Merradoc patted her hand comfortingly. “Truly, girl,” he said. “You must learn to be braver if you are to be the wife of a great warrior. If you worry like this every time de Bermingham goes off to fight, then you are going to drive yourself into an early grave.”
She eyed him. “What would the Romans do?”
“Throw a lavish party to wait it out.”
Emllyn grinned. “I hope to get better with practice,” she said. “This is my first battle with him. Do take that into consideration.”
Merradoc patted her hand again, noticing that the sentries outside were preparing to open the gates for the day to come. It was usual for them to crank open the great wood and iron panels before daybreak so the farmers could enter the city and conduct business. Emllyn yawned again and he gave her a tug.
“Come back to the keep with me,” he said. “Let’s get a good meal into you and mayhap a bath. Then you can return to your lonely vigil of watching men return from battle.”
Emllyn almost refused but on second thought, she rather wanted a bath. Two days of sleeping on a dirty cot in a cold room with a dirt floor was wearing on her. Perhaps she should allow herself a bit of comfort. With a reluctant nod, she stood up next to the man and allowed him to lead her from the room.
It was cold and dark in the gatehouse as they turned for the village, which was just now coming alive. People were out, preparing for the day, as the great gates slowly opened behind them. Emllyn was exhausted, holding on to Merradoc’s arm as they moved away from the gatehouse, thinking of sleeping in her own bed for a few hours before returning to her vigil. They hadn’t gone too far when they heard the sentries take up the cry.
More returning soldiers were sighted.
Emllyn paused, turning to the gates as the sentries moved about urgently. Merradoc saw the look on her face, knowing he could never remove her now, so he sighed heavily and turned her back around for the house. Slowly, they made their way in that direction. By the time they reached the gates, they caught sight of three soldiers stumbling towards them. It took Emllyn a moment to realize that one of them was a badly wounded Trevor.
She gasped at the sight of him, being dragged by two other men, and she broke out in a run. Merradoc was right behind her, as were several soldiers, and they took Trevor from the two exhausted men who had been trying to carry him. Very carefully, they lowered him to the ground.
“Blankets!” Emllyn snapped at the nearest soldier. “In the guard room; get the blankets from the bed!”
The man went on the run as Emllyn returned her attention to Trevor. He was on the ground now with Merradoc leaning over him, and Emllyn sat down by his head, cradling it so it would not be on the cold, moist grass. She could hardly look at what Merradoc was doing, inspecting the rather gaping wound in the man’s torso that was hastily wrapped. It was a horrific sight and tears sprang to her eyes.
“Oh… Trevor,” she breathed. “Do not worry; Merradoc will fix you as good as new.”
As she said it, Merradoc cast her a long glance and grimly shook his head. Emllyn bit off her sobs, feeling Trevor’s loss already as she stroked the man’s clammy head.
“All will be well,” she assured him tightly. “Trevor, what happened? Is the battle over?”
Trevor was as white as snow and his lips were an odd shade of gray. He squeezed his eyes shut and tears streamed down his temples. It was indicative of his pain and sorrow. Emllyn began to openly sob, reaching down to hold the man’s hand tightly. He knew he was dying; they both did.
“Have no fear,” she wept, squeezing his hand. “I am here. You are not alone.”
Trevor’s entire body was trembling as he opened his eyes again and looked at her. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I should have told you….”
Emllyn gazed into his pale face, thinking that perhaps she already knew what he meant. “There is nothing to forgive,” she assured him, stroking his head. “You had no interest in me. I am not angry with you in the least, truly.”
Trevor looked up at her, his eyes muddled and red. His mouth worked as if he wanted to say something more but he ended up sighing heavily and closing his eyes. It was just too difficult for him to speak. Still, there were things Emllyn had to know. He’d spent three days trying to make his way back to Glenteige; he had to tell her what he had seen. She had to know.
“De Noble and his men went to the castle gates to create a diversion,” he muttered, grunting when Merradoc did something to his wound that Emllyn refused to see. “I went… went with Sir Victor and de Bermingham. While de Noble held the attention of the O’Byrne army, we climbed the old sea steps that took us into the rear of the keep. There were men in the bottom of the keep, de Bermingham’s men that the O’Byrne had captured, and they helped us take the keep.”
He faded off and Emllyn shook him gently. She was hanging on every word. Don’t stop now!
“Trevor,” she pleaded softly. “Where is Devlin? Where is Victor?”
Trevor coughed, bringing up gobs of black blood. Emllyn flinched but she didn’t become ill at the sight, as horrible as it was; using her cloak, she wiped the blood from around his mouth and neck. Trevor spoke with a red tongue and red teeth.
“We… we held the keep as de Bermingham and Victor and de Noble charged into the ward to regain the rest of the fortress,” he mumbled. His voice was becoming weaker. “We could see the fighting from the keep; de Bermingham fought his way through swarms of O’Byrnes as he tried to get to the gates. He was able to make it and the gates partially opened, and de Noble’s men poured into the gap. It was truly a sight to see, Emllyn… it was a sea of men and swords. When the swords fell, they used their hands. Clothes were torn, flesh was damaged. It was terrible.”
Emllyn was nearly mad with concern. “Where is Devlin?” she demanded. “What happened to my husband?”
Trevor’s eyes opened and he gazed at her; she could see the life fading. His eyes were dulling rapidly. “I… I could see that the battle was very bad indeed,” he whispered. “Connaught held the keep while de Ferrer and I went out to help. It was complete chaos; those who were not fighting were fleeing. Men were running from Black Castle with horses and their arms laden with goods. It was clear that Devlin and de Noble were gaining the advantage because the O’Byrne were running for their lives. Then, towards sunset, I saw de Bermingham in a mortal battle with a big Irish warrior. He seemed to know him. He called him Freddy.”
Emllyn’s emotions took another hit with that stunning news. “Frederick,” she breathed. “That was the man who betrayed him. He was the one who let the O’Byrne take Black Castle.”
“De Bermingham killed him,” Trevor muttered. “I saw it myself. He cut his head off and then threw the head and the man’s body into the sea.”
Emllyn closed her eyes tightly to that horrible scene, swallowing away the nausea she felt. But her eyes opened once again and focused on Trevor. “Was Devlin well after that?” she asked. “Was he wounded in his battle with Frederick?”
Trevor’s eyes closed again. “He did not seem to be,” he whispered. “But de Ferrer did not survive… I saw him fall. After that… the battle lasted all night and the next day, too. Those who did not flee were killed. There were bodies of the dead everywhere. I did not see de Bermingham or Victor or de Noble again once the battle waned. But I found this.”
Clumsily, he reached into his torn and bloodied vest and pulled forth a piece of material. He held it up to Emllyn and she immediately recognized it; Everything leads me to thee. It was the embroidery she had given Devlin on their wedding day.
Emllyn stared at it; it was muddied and torn, as if had been stepped on and buried in the dirt. As she stared at it, she could feel Merradoc’s hand on her arm. He was pulling gently at her, trying to force her to stand up, but she couldn’t hear him. She was in a fog, a fog that swathed her in memories and reflections, something that prevented her from screaming out as she saw the symbol of her love for Devlin crumpled in her hand. It was a fog of self
-protection, a pain too deep for tears. In one swift motion, her heart was ripped out and she hadn’t even felt it. She was hollow.
“Emllyn,” Trevor was grasping at her. “I do not know where your husband may be. When O’Byrne fled, I know that several men went after them. De Bermingham might have been among those who gave chase. I simply do not know. I was chasing the last of the O’Byrne out when I was gored. I… I knew I had to make it back here to tell you what I saw.”
Emllyn was still staring at the fabric but she heard Trevor’s words. In her haze of sorrow, it was all she heard.
“Thank you,” she murmured. She realized she was still holding onto his hand and she squeezed it tightly. “If… if you did not see his body, then he must be somewhere else. He is not dead.”
“Nay… he is not,” Trevor breathed, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. He simply said it for Emllyn’s sake. “It was so chaotic in the battle that it was possible your favor fell and he didn’t even realize it. You… you will tell him something when next you see him.”
“What would you have me tell him?”
Trevor was so weak that he could no longer hold on to her. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open. “You will tell him… tell him that it was a privilege to serve under Black Sword.”
Emllyn watched him take two more breaths and then he was gone. Clutching Devlin’s wedding embroidery against her chest, she wept deep and painful tears for the man who had brought her and Devlin together.
They buried Trevor in Glenteige’s small cemetery, placing him in a lovely spot near an oak tree that had been there for hundreds of years. It was peaceful and serene. After the burial, Emllyn sat next to the grave for the rest of the day, pondering Trevor’s short life and wondering if she would soon be sitting next to Devlin’s grave as well. The embroidery Trevor had returned to her had become a permanent part of her body, as much as a finger or an ear. It was clasped in her left hand, never to leave it. When she held it, she felt very close to Devlin.
Merradoc and Elyse had sat with her next to the grave. Elyse had sobbed the entire time, having been told the story that Trevor had relayed to Emllyn. She had seen the embroidery in Emllyn’s hand and she wept over the missing men, including her beloved Connaught. Having heard of Black Castle’s complete destruction, she was terrified for the man and also for her father. Holding Emllyn’s free hand, she had wept deeply of her fear.
Towards sunset, Merradoc managed to coerce Emllyn back into the keep and Elyse followed. He took both women into Elyse’s fine solar where he ordered warmed wine and food for them. Elyse picked at the food but didn’t actually eat much; she was too distraught. Emllyn was a shell of her former self, sitting like a stone and staring off into nothingness. Merradoc managed to coax her into drinking some wine and she did. By the third cup, Merradoc put a sleeping potion into the drink when she wasn’t looking and by the time she was finished with the fourth and final cup, she could hardly keep her eyes open. Merradoc did the same thing for Elyse and soon, he had two unconscious women on his hands. He breathed sigh of relief.
It was very late by the time he made it down to de Noble’s solar for some solitude of his own. He’d spent so much time healing the injured, burying the dead, and tending emotional women that he was quite exhausted himself. He had no idea what had become of de Noble and de Bermingham and Connaught, but he hoped they would know the truth soon. He doubted that Lady de Bermingham could take much more waiting and he knew that Elyse was doubly upset with the unknown whereabouts of both her father and lover. As he sat in de Noble’s solar and drank the man’s fine brandywine, he found himself praying for a miracle.
But prayer and brandywine didn’t mix because he drank far too much of it and ended up passing out, his head lying on de Noble’s desk. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep when he felt someone shake him.
“Merradoc?” came a familiar male voice. “God’s Bones, Merradoc, get up. Stop drooling like a drunkard all over my vellum.”
Merradoc sat up with a start, blinking rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes. The room was very dark but he could see bodies moving around in the darkness. Grabbing for the flint next to the taper near his right hand, he struck it so hard that he nearly broke it but the sparks were enough to light the taper. As the flame took hold in the darkness of the room, he could see three men standing before him.
De Noble, Connaught, and Victor St. John.
“De Noble!” Merradoc shot up from his seat, his eyes wide with shock. “You have returned!”
De Noble was filthy and bloodied, but he was in one piece. He scowled at the physic. “Indeed I have,” he scolded. “I have returned to find that you have taken over my solar. Get out of that seat, you whelp. This is my desk and my seat.”
Mouth hanging agape, Merradoc did as he was told. He thought he actually might be dreaming until de Noble gave him a shove because he wasn’t moving fast enough. It was enough of a jolt to make him realize that he wasn’t, in fact, dreaming. He was very much awake, and de Noble and his men were returned. Excitement filled him.
“Connaught!” he gasped at the young knight who looked disheveled but very alive. “And St. John! You are all returned!”
Victor had several day’s growth on his face and a big bandage on his left hand. “Indeed we are,” he said tiredly. “Were is Emllyn?”
Merradoc pointed to the floor above. “She and the Lady Elyse are in Lady Elyse’s solar,” he said. “I had to give them a sleeping draught. They have been so overwrought with worry that I had to make them sleep.”
Connaught smiled wearily. “So Elyse was worried over me, was she?”
Merradoc nodded sincerely. “Very much so,” he said. “And if she tells you otherwise, she’s a liar and you can tell her I said so. She was mad with worry over you.”
“And what about me?” came a voice from the doorway. “Was no one mad with worry over me?”
Everyone turned to see Devlin entering the room. He was carrying a massive chair with a leather cushion on it. It was a chair confiscated in Black Sword’s raid three years before, and the back of the chair that had once been beautifully carved with the de Cleveley crest was now all hacked up. Merradoc recognized the chair once stolen from de Noble as Devlin set it down.
“De Bermingham,” he gasped in disbelief. “You are alive!”
Devlin grinned weakly at the man. “Indeed I am,” he said. “Where is my wife?”
Again, Merradoc pointed to the floor above. “Sleeping in Lady Elyse’s solar,” he said, flabbergasted at the turn of events. He didn’t know what to say next, what to ask about, or what to comment on. His mind was whirling with surprise. He finally pointed at the chair. “Where did you find that?”
Beaten, worn, and thoroughly exhausted, Devlin gave the chair a good kick. “De Noble wanted his chair back, but the O’Byrne had run off with it, and many more items of value from Black Castle,” he said. “We spent two days chasing them before we finally caught up to them and were able to get my possessions back. De Noble saw his chair among the booty and demanded its return. As a generous man, I have graciously complied.”
Merradoc’s astonished gaze moved between de Noble and Devlin. “Your chair?” he asked. “In all of this battle, in the midst of death and destruction, all you could think of was a chair?”
De Noble frowned petulantly. “It’s my damn chair,” he declared. “De Bermingham took it three years ago; I wanted it back!”
Merradoc could hardly believe his ears. He started to laugh, joyfully and full of relief. The pain and uncertainty of the past twelve days was about to see a release; men had returned from battle, whole and sound, and there would be laughter once again at Glenteige. Happiness had come back.
“But what of Black Castle?” he wanted to know. “What has become of it?”
Devlin’s expression changed; his eyes lost their glimmer. “My commander, Shain, is once again in command until I return,” he said. “The O’Byrne had him, and about a hundred more o
f my men, shoved into the basement of the keep. They had tried to escape through an old tunnel but it turned out the tunnel was blocked off and it thwarted their escape, so O’Byrne was able to capture them. Right now, what is left of my army and about four hundred de Noble men are holding the castle secure. I’ve sent word to the O’Conner and expect another eight hundred men by late tomorrow. I’ve only come back to Glenteige to return de Noble’s chair and retrieve my wife. We will be returning to Black Castle immediately on the morrow.”
Merradoc was both surprised and thrilled to hear that the horrible battle Trevor had described had gone in de Bermingham’s favor. “And the O’Byrne?” he wanted to know. “Where are they?”
“Running,” de Noble said; he was pouring what was left of the brandywine into a cup. “They are scattered and on the run. Once we secure Black Castle and strengthen her, we’re going after them. We have plans to see this through until the end, and that includes the obliteration of the O’Byrne once and for all. I will not see Wicklow suffer in fear any longer. It is time to end this.”
It was as good an answer as any he had heard. Merradoc, accepting that the battle had ended for the moment and that good men had returned, scratched his head. “Very well, then,” he said. “But do not continue this battle before you see Elyse and Emllyn. You’d better go wake them up and tell them the joyful news. They’ll never forgive you if you do not.”
Connaught was already out the door, heading up the narrow spiral stairs to the second floor. Devlin pushed de Noble’s chair out of the way before following Connaught’s path. When Merradoc went to follow, Victor stopped him.
“Nay, man,” he said. “Let the women see their lovers first. Give them that time alone. We shall follow shortly.”
“After we’ve had our well-deserved drink,” de Noble put in. Then he swirled the remaining liquid in the decanter as he peered at it. “It seems that someone has been into my brandywine.”
Merradoc was standing in the doorway of the solar. “It was the women,” he lied. “Terrible drunkards, both of them.”
Lords of Ireland II Page 35