Lords of Ireland II

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Devlin was stunned by the proposal. His first reaction was to laugh at the suggestion but he wisely kept his reaction suppressed; of all of the tasks or questions or proposals, he had been asked to spy on himself!

  It was nearly too much for him to bear but in the same breath, he realized that he could beautifully manipulate the situation if he had de Noble’s trust. But he would very carefully have to temper what information he gave the man because if they discovered who he was and of his treachery, then they would logically suspect that Emllyn was a part of it. It would reflect horribly on her.

  Nay; that couldn’t happen. In order to keep Emllyn safe, Devlin would have to be extraordinarily careful. He could hardly believe how twisted and complex the situation had become. He had set out to make Emllyn as spy on his behalf and now, he was to become a spy for the English.

  The tides had turned on him and it would take a calm and intelligent man not to be caught in a trap of his own making. This was a chance of a lifetime and he truthfully had no other recourse than to take it. He was in deep and it would only get deeper.

  “Aye,” he said after a moment, with a hint of reluctance. “I will do it. To keep the lady safe, I would do anything.”

  De Noble’s expression was as close to triumphant as the emotionless man could get. “Excellent,” he said. “Then let us eat and drink to celebrate our new association. I will send a servant up to see how the lady fares but on the morrow, you will set out for Black Castle.”

  Devlin didn’t feel much like talking after that and he pushed the alcohol away so he wouldn’t drink anymore. He tended to get moody when he’d had too much to drink and he didn’t want to do or say anything that might jeopardize everything. The English knights, however, were quite willing to drink to excess and eat. Devlin simply sat in silence and watched them.

  A servant was sent to see to Emllyn’s welfare and returned some time later to say that the lady was asleep and that Lady Elyse was watching over her. It was the only bit of news Devlin received and it did not make him happy. As the evening wore on, he became increasingly unhappy and morose as the feasting English continued into the night.

  By midnight, he had shifted to a seat by the massive hearth, surrounded by farting and snoring English dogs, wondering what in the hell he had gotten himself in to.

  When Emllyn opened her eyes, it was dark in the chamber except for the glow of the firelight.

  She lay there a moment, studying her surroundings without moving her head, unable to see much in the dark reaches of the room. It took her several moments to orient herself and remember where she was, and then it all came back to her. De Cleveley’s holding, Devlin had told her. They had gained entrance according to plan. She didn’t know if she felt better or worse to know that.

  They were in.

  But what wasn’t according to plan was her wound. That had nearly destroyed everything. Shifting slightly, she had barely moved when there was a face in her field of vision. She recognized the gentle and lovely features as the Lady Elyse.

  “My lady?” Elyse said, a warm smile on her face. “How are you feeling?”

  Emllyn wasn’t entirely sure; she blinked as she pondered the question. Her thinking and reasoning seemed to be clearer, at any rate.

  “My head aches a great deal,” she said, her voice hoarse and scratchy. She moved her body a little, including her leg. “My leg hurts also, which is of no great surprise.”

  Elyse smiled sympathetically. “I know,” she said, putting a gentle hand on her forehead to feel for fever. “Your fever seems to have eased.”

  “Is it still there?”

  “Still, but it seems much less.”

  Emllyn was grateful for the improvement. She began to look around the room, noting that other than Elyse and a serving woman who was over near the hearth, they were alone. Devlin wasn’t in the room. Seized with anxiety, Emllyn tried to sit up.

  “Where is D… John?” she stumbled as she tried to climb off the bed. “Where did he go?”

  Elyse rushed to her side, putting her hands on the woman to try and keep her in bed. “He is supping with my father,” she assured her quickly. “He is well, my lady. Do not fear.”

  Emllyn wasn’t eased in the least. Her eyes welled with fat tears. “Bring him here,” she begged tightly. “Please bring him here.”

  Elyse was trying her best to soothe her. “My lady, I swear he is unharmed,” she said. “As soon as he finished eating, he will return.”

  Emllyn struggled with her fear, wiping away the tears that fell. Elyse was so soothing and kind that she couldn’t help but be eased. Still, she was very worried.

  “I am afraid the knights will try to harm him because he is Irish,” she said. “He… he saved my life. I owe him much. I do not want him out of my sight.”

  Elyse nodded soothingly, gently forcing her back on the bed. “I will go myself and bring him here,” she said. “He seems to be very attached to you as well. I suspect we could not keep him from you if we tried.”

  Emllyn’s anxiety eased as a concern of another sort took hold at Elyse’s statement. He is very attached to you. There was something about the way she said it, as if Devlin’s attention was more than just simple camaraderie. She said it as if it was meant to be something sweet, and the statement unnerved her. It also excited her.

  “Why would you say that?” she asked.

  Since her patient was now awake and fairly mobile, Elyse began to remove Emllyn from the heavy cloak she was wearing. It was filthy and torn.

  “Because he is very protective of you,” she said, gently pulling at the cloak and removing Emllyn’s arms from it. “It is apparent that he feels responsible for you.”

  Emllyn fell silent, pondering the woman’s observations, as Elyse proceeded to remove her from the cloak and surcoat. When she was down to the shift, she called for a bath and in little time, a small army of servants brought forth a big copper tub, lined with linen, and began filling it with warm water.

  Meanwhile, Elyse had gone to her wardrobe, overflowing with goods, and brought forth a beautiful silk robe that she put around Emllyn’s shoulders as the servants filled the tub. She also brought forth things for the bath; soaps, scrapers, oils, and a giant sponge.

  Emllyn watched the activity and felt tears sting her eyes again; God, it would be so good to be clean and warm again. She felt as if she hadn’t been clean or warm, in pleasant company or in a well-furnished room, for years. The past few days of her life had made such an imprint on her that it was difficult to think past them. She was to be treated with kindness and civility again, and not surrounded by people that hated her. The tears were those of joy.

  When the tub was nearly full, Elyse put her hand in it and tested the water. Satisfied, she poured a measure of oil in the water that made the room smell like roses. Then she went to Emllyn where she sat upon the bed.

  “I realize that you have an injury and that you still are with fever, and mayhap it is very foolish to put you in water under those conditions, but mayhap a bath will make you feel better,” she said. “Let’s try, shall we?”

  Emllyn nodded as she went to stand gingerly on her sore leg. Elyse grabbed hold of her and steadied her as she walked to the bath.

  “Thank you, my lady,” Emllyn said. “Your thoughtfulness is appreciated.”

  Elyse simply smiled as she helped remove Emllyn from her shift, exposing her naked body to the glow of the firelight. Elyse tried not to stare but she had to admit that Lady Emllyn had a delicious figure, ripe and round in all of the right places. Elyse was rather slender, everywhere. She wished for such full breasts as Emllyn had. As Emllyn carefully lowered herself into the bath, Elyse helped her keep her leg out of the water by propping it up on the edge of the tub.

  “I am sorry the water is not terribly hot,” Elyse said. “I did not want to aggravate your fever. But we shall get you warm and clean, my lady, have no fear. Water will wash away all of the sins of the world, I say.”

  Emllyn clo
sed her eyes as Elyse and a servant went to work, pouring water over her head and setting about scrubbing and oiling every inch of her body. The water smelled like an entire field of roses and Emllyn settled back, letting Elyse take charge. Already, she was feeling better.

  “May I beg you to tell me a little about yourself, my lady?” Elyse asked as she worked. “Living here at Glenteige with only my father and a few others for company, I very much miss the companionship of ladies such as yourself. It is a rather lonely life here at times.”

  Emllyn had been laying against the back of the tub, eyes closed but she opened her eyes and looked at Elyse when the woman spoke.

  “Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I am afraid I am not very exciting. I went to foster at Kenilworth Castle when I was very young. In fact, Kenilworth feels more like my home than my brother’s castle ever did. I had many friends there. I was sad to leave when I had to return home.”

  Elyse was busy scrubbing the toes of her left foot. “Tell me of your friends at Kenilworth,” she said. “Were they handsome and dashing knights or fine and fair ladies?”

  Emllyn smiled at the memories the question was provoking. “Both,” she said. “I had friends that were male, of course. Two that come to mind are Kenneth St. Héver and Stephen of Pembury. They would try to play jokes on me but I was smarter than they were; I would turn the tables on them. Oh, they were good times.”

  Elyse smiled because Emllyn was. “Young knights?”

  Emllyn nodded. “Very young,” she said. “We were about the same age and they always thought they could tease me. Well, at least Stephen did. He was a terrible jokester. Somehow Kenneth always got into trouble, too, because the two of them were inseparable. I can still see the earl berating the pair for having played a joke on me which I turned around on them. It was great fun.”

  Elyse was still smiling as she rinsed off the left foot and moved onto the right. “I have fond memories of fostering, too,” she said. “I fostered at Winchester Castle.”

  Emllyn watched the woman wash her foot. “When did you come to Ireland?”

  Elyse’s smile seemed to fade. “Two years ago,” she said. “It was after my mother died and my father did not wish me to stay in England alone, so he sent for me. I have no other family, you see. Just my father. I had a brother but he was killed by Black Sword in the wars a few years ago.”

  Killed by Black Sword. Emllyn’s smile faded and her nerves began to make a return, for Devlin’s sake. To be truthful, she’d only heard two sides of Black Sword’s legend – her brother’s version and Devlin’s version. She was curious about Elyse’s version but she was also curious to know if the woman had any insight into her father’s activities against Devlin. Devlin wanted to know if de Cleveley intended to launch an attack against him; perhaps this was a place to start. Women often heard things they weren’t supposed to.

  “I am sorry for your brother,” she said softly. “Black Sword destroyed my brother’s entire fleet. It seems to me that he is very powerful.”

  Elyse shrugged as she finished with her right foot and put it back into the water. “He is very much hated,” she said. “Everyone in the settlement both hates the man and fears him. I do believe some of the knights even admire him. They say he is very clever.”

  Emllyn simply nodded her head to the statement as she deliberated what direction to take the conversation in. She’d never been particularly manipulative so this was new territory for her. Worse, she was actually coming to like Elyse. The woman was very kind and seemingly genuine. She didn’t want to use that kindness in a self-serving way but she had little choice. She was here on a mission and would do what she had to in order to achieve her goal.

  “He must be if he defeated my brother’s armada as thoroughly as he did,” she said. “Has no one even tried to meet with the man and see what his demands are? I realize I am not a warrior, and I’m not even particularly clever, but it seems to me if there is a problem that men should discuss it. What good is it to go around killing each other if no one really knows what it’s all about?”

  “They know what it is all about,” Elyse corrected her. “It is about the Irish wanting to rule their own lands when everyone knows they are too stupid to do so. Except for Black Sword; I have heard my father say he has the makings of a great ruler.”

  “Why?”

  “I do not know. I believe it has something to do with the way he plans his battles.” She paused and appeared thoughtful. “He is the bastard son of the Earl of Louth, you know. He served with his father in the Irish Bruce Wars a few years ago and it was said he was instrumental in a very big victory. His father’s family has been in Ireland for centuries and even though they are descended from Normans, they are still considered Irish. And Black Sword’s mother is the daughter of kings, so I suppose that makes him royalty.”

  Emllyn tried not to show much interest in what she was saying, although it was more than she’d ever heard about Devlin. “How would you know all of this?”

  Elyse grinned. “My father told me,” she said. “He says that Black Sword has all of the cunning and savagery of the Irish gods. He says that Black Sword always has great plans.”

  Emllyn shrugged as she began splashing water on her face. “Then mayhap your father should meet with the man and discuss a plan that will not see so many men die.”

  Elyse grinned at the frank assessment of a complex situation. “My father has met him, once,” she said. “It was a long time ago but he said even then, in his youth, there was something about Black Sword that spoke of greatness.”

  Emllyn’s blood ran cold. My father has met him. God’s Blood, was it possible the man had recognized him? Was that why he invited Devlin to sup with him? Emllyn began to feel very, very nervous.

  As Elyse washed her hair with soap and rinsed it with flat ale, all Emllyn could think of was Devlin sitting in the midst of English knights, men who would gladly run him through if they knew who he was. She was wrought with worry over Devlin’s current status, so much so that she had ceased to enjoy her bath and now saw it as an obstacle that stood in the way of having Devlin returned to her room. She had to tell Devlin that de Noble had seen him once and quite possibly might recognize him. It was a terrifying thought.

  When the bath was over, Elyse and the serving woman helped Emllyn from the tub and dried her off with a soft linen towel. Standing in front of the fire where it was nice and warm, the servant rubbed rose-scented oil all over her skin as Elyse began to comb through her hair to dry it. When the oil was absorbed into her skin, the servant put the beautiful silk robe back on her and Elyse had her sit down in front of the fire so that the heat could better dry her hair.

  As the red-gold hair dried into fine, soft curls, Emllyn could wait no longer. She had to see Devlin. When the serving woman brought her mulled wine to drink, she turned to catch a glimpse of Elyse as the woman worked steadily over her hair.

  “Will you please return John now?” she asked. “I would like to see him.”

  Elyse nodded, immediately switching places with the serving woman and removing the apron she had donned to help Emllyn bathe. She was quick and efficient in her movements, exuding the image of the perfect chatelaine.

  “I will go and find him,” she said. Then, her gaze lingered on Emllyn hesitantly. “Of course, it is not my place to say so, but it is my sense that it would not be entirely… proper for the man to stay here with you. In fact, I will be sleeping in this chamber and although I know John makes you feel safe, to have him sleeping here is rather… discomforting to me. Moreover, my father would never allow it.”

  Emllyn thought on that a moment. “I have no desire to make you uncomfortable, of course,” she said. “But… you were right when you said I feel very comfortable with John. I am sorry if that seems strange, being as I hardly know the man and he is not my husband, but I would prefer to stay with him. He makes me feel very safe. If you must move us out of your chamber in order to accomplish that, I would be very grateful.”
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  Elyse appeared rather distressed. “But,” she said hesitantly, “my lady… he is….”

  “He is the man who saved my life and took great care of me until now,” Emllyn said, interrupting her hostess. She wasn’t trying to be rude but she truly didn’t want Devlin out of her sight, fearful of what would happen if they were separated. “I find myself in a strange castle with people I do not know and even though you have been sweet and gracious, I am not trying to be cruel when I say that I would feel much more comfortable with a man I have established some trust with rather than a lady I have only known a few hours. Please do not think me unkind; it is simply the way I feel at this moment.”

  Elyse sighed and forced a smile; she would not argue with her guest. “If that is your wish, then of course I shall comply,” she said. “There is a small chamber on this floor where I can put you. It is rather cramped, but I will make it comfortable for you.”

  Emllyn nearly collapsed with relief. “Thank you, my lady,” she said sincerely. “And I will put your mind at ease that nothing inappropriate or unseemly shall occur. I look at John as my watchdog, and so should you. He gives me comfort and that is all.”

  Elyse merely smiled without answering and Emllyn suspected it was because she didn’t believe her but was too polite to say so. Putting her apron down, she scooted out of the chamber and shut the door softly behind her. Emllyn had a feeling that she had offended the woman with her requests but it couldn’t be helped; her concern was for Devlin.

  While Elyse went in search of Devlin, the serving woman helped Emllyn change into a lovely soft shift and heavy sleeping robe that was lined in rabbit fur and had long, belled sleeves. It was a gorgeous piece of blue brocaded silk. The serving wench also put warm doeskin slippers on Emllyn’s feet that were a bit too small but nonetheless comfortable. Then, she braided her nearly dry hair into a thick braid and wrapped it around her head in an attractive style, securing it firmly with iron pins.