stay in the shadows.

  It appeared a meal was being served, platters heaped with steaming food being carried through a great arched entrance into a room that Maire at once judged to be huge from the way laughter seemed to echo and resonate as if from soaring rafters. A feasting-hall? It must be, from the raucous sound of merriment, which made her all the more wary.

  Hadn’t Clement said that Duncan had returned last night with some of Adele’s men? Surely his half sister’s entourage must be among those carousing in the hall, and that made Maire choose at once the opposite direction and move as swiftly as she could manage, her gaze focused upon the downward steps, which she guessed from the servants bearing more food and brimming pitchers led from the kitchen.

  She didn’t want to run into Clement. Past the steps was another arched entrance opening into what manner of rooms, she didn’t know, Longford Castle was so vast. Like nothing she had ever seen before. Yet the farther she was from the feasting-hall, the better—

  “Miss, are you lost?”

  Maire spun around, the freckled serving girl who had waited upon her yesterday looking at her with wide round eyes. “No, no, I was looking for Flanna, is all—oh!”

  She nearly toppled at the stunted arms suddenly gripping her like a vise around the knees while the serving girl only gasped, her eyes growing wider.

  “I’ve got her, my lady, she’ll not escape from Rufus the Fool! Oh, no, I’ve got her good!”

  Maire looked down in astonished horror at the red-garbed dwarf who held her so tightly, the little man burying his nose against her legs and chortling with glee.

  “Ah, and she smells so sweet! Since Lord FitzWilliam doesn’t want her, can she come and play with me? A dwarf and a cripple, what a perfect match we would be!”

  As chilled by Rufus’s coarse singsong rhyme as the feminine laughter that sounded behind her, Maire didn’t have to turn around to recognize Lady Adele. The nightmare mounting as the dwarf began to thrust his hips against her calves, Maire flinched at the sharp sound of a slap.

  “Enough, you randy fellow! If you want to rut, go find a goat to please you.”

  Rufus only laughed merrily, as if Adele’s admonishment had amused him, and Maire wondered in shock if the dwarf might be half-mad. But when Adele laughed too, a swarthy, curly-haired knight standing beside the beautiful blonde joining in their mirth as well, Maire began to fear that she might be that evening’s amusement and wished desperately that she had never left Duncan’s rooms.

  “Please, ask him to release me,” she said over her shoulder, her voice so low and stricken that Adele snapped at her.

  “If you’re going to address me, chit, then say it well enough so I can hear you!”

  Swallowing hard, Maire found herself praying again for some of the boldness Triona possessed, repeating more audibly, “Please ask your man … Rufus, to release me. He’s hurting me, my legs—”

  “Really? Like you hurt me the other night, scratching me like a spitting cat?” scoffed Adele, her blue eyes glittering coldly as she came around in an angry flash of amber silk to face Maire. “Yet my dear brother seemed more concerned for your welfare than mine—how utterly usual for him. Duncan’s never cared for his family, you know, at least not the better half that’s Norman. Despises us, is more the truth of it—ah, but what is that to you?”

  Maire didn’t know what to say, other than asking again to be released, a growing group of servants now watching nervously near the steps to the kitchen. Adele didn’t answer, instead looking Maire up and down, a winged brow arched as if she were noting for the first time the fine blue silk of Maire’s gown. Maire decided to attempt another tact.

  “Please, I was looking for Flanna—”

  “Flanna? Duncan’s common little tart of a mistress?”

  Nodding hesitantly, Maire felt a chill as a strange smile curved Adele’s lips. “I’ve only to speak to her, then I should return to bed. Clement the friar has said I need rest—”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sure you do after you’ve been so sorely mistreated,” came Adele’s sarcastically hostile response, while Rufus only snickered, hugging Maire’s knees all the tighter. “Flanna is no longer her
e. Duncan sent her away yesterday and I’m elated. Dreadful Irish bitch. Off to wed one of his tenants, I imagine, though a far better use would have been to give her to my men. FitzHugh, you would have enjoyed that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Not as much as this one here would have pleased me,” said the stocky knight at Adele’s side, fresh chills washing over Maire as she recognized his gruff voice from the meadow. Wholly stunned to hear that Flanna had left Longford Castle, she was gripped by growing despair as the man raked her with leering eyes while Adele clucked her tongue.

  “Oh, no, that wouldn’t make my tenderhearted brother happy at all, I fear. He wants to return her home as if it mattered what happened to an Irish chit … though with this one, I’m growing more convinced with each moment that it does. A pity I didn’t let you have her in the woods, Henry, then we could have left her there and none of this damnable mess—”

  “Lady Adele!”

  Maire jumped, Clement’s voice filling her with such relief that she felt tears sting her eyes. At once the dwarf released her legs as the friar, his expression grave, gave the tray he carried to a servant and swiftly approached. But Adele clasped a hand upon her arm, her icy stare forbidding Maire to move or even speak.

  “Lady Adele, I must insist on escorting Rose back to her room—”

  “Her room, friar?” Adele’s slim fingers tightened like talons around Maire’s arm. “My brother’s apartment, surely, unless some new arrangement has been agreed upon? Pray don’t tell me he’s considering her for his new mistress—”

  “Ah, no, my lady, you’ve misunderstood,” Clement blurted out, only to be waved to sudden silence.

  “No, you don’t understand,” Adele said haughtily. “Rose will be supping with me this evening. It had been my thought to send one of my maidservants to see after her welfare and ask her to join us, and lo and behold! Here she was, looking none the worse for the healing potion Duncan told me you gave her—just as I was on my way to the great hall. Delightful! So come, Rose dear. I believe my, other knights have rudely started without us.”

  Chapter 10

  Adele’s grip on her flesh was so tight that Maire bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out. She wondered dazedly if Adele’s retinue might outnumber Duncan’s, now that he was away with so many of his men, and what that could mean if poor Clement resisted. Truly, she didn’t want to see the friar hurt, didn’t want to see anyone hurt. Mayhap if she simply played along …

  “Rose, if you do not wish this …” Clement started to say to her as she passed by with Adele, the woman still holding fast to her arm, yet the stout friar fell silent when Maire summoned a shaky smile.

  “Truly, I’m fine. It was the smell of food that brought me downstairs—”

  “There! You see, friar?” Adele exulted, no matter that a frown came to Clement’s brow. “She is much on the mend already. Wonderful! Just what I had hoped.”

  Adele walked so fast into the massive hall that Maire had to struggle to keep up, her awkward gait only exaggerated by such a pace. She heard sniggering behind her, and glanced over her shoulder to see Rufus cruelly mimicking her, one short leg dragging behind him as he rocked from side to side with a broad grin on his face.

  Maire doubted she had ever felt such humiliation. The entire hall seemed to erupt into laughter from the knights seated on a dais and the lesser soldiers dining at long trestle tables to the buxom maidservants waiting upon them. Adele’s entourage? Maire guessed as much at the many grim expressions, too, on the faces of Duncan’s knights who had remained behind as well as men-at-arms and Irish servants, all no doubt having heard by now of the calamity that had brought her to Longford Castle and clearly sharing Lord FitzWilliam’s sentiments, which heartened her.

  She could see at their greater number that she had misjudged her fear for Clement, but the decision was made and she doubted that Adele would release her. Lifting her chin, she bore the escalating noise bravely as Adele’s knights roared with laughter and pointed, though Maire could not help remembering another time when her face had burned as hot with mortification. But then it had been the look of repulsion by only one man, Colin O’Nolan, that had shattered her most precious dream.

  “What a somber lot, Duncan’s men,” Adele said with clear disdain as they approached the steps to the dais. “Especially that one there, Reginald Montfort.”

  She followed Adele’s gaze to a strapping older knight with graying hair and as grave an expression as any she’d seen. He was seated at the opposite end of the high table. Maire winced when Adele’s grip grew tighter.

  “Wretched fellow, testy as a bull. Duncan’s left him in charge while he’s away—with strict orders that my retainers and I are not to leave Longford Castle. Ridiculous!”

  Maire didn’t know what to make of such a revelation, but Adele clearly didn’t expect a comment as she finally released Maire and climbed the five steps with elegant grace, indicating that Maire should follow. She did, though walking up stairs had always been difficult for her, and once more Rufus the Fool parroted her movements while fresh guffaws greeted his antics.

  He even went so far as to take a tumble to the floor when Maire nearly lost her balance, her hand catching the edge of the table, which was the only thing that saved her. Her face burning, her courage faltering, she sank gratefully into an empty chair between Adele and Henry FitzHugh, not seeing that Reginald Montfort had risen from his place.

  “God’s breath, Lady Adele, enough of this pathetic folly! Call off your fool, or I’ll see him from the hall myself!”

  “Really, Sir Reginald, Rufus means no harm, his only joy in life to amuse and entertain,” Adele answered with a brittle smile that only made Duncan’s knight swear and retake his seat.

  “You see?” she said in a low aside to Maire as if Adele had made no note that the dwarf’s mimicry had been done at Maire’s expense. “Damned wretched fellow. Nearly as foul-tempered as my brother. All I had wanted was to follow Gerard de Barry to West Meath to join the hunt for Irish rebels—what a delightful outing it could have been, too. But Duncan wouldn’t hear of it. Said I’d caused him enough trouble already, among other things, roared at me, shouted, blustered, and was gone.”

  A vexed wave of Adele’s white, bejeweled hand sent servants rushing to wait upon the high table. Maire’s plate was heaped with food and her goblet filled with golden wine in only a few moments’ time. Yet her stomach flip-flopped at the glistening meat and varied side dishes; a simple bowl of Clement’s beef broth would have been far preferable in coaxing her appetite.

  It didn’t help, either, that Adele again gripped her arm cruelly after taking a long sip of wine, the stunning blonde’s eyes grown icy cold.

  “I want you gone from here. Do you understand? Gone!”

  Maire was so startled she couldn’t speak, although Adele rushed on before she had a chance to while the noisy din of the hall rang around them.

  “You’re the one who’s causing the trouble here, not me. Duncan’s taken too much of an interest in you—he’s wasting his time over you! Riding back to that place where we came upon your wretched clansmen, dragging poor FitzHugh and three other knights of mine with him. And for what? I told him that the bodies would be gone. That I’d seen a man riding into the trees just before my crossbowmen were close enough to …”

  Adele didn’t finish, but lifted her goblet once more to drink while Maire could only stare, aghast.

  Adele had seen Niall riding away? He had come that close to falling victim, as had Fiach and the others?

  “I even suggested that Duncan should take you back to that meadow and leave you there with plenty of food and water,” Adele continued of a sudden, her tone growing more agitated though she kept her voice low. “Surely your clansmen might return again if they came once before, and they would find you and this whole mess would be settled! But my dear brother wouldn’t hear of it. Called me callous not to think of the wolves that might find you first—so you see? Until you remember more than your Ch
ristian name, it might be days, even weeks, and after what I heard Flanna screeching about Duncan kissing you—”

  “He … he kissed me?” Her fingers flying to her lips, Maire stared incredulously at Adele, who appeared so galled that two bright spots of color dotted her alabaster cheeks.

  “After he carried you back to his rooms, so Flanna claimed, and my brother didn’t deny it. She had run down the stairs, then gone back and saw him—God’s blood, what does that matter? For a man saying he wants you returned safely to your family to kiss you while you sleep? Stupid girl, that tells me much if not you! I wish I’d never brought you here!”

  Adele’s voice having sunk to a hiss, Maire could barely hear the woman’s next words for how clamorous the hall had grown, many of the knights seated on the dais clearly becoming drunk.

  “Duncan is growing ever more consumed by your plight, and I’ll not have it! Until you’re gone, I’ve no hope that he’ll take time to consider a bride, and he needs no mistress as fair as you, I see that now. And with Flanna sent away, he’ll have no vent for his lust—oh, yes, I see that concerns you, good! Perhaps the thought of my brother giving you more than a kiss might jar your memory, yes?”

  Maire had paled, she knew it. Try as she might, she could not forget the sensation of Duncan’s hand cupping her breast, her flesh tingling even now as Adele speculatively studied her face.

  “An accursed virgin, too, I would swear it, which is all the more reason to be rid of you. Impudent mistresses are one thing with which to contend, and a ghost entirely another, but a chieftain’s daughter whose clan might not rest until she’s made a baron’s bride in retribution if her chastity has been lost … ah, no.”

  Maire gasped as Adele dug her fingernails into her wrist and drew closer, her blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

  “Ah, no, Rose, I’ll allow no Irish chit to become my dear brother’s bride. Never. It was bad enough that a common Scots bitch falsely claimed herself a second wife to our father and bore a son he loved above three others. Duncan FitzWilliam will have a Norman wife to thin his tainted blood and give him heirs of which his family in England can be proud.”