“How did you escape?” William asked as he jogged beside Christopher and Aine.
“Luck,” Christopher said. Then he canted his head, deciding he wouldn’t hide the truth from his friends. “And I killed a man.”
Aine bobbed her head in a nod. “To protect me.”
William was silent for a second, but then he said, “Good. Maybe they’ll decide you’re more trouble than you’re worth.”
“Not if they find out who I am,” Christopher said.
“Why is that?” James said from ahead of him, proving he was listening.
“Because this wasn’t just an attack on the O’Reillys by a rival clan, though it was that too,” Christopher said. “Their leader was Thomas de Clare.”
Chapter Nine
South of Drumconrath
Aine
For all the brave face that she’d put on the situation up until now, Aine’s teeth had started to chatter. William had offered her one of the horses to ride, but she’d declined it, thinking that she would be warmer walking. Now she wasn’t so sure. Though the rain had stopped earlier that evening, the ground was still wet and the air cool. Her only saving grace was that she’d kept on her cloak after the last time she’d crossed from the kitchen to the main hall. The fabric wasn’t as thick as she might normally have worn if she intended to be out walking in the wee hours of the morning, but it was better than having no cloak at all.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Christopher said.
“Of course I’m afraid. Only a fool wouldn’t be.”
Christopher gave a little sigh. “I meant that you don’t have to be afraid of me.”
“Oh.” She paused, realizing he was referring to her reaction to him when he’d caught up to her in the woods. “I’m not.”
“You don’t have to be afraid of my friends either,” Christopher added. “Just because we’re English doesn’t mean we will hurt you.”
“I know that too. The O’Rourkes are Irish and look what they did—aligning themselves with Thomas Clare.” She let out a disgusted snort.
Christopher had unsheathed his sword again, as had the other men. The care they were showing her surprised her, since concern for an Irishwoman wasn’t at all what she would have expected from Saxon noblemen. In her experience, more often than not, rich Saxons cared more about wine and their own pleasures than about other people. In fact, her short acquaintance with Christopher and his friends had shown them to be quite unlike any men she’d met before, Saxon, Danish, Irish, or otherwise. William de Bohun was the nephew of the Lord Verdun, heir to great estates himself, and here he was, slipping and sliding across the muddy fields with the heir to the Earldom of Carrick and the brother-in-law of the Earl of Ulster. In fact, the idea that five noblemen would be capable of trekking across Ireland in the middle of the night was undermining everything she thought she knew about them. Nobody had complained even once, and their primary concern, rather than their dignity, was what course of action to take next, a question that had occupied them for the entirety of the journey from the fort.
Then again, Christopher was David’s cousin, and all these men served in his retinue. She shouldn’t have been surprised to find that David surrounded himself with intelligent and honorable men.
Since leaving the fort, they had been heading south and somewhat west, aiming ultimately for the main road. They were afraid to get too close to any farmstead, however, in case the inhabitants weren’t friendly—even to her—and such contact sent them right back into the danger they’d just fled. They’d even been afraid to light a torch and had done so only after they’d come some distance from the fort—and out of desperation, because they could see nothing without one.
James was proposing that Christopher, Aine, and Huw ride hard for Trim Castle, while he, William and Robbie, continued on foot. The others weren’t in favor of that course of action, in large part because a company of six, five of whom were well-armed, was more formidable than that same company split in two.
“They wanted you,” Huw was insisting to Christopher.
“Gilla’s men happily abducted me, but without thought for the consequences.” Christopher glanced at Aine. When she didn’t comment, he added, “Clare and O’Rourke didn’t even know I was there. They still might not, though killing a man on the way out wasn’t exactly subtle. They haven’t caught us yet, and I’m starting to hope that William is right, and they have bigger things to worry about than me.”
“I’m concerned that even if they don’t care specifically about you, they do want Aine,” James said. “As Gilla’s daughter, she could serve as leverage against him.”
“But what do they want?” William glanced again at Aine, a frown on his face, which she could see by the glare of the orange torchlight. Like the others, fear for her safety seemed to be giving him more pause than fear for his own life. “Specifically, what did Thomas de Clare want?”
Aine shook her head. “The O’Rourkes want my father’s lands. What Clare could be doing with O’Rourke I can’t say any more than you.” She didn’t add that the O’Rourkes were as ruthless as their Saxon allies, and then she found her voice choking up. “My father could already be dead.”
Shouts came from behind them. Instantly, everyone spun around to see who was following, and Huw doused the torch he’d been carrying. They’d run the first half-mile or so from the fort, but the pastures and fields they were crossing were so uneven and wet, their initial pace had been impossible to maintain. As it was, Aine’s dress was muddy up to her knees. It had been well over an hour since they’d left the fort, but they couldn’t have come more than two miles in that time.
Aine cursed unbecomingly under her breath and received a surprised look and then a grin from William. She lifted one shoulder by way of apology and said, “I’ve been hoping, given the time that has passed, that we were truly safe from pursuit.”
William edged closer. “No apology necessary. You’ve been very brave.”
She grimaced. “I don’t want to complain but—” She broke off, lifting her head to sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”
“Smell it and see it.” Huw pointed back the way they’d come. On the hill where her home had been, a fire blazed up.
Aine stared at it, the back of her hand to her mouth. Then she took an unthinking step forward, as if she could run back and try to save those who might have been left behind inside it.
William reached out a hand and tugged her back. “If we can see the fire from here, it’s far too late to save anyone. You can’t do anything. It’s over.”’
Tears that she’d been holding back this whole time streamed down Aine’s cheeks. Everything she’d ever known or cared about had been in that hall: all of her possessions, few enough as they were; her father; her friends, servants, and companions; all lost to O’Rourke’s and Clare’s men. She wanted to melt into a forlorn puddle on the ground.
“I’m sorry,” William said.
His sympathy almost undid her entirely, but then she gritted her teeth, struggling against her grief, and she clenched her hands into fists.
“They will pay for this,” William added.
“They will, if it’s the last thing we do,” Christopher agreed. “But not today.”
Then the shouts they’d heard earlier came again, closer this time.
“They’re coming this way!” James swung into the saddle of the horse he’d been leading and turned its head towards the sound.
But Christopher grasped the bridle to stop him from leaving. “What are you doing?”
“If they’re following, I’m going to lead them away from you. And if they’re not, I want to be able to tell David their numbers. We don’t have enough information, and that could be our undoing. I’ve been a captive too many times to go down without a fight.”
Christopher stepped back. “Okay. We’ll walk as straight as we can in this direction. Find us as soon as you know anything.”
“I will.” James spurred his horse back th
e way they’d come, very quickly disappearing into the darkness.
Without needing to consult about it, the five remaining companions started off in a loping run, heading in the opposite direction.
“I should be going with him,” Robbie said.
“No, you shouldn’t. That would mean you both could get caught,” Christopher said. “He knows what he’s doing. If anything, you should be riding for Trim.”
“We already determined that we shouldn’t split up,” William said.
“What did we just do?” Christopher came to a sudden stop. Aine was grateful for it, because her legs were shorter than everyone else’s, and their brief run had her breathing hard. “I’m just saying that maybe we should do a rethink.”
That wasn’t a phrase Aine had ever heard before, but the others seemed to understand what Christopher was talking about and, after she considered it, so did she.
Everyone leaned against the wall they’d just reached, and now that the torch was extinguished, she realized it wasn’t as dark as it had been. She looked up and saw a handful of stars blinking at her from above. Then, suddenly, the moon came out from behind a cloud and lit the night.
“I’m just trying to figure out who it makes the most sense to send,” Christopher said. “Who will be in the least danger by himself?”
“You and Aine should go,” William said. “We already decided that it’s the two of you who are in the most danger.”
“Aine is the only one of us who speaks Gaelic, and it’s likely that the people in this region are more loyal to her father than to any O’Rourke. Those left behind won’t do half as well without her, and I’m not leaving you to fend for yourselves in the middle of Ireland.” Christopher’s chin stuck out in his adamancy. “Besides, the horse will go much slower and tire more easily carrying two. Alone, one of you could be in Trim by dawn.”
“Not me,” Huw said. “I’m no horseman.”
Aine wouldn’t have minded riding to Trim. The sooner she got out of these wet clothes the better, but she could see Christopher’s point. And she could admire both William’s insistence that she and Christopher leave and Christopher’s refusal to abandon his friends in order to get himself safe. So she turned to Robbie. “It is you who should go. You’re a Scottish lord. Nobody will trouble you.”
Robbie’s brows knit together. “I don’t want to abandon any of you either.”
“We’ll keep walking this way,” William said. “King David can send a party out to look for us, and we’ll all be warm and dry before you know it. When you get to Trim, have some mulled wine and think of us.”
Christopher put a hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “Don’t talk to anyone who isn’t David, Uncle Llywelyn, Aunt Meg, or Callum. At this point, we don’t know who our allies are, not with Comyn working with Tuyt. Maybe Geoffrey de Geneville is in on it too. Even if Clare and O’Rourke have nothing to do with what’s going on at Drogheda, it looks to me like Ireland is all of a sudden full of factions, and we can’t trust any of them.”
Robbie took in a breath. “I think you’re right, Christopher, but I hate leaving you. James isn’t going to like it when he comes back and discovers I’m gone.”
“I’ll tell him I made you go.”
Even as Robbie shook his head, he pulled the horse’s pack off its back and handed it to Huw. “It holds blankets and a little food. You are going to need them more than I will.”
Christopher put out his forearm for Robbie to grasp. “It’s the right decision. Sticking together might feel safer, but David has to know what’s happened, and we are the only ones who can tell him. I’ll explain that to James when he gets back.”
They watched Robbie ride away, and only then did Christopher tip back his head and say, “God, I hope that was the right thing to do.”
Aine was surprised that he could admit doubt, but Christopher seemed completely unembarrassed by it.
“It’s what King David would have done,” Huw said.
“You think so? I imagine he wouldn’t have got himself captured in the first place.” Christopher jerked his head to indicate that they should start walking again.
“How exactly were you captured?” William said.
Aine had been wondering the same thing, but inquiring as to how a man allowed himself to suffer such an indignity was not polite table conversation. Back at the fort, her father had told her to put Christopher at his ease so he’d be more willing to answer questions later. Aine was ashamed to admit that she’d greeted this suggestion with derision, even if she’d done as her father had asked.
Christopher, however, instead of avoiding the question, actually laughed. “I was an idiot.”
“My lord—” Huw wasn’t happy to have Christopher deriding himself either.
Christopher motioned dismissively with one hand, implying that his mockery was of no matter, but he did stop laughing. “There’s not much to tell. I was waiting with the horses for you to return. Within a few minutes of your leaving, a dozen men showed up. Even a great warrior such as I can’t overcome that many men.”
Aine blinked, at first thinking that it was unlike Christopher to boast about his prowess, but then as he grinned at her, she realized that he was mocking himself again. She shook her head, unable to make sense of such a thing. None of the men of her acquaintance, whether proficient with a sword or not, would ever have disparaged his abilities in battle—and he certainly would not have done so in front of other men. It made her feel a little uncomfortable.
William clapped a hand on Christopher’s shoulder. “You’re kidding yourself to think that any of us would have done any better.”
“William’s right, Christopher. You say that King David wouldn’t have been captured in the first place, but you forget how he and I met,” Huw said. “He was captured, and he got away, just like you did.”
Christopher laughed again, under his breath this time, but the sound was far more genuine than before. “I suppose you’re right, and from the way you tell it, Huw, that day turned out pretty well in the end. We should be so lucky.”
Chapter Ten
South of Drumconrath
James
Immediately upon leaving Christopher and the others, James headed directly back the way they’d come, towards O’Reilly’s fort, retracing their initial steps. But as the voices of the men ahead of James were revealed not to be directly following them across the pastures but angling east, James curved to the east too. It turned out that the party behind them was following the road along which James and the others had tracked Christopher from Drogheda. It was the only road in the vicinity, and short of cutting across country like Christopher and the others were doing, it was the only way back to the Pale.
Since James himself was on horseback, it took him no time at all to reach a small stand of trees on the edge of a field, within hailing distance of the road along which the company appeared to be moving. With the rain no longer falling and the moon out, he had a good view of the road back to the fort. He told himself that he was lucky they’d heard the men’s voices, and even luckier that nobody in Gilla’s fort had tried to trade Christopher’s life for his own by revealing to Clare that Christopher had been there.
While James didn’t like relying on luck, every soldier prayed for it, and the soldier who didn’t have it invariably died. That was just the way the world worked. Some men might say that it wasn’t luck but rather God’s favor that gave a man victory. That was true too, but James had seen far too many good men die and bad men win to blame the good man for the loss instead of the bad man for betraying him. If James died today, it wasn’t punishment for his sins, for all that he’d sinned plenty, but a momentary triumph for the devil riding on the shoulder of Thomas de Clare. Why God would allow the devil to win in this instance, James didn’t know, but if He chose instead to make James His instrument, who was James to argue with Him?
That was what James was telling himself as he tried to pinpoint how far away the company coming towards him was and
calculate how long he dared stay and wait before returning to the young people. Yesterday, he might have had more trepidation about leaving them alone, but they’d all proved themselves to be resilient and courageous, qualities James had seen glimmers of before today but not the full flowering that had occurred tonight. He was especially pleased to see the growth in Christopher. In capturing him, his abductors had found themselves with more than they bargained for—and Christopher had discovered the same truth about himself.
The thudding of many hooves on the road grew nearer. A moment later, a company of forty riders came around a bend in the road, torches shining from long poles, the ends of which were placed in rests where a pike would normally be braced prior to battle. Even though James knew the light would ruin his night vision, he drank it in, relieved finally to be able to see clearly. That the riders were carrying torches also told him what he needed to know about their task. These men weren’t scouts or a party searching for Christopher and Aine. They were riding openly, uncaring of who saw them and who scurried to get out of the way. Since they’d burned Gilla’s fort, they looked to be returning to wherever they’d come from.
But then as they passed him, he realized that he wasn’t entirely correct in his assumptions. A man, bareheaded and without a cloak, rode in the midst of the company. His hands were tied at the wrists, and the soldier riding in front of him held his horse’s reins. James recognized the curly brown hair and beard: it was Gilla O’Reilly, Aine’s father. Given the animosity between the O’Rourke and O’Reilly clans and the long history of murder and assassination between them, it was a wonder he wasn’t dead. Even more curious was the fact that, while he was being removed from his own territory, he wasn’t being taken west onto O’Rourke lands, but east, towards Drogheda.
As James sat in the darkness of the trees, he considered what he should do and remembered a conversation from his visit to Westminster a few weeks after Gilbert de Clare’s rebellion. Though James had come to London to pay his respects to David on behalf of King John of Scotland, he’d ended up having a private conversation with Nicholas de Carew. As David’s longtime friend and advisor, Carew had played an instrumental role in David’s life from the time he’d been the Prince of Wales, accompanying him to Lancaster for the fateful meeting with King Edward that had resulted in the king’s death. Carew had remained loyal in the years afterwards despite the long odds against survival David had sometimes faced.
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