Patricia Bates

by Patricia Bates

  “My lord, I can—”

  “Amoda, you will obey me in this. You will be safe there.”

  “For how long? Why can’t we just—”

  Mykyl shifted, moving to hold her tightly, a welcome embrace Amoda treasured. “‘Til I am sure it’s safe to return.”

  Huffing out a breath, Amoda bit her bottom lip as she snuggled deeper into his embrace. She stifled a hiss of pain as his arm pressed on one of the welts. This pain, however, hardly bore thinking of.

  In silence, they watched as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. The sounds of men riding in and shouts finally drew them from their idyllic embrace. Careful to keep any hint of pain from her face, Amoda limped slowly back along the path with Mykyl by her side.

  The sight that greeted her as they came around a thick stand of brush drew a startled gasp. Fires covered the ground in numerous places, men and horses threaded their way through them as others made preparations for the night.

  What had earlier been a large camp had blossomed. Men and horses flowed like floodwaters over the lush green of the land. Fires had sprouted up to fill the clearing with shimmering red and orange.

  “My lord,” Cahal approached carefully, “Aires Guthrie has arrived. He brings sixty men and has another forty ready to ride at a moment’s notice.”

  “And what of Ri Tuath Ui Naille? Has he arrived?” Mykyl demanded as Amoda slipped away from the men. She felt the eyes of the soldiers upon her and ducked her head, her hand reaching up to pat at her hair.

  ~ * ~

  “Here, my lady,” Vidor appeared beside her with a hooded cloak. “‘Tis better than your worries.”

  “Thank you.”

  Vidor merely smiled, bowed slightly and turned to vanish into the crowd of men. Amoda watched him go before glancing across the rocky ground to see Mykyl and Cahal deep in conversation with an older, slim, pockmarked man. Settling near a fire, she welcomed the warmth even as a chill too deep for any fire to warm filled her heart.

  “You must eat something.” Vidor pressed a small package of food into her hand with a smile. “Rest while you can. You begin your journey to Ui Naille’s home with the rising of the moon.”

  Amoda forced herself to eat the bland crust of bread and meat before lying down wrapped in her cloak next to the fire. She closed her eyes, barely aware of the fur laid over her as she slipped into a deep, healing sleep.

  ~ * ~

  Mykyl stared at the high stone walls surrounding Ri Tuath Ui Naille’s castle. He’d left Cahal in charge of his men and ridden with Amoda thus far. Once she settled in and his wishes given to the lady of the house, he would rejoin his men before they marched to Woodstown.

  “My lord, you worry?” Vidor whispered looking behind them at Amoda who sat huddled in a small, rickety cart, her body wrapped in a heavy cloak. “Mayhap we should—”

  “I do not like leaving her.” Mykyl studied the sleeping woman. “You shall remain here, guard her.”

  Vidor gave a quick nod before they began the slow ride through the gates.

  Leaving his mount in Vidor’s care, Mykyl hurried past the small pony that pulled the cart. “Amoda, my love, we have arrived.” He rubbed her shoulder gently, soothingly as she woke and sat up to blink bleary-eyed at the structure before them. The moon’s glow cast ghostly shadows across the ground but it offered enough light for the small guard who approached cautiously.

  “I would speak with your lord,” Mykyl ordered, cradling Amoda against his chest. “Tell him Mykyl of Woodstown—”

  “My sentries told of your arrival twenty minutes ago,” a rough voice drawled from the shadows. “Come. Bring your woman inside where we can speak.”

  Mykyl followed the shadow-encased figure inside, blinking at the brightness of torchlight after the paleness of the night’s glow. In a flurry of skirts and perfume, two women appeared before him, already peeling the rough woolen cloak from Amoda’s body. With smiles that put him at ease, they ushered her from the room, leaving Mykyl standing at the top of three wide stairs looking down at a tribal king.

  Mykyl studied the man before him. Tall and robust Aed Ui Naille had long grey and black hair and piercing brown eyes. He wore the weight of his power upon thick, muscled shoulders. Despite his age, he appeared ready for battle. A sword hung from his belt, and on the wall behind his throne hung his armor.

  “You came seeking shelter for your mistress and men to fight for you.”

  Mykyl strode down the steps, “Nay. I came seeking sanctuary for my wife and child. Your men, while important, would not ensure my victory.”

  Aed chuckled. “Bring refreshments for the Lord of Woodstown!” His voice boomed out, and a moment later, two serving girls rushed into the room with trays laden with meat, cheese, and crusts of bread. Two jugs of mead appeared upon the table with two chalices, “Drink, eat. You must be famished.”

  “You swore an oath,” Mykyl reminded him as he settled at the table, his fingers already plucking the meat from the platter before him. “I ask no more than what you’ve pledged.”

  “My lord, what makes you think I would not hesitate to allow you to fight your own battle? What do I care of your war?”

  Mykyl shifted in his seat, “If my father retains control over Woodstown and its surrounding territory, you will lose your lands, your people. Your father lost it when my father first set foot upon this soil, and while I have allowed you to reclaim a large portion of it, Tyr will ensure you do not sit in power. If you have no desire to aid me in this matter, then, the least you could do is aid my wife.”

  Aed Ui Naille leaned back in his chair and stared across the table, an unreadable expression on his face. “Your wife? If recollection serves me, she is little more than your whore and yet you call her your wife.” “If you are doubtful summon your Druid. We will wed here, now, in your presence so that I may leave her here in safety.”

  “So you question the honor of my guards?”

  “I simply wish to secure what is mine before I ride to face my brother and father. Would you do less?”

  “Nay, I would not. So be it.” Aed waved at the young boy standing in the doorway. “You will fetch my Druid to me now. Tell him it is important and that he is to come prepared for a wedding.”

  Mykyl stared at Aed for a moment before turning to is food. “Now, shall we speak of war?”

  “Indeed, my lord. You ask for how many men?”

  “As many as you will give me.” Mykyl wiped at the moisture in his beard. “I would take your entire army if not that I wish some to remain here to protect my queen.”

  “I have sent for all able bodied men. They will be here within the next hours. After this hasty wedding we shall depart,” Aed declared, leaning back in his seat. “Now tell me, why is it that your wife is so very familiar to me?”

  “You may have known her mother.”

  “What was the good woman’s name?”

  “I do not know, neither does Amoda. She spent the past years in my father’s court. As a slave,” Mykyl explained icily. “For which he will pay a handsome price.”

  “So I shall keep my lands, my power and you will use my men to win back your city.”

  Mykyl rose to pace the room. “I care not for a few buildings, or crops. I care for the people I call mine. Amoda displayed her willingness to risk death to save them, a willingness to risk my wrath to save them and Ri Tuath Quinne’s people. I can do no less.”

  The startled sound from behind him drew Mykyl’s attention to the door where a short, plump woman with grey hair stood staring at them. Her long tattered cloak stained around the hem, and a gnarled hand clutched at the edges.

  “My healer.” Aed waved a hand at her. “She has come to tend your woman.”

  Mykyl nodded slightly. “Thank you for your aid.”

  She looked at him for a moment, her old, narrowed eyes assessing and harsh before a slow smile crossed her face. “Maeve is right, an Irish Ri with Gaill blood,” she said, shuffling closer to the two men.

/>   Mykyl sighed. It was rather humorous. He was a Gaill, a Viking, but he’d earned his place as an Irish King. His union with Amoda only made it more secure. He chuckled softly at the old woman. “Aye, ‘tis rather unusual.”

  “His woman is being tended by my wife and daughter,” Aed pointed out crossly. “Be off with you. We have Druids coming. Ensure that she has been prepared for the wedding.”

  “‘Tis no matter,” the old woman cackled and scurried through the door into the darkened corridor Amoda had disappeared down. “A wedding tonight, aye, and we cannot celebrate. ‘Tis a pity.” Her voice faded into the shadows, leaving Mykyl with Aed in the silence.

  “My lord, a Druidess has arrived!” a voice called out.

  “Fetch Amoda and my wife’s women so that they may witness this,” Aed ordered, waving a hand at the serving girls who had stood silently against one wall.

  Mykyl smiled at the older woman who stood next to Aed’s captain. “Druidess, may I offer you my gratitude?”

  “Your lordship is very kind. How may I be of service?”

  “I wish to wed.” Mykyl ushered her further into the room “My bride is Gaelic and thus…”

  “A Viking wishing to wed in Irish customs.” The Druidess smirked. “My brother Druid is directly behind me. As soon as he has arrived, we will begin. Although, it is highly unusual to be wed with such a small gathering. Are you not certain that you could not wait?”

  “‘Tis only a formality,” Mykyl declared, turning away from her. “I would have my son recognized as heir to my throne, not my father’s line.”

  The Druidess assessed the two men staring back at her and nodded quickly. “As you desire, my lord.”

  “My lord, the Viking’s man will assist you with anything you need.” Aed caught Mykyl’s eye and nodded. “All within this house are present so there is no need for delay or worry.”

  “My lords,” Amoda’s soft voice drew everyone’s attention. “You wished me to rejoin you. Druidess, forgive me, I did not—” She startled at the sight of the woman next to Mykyl.

  “Forgive me.” Druidess bowed low. “My queen, I was unaware it is you to be wed. We shall make haste.”

  “Come, have a sip of mead, my love.” Mykyl held out a horn for her to sip. “I expect it won’t be long before all the prayers and chants have been done with, and we can get to the ceremony.”

  “Nay, my lord, it won’t be long at all.” The Druidess looked between them, an unreadable expression in her eyes.

  ~ * ~

  Amoda watched as the two druids herded those gathered much like sheep. Bodies shuffled from one place to the next while lads lit torches, and someone brought out a Buinne, sitting to the rear of the crowd, and playing the flute-like instrument. The soft, dulcet tones filled the massive room as Mykyl and Amoda followed the Druidess’s prompts and faced each other over the flames in the central hearth.

  Rich and deep, the voice of the gray haired Druid joined in the chants. Voices rose and fell in accordance with the words from the holy couple.

  “We stand upon this Holy Earth and in the face of Heaven to witness the Sacred Rite of Marriage between our Lord of Woodstown and Lady Ni Cormac of Ui Droria. As we come together as family, so we ask the Greater Powers to be present here within our circle. May this Sacred Union be filled with their Holy Presence.” The Druid paused to collect his breath. “By the power vested within me, I invoke the God of Love whose name is Aengus mae Og to be present in this Sacred Place. In his name, Love is declared.”

  “By the power vested within me, I invoke the Goddess of the Bright Flame whose name is Brigid to be present in this Sacred Place. In her name, Peace is declared,” the Druidess chanted.

  “Our houses will be united,” Mykyl whispered in her ear as the ceremony continued. “I will do anything within my power to right my father’s wrongs.”

  “You have, my love.” Amoda smiled faintly. “You have.”

  A soft cough drew their attention to the Druid and Druidess who stared at them impatiently.

  “I do.” Amoda hid her smile as the Druid rolled his eyes heavenward.

  “Who walks the path of the sun to stand upon the Holy Earth and declare his Sacred Vows?” The Druidess demanded as Mykyl shifted slightly. “Do you come of your own free will?”

  “I do.”

  Mykyl clasped Amoda’s hand tightly as both Druids questioned them. With only half an ear, Mykyl watched Amoda as she listened to the pair before them.

  When an elbow jabbed into his ribs, he focused upon the Druidess who smiled understandingly at him. He shifted uncomfortably at the expectant looks of those around him and leaned toward Amoda for assistance.

  “A symbol of the Great Mysteries of Life?” she whispered.

  Embarrassed, Mykyl gave a chuckle and pulled the slim, decorative band of gold from the top of the hilt of his dagger.

  “Before all who are present, repeat these words.” Druid turned to Amoda. “Accept in freedom, this circle of gold as a token of your vows. With it, I pledge my love, my strength, and my friendship. I bring the joy now and forever. I vow upon this Holy Earth that through you I will honor all men.”

  Amoda spoke clearly, repeating the words confidently before Mykyl spoke his own.

  “In the name of Brigid I bring you the warmth of my heart.” Amoda gratefully accepted the slim torch from a young girl’s hands.

  “In the name of Aengus mac Og, I bring you the light of my love.” Mykyl took the torch from Vidor. With a smile at Amoda, he moved closer to her to dip both torches together to light a larger, brighter one.

  “May the warmth and light of your union be blessed.” The cry of the crowd swelled, crashing over Mykyl and Amoda as they faced each other.

  “Do you swear upon the Sword of Justice to keep sacred your vows?” Druid demanded.

  Mykyl and Amoda spoke in unison. “Aye, we do.”

  “Then seal your promise with a kiss,” Druidess declared amid the roaring cheer of the witnesses. Mykyl stared into Amoda’s upturned face. A soft smile lifted the corners of her lips, and a heady flush covered her cheeks. The deep green of her eyes sparkled like jewels as she stared back at him. Cupping her face gently he bent his head and drifted his lips across hers.

  He teased her lips a moment before deepening the kiss. Slowly, he stroked his tongue over Amoda’s, savoring the richness of honey and rosehips. Barely aware of either Druids’ continued blessing, his mind and body swam with desire, ignited by Amoda’s open, honest responses.

  Mykyl stepped back, his gaze never leaving Amoda’s face. Her slightly dazed expression made him smile as she swayed slightly before regaining herself and smoothing at her hair and clothes.

  Aed’s voice broke the spell. “I have sworn an oath to you, Lord of Woodstown, and I keep my oaths. I will aid you if only to rid the soil of my lands of the vile blood that sits upon it.” Mykyl turned to face him, a slow nod his only acknowledgement.

  “My man, Vidor, will remain here as Amoda’s personal guard,” Mykyl stated. “I shall see her to her chamber before we depart.”

  “We will be ready.”

  ~ * ~

  Mykyl walked with Amoda down the corridor, their steps loud in the silence until he reached the door with a pale shaft of light beneath it. Opening it he ushered her into the room.

  He closed the door before he turned to Amoda. She stood in the middle of the room, her hair falling about her shoulders, a simple tunic her only attire. The flickering of the flames in the hearth danced over her skin, reminding him of the night he’d stolen her.

  “Are you leaving soon?” Amoda whispered as he came to stand so close he could feel her body heat.

  “Aye, there are matters to organize.” Mykyl cupped her face in his hands. “Understand, I do not want to leave you but I must. I need you safe beyond the reach of those we go to fight.”

  Amoda smiled softly. “I know.”

  Mykyl watched her fingers toy with the knot at her throat, a muted groan of protest fa
lling from his lips as the fabric slid from her body to pool about her feet. Leaning forward he pressed his lips to hers. What had been meant to be a chaste kiss quickly flared into a deep, passionate seduction.

  She moaned, as he pressed closer to her, his arms wrapping around her body. Using every skill he’d ever mastered, he teased her lips open, slipping inside before retreating until she clutched him desperately. Tearing his mouth from hers, he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down her throat. Suckling and nipping at her pale skin, he stumbled forward, pressing her against the rough wooden wall. He welcomed the feel of her long legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed against her core.

  Hands made clumsy by desire traced over her body, cupping the fullness of her breasts. Her whimpers and moans only increased as his hands slid down her body, moving to the apex of her thighs. He felt her hands pulling at his shirt, her fingers tangling in the drawstring of his pants. Reaching up, he grabbed her wrists, not wanting to take her like some common whore.

  The hiss of pain that escaped her stopped him as he tightened his grip. His head jerked up and he stared at her as he moved his grip, easing it until he held her elbows tenderly. Slowly, never breaking eye contact he pressed soft, loving kisses against the raw flesh.

  “Please, Mykyl,” Amoda gasped, her breasts heaving, her nipples hardened into peaks as she moved against him. “I need you.”

  “Nay, my love, my lady,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips and easing back until she stood on her own two feet. “There will be time for that after.”

  “Mykyl, please.” Amoda looked ready to explode.

  “It loathes me to leave you but you don’t need my harsh touch,” Mykyl whispered, pressing calming kisses against her face. “I will not hurt you. I need you so badly that I could not stop myself from harming you or the babe. Nay, my love, when we make love again it will be in our bed, beneath our furs, with soft touches and worshiping hands.”

  Amoda stared at him, uncertainty in her green eyes until, slowly, understanding dawned. “Aye, my lord, so it shall be. May all the gods be with you.”