Elyse grinned and went over to her drawing table as the servants spread out a beautiful meal on the other table. Picking up the rather large piece of yellowed parchment, she blew any remaining grains of loose charcoal off of it as she brought it over and presented it to Emllyn.
“There,” she said. “What do you think?”
Emllyn found herself looking at a perfect likeness of herself, skillfully sketched in charcoal. Elyse had drawn her looking over her right shoulder with her hair flowing and curled, and flowers woven into it. It was astonishing and lifelike, and so very beautiful. Emllyn’s jaw dropped.
“Oh… my,” she breathed. “Elyse, you drew an image of me. I have never seen anything so remarkable. It’s magnificent!”
Elyse beamed. “I am not done with it but it is a good start, don’t you think?” she inspected her drawing carefully. “You are an excellent subject because your features are so fine. Do you like it?”
“I love it,” Emllyn exclaimed. “I have never seen myself like that before, ever. May… may I have it when you are finished?”
Elyse nodded. “Of course,” she said as she headed back over to her drawing table and deposited the parchment. “I made it for you.”
“You are incredibly generous,” Emllyn said sincerely. “I am very touched.”
Elyse continued to grin, pleased by her friend’s reaction, when another maid servant entered the room and headed directly for her. The girl in rough linen clothing and a torn apron curtsied quickly as she extended what looked like a piece of parchment to Elyse.
“M’lady,” the servant said. “I have a message for the Lady Emllyn.”
Elyse eyed the girl. “Who is it from?”
“I have been sworn not to tell, m’lady.”
Elyse took the parchment from her and dismissed her. She promptly went to Emllyn, extending the parchment to her.
“Another note,” she said knowingly. “That makes three notes in the past five days. Who are they from, Emllyn?”
Emllyn could sense curiosity and jealousy from Elyse. It wasn’t surprisingly considering Elyse had been the only fine lady in the castle until thirteen days ago. Now, others were noticing Emllyn. Although Elyse pretended to be excited and thrilled for her, there was something in her tone that suggested otherwise.
Reluctantly, Emllyn took the note and popped open the wax seal. There was no signet ring in the wax, nothing to indicate who had sent it, but the note itself was short and brief. It was the third note asking for Emllyn to meet her secret admirer in the ward of Glenteige near the well at sunset. There was no signature other than: “Your Devoted Servant”. With disinterest, she passed the note to Elyse.
“See for yourself,” she said. “Whoever it is never signs it.”
Elyse read the note with great relish. “How romantic!” she exclaimed softly. “You should meet him, Emllyn, by all means. Mayhap you shall fall madly in love with him!”
Emllyn shook her head. “God’s Blood, Elyse, I am surely not interested,” she said with some exasperation. “I told you once that my only true love was a knight who was killed when Black Sword destroyed my brother’s war armada. I have no interest in another, not a man who writes me notes or a farmer named John. Why can you not accept that?”
Emllyn had told the story about Trevor to throw Elyse off when the woman began prying into her personal life at the beginning of their acquaintance. Certainly, the conversation had never reached the bawdy levels that it had reached this day because the day’s conversation had indeed been enlightening. Elyse had let her prim façade down to reveal the tigress beneath. And the gossip. Emllyn was very glad she’d never confided in her about anything critical or personal, and she knew now that she never would.
Elyse, however, did not share her friend’s sense of reserve. She pressed the note against her breast in an amorous gesture.
“You must meet the man and put him out of his misery,” she said, still holding the note as she went to the table where a fair amount of food was laid out. “It has taken much courage for him to write to you, Emllyn. It would be polite to meet him for his troubles.”
Emllyn eyed her, cocking an eyebrow. “And thank him by bedding him?”
“If he is handsome enough.”
Elyse burst out laughing and Emllyn grinned, shaking her head reproachfully. Elyse began eating the fruits that were upon the table and Emllyn was just finishing up her final stitch when a serving woman approached her from behind, a pewter plate of apricots and apples in her hand. She extended the plate to Emllyn, nearly blocking her vision of her loom.
“Food, m’lady?” the woman rasped.
Annoyed, Emllyn’s head came up with the intention of chasing the woman away when her gaze fell on a set of familiar features. It took Emllyn a moment to realize that she was looking at Eefha. Startled, she dropped her needle but recovered quickly, stabbing herself in the process. All the while, her gaze barely left the gnarled old woman. She could hardly believe her eyes.
When her mouth popped open, a sure sign of realization, Eefha shook her head faintly as if to admonish her to be silent. Emllyn remained silent but she had never been so astonished, by anything, in her entire life.
“Emllyn?” Elyse called to her, mouth full. “Will you come and eat with me?”
Emllyn stood up on shaking legs. “Of course,” she said, trying not to stare at Eefha as she moved past the woman. She desperately wanted to say something to her but wisely kept silent. She forced herself to focus on Elyse. “What delicious dishes do we have today?”
Elyse had her mouth full. “My favorites,” she said. “Brined beef with cabbage and carrots, and duck with honey sauce.”
Emllyn pretended to be very interested in the dishes but the truth was that her mind was still on the shock of seeing Eefha. She didn’t want to lose sight of the woman, not for a moment, so she popped a piece of cheese into her mouth and turned around to see if the old woman was still in the room. She, lingering by the chamber door. Emllyn called out to her.
“You, there,” she said, pointing. “Can you please go to my chamber and bring me my wrap?” she asked. “My chamber is on the top floor at the end of the corridor behind the pillar. There is a red shawl on my bed.”
Eefha didn’t say a word; she simply disappeared from the door. Given the woman’s speech habits and patterns, Emllyn wasn’t even sure if Eefha understood her but she couldn’t have very well sung the request or delivered it via an anecdote about ancient Irish myths. Her entire purpose of sending Eefha to her chamber was so the old woman would know where she slept and, hopefully, would return to her at some point. But, then again, as Devlin once said, Eefha did what she wanted to do, when she wanted to do it. Who knew why the old woman was here or what she was doing? Emllyn pondered the mystery as she returned to the lovely meal.
“Emllyn,” Elyse said thoughtfully after Eefha had fled the chamber, “do you not think that you should at least meet the man who has been writing you such notes if only to tell him that you are not interested?”
Emllyn sighed with frustration as Elyse went back to the subject of her secret admirer. She was getting rather tired with the woman’s pestering and it was a struggle not to become short with her.
“I do not plan to meet him,” she said as she put food on her plate.
Elyse wasn’t happy with the answer. “But why?” she pressed. “Surely you should tell the man that he is wasting his time.”
Emllyn stopped what she was doing and faced the woman. “Elyse, if you are so concerned, then you meet him by the well tonight,” she said with strained patience. “Tell him that I am not interested in his notes. Mayhap he will start writing them to you instead.”
Rather than refuse, Elyse saw it as an opportunity. Her face lit up. “May I meet him?” she asked happily.
Emllyn waved her off and returned to her food. “You have my permission,” she said, disinterested. “Tell him I have no time to spare his nonsense.”
Perhaps she didn’t, but Ely
se certainly did. She was very much looking forward to meeting Emllyn’s lover by the well, if only to see who it was and, if he was acceptable enough, to make another conquest. Emllyn might not have been interested in men but Elyse certainly was. As they sat down to the feast before them, the solar door opened again and Merradoc appeared.
He had been a fixture in Emllyn’s life, sitting with her when Elyse wasn’t, telling his frank and brutal and terribly funny stories to keep her entertained. Even after her leg healed completely, he still kept coming back because he enjoyed her company so much. When he marched into the solar and saw what the women were doing, he threw up his hands.
“Excellent!” he exclaimed. “Let us do what the Romans did; let us become ragingly drunk and then tell our fortunes from our own vomit.”
Emllyn burst out laughing. “God’s Blood,” she said. “You certainly know how to have a good time.”
Merradoc nodded vigorously as he poured himself a large cup of wine and went to sit next to Emllyn.
“I do, indeed,” he said, eyeing her and slapping her lightly on the thigh. “Let me see your leg, you little goat.” When Emllyn began to lift her leg to show him the nearly-healed wound, he slapped her leg again and pushed it down. “Never you mind. I don’t care in the least.”
He was quick-witted and hilarious. With a shrug, Emllyn lowered her leg, returning to her food as Merradoc drank deeply of his wine.
“I have heard something very interesting,” he said, smacking his lips. “It would seem that someone in this room is receiving letters from an admirer.”
As Elyse tittered, Emllyn stopped eating and looked at Merradoc with outrage. “God’s Blood!” she exclaimed. “How would you know that? This entire castle is maelstrom of rumors and lies!”
Merradoc put his hand affectionately on her arm. “Everyone is concerned for everyone, little chick,” he said. “Of course we talk about one another. We have nothing better to do.”
Emllyn made a face at him. “Everyone is in everyone else’s lives and business,” she countered. “Never have I seen such nosy gossips!”
Merradoc was grinning at her. “Nosy or not, tell me of your notes and spare me nothing,” he said. “Have you decided who is sending them?”
Emllyn gave him a look of utter exasperation before motioning to Elyse, who was still holding on to the parchment. Elyse handed it to Merradoc, who studied the handwriting carefully. After a moment, he crowed.
“Of course I know who this is!” he announced.
Both Emllyn and Elyse perked up. “Who?” Elyse demanded.
Merradoc began laughing. He read the carefully scribed note twice before holding it up in the air and howling with laughter. “Remarkable, I say!” he cried.
Emllyn and Elyse were nearly crazed with the need to know. “Tell me who it is!” Emllyn demanded. “Stop cackling and tell me, do you hear?”
Merradoc jumped up from his chair. “You will guess,” he told them. “I will give you clues and you will guess.”
Emllyn and Elyse were eager for the game. They put the food and drink aside, hanging on Merradoc’s every movement. At first, he stood up very tall and put his hand at his hip as if holding onto the hilt of a sword. Then, he beat at his chest and pretended to lower the visor of a helm. Emllyn leapt to her feet.
“A knight!” she exclaimed.
Merradoc nodded vigorously and moved over to Elyse, whom he began to pat on the head. Then, he put his hand to his heart as if to signify that he loved her. He did this several times until Emllyn spoke again.
“A love?” she said, thinking aloud. “Someone who loves Elyse? Is it Connaught?”
Merradoc shook his head, scowling at her incorrect answer. Then, he took an apple from the table and held it next to his groin. He pointed at the apple, and then his groin, repeatedly in that order. Then he pointed at Elyse. Emllyn and Elyse looked at each other in total, utter confusion.
“An apple and… and a man’s member?” Elyse ventured.
Emllyn wasn’t much clearer but she began to think aloud. “An apple and… wait… no, is it fruit?” she said, watching Merradoc nod firmly. “Then it is fruit and… and a groin? Fruit and… and… no, not groin. Is it loins? Fruit and loins? Fruit of loins and…?”
She gasped, looking directly at Elyse as realization dawned. “Fruit of his loins?” she said, pointing at Elyse. “He means your father! You are the fruit of his loins!”
Elyse’s eyes widened with shock. “My father has been sending you notes?” she gasped. “Sweet Jesus, Joseph, and Mary!”
With his job finished, Merradoc sat back down at the table and collected his cup of wine as he tossed the note back onto the table top. He was quite smug about it all.
“That is de Noble’s writing,” he said, taking a big gulp of wine. “It would seem that he has affections for our lovely Lady Emllyn.”
Emllyn didn’t know what to say; she looked at Elyse in shock, unsure how her friend was going to handle the news. She couldn’t tell from the woman’s expression.
“Are you still going to meet him by the well?” she finally asked. “You cannot do that now that you know it ’tis him.”
Elyse appeared concerned but not distressed. “Mayhap… mayhap you should just continue to ignore the notes,” she said. “Although I do not want to see my father disappointed, mayhap it would be best if you did not respond.”
Emllyn agreed. “I will not,” she said, eyeing Elyse. “I am sorry if this makes you uncomfortable.”
Elyse shook her head. “It does not,” she said. “I simply cannot believe my father is showing interest in a woman. It is shocking.”
Merradoc entered the conversation, sitting forward to look Elyse in the eye. “By God’s Holy Rood, Elyse,” he exclaimed softly. “Your father is not dead. He saw an attractive woman and reacted naturally. There is nothing mysterious or shameful about that.”
Elyse thought on that a moment before nodding her head. “I suppose not,” she said, regaining some of her humor. “It is a bit strange, though.”
Emllyn agreed, sipping her wine but refraining from saying anything more. She was already uncomfortable enough as it was.
The three of them continued to drink and tell stories for the rest of the afternoon until the storm outside passed and shades of a lovely sunset were visible to the east. At that point, the ladies excused themselves to prepare for the evening meal while Merradoc, with de Noble’s note still in his hand, wandered out to the well at sunset just to see what he could see. The note had said the well, after all.
De Noble was indeed waiting. Merradoc was initially going to have some fun with him but when he saw how disappointed the man became when Emllyn didn’t appear, he decided against it. After some general chatter and nonsensical conversation, none of which had anything to do with the subject of Emllyn, Merradoc escorted the man into the feasting hall of Glenteige and sat with him while he became drunk and depressed.
It would seem that prim and proper men had deep and fragile hearts.
Chapter Fourteen
Black Castle
The wind was whipping and the rain lashing as a violent storm battered the coast. Black Castle, caught in the storm’s path, took the brunt of it. The wind howled and the seas swelled as inside the keep, the smaller feasting hall was stuffed with men, smelling of vomit and unwashed bodies.
It was much like the night when Kildare’s fleet ran aground; men were high on glory and bellowing stories of victory, but these were not of victories over the English. They were victories over the Irish. Devlin sat in the chair he had stolen from de Cleveley with Neart perched over his left shoulder, watching Shain and Iver and Frederick tell grand stories of battle. Even though Devlin’s mind should have rightly been on the stories being told, all he could see to think about was the fact he had met Emllyn on a night not dissimilar to this one.
Everything leads me to thee.
God, she was all he could think of. It had been two weeks since he had left Emllyn at Glenteige
and traveled back to Black Castle; initially, he thought to stay away only a week, enough time to pretend he’d been doing what he’d agreed to do, but on the eve of the sixth day, they’d had an unexpected rush from the north.
The Clann O’Byrne, the hated enemies of de Bermingham, had made an unexpected push against Black Castle because of all of the booty they had collected from Kildare’s fleet. Rumors, of course, had spread about Devlin’s victory against the armada and his men had been pulling apart the ships for weeks, storing the treasures.
The O’Byrnes, a greedy and barbaric clann, had decided that they wanted some of the English treasures and had laid an unorganized but somewhat intense siege to Black Castle, an event that lasted for four days and nights until Devlin and his men launched a counterattack that had seen brutal combat for nearly two days. It was combat that had seen Devlin lose more than two dozen men, but the O’Byrne losses had been even greater.
The O’Byrnes had retreated and Devlin’s men had set about congratulating each other on their victory. Even now, they had been feasting for two solid days, celebrating victory and planning their next battle. De Cleveley’s settlement had come up several times as a target. Devlin knew his men were charged up on the smell of blood so he simply let them vent. But all he could think about was how the O’Byrne’s unexpected siege had delayed his return to Glenteige, and to Emllyn.
Frederick was the worst of the revelers. He was absolutely electrified with the scent of battle, feeding off of the excitement of the men, and he had been telling great and bloody tales of victory against O’Byrne. As this evening dragged on and the storm outside intensified, Frederick became more and more drunk. He soon ran out of tales about O’Byrne and moved back to the destruction of Kildare’s fleet, which got the men riled up again. Not only did Devlin have to worry about the English planning an attack against him, but now he had a resurgence of violence from the O’Byrnes, and Frederick was more than happy to work the troops up into a frenzy about it. It was coming at Devlin from all sides but he was able to keep a cool and calculated head about it. He would have to or all would be lost.
Lords of Ireland II Page 22