“Why?” he finally asked. “Why are you suggesting an alliance with the English? Surely you have Irish allies who would do just as well.”
Devlin was honest. “There is an old proverb that says my enemy’s enemy is also my friend,” he said. “O’Byrne is an enemy to all of us. Of course I have other Irish allies to turn to, but none of them with the risk that you and I face daily against that savage clann. Moreover, my Irish allies would not fight off O’Byrne from Glenteige. They would let you burn. That is why I have come to you; this is something very important to all of us that face this threat. Help me against the O’Byrne and I will help you, too. Should you ever need my support, all you need do is summon me and I will come.”
It made complete and utter sense and de Noble, as resistant and uncertain as he was, could no longer deny it. De Bermingham was correct in every way. Turning to look at de Ferrer and Connaught, he could imagine them in a fight against the O’Byrnes. Then he could see his lovely Elyse in the clutches of the barbarian clann, being tortured and raped. It was just too much to bear. He had to release his pride. He had to take a stand for the common good.
Pushing aside the last of his resistance, de Noble focused on Devlin. “Very well, then,” he said. “Let us say, for argument’s sake, that the O’Byrnes are on a rampage. Now they have Black Castle. What will we do?”
Devlin was feeling some hope at the man’s reaction; at least he was willing to discuss it. “You and I will ride with your army north to Black Castle and reclaim it,” he said. “I will summon more de Bermingham men from my father as well as O’Connor men. I can have an army of five thousand men within a week. At that point, we ride north to Kiltimon Castle and destroy it. We will burn it and everything that reeks of O’Byrne. With Kiltimon destroyed, attacks in south Wicklow will ease considerably. We will also march upon Balleyhorsey and Ashford. Once those smaller castles are taken, I will turn them over for Kildare and de Cleveley to administer. You can station English armies there.”
De Noble hated to admit it but he liked very much what he was hearing. But there was one thing left he wasn’t clear on. “What about Black Castle?”
Devlin’s gaze was deadly. “That remains my holding. I will not give it up.”
At least he was honest with his intentions. De Noble looked up at Victor. “What say you about that?” he asked. “It is Kildare’s property, after all.”
Victor considered the question. “I am sure the earl will relinquish it to Black Sword if he gains new properties instead,” he replied. “Kildare will receive Ashford and Kiltimon.”
“Then de Cleveley will receive Balleyhorsey.”
Attention returned to Devlin. Deals were being made and they wanted his reaction. He had, after all, started the entire thing. De Noble, much calmer than he had been minutes earlier, cocked his head.
“It would seem we have made a deal with the devil, de Bermingham,” he said. “I hope I do not live to regret it.”
“Nor do I,” he said honestly. “Look at it from my perspective; I just promised three Irish castles to English lairds. I have spent years trying to force the English out of Ireland but in this case, if it will save my castle, my people, and wreak havoc with the O’Byrne, I am willing to compromise. If anyone is making a deal with the devil, it is me.”
De Noble’s gaze lingered on him. There were many things on his mind at the moment but one thought in particular; strange it would occur to him now.
“Several years ago, I saw you with your father when I visited Dublin,” he said. “It was a meeting between Irish chieftains and English lords. You had flaming red hair and were as big as a bull. Now that your hair is growing in, I can see you haven’t changed much. When you walked into my keep those weeks ago, I knew I had seen you somewhere but I simply couldn’t place you.”
Devlin was feeling a huge amount of relief now that the conversation was becoming one of understanding. It could have gone so badly in so many ways. He finally took his eyes off of de Noble to see that there was still a ring of Englishmen surrounding him, protecting him from a roomful of hostile men. He found it rather ironic.
“And now you have,” he said. “I would presume that I need not fear for my life within the walls of Glenteige now.”
De Noble looked around at his men and motioned them to lower their weapons. “Nay,” he said, a hint of defeat in his voice. “Although it would have made a mighty prize to capture Black Sword.”
“I will make a better ally than a prize.”
De Noble’s expression took on a hard cast; even though they’d made the deal, trust in an innate enemy was still hard to come by. “I sincerely hope so,” he said. “And by the way; I have one request to make of you.”
“What is that?”
“Three years ago, if you recall, you looted Glenteige.”
“I recall.”
De Noble’s brow furrowed and he frowned most terribly. “You took something that belonged to me,” he said. “I want my damn chair back!”
Devlin, de Noble, Victor, de Ferrer, and Connaught had stayed up most of the night discussing strategies and plans, and the English got their first real look into the brain of a brilliant rebel, a man who mapped out tactics and strategies better than they had ever seen. He was precise, deliberate, and covert. After the first few minutes of strategizing, de Noble shut his mouth and let Devlin do the rest. He knew genius when he saw it. No wonder Black Sword had never been beat. His respect for the man grew.
Devlin’s basic strategy was two-fold; the majority of de Noble’s eight hundred man army would approach Black Castle from the front and divert attention while they went through battle preparations, while seventy hand-selected men would approach from the sea side. The cliffs were sheer and difficult to pass, but there was a very narrow and secretive staircase carved into the side of the cliff just below the keep that could be used to breach the castle. It had been used long ago by supply ships approaching from the sea but they had given up using it because it was so treacherous. Devlin seemed to think that it was the perfect opportunity to sneak into the keep and take the fortress from within, and those around him were forced to agree.
So after much planning and wine, the die was cast and those who could grabbed a few hours of sleep before sunrise. De Noble had offered Devlin a bed in his solar where Victor, Trevor, and William du Reims were sleeping, and Devlin accepted his offer only to sneak up to Emllyn’s chamber after everyone had gone to sleep. He had to see her before he left. There was so much pain and longing in his heart for her already that he was sure it would kill him. He was desperate to hold her one last time.
Not surprisingly, she was awake and waiting for him. While Eefha snored in the corner, Devlin came into her room and swept her into his massive embrace, feeling her life and warmth against him. He continued to hold her, very tightly, for quite some time. Emllyn finally had to force him to release her because she couldn’t breathe. With a grin, he complied.
“Come and lay with me,” Emllyn took him by the hand and led him over to her bed. “Tell me what is happening.”
She climbed onto the bed and he lumbered up after her. Together, they snuggled in the folds of her linens. It was simply enough to hold one another at the moment; no wild lust, no fevered passion… this was more than that. It was emotion, in its purest form, the need to hold and be held, to love and be loved.
Devlin buried his face into the back of her hair, thinking how much he had changed since he had first met her. In the first few days of their acquaintance, all he could think of was bedding her. It was purely a physical need, something that required satisfaction. But now, being with Emllyn went beyond the physical. His heart was so full of emotion for her that to feel her alive and well in his arms was the most wonderful thing he could imagine.
“Well?” she prompted him.
He grinned; he hadn’t realized he’d lost himself in his reflections. “We leave before dawn,” he murmured. “We hope to reach Black Castle in two days whereupon we will co
mmence with a strategy to remove the O’Byrne from my fortress.”
Emllyn waited for more of an answer but none was forthcoming. “That’s all?” she asked. “No great revelations or plans?”
He kissed the back of her head. “None that would interest you,” he said. “It will be a great comfort to me knowing you are here, safe with Eefha to watch over you.”
Emllyn gazed off into the darkness, her soft hands caressing the arms that were around her. “I will not pretend that I am not concerned for you,” she said softly. “This is a great and terrible undertaking.”
“It is.”
She turned in his arms to look at him. “I was very proud of you tonight and what you said,” she whispered. “Mayhap… mayhap Black Sword’s legacy will no longer be one of war and rebellion. Mayhap it will become one of peace.”
He was very close to her face, rubbing his nose against hers. “Mayhap,” he agreed softly. “It has occurred to me that I do not want to be constantly warring and placing my family in danger. I have you to think about now. I do not like the idea of you at a castle that is constantly at war. And what of our sons? Although I wish for them to be great knights, I do not like the thought of them always in danger.”
Emllyn smiled, her eyes glimmering at him. “Do you know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think that Black Sword has evolved as both a warrior and as a man,” she said softly. “You would not have spoken this way on the day we met.”
“Nay, I would not have,” he said. “But I have heard that men’s priorities change as they marry and have children. I just never thought it would happen to me.”
Emllyn’s smile faded as she brought a hand up to stroke his stubbled cheek. “When will we marry, Dev?”
“As soon as I have regained Black Castle.”
She didn’t like that answer. “But why wait?” she pressed. “Why not before you go?”
He sighed. “Because it is better this way,” he said. “If you marry me now and I perish in battle, you will forever be known as Black Sword’s widow. That will make it difficult for you to remarry. This way, if I perish in the attempt to reclaim my castle, no one will ever know that you and I were lovers. It will make it much easier on you to marry a man of standing.”
Emllyn wasn’t happy about that at all. She abruptly sat up, smacking him in the chin as she moved. Devlin grunted, putting a hand to his jaw, as Emllyn climbed off the bed.
“Listen to me and listen well,” she said angrily, pointing a finger at him. “I do not care about remarriage. You will be my husband and you will be the only one I have, and I will shout to the heavens how proud I am to be Lady de Bermingham. Don’t you dare say that you will perish in this battle, do you hear? I’ll not listen to you.”
He put up a placating hand in the face of an angry lady. “As you say,” he said, meek and submissive. “I did not intend to upset you. I am simply trying to think of you.”
“You make what we have between us sound cheap!”
He sat up, genuinely trying to soothe her. “I would never do that,” he insisted. “I was simply trying to… God’s blood, I don’t know what I was trying to do. Get into bed with me this instant and stop your scolding. I’ll not have our last few hours together be filled with anger.”
Emllyn cooled. She didn’t want any anger between them, either. But she pretended to be stubborn. “I will not get back into bed until you tell me you love me.”
“I love you with all that I am.”
“Swear it.”
“I do, a thousand times over.”
“Swear you will return to me.”
He paused, gazing at her with warmth and adoration. Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the bed beside him. Emllyn wrapped her arms around his neck and together, they fell back onto the bed. Gone was the scolding, now replaced by a warm and fluid tenderness.
As Devlin kissed her neck gently, peeling back the top of her shift in his hunt for more delicious fruits, she wrapped herself around him and gave herself over to completely. Devlin buried himself in her softness.
“If I have control over my own fate, know that I will do everything in my power to return to you,” he murmured. “But if I don’t….”
“Do not say that!”
“If I don’t,” he said, louder, “then it is my wish that you marry a man who will be good to you. I want to know you are well taken care of and treated with the greatest of respect.”
Emllyn’s eyes filled with tears at the thought of Devlin not returning. “Please,” she whispered tightly. “Do not say such things. I cannot bear it.”
He stopped kissing her and grasped her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. Tears streamed down her temples and he tenderly kissed them away.
“Such is the life of a wife of a knight,” he murmured. “There is always the possibility that I will not return and it something you must live with. But know this; you have shown me more about joy and love in the few short weeks that I’ve known you than I’ve ever been shown in my entire life. If I die tomorrow, I die a contented man and it is you who have made it so. But if I return, it will be to live every day with you by my side, a better man than I have ever been.”
There were still tears in Emllyn’s eyes but there was great happiness there as well. She put her hands on his face, feeling the warmth against her skin.
“Please, Dev,” she murmured. “Can we please be married before you go?”
He sighed heavily. Of course, he want to marry her immediately, this very moment, but he was honest with her when he said he thought it would be easier for her to marry well were she not the widow of a hated Irish rebel. Still, it would be his fondest desire to call her wife before he headed off to battle. He wanted it as badly as she did.
“I am not entirely sure we can find a priest at this hour,” he said.
Emllyn nodded eagerly. “We can,” she said. “De Noble has a priest who gives mass every Sunday. There is a chapel to the east of the keep.”
“Outside of the walls?”
“Aye.”
He could see how excited she was. He didn’t have the heart to deny her. Therefore, he pushed himself off the bed and headed for the chamber door.
“Then I shall return for you,” he said. “Make sure you are dressed and waiting. I will seek out de Noble and have him send for the priest.”
Emllyn was thrilled beyond measure; it was almost enough to make her forget her fear of the impending battle. “Do you think he will?” she teased. “After all, you will be marrying the woman he wants for himself.”
Devlin gave her a wry expression. “I will twist his arm if he doesn’t help me,” he said. “I might even kick him.”
Emllyn giggled as he winked at her and quit the chamber. Quickly, she dressed in the pale green silk she had worn to the feast. Then, she ran to wake up Elyse. Surely the woman would want to attend a wedding.
Together, the women waited for Devlin to return and he did, nearly two hours later. There was very little time for the ceremony before the knights had to dress for the impending battle march, so before Victor, de Noble, Elyse, Connaught, and Trevor, Emllyn wed Devlin in a ceremony that took place in de Noble’s solar. Having no ring to give her new husband, Emllyn gave him the incomplete embroidery she had made instead. It was all she had to give and it said everything she wanted to say.
Everything leads me to thee.
When Devlin rode from the gates just before sunrise, it was with that piece of half-finished sewing next to his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Eleven days later
Men had been trickling back for two days now. Beaten, bloodied, the men of de Noble’s command returned to Glenteige telling stories of horror. At first, Emllyn had posted herself at the gates of the settlement, watching every single soldier who passed by and asking them of the battle. She particularly wanted to know of Devlin and Victor, but so far, no one could seem to tell her
much of anything. The stories were much the same, however; the O’Byrnes would not go quietly. It had been a blood bath.
But Emllyn would not give up her vigil. She had been at the gatehouse of Glenteige for two straight days, even sleeping inside the small sentry room that was just inside of the great gates. The soldiers had given the woman their cot. On the morning of the third day of her lonely and apprehensive vigil, Emllyn was awoken from a restless sleep by Merradoc.
She could barely see the old physic in the light of the early morning as he quietly roused her. Somewhat startled to see him, she sat up on the creaking cot, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
“Merradoc?” she said. “What is amiss?”
Merradoc shushed her quietly, draping a cloak over her shoulders in the cool temperatures. “Nothing is amiss,” he said. “I came to see how you were faring. Elyse is concerned.”
Emllyn yawned as she pulled the cloak more tightly around her shoulders. “I am well,” she said. “How is Elyse?”
Merradoc sat next to her on the cot. “She cries constantly,” he said. “But she remains in her solar, trying to keep busy.”
“I asked her to come and wait with me.”
Merradoc gave her a wry grin. “She will not leave the comfort of her rooms, you know that,” he said. “Moreover, she will not let Connaught see that she has been waiting for him. She is very prideful.”
Emllyn laughed softly. “Never let it be said that Elyse has waited for any man.”
“Precisely.”
Emllyn yawned again and looped her arm affectionately through Merradoc’s, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Seventeen men returned last night,” she said softly.
“I know.”
“None of them could tell me anything about Devlin, although one man said he saw him fighting near Black Castle’s keep several days ago,” she murmured. “At least now I know he made it inside.”
Lords of Ireland II Page 34