Davin pushed her away. ‘I’ll kill the bastard for touching you.’ His face sharpened with hatred, and he struck another blow at Kieran’s ribs. Kieran grunted from the pain, but made no move to strike back. Instead, his expression remained empty. Almost as though he were accepting a punishment.
‘He protected me from the Sullivan tribesmen,’ Iseult said, grabbing Davin’s wrist. ‘If it weren’t for Kieran, I’d have been their hostage.’
‘You shouldn’t have been out there to begin with,’ Davin bit out, a vein pulsing in his neck. ‘Neither of you had permission to leave.’
‘And when did I become your prisoner?’ Iseult demanded.
‘You are under my protection. If that means keeping you confined, so be it.’
Her mouth dropped open in disbelief. Never had she seen Davin behave like this, with such anger. He wasn’t going to see reason, so she turned her back on both of them and strode towards Muirne’s hut. If she remained, she’d say things she’d later regret.
But then Davin’s next words stopped her short.
‘Bind him. He can spend the remainder of the day at the mound of hostages. No man leaves the ringfort henceforth without my permission.’
Scalding anger rose up inside her veins. How could he do this, when Kieran had been the one to rescue her?
Iseult turned back and approached Davin. ‘I want a word with you.’
‘Go and see Deena. Let her tend your face and we’ll speak this evening.’
‘What you’re doing to Kieran isn’t right. He protected me.’
Davin’s mouth tightened, and he took her wrist, guiding her towards the palisade wall where they could speak alone. ‘Why are you defending a slave who endangered you? You had no reason to leave the ringfort.’
‘He needed wood. I saw no harm in—’
‘But you did come to harm, didn’t you?’ He crossed his arms and let her see the full brunt of his fury. ‘The Lochlannachs are only a day’s ride from here. It isn’t safe. If Kieran hadn’t saved you from becoming a hostage, I’d have sentenced him to death.’ His words were an icy threat.
‘I offered to accompany him.’ Iseult kept her voice even, despite her frustration. ‘And so will you punish me as well, for defying your orders?’
‘You were alone for several hours with a male slave.’
He was jealous. She saw that now, and her face flushed. It made her feel even lower than she already did. If Davin even suspected her attraction to Kieran, he would be merciless. He could never know about the kiss.
‘Nothing happened,’ she answered honestly. ‘He found the wood he needed.’
Unexpectedly, he drew her into a possessive embrace. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you, Iseult. We will be under attack in a few days. Promise me you won’t leave the ringfort again.’
She managed to nod, but she couldn’t bring herself to embrace him in return. He’d punished the man who had saved her.
The men dragged Kieran to the chains where the hostages had been kept, like he was a criminal. Stripped of his tunic, they locked his wrists in iron manacles. He didn’t fight them off, his gaze staring off into the distance. Beneath the air of calm acceptance, she sensed a terrible anger. Not towards her, but against Davin.
She wanted to go to him, to set him free. Her stomach churned, for she felt responsible for his imprisonment. And yet if she approached him now to say anything, she feared what Davin would do. Instead, she looked to him with an apology in her eyes, hoping he would see it.
But as she’d feared, he wouldn’t even look at her.
* * *
In the middle of the night, Kieran saw a cloaked figure approach him. Though most inhabitants of the ringfort slept, he knew who it was.
‘You shouldn’t be here.’ If Davin saw her visiting him, he had no doubt it would mean his death.
‘Eat.’ Iseult fed him fresh bread and tender pieces of meat. The scent of food only heightened the gnawing pain in his stomach. He ate, trying not to pay any heed to her. But each time her fingertips pressed beneath his mouth, he wanted to taste them. Though she didn’t mean anything, the act of feeding him became sensual.
He thanked God that chains were restraining him right now.
Kieran leaned forwards, inhaling the fresh scent of her. A lock of hair fell against his cheek, and his body responded almost violently when she laid her face against his.
Iseult broke away, offering him mead from a clay jug. ‘I don’t understand why he did this. If it weren’t for you…’ She shook her head and shivered.
‘Leave me, Iseult.’ He tried to still the need for her, to deny his body’s reaction. He wanted her to stay far away from him. His willpower was stretched to the breaking point when it came to her. How it had happened, he didn’t know. But right now, he wanted her more than anything else.
‘You needed food,’ she said softly. ‘And I wanted to thank you.’ In the darkness, she was shadowed from him. He couldn’t make out her features, but his memory needed no reminders. His skin burned with dark needs, and he prayed he had the strength to keep her away.
He was no better than the man who’d stolen Branna from him. It had been over a year since he’d lain with a woman, and his body lacked all discipline when it came to Iseult.
She raised the mead to his mouth again. ‘You were a warrior once, weren’t you?’
‘It was a long time ago.’
‘I’ve never seen anyone fight like that before.’
He had no intention of revealing his heritage to her. ‘My past will lie buried, Iseult. Don’t ask me about it. Now go back to your home where you belong.’
She paled, but he offered nothing more. He didn’t want her thinking there could ever be anything between them. If it meant being cruel, and forcing her to see the truth, he’d do it.
* * *
Davin wanted to punch his fist through the wooden palisade. Seeing Iseult’s beautiful face and the red swelling at her cheek and jaw had enraged him. When he’d seen her with Kieran, something inside him had snapped.
She’d insisted that the raiders had been the ones to hurt her, but all he could think of was punishing the man responsible for taking her from the ringfort. At the moment he didn’t know when he’d release Kieran.
Dawn rose across the ringfort, and Iseult had not spoken to him since the previous afternoon, nor had she dined with him that night. The movement of men near the gates caught his eye, and Cearul dragged a body inside. He recognised the Sullivan colours.
Why had Iseult defied him? Why had she gone alone into the forest with Kieran, a man she admitted she didn’t like? His suspicions took root, and though he had the evidence to trust her, he wasn’t ready to release the slave.
His men brought in the dead Sullivan hostage, waiting for his orders. ‘Wrap the body,’ he told the men. ‘We’ll send it back to the Sullivans at dawn.’
They nodded, following his bidding without question. Davin walked towards the land he’d shown Iseult a few weeks ago. He imagined their home, and the sound of their children. He could visualise every detail.
For almost three years he’d been in love with her. She didn’t know that he’d come to visit her tribe on the night of Bealtaine, so long ago. He’d participated in the rituals, never taking his eyes off her beauty. Though she was a blacksmith’s daughter, he’d never seen a more breathtaking woman.
And when she’d taken a lover that night, he’d cursed himself for not speaking to her. It might have been him she’d chosen.
He rested his forehead in his hands. She blamed him for chaining Kieran, and he doubted she would forgive him, unless he set the slave free. He didn’t want to, for his suspicions would not be allayed.
Yet she’d been right. The bruises she’d suffered were not from Kieran’s hand.
With a heavy heart, he approached the mound of the hostages. Standing before Kieran, he unlocked the chains. ‘I let my anger get the best of me.’ He wasn’t going to apologise to a slave, but he intended to m
ake a point. ‘You defended her, and for that I am grateful. But stay away from Iseult.’
‘I intend to,’ Kieran said. From the icy tone of his voice, Davin believed it. Still, he didn’t want the slave near his bride. The thought of any man alone with her drove his jealousy beyond measure.
‘Finish the chest,’ he ordered. ‘You have one fortnight.’
* * *
Kieran didn’t touch the chest for three days. He’d used the axe, then an adze, to shape the oak log into the size and shape he needed. With careful measurements, he fitted the plank to the chest and took apart the older joints, discarding the cracked wood. He cut another box joint with an iron chisel, carefully adjusting the fit until he could hammer in the new piece to the existing chest.
The precision required a steady hand and pressure upon the wood. His arms ached, but he welcomed the pain. Once, work such as this would have required little endurance. He’d been able to work for hours with no effort at all.
It would take time to rebuild his lost abilities, he admitted. If he had possessed his full strength when Iseult was attacked, all three men would be dead. Now, he lacked the means to protect even one woman. It shamed him to think of it.
When he’d arrived here, he had planned to let himself fade into the background, a faceless, nameless slave. He was beginning to realise that it wasn’t possible. He had led men into battle for so long, it was an extension of himself. His tribesmen had looked to him for guidance, to make the decisions no one else wanted to make.
His father had trained him to follow in his footsteps as chieftain. It had been an unwanted burden. He’d never wanted to be a leader of men.
When he was a captive, he’d held fast to the hope that his father and their tribesmen would come after them. He’d consoled Egan, telling him not to fear.
But no one had come.
He stiffened at the memory. It no longer mattered. They were as dead to him as he was to them.
He’d spent time thinking about where he would go next. The answer had come to him last night. He would live out his days as a mercenary, traveling across Éireann, defending those who lacked the means, killing those who harmed innocents.
He opened his palm, gathering his hand into a fist. With each remaining week of his penance, he would spend time rebuilding what was lost.
Yestereve, he’d heard the men talking about the Lochlannachs. Though Davin might wish to defend his tribe, he doubted if the ringfort was prepared for such an attack. Many segments of the palisade wall were vulnerable to an enemy breach. He’d studied every angle of the ringfort in preparation for his own escape. There was no part of Lismanagh he didn’t know.
He didn’t care if the raiders destroyed it. The Ó Falvey people meant nothing to him. Cearul and his tribesmen acted with their tempers, not their heads. They would be slaughtered within moments, the women taken prisoner.
He closed his eyes, thinking of Iseult. If he hadn’t been with her, she’d have been taken. He had no doubt they would have hurt her, defiled her. It was like reliving Egan’s capture. Only this time, he had saved her.
She’d wanted him to hold her, to reassure her that everything would be all right. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. With every moment he stayed here, invisible bonds tied him to her.
Damn it all, she was Davin’s responsibility, not his. Davin should be the man to protect her, as her betrothed.
Her future could never be a part of his. And when he regained his freedom, he wouldn’t look back.
Kieran stepped outside, breathing in the morning air. His gaze stopped short when he saw Iseult standing a few paces outside Muirne’s hut. Her hair was unbound, flowing about her shoulders, and her legs were bare. A rose-coloured léine and overdress clung to her slender body. She lowered a bucket and met his gaze. Concern creased her face, as though she’d worried about him. She didn’t turn away like she should have. And neither did he.
As she filled her bucket with water from a rain barrel, he forced himself to go back inside the woodcarver’s hut. He sat down upon the carver’s bench, his palm curving over one of the gouges. With a whetstone, he sharpened the blade, letting the mindless task push away his thoughts of her.
His slavery would end, soon enough. And when he regained his freedom, he would leave Lismanagh and travel east, to make a new start.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A few days later at sunset, the chieftain Alastar Ó Falvey called all the men to gather outside his dwelling. The council had convened, and they had come to a decision. They would ride out to meet the Lochlannachs, attacking them if necessary. They’d not wait for the enemy to strike first.
Davin stood at his father’s side, his spirits heavy about what was to come. He’d grown up with these men, knew them all by name. And on the morrow, some would die.
‘We ride to meet the Norsemen at dawn,’ Alastar declared. ‘The Gaillabh are passing too close to our boundaries, and I need men willing to defend our ringfort. Who among you will volunteer to keep your women and children safe?’
A roar of approval sounded from the men. Davin surveyed the crowd and saw Iseult standing next to her friend Niamh. Neither looked pleased. Niamh, in particular, glared at him as though he were responsible for the danger.
He didn’t particularly want to go into battle, either, but it was his duty. Only the young men like Orin, and the elderly, would stay behind. He and his tribesmen would form an impenetrable shield around their home, so that none of the invaders could cross it.
His father gathered groups of men together, assigning some as foot soldiers, others as archers. Each was given his choice of a weapon, and the men’s spirits were high as they selected battle-axes and spears. As for himself, Davin preferred a sword.
Neasa summoned the slaves, ordering a large feast for the men. Barrels of ale were brought up from storage, and all were given as much as they wanted. Davin poured a cup for himself, carrying another to Iseult.
Though he wanted to be alone with her, to take her into his arms, he could see the hesitancy upon her face. She hadn’t forgiven him for chaining Kieran; he could see it.
What else could he do to heal the breach between them? Though he did not believe his tribe would lose the fight, he didn’t want ill feelings between them tonight.
‘Would you like ale?’ he asked, offering her the cup. She forced a smile, closing her hands around the goblet.
Then he stared at Niamh and nodded towards the door. An expression of annoyance flickered upon her face before she took the unspoken request and left them alone.
He wanted to say something to Iseult, anything to break the awkward silence. The cool distance in her eyes bothered him more, for it made her unreachable.
‘Your bruises are fading,’ he remarked, then wished he hadn’t mentioned them. It would only conjure up memories of the night she’d been attacked.
‘Yes.’ She sipped the ale, her attentions elsewhere. He looked to see if there was something distracting her, but it seemed a deliberate move, not to meet his eyes.
He laid a hand across her shoulders, hoping she would turn and look at him. But though she did not pull away, it reminded him that she rarely initiated an embrace or a kiss. He’d thought it was because of what had happened with Murtagh. Now he wondered if the fault lay with him. Did she genuinely not want him? He’d never press his attentions on her, if it caused her discomfort.
He didn’t want to lose her. He’d rather have a celibate marriage than live without Iseult at his side.
‘I’ll be leaving at dawn with the men,’ he said. ‘And I don’t like what’s happening between us. You’re still angry with me.’ His hand moved over to her nape, and at last she faced him.
‘I’m afraid, Davin,’ she admitted. ‘Why must you fight them?’
‘Because I believe in defending my tribe instead of letting the enemy come and take what he wants. Including you.’
Her shoulders lowered, her face troubled. ‘Who will stay behind to defend us, if you and yo
ur men fall in battle?’
‘We won’t fail you,’ he vowed. But in her eyes he saw the disbelief. It made him wonder what had changed. She was strangely quiet, almost suspicious of him. ‘Why would you think I’d let anything happen to you?’
‘If I had been taken,’ she asked, ‘would you have come to look for me?’
‘Of course.’ How could she think otherwise? ‘I would not rest until I brought you home again. Never doubt that.’ He drew her into his embrace, but she did not return it. ‘You mean everything to me, Iseult. I would never stop looking for you.’
‘And yet, you want me to stop looking for my son.’ Accusation lined her tone, cool as ice.
So that was it. He wanted to exhale with relief, for at least he could do something about her anger. ‘After this is over, I’ll look with you for as long as you want,’ he assured her.
Though he had hoped she would relinquish the search, it would take more time. He doubted if they would ever find the boy, as vast a land as Éireann was. Not a trace of Aidan had they seen. And he wasn’t altogether disappointed about it.
The babe was not his, and he cringed at the idea of seeing a son that was not of his blood. It only reminded him that Iseult had shared her body with another man, and not himself. The jealous thoughts were wrong, he knew, but he could not deny them.
‘When this is over, will you visit the slave markets for me?’ she asked.
‘Why?’
‘I want to know if anyone sold Aidan into slavery. If they did, there might be a record.’
‘It’s been nearly a year,’ he reminded her. ‘I don’t know if they would still have any news.’ When her eyes would not meet his, he saw his chance dying. Quickly, he amended, ‘But I’ll try.’
‘Swear to me.’
‘I swear it.’ He would do whatever it took to keep her. Davin took her palm in his, stroking her cold fingers. ‘If there are answers to be had, I’ll find them.’
Iseult squeezed his hand. ‘I hope so.’
* * *
Niamh wondered why men felt the need to ride out in search of danger. They hadn’t been attacked by anyone, had they? And she knew in her heart that many of the tribesmen would not return alive.
The MacEgan Brothers Series Volume 1 Page 12