by Mia Pride
Reaghan craned his neck and narrowed his eyes as he focused all his senses. The sounds of deep laughter reverberated off the thick tree trunks and the thin evening air. “Aye, laughter.”
Nodding, Brennain signaled him to stay close behind as he carefully placed his boots on the earth, avoiding the snap of twigs or the crunch of leaves. Stealth and silence were what he was best at. A few more steps brought them closer to the sounds of a crackling fire and men speaking amicably. Their accents sounded local and Brennain understood a few of their words over the sounds of the forest. “Home… talk to the king… he will help…” These words came to him and helped to relieve Brennain, but only slightly. He knew all too well that plenty of enemies were homegrown and these men could work for Mal, who was the greatest enemy of all. Then he heard the words that made the hackles rise on his neck. “When we arrive at Miathi…”
That was enough to cause Brennain to switch from informant to warrior. He needed to know how many men they were up against and what their intentions at Miathi were. He would slay these men or die trying before he allowed them to set foot on Miathi soil if they meant to cause trouble.
Running a frustrated hand through his black hair, Brennain looked down at his muddy boots and soaked-through trousers. He did not mind in the least and could hardly feel it by this point. He was more focused on his task. Turning to look over his shoulder, he eyed Reaghan to gauge what the man had heard, and based on the scowl on his companion’s face, he knew he had heard as much as Brennain, if not more.
“We need to see how many there are and why they speak of Miathi,” Brennain whispered lowly.
“Aye,” was all Reaghan said, his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to fight if necessary. Brennain fingered his own hilt instinctively. He would not come out swinging, for even the most well-meaning men would attack if provoked. They needed to approach cautiously, yet confidently.
A few more steps brought Brennain closer to a tree with a trunk as wide as he was, a perfect place to hide while he spied on the men. One dark-haired man with a scraggly beard leaned over the fire, roasting what looked like a squirrel on a stick. The scent was savory and Brennain’s stomach growled. He had been living off dry meat and oatcakes for the past three days. They had a few fresh apples gifted to them by Miathi and he had saved one per day, but even that was not enough to prevent the watering of his mouth at the sight and smell of fresh meat.
A second man with light brown hair sat on a felled log near the fire, hands on his knees as he seemed to gaze listlessly into its dancing flames, deep in thought. They were large enough men and looked to be potentially dangerous, but with their wool trousers and plaid tunics, they were obviously men from Alba or Ériu, mayhap even Albion, but not Rómánach. Brennain had heard they wore much different clothing.
Deciding it was time to approach, he waved Reaghan forward, then stilled him with his hand, deciding it would be best for him to reveal himself alone. Stepping around the tree, he came out slowly with his hands up to show that he was not attacking. “Greetings. Sorry to interrupt but I was seeking shelter from the rain and saw the smoke from your fire in the distance.”
The man with a thick beard and darker hair looked at him with narrowed eyes and the man on the log stood up swiftly. “And, who are ye?”
“My name is Brennain Mac Greine. I am from Ériu. I serve King Tuathal.” He searched the mens’ gazes, looking for any sign of malice. If these were Mal’s men, they would surely balk at Tuathal’s name. Instead, their eyes widened, and they nodded, looking at one another questioningly.
“Why are you in Alba?” the dark-haired man asked.
“I answered your question. I would ask the same of you first. Who are you and where are you from?”
“My name is Bryant. This here is Mack. We are from Miathi. You know of it?”
Brennain looked suspiciously at the men but tried to hide his ire. “Aye. I know Miathi. We just came from there.”
“We?” both men said at the same time.
“Aye.” Brennain signaled for Reaghan, who came out slowly from behind the thick trees. “This is my fellow warrior and companion, Reaghan. It is only the two of us,” Brennain added calmly when he saw Bryant’s eyes search the woods behind them for more men.
“My turn to ask a question. What brings ye to these parts?” Mack asked, scratching the back of his neck nervously.
“We have been sent here by King Tuathal to track down Mal Mac Rochride. He has been causing much trouble in Ériu and just as a battle began, he fled to Alba. Word is that he is trying to gather an army against Tuathal. Rochride wants the High Throne for himself and does not care how many men he kills to achieve it. Our first stop was Miathi, being that it is the closest tuath to the coast from the sea. They said Mal had been there but rode north for more support when he came up short in Miathi. We are now heading for the Rómánach fort called Barochan Hill, where it is rumored Mal, his men, and a few deserters of Miathi have fled. Are you deserters of Miathi?” Brennain tried not to sound accusatory. In truth, it was not part of his mission to search out deserters of other tribes. But if they had plans to aid Mal, that was his business.
“Us? Nay!” Bryant protested. “We left with Mal, aye, but only at the bidding of our king. He did not trust Mal to stay off our land. He wished us to join his band of men if only to gather information. We were just on our way back to Miathi now, to share the word with King Ailbert.”
Nodding, Brennain scratched his chin, all too familiar with the concept of deceit for one’s king. He could tell by the man’s demeanor and tone of voice that he was telling the truth. Brennain himself made a living reading the behaviors and body language of those around him.
“We are not from Miathi, but we know your king well. He is aware of our journey to Barochan Hill. In fact, he is the one who directed us here. I wonder if he hoped we would meet.”
“Aye, mayhap. He is a clever man,” Mack agreed.
Reaghan stepped forward and put his hands on his hips. “I know you men are traveling back to Miathi, but if you have any desire to travel with us back to find Mal, we could use your information and your help. We need to stop Mal from gathering an army and marching on Ráth Mór. He would bring ruin to our land.”
“And we need help preventing the Rómánach from successfully invading our village as they have with so many others. They are impressive and have many new ideas, but they threaten to destroy our way of living. Too many tribes fall prey to their promises, but once they settle, they take control of everything. They have coins instead of trading goods and have offered their gold as a loan to many men, only expecting them to later repay it back faster than they can and expecting more back than was given. When a man cannot pay, they are forced into slavery or lose all they own. ‘Tis all a nasty trick yet men will fall before their offerings,” Mack growled. “I have seen it with my own eyes. We have seen our own men fall prey.”
Those familiar knots wound tightly once more in Brennain’s gut and he could not prevent his scowl. “You speak of Caleb?”
Bryant raised a brow at Brennain, then looked at Mack before nodding. “Aye, he is one of them. Took up with Mal’s men, the bastard did, and not on the orders of the king.”
“I wish to find him. Can you help me locate him? Mal knows our faces.” Brennain signaled between him and Reaghan. “I cannot get too close. I need to see what Mal is up to, gather information, collect Caleb, and get back to Miathi, before heading to Ériu. I understand if you have families to return to, however.”
Mack’s nostrils flared, his fists balled up, and his jaw clearly twitched. Brennain could not know what had upset the man so much, but he slowly reached for his sword, in case the man meant to attack.
“Nay. I have nay family to return to, thanks to that bastard Caleb. I would kill him with my own bare hands. The only reason I never did was because he had a wife and child to care for, but once he deserted them, that man became nay more than a waste upon the world.”
Fur
rowing his brow, Brennain wished to seek more answers from the man who so obviously hated Caleb, but he was smart enough to sense the deep hatred and did not want to dig too deep. Still, he wondered what Caleb had to do with the loss of Mack’s family.
As if reading his mind, Bryant cleared his throat before patting Mack on the back. “Caleb will sleep with any lass in the village, never minding if she is married or who she is married to. And many lassies fall for his sweet words. Mack’s wife here was one of them. Two years ago, she…” he paused and looked at his companion, who nodded his consent to tell the tale and then turned away, walking a few feet into the woods as if unable to hear the retelling of his greatest pain.
Once Mack was out of earshot, Bryant continued. “Two years ago, that arse slept with Mack’s wife, Bethilda. He had been gone on a mission for so long, she must have been lonely. But when Mack returned, Bethilda was with child. He knew it was not his own, it was impossible. His wife meant to leave him for Caleb, who did not seem to care about her or the child. Mack wanted to forgive her, but she did not seem interested in forgiveness nor did she show any signs of shame. Mack decided to take on more traveling missions to keep himself occupied, expecting to arrive to find the child born and his wife married to Caleb. However, what he found was that his wife had died during labor and the healer had adopted the child as her own since Caleb refused to claim her.”
Brennain was speechless as he listened. Was he understanding this correctly? “So, Caleb is Glennis’s true father, but Morna is not her birth mother?”
Bryant looked at Brennain strangely for a moment as if he was trying to remember something, then his eyes widened in sudden recognition. “Ye are that warrior from Ériu who came two years ago with a group of men, aye? Ye brought Jeoffrey and Alastar back with ye to join Tuathal. I believe ye quite fancied Morna, aye?”
Nodding, Brennain shuffled his feet, remembering that time not so long ago when he had not yet lost his heart to Morna. It felt like an eternity ago, like he could not remember ever not loving her. “Aye.”
“Morna cried when ye left her. I think she hoped ye would take her with ye.”
“She did not wait long before she married Caleb,” Brennain spat.
“Did ye speak with her at all when ye arrived?” Bryant said, with a crook of his brow.
Brennain shook his head. “I tried. Her mother shouted at me that she was married and refused to let me get a word out. I tried once more before I left but Morna had been crying over Caleb. I vowed to bring him back to her. ‘Tis why I seek the lout.”
A loud snort escaped Bryant. “Ye have it all wrong, mate. Morna’s mother, Elsbeth forced that union. Morna was suddenly a mother of a child with nay support or protection and Glennis needed her father. With her powers of persuasion, Elsbeth convinced Caleb to do right by his child, but there was nay love between him and Morna. As soon as Caleb saw an opportunity for power and to be rid of the family he never wanted, he took it.”
“You are wrong. I saw the tears in Morna’s eyes. She told me herself that she missed Caleb. I am determined to make that man face his responsibilities.”
“Did ye ever stop to think that she and Glennis are better off without a man who does not want them? Mayhap she should be with a man who does.” Bryant’s brow rose once more, knowingly, and Brennain wondered if he truly was that transparent. What had happened to his ability to keep his emotions tightly concealed behind a mask of indifference? Morna had happened. He was so knotted up inside that he had no control over himself and that irked him more than he would admit.
“She made herself clear to me. She wants Caleb. I will force his return.”
“As you wish. We have nay orders from the king to return immediately. We shall help ye where we can. But I warn ye that once Caleb is returned to Miathi, he will be forced to face the king’s judgment. I attempted to capture him, but he was surrounded by Mal’s men. Ye want him returned to Morna but the rest of us seek justice.”
That gave Brennain pause. He had been so determined to make Caleb face his duties as a husband and father that he had not even considered the fact that a deserter and a traitor would be facing the king’s ire. Had Bryant spoken true? Did Morna truly have nay love for Caleb? He wanted to believe it, but the look in her eyes haunted him. She had been heartbroken. That had been clear as day. Shaking his head, he vowed to remind himself repeatedly that he had no chance with Morna. Although, knowing Glennis had been adopted and not borne by Morna did something to his heart. He felt slightly lighter knowing she had not conceived a child with another man, even if he would never get the chance to be with her.
Reaghan finally spoke up just as Mack came back into view. “We care naught what happens to Caleb once he is back at Miathi. We just want to find Mal. If you help us, we shall help you.”
“Then we have an agreement.” Bryant clasped arms with Reaghan, then Brennain as they made a deal, finally doing the same with Mack. He trusted these men. They seemed to be on the same side of right as they were, still, he would remain vigilant. After a few moons ago when one of Mal’s men, Eoghann had infiltrated Ráth Mór by using his past friendship with Maggie and her brother Àdhamh, Brennain learned to never trust a man’s motives until they earned that trust. Nobody had questioned Eoghann’s arrival, believing he had come to join the army as his old companions had. This led to Maggie being kidnapped and almost used by Mal’s men. Reaghan had been one of the men who took Maggie and made certain to be the one to protect her while maintaining his secret identity as Tuathal’s informant, but Flynn had yet to forgive Reaghan for his deceit and use of Maggie as a pawn. Brennain could not blame his brother. He had also learned to never trust a man’s claim of motive.
Reaghan had not been who he claimed, though it ended up that he was on Tuathal’s side, just as Eoghann had been on Mal’s. Brennain and Flynn had both tricked Mal into allowing them into his camp once before, as well. In this game called war, nothing was ever as it seemed.
“Very well,” Mack said with a grunt. “I cannot wait to have Caleb in our grasp. The man deserves whatever is coming to him. He destroyed my life. Barochan Hill is several miles north of here, but the journey is easily made in one day.”
Suddenly, Brennain was both weary and excited at the same time. He longed to end this miserable day. He was waterlogged, and his clothes stuck to every inch of his body. The fire burning behind Mack and Bryant called to him. The soil was damp but much drier than the world outside this small shelter of trees. All he wanted was to lay before the fire and get some good rest before they had to continue their journey. First, he and Reaghan needed to go back and get their horses, then they could settle in for the night. Suddenly, the pitter patter of the raindrops bouncing off the leaves overhead was soothing and Brennain felt as if they had a better chance of success.
“Good. Let us get some sleep. On the morrow, you can share what you have discovered thus far, and we can discuss a plan. I am curious to learn more of these Rómánach.” Though Tuathal had not been concerned about the foreigners over much, Brennain could see now just how much danger Ériu was in. If Mal successfully colluded with the Rómánach, Ráth Mór would have two armies coming for them. Brennain needed to make certain that did not come to pass.
Chapter Four
“Tell me as much as you know,” Brennain looked at Mack and Bryant as their horses slowly navigated through the thick mud and puddles left from last night’s storm. The world was dreary and cold, but all Brennain could focus on was the shadow looming in the distance. Its large wall was all that could be seen, but it was all he needed to know that they were approaching Barochan Hill.
Mack had spoken more of Caleb’s true character and though he should not, Brennain started to feel slightly hopeful that mayhap Morna was not truly in love with her husband. He sounded like a bastard of the highest order and Brennain could not see Morna holding any affection for a man who so easily bed lassies and then deserted them. He had deserted his own wife, child, and people. Still, she was
married, regardless of her feelings toward her husband. Taking a deep breath and remaining silent was all he could do to try to keep his hopes at bay.
Although, if what Mack said was true, Caleb was a handsome man with sweet words and a way of making lassies fall at his feet. Mayhap the man had put Morna under his spell. But he needed to stop thinking of the man and start thinking of a plan to get close enough to see what Mal was up to.
“Rochride made a deal with the Rómánach. They would give him gold and power and help him march on Ériu and he would help them conquer the land using his own supporters as bait, as well as his own knowledge of the villages and their weaknesses.”
Brennain growled and felt his anger ready to explode. “Aye, the man has indeed raided many villages and knows the lay of the land and most likely, ways to get around many defenses. He is a coward, a traitor, and a bastard. I would kill him but Tuathal wishes for that honor. I cannot even get close enough to do so without being recognized.”
“They would have ye killed and send yer head back to yer king as a warning. Make nay mistake. We need to be discreet,” Bryant confirmed. “With Mal’s army and the Rómánach, there are hundreds of men just at this fort, but their power stretches across the land. This is one fort out of dozens. Anger the foreigners and ye will have trouble on yer hands.”
“I am not afraid to die, but I am nay good to my king if I do so before returning with information. He would never have known which fort Mal was located at if I had not come. Can we stop this attack?” Brennain was itching for a fight, but he knew he had no choice but to lay low and do all he could to stop their army from making it onto Ériu soil. The best he could hope for was to gather information, somehow collect Caleb, deliver him back to Miathi, then head back to Ráth Mór and figure out how to stop Mal.