Lords of Ireland II

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  “We will head back before dawn,” Shain said as he tossed aside the bones he had been sucking on. “I would head back tonight but with what happened this afternoon, I think it would be safer for all of us if we camped here for the night and got a fresh start in the morning.”

  Devlin extended a piece of meat to Neart, who was perched on a rock beside him. “Agreed,” he said. “De Cleveley’s settlement is about a half day’s travel from here. I think we can make it there without further incident.”

  “Unless you run into a patrol from de Cleveley,” Iver said. He was well into his bladder of ale, looking drunk and sleepy. “Have you schooled the woman well on how she is to behave and what she is to say? I will admit that I worry, Dev. This entire undertaking has my stomach in knots.”

  Devlin eyed his friend, feeding the bird more meat. “I told you,” he replied calmly, “that she understands any betrayal will result in the death of thirty-three English prisoners. It is enough to motivate her.”

  “Did you tell her that her lover is alive and among them?” Iver asked.

  Devlin shook his head. “Why would I?” he replied. “If I did, I would lose my leverage.”

  He glanced over his shoulder again as he said it. As he was looking at Emllyn, Iver and Shain exchanged knowing glances. It was Shain who finally spoke.

  “Dev,” he began slowly. “The woman… is there something else we should know about her?”

  Devlin looked at him. “Like what?”

  Shain cocked an eyebrow, pointing in Emllyn’s direction. “Like you cannot take your eyes off of her?” he said. “We have been watching you all day with her and I can say without a doubt that I have never seen you treat any prisoner the way you are treating her.”

  Devlin cooled; he didn’t like his motives or actions questioned. More than that, the confusion and attraction he had been feeling towards Emllyn was something that evidently he’d been indiscreet about. He immediately went on the defensive.

  “Mayhap that is because she is unlike any prisoner we have ever had,” he said with an expression on his face that dared them to contradict him. “She is the most valuable prisoner we have ever had the fortune to come across and, quite literally, our entire rebellion can hinge on her because of who she is and what she can do for our cause. Can you not see that?”

  Shain and Iver could see he was defensive, but he was also making sense. Perhaps there wasn’t more to the man’s attitude towards the prisoner than simple and uncomplicated concern; still, he was being extraordinarily attentive to the point of suspicion. After a moment of reflection, Shain nodded.

  “I do,” he replied. “But I will say this, Dev, because you are my friend and I know you understand that my motives are true. Do not let yourself become emotionally involved with her; mayhap she is using her feminine wiles on you and you have been blinded by her charm. Mayhap she is well-spoken and intelligent, enough so that she is able to manipulate you. Whatever the case, do not let her sway you from your mission, my friend. It will be the death of you.”

  Devlin didn’t become enraged as he might have if someone else had been truthful with him. After a moment of staring into Shain’s eyes, he simply hung his head and put the rest of his rabbit bones in front of Neart, who picked at them eagerly. Devlin found that, for some reason, he couldn’t look the man in the eye. He was afraid he would see emotion there that didn’t belong.

  “She will not sway me,” he said quietly. “But it is important to keep her safe and close to me if we are to achieve the goals I have set. I want to know what de Cleveley and Kildare are planning and that woman over there is the only way I can find out.”

  Shain watched Devlin as the man wiped his fingers off on his breeches. He noticed that he was having difficulty meeting his eye, which only served to fuel his suspicions that Devlin was feeling something for the English prisoner. Still, the man had denied it. It was possible that he didn’t even realize it.

  “I hope so,” Shain finally said after a lengthy pause, one that was filled with unvoiced doubt. “I sincerely hope so. In any case, when do you think we can expect to see your return? Do you have a timeline planned?”

  Devlin inhaled thoughtfully, glad to be off the uneasy subject of Emllyn. “It is difficult to know,” he said. “The lady will need to gain the confidence of de Cleveley’s people first and that will take time. It will be weeks, at least. Try to hold off Freddy and his hunger for power for at least that long. I will return as soon as I can but I would say that if I have not returned within two months, then you will assume something has happened to me. If you can send scouts in to infiltrate the settlement and find me, it might be a good idea. If the lady betrays me and I end up in the stocks, I will need help.”

  It was the first time he admitted that such a thing might be possible. Shain simply nodded while Iver finished drinking his entire bladder. He didn’t like any of this and worry of this magnitude was often drowned in drink. He simply couldn’t help himself. The entire situation had him on edge.

  Shain, Iver, Neart, and the rest of Devlin’s men were gone well before sunrise, back to Black Castle to await the fate of their leader and his English captive. Would Devlin’s scheme work? Would the lady betray him?

  Only time would tell.

  The smell of smoke was heavy.

  As Emllyn emerged from a deep and heavy sleep, the first thing she became aware of was the acrid smell of smoke as it filled her nostrils. It seemed difficult to breathe so she tried to move her head, away from the smoke, but it seemed to be everywhere. Coughing, she opened her eyes.

  It was a cold and dreary morning, just before sunrise. She knew that because she could see a faint gray glow through the clouds to the east and the birds were starting to rouse for the day. There was quite a bit of bird chatter. As she looked around, she noticed that the smoke was coming from a smoldering fire a few feet away. The misty morning was causing the smoke to lay close to the ground, which was why the smell was so heavy. She also noticed that there was no one else around; Devlin’s men had evidently already left for home. Rolling onto her back, she found herself looking up at Devlin.

  He was leaning over his satchel, dressed in clothing she’d never seen before; usually, the man was impeccably attired in a leather vest, leather breeches, and a long Irish tunic that always seemed to be remarkably clean. But at the moment he was dressed in what amounted to little more than rags. He was a very big man all wrapped up in a ratty tunic, rough hose, and a big cloak that had holes in it. But that wasn’t the worst of it; he had shaved off all of his beautiful red hair and was as bald as a stone.

  Startled, Emllyn sat up, her eyes wide on his appearance. She hardly recognized him. Somewhere between last night and this morning, he had shaved all of the hair off of his head but had left his beard intact. Rubbing her eyes as if to clarify the shocking vision, she peered at him more closely.

  “God’s Blood,” she muttered. “What have you done to yourself?”

  Devlin looked up from where he was stuffing the remainder of his possessions into his satchel. The look on her face somewhat amused him. “So you are awake? You slept the sleep of the dead.”

  Emllyn didn’t want to talk about that. She wanted to talk about his drastic appearance and she pointed a finger at him. “You are bald!”

  His eyes widened and his hand flew up to his head. Letting out a short, high-pitched scream that would have made a woman proud, he ran his hand over his shiny scalp. “What happened to me hair?” He embellished the words greatly and Emllyn retracted the pointing finger, puzzled by his reaction for a moment before realizing he was jesting with her. Rather than giggle at him or ignore it altogether, she decided to play along.

  “Mayhap the fairies took it,” she said. “I hear they are all over these lands. Mayhap they shaved you bald in the night. Did you not notice?”

  His brow furrowed thoughtfully as he rubbed his scalp. “Am I still beauteous?”

  She turned her nose up at him. “I would not know,” she s
aid stiffly as she rose to her knees. “I have never noticed that about you one way or the other.”

  He could sense a game afoot, one that bordered on gentle flirtation. “Be truthful,” he prodded. “You have noticed that about me and more.”

  She snorted as she stood wearily, wincing when her injured leg pained her. It was swollen and achy this morning. “What more is there?” she wanted to know. “You have your adoring Irish throng to tell you how beauteous you are. You do not need me.”

  He fought off a grin. “Aye, I do,” he replied. “I need the rumors of my comeliness to be spread all over England and Wales. Will you start these stories?”

  Emllyn looked at him, an expression of utter disinterested on her face. “I would spread stories of your arrogance,” she said, noticing that he was fighting off a grin. It made her want to grin, too. “But if you allow me to return home when I have served my purpose with de Cleveley, mayhap I will consider telling everyone that you are generous and pleasant-looking.”

  He lifted a red eyebrow. “That is the best you can do? That I am pleasant-looking?”

  “I would not consider my captor any better than pleasant-looking. I should not even contemplate that.”

  The banter faded as the Emllyn brought about the reality of the situation between them. He was so willing to overlook it, to morph it into something more than it was, but Emllyn was unwilling to entertain the thought. She was a prisoner, a concubine as he once put it. But she had to admit he could be charming when the mood struck him. She’d seen glimpses if it before. He had a very infectious charm that was difficult to resist.

  He was also quite smart and able to read the situation for what it was. Devlin sensed that perhaps she was softening to him somewhat. It was in her manner, the way she looked at him. There were moments when she let her guard down and he could see that intelligent, warm woman that he wanted to see more of.

  “At the moment, I am not your captor,” he said quietly. “I am a fellow prisoner. We are equals. We will enter de Cleveley’s settlement as equals and we will leave as equals. You want something from me, I want something from you, and we will combine our forces to ensure each of us gets what we want. That makes us equal.”

  He was correct in a sense. But it was a technicality. “Then if I wanted to go home now, you would let me, as an equal, of course.”

  “If you go home, you will never find out if your lover is in my vault.”

  Stymied, Emllyn thought a moment before regrouping. “It has not occurred to me until now,” she said, “but you could be lying for all I know. I never actually saw any prisoners at all. Who is to say that you have any? This could be an overt fabrication.”

  “If it is, then you fell for it,” Devlin said, cutting her down. “Who would be the bigger fool? Me for fabricating it or you for falling for it?”

  He had her. Emllyn sighed heavily before averting her gaze. “I am the biggest fool of all for stowing away on my brother’s warships to begin with,” she muttered with regret. “But you and I have a bargain and I will not go back on my word. Before we enter de Cleveley’s settlement, mayhap you should tell me what it is I am supposed to say so that we have our stories straight.”

  Feeling victorious in their battle of words, Devlin finished cinching up his satchel. “I touched on it before but to be clear, you will indeed tell them the truth – you are Kildare’s sister and you stowed away on your brother’s war fleet,” he said as he finished with his bag and moved for the hides that had constituted her bed. “You will tell them that Black Sword captured you and threw you in the vault, where you were stored with other prisoners, of which I was one. We were able to escape when I overpowered a guard and stole his keys, and we escaped in the middle of the night through a postern gate near the kitchens. I have accompanied you because I am a mute and have nowhere else to go. You will stress that I am to be kept with you because you feel safe with me; otherwise, they could throw me in the vault again.”

  Emllyn watched him as he rolled up the hides and basically cleaned up their camp. All of it seemed like a very daunting task. “I will admit that I am apprehensive,” she said. “I have never done anything like this before. I am not sure if I can be convincing.”

  “If you are not convincing, you will never see your lover again.”

  “And they will kill you.”

  “I would prefer that not happen.”

  It was a wry statement, a bit of levity to break the tension. With a heavy sigh, Emllyn nodded. “Very well, then,” she said, pulling the cloak more tightly about her against the early morning dew. “Let us get started. Where is Eefha?”

  She was looking around, trying to see through the mist. Devlin took the hides and his satchel and began heading up one of the small hills that surrounded the vale.

  “I do not know,” he said. “She was gone this morning before my men pulled out.”

  “Do you think she went back to Black Castle?”

  “It is hard to say with her.”

  Emllyn began looking around as if she could somehow spot the small old woman in all of this fog. She felt a strange sense of loss with Eefha gone because she had established something of an attachment to the woman who had saved her from the frightening Irish knight who had come pounding on her door. She was so involved in scanning the mist that it took her a moment to notice that Devlin had all but disappeared. Curious, she made her way towards the hill where she last saw him when she suddenly saw the tree on top of the mound rattle. Peering closer, she could see Devlin up in the branches of the big, old oak.

  “What are you doing?” she called up to him.

  The branches rattled and one of them, a rather large branch, crashed to the ground. “Hiding my possessions,” he said. “We may need them when we escape and head back to Black Castle. I want to try to keep them safe.”

  “In a tree?”

  “In a tree. No one ever thinks to look up in a tree.”

  Emllyn watched the man fumble around in the branches before eventually lowering himself to the ground. For such a big man, he climbed rather agilely. He brushed the prickly oak leaves off of his ragged clothing as he approached.

  “There, now,” he said. “All finished. How is your leg, by the way?”

  Emllyn instinctively put her hand down to the painful, swollen spot. “It hurts.”

  “We have quite a bit of walking to do. Can you make it?”

  “I will have to.”

  “If it becomes too painful, I will carry you.”

  She looked at him as if disgusted by the suggestion. “You will do no such thing,” she said primly. “I will walk.”

  She was being stubborn about it. As she tried to walk away from him, he grabbed her by the arm.

  “Wait,” he commanded softly. “Sit down.”

  Emllyn frowned. “Why?”

  His reply was to direct her to a rock that was jutting out of the side of the hill and pushed her down on it. As she fussed at him, he lifted her skirt to reveal the wrap that Eefha had put on it. He went to unwrap it but Emllyn tried to stop him. Pushing her hands away, he unwrapped the wound.

  An angry, oozing injury faced him and his heart sank. He could see that it was becoming poisonous and he touched it, feeling that it was very hot. Emllyn winced in pain at his touch and pushed his hand away, but he ended up cupping her face with both hands to feel that she was with fever. It wasn’t bad but he knew it soon would be. He tried not to feel an inordinate amount of panic.

  “Your wound is developing poison,” he told her as he took his hands from her face. “You have a fever.”

  Startled, Emllyn put her hands to her face as if to confirm his diagnosis. “I do?” she felt her cheeks. “But I do not feel terrible, simply tired.”

  Devlin’s gaze lingered on her face a moment before returning his attention to her leg. He sighed heavily. “This changes things,” he muttered. “I cannot take you back to Black Castle because it is too far away on foot. De Cleveley’s settlement is closer.”

>   Emllyn was puzzled by the comment. “We are going there anyway, are we not?” she said. “I fail to see why anything has changed.”

  She wasn’t feeling his apprehension; Devlin could see that. Either she was too foolish or too naïve to realize the danger she was in, but he brushed it all aside. He had to get her to help no matter how unconcerned she was. But he would try to do what he could before they set out on foot, at least enough to keep the poison from growing rapidly. They had so very few possessions with them, and certainly nothing that could ease poison from the body. They were supposed to be escaped prisoners, and escapees didn’t usually travel well-stocked. Thinking quickly, he stood up and pointed a finger at her.

  “Remain here,” he instructed. “Don’t move.”

  He moved away from her before she could answer and headed to the small steam that flowed near the base of one of the hills that surrounded the vale. Emllyn’s attention was divided between her swollen, oozing injury and Devlin’s movements. He crouched down beside the stream and she could see that he was doing something although she couldn’t see exactly what. It looked to her as if he was playing in the mud along the banks of the idyllic water. He was rubbing and kneading very seriously. Eventually, he stood up with his hands cupped together and headed back in her direction.

  Emllyn watched curiously as he knelt beside her and began packing mud against her wound. But there was something else in the mud because she could see white and green flecks. He packed the mud tightly and she winced.

  Devlin noticed that she was flinching with every poke and every press, but she didn’t utter a sound. She seemed more interested in watching him work.

  “What are you doing?” she finally asked.

  Devlin wiped his muddy hands off on his hose and picked up the bandage that had been wrapped around her wound. He began to re-wrap it.

  “The mud will help draw out any poison,” he said. “I found some snowdrops and clover by the stream which helps with healing. I’m afraid it is the best I can do for now. I don’t have anything else with me to tend the wound so we will have to make haste to de Cleveley’s village and depend on their mercy.”