by Mia Pride
Jeoffrey had heard enough for now. “Lass. I need you to consider speaking for Clarice. She is innocent and will become that madman’s slave to do as he wills with her! Do not fear Gregory! My warriors will not let harm come to you, I vow it. I pray you find the strength to do the right thing.”
Without allowing her to speak further, Jeoffrey stormed back toward the small circular structure holding his wife. Àdhamh still stood guard with his arms folded in front of his large body. Jeoffrey was running out of patience and time. “I spoke to your sister. She knows the truth. So do you.”
Àdhamh looked at Jeoffrey and raised one dark blonde brow, then shook his head. “I suspect she is innocent, aye. Tis why I offered to guard her. She is safe with me. I was her former husband’s best mate. She loved him…much the same way she loved my sister Paulene…as a companion,” he raised his brow again and Jeoffrey caught what he was subtly trying to convey. He knew Clarice and Harrold were not lovers.
“To be blunt, Clarice is a very bonny lass. Nay man married to Clarice and sharing her bed would not touch her…as you must know as her new husband. And now she is with child. And her son is also named Jeoffrey,” Àdhamh shrugged.
The man was astute, Jeoffrey would give him that, but he did not have time to tell all the details of his life right now.
“Aye. Tis a long story but Clarice and I were meant to wed several summers ago. Her children are mine. Harrold and Gregory are my cousins, though the two men are as different as the sun and the moon.”
“Aye,” Àdhamh nodded in agreement. “I am certain there is a story about how she ended up in Alba with Harrold instead of you, but from the stories I have heard of you, Jeoffrey, son of Elim Mac Conrach, I can assume it had to do with your father.”
Jeoffrey put his hands on his hips and stared at the man. He was more than astute. He was incredibly intelligent and easily pieced information together to create an entirely accurate story. “The question is, what can I do to help?”
“Speak for Clarice. You have the king’s ear. You are one of the people here. They will listen.”
“Done.”
“That easy?” Jeoffrey asked incredulously.
“Aye. I do not fear Gregory like the others do. They see a man of power and skill with a sword. I see a coward and a murderer. He is mad.”
“Runs in the family,” Jeoffrey grumbled, thinking of the madness that had run through his father’s veins. Àdhamh looked at him strangely but Jeoffrey continued. “Who else will speak for Clarice?”
Àdhamh took a deep breath and shrugged. “She helped the healer birth many babes, but otherwise kept to herself. The two people who knew her best are now dead and she is on trial for their deaths. Tis wrong.”
“Your sister is afraid to speak,” Jeoffrey clenched his fists to his sides. Frustration and nerves were leaving him on edge and the pit in his stomach gnawed at him relentlessly.
“Aye, she is a timid lass. I will speak to her. You must promise to offer her protection within your tuath if she speaks and Clarice…er…is not freed.”
“I am off to Ériu,” Jeoffrey informed the warrior warily.
“Even better. She has been through a lot in her short life. She requires a fresh start. In fact, I tire of this place. Our parents are gone and now our Paulene, and Harrold. The King means well and only wants proper justice, but he is blind to Gregory’s deceit. If you have need of a strong warrior, I will go along with you.”
Jeoffrey looked at the man. He was honorable, of that much, he was certain. He was also large and clearly powerful. Àdhamh had already proven himself intelligent. Aye, he would make a good addition to any army, but it was not his decision to make. “I will speak on your behalf to the men from Ériu. Until then, I need you to do something for me.” Àdhamh nodded and listened. “Give my wife some comforts. Blankets, food, water, and a candle. Tell her I love her and tell her you are on her side. She needs some hope. I worry for her and our child.”
Àdhamh nodded and put his arm out to Jeoffrey. “You have my word. I did not bind her, as the king requested. He will not notice.” Jeoffrey nodded and clasped arms with Àdhamh. He instinctively trusted this man. His word was good, he was certain of it.
Jeoffrey spun on his heels and began to walk away…but to where? He had made a good start with Maggie and Àdhamh, but it was not nearly enough. He needed to do more. He needed to stay focused and keep busy otherwise he would likely go mad himself. Àdhamh had mentioned the healer. Perhaps she would speak for his wife. Aye, that was his next destination. He would inquire of her whereabouts and speak to the woman. Surely a woman good enough to spend her life healing others would be more than willing to stand up for what was just and right.
***
“Go away!” the shrill screech made Jeoffrey’s ears ring, but he only pounded on the door harder.
“I need to speak with you about Clarice!” He bellowed through the thin wooden door to the healer’s small round home. Smoke was billowing out of the tip of the thatched roof and blowing with the wind to the east. It was past midday now and aside from what information he had received from Àdhamh and Maggie, nobody else had come forward willing to speak for Clarice.
“I said nay!” she croaked again through the door. “Leave me be!”
“Did Clarice not help you deliver babes in the tuath? Do you not owe her for her years of kindness?”
“Nay! I owe her nothing! Let me be, curse ye!”
He balled his fists up again and wished to bang on her door until it splintered into pieces. But he had spent years trying to harness that anger and knew now was not the time to lose control. With a growl loud enough to ensure the old hag heard him through the door, he turned on his heels and almost plowed into King Steaphan and his massive red beard.
The man looked amused with his arms crossed in front of him as he watched Jeoffrey harass the healer. “Mayhap you should spend your energy elsewhere,” the king said dryly. “She does not wish to speak to you.”
“I can see that!” Jeoffrey snapped. He could not care if this man was a king. He was also the man who demanded his wife be bound and put into a dark room.
“You truly believe your wife is innocent?” The king’s brown eyes searched his face for answers.
“Aye. She is innocent. I can tell you everything—”
King Steaphan held up a hand. “You better save it for the Brehon, lad.”
“You mean to truly give her a fair trial then?”
The king crinkled his brow and narrowed his eyes. The man must have been in his late forties, but he was built like a wall of stone. His biceps bulged beneath his blue tunic as he crossed his arms. “I am king. Tis my place to ensure all my people receive proper justice. I have two of the closest people to her dead! She fled when Gregory accused her of the murders. When he found her and tried to bring her back, she attacked him. Now she is married to you. How can you truly expect me to believe she is innocent? Innocent people do not flee!” he growled.
“An innocent person flees when she is a woman trying to save herself and her child from a madman threatening to take her as a slave if she refused to marry him!”
“You have proof of this?”
“Aye. I have her word.” Jeoffrey crossed his arms and scowled.
“I am afraid you will need more evidence than her word, lad,” the king said with more sympathy than Jeoffrey would have expected. Still, hot rage flushed through his veins. How could he possibly prove her word against Gregory’s? He should have finished the bastard off when he had had the chance.
“I have much more to accomplish before the sun sets. My wife will not become a slave to Gregory Mac Conrach.”
“For her sake, I hope you are correct, lad. The Brehon will arrive on the morrow.”
With those parting words, the king strode off, leaving Jeoffrey to brood over his next options. He could not allow Gregory to absorb Clarice as a slave. He would mistreat her and mayhap kill her. She had nothing to her name and no way to pay the co
sts that would be expected of her. Jeoffrey would pay it. He would pay anything to set her free, and yet, even he would not have enough to offer for such crimes.
Why did the village healer refuse to speak with him? Who would come to speak on her behalf from Miathi? Too many questioned muddled in his already frazzled brain. He needed sleep and food and yet, those two things were impossible to even fathom at the moment. Running a frustrated hand through his tangled, dirty hair, he sucked in a breath and decided to seek out his warriors. Mayhap they had more information.
They were all staying in the gathering hall with the rest of the warriors, but when he arrived, the room was empty. Where had everyone gone? Walking back outside, he began to circle the village, cursing that he did not know the lay of this land. Where would a score of warriors disappear to? Just then, the sounds of blades clashing together brought him to a stop. His heart began to thrum and he took off at a sprint. If a skirmish had broken out between the warriors of Miathi and Ériu with those from Caledonii, this would create more complications that he did not need.
“Nay, lad. You must hold your sword like this,” he heard Eoin’s voice speak gently. Jeoffrey came around the stables, the smell of horses and hay infiltrating his nostrils as the spring day warmed up and intensified the stench of the animals and their dung. “Aye, just like that!” Eoin said again just as Jeoffrey found him with a lad who must not have been more than two and ten summers of age.
Looking passed Eoin, Jeoffrey saw all his warriors scattered across a large field of grass practicing with their shirts off in the midday sun. Swords gleamed in the light blindingly as they were raised above heads or slashed to the side in mock battle.
“What goes on here?” Jeoffrey asked.
Eoin’s gaze left the young lad’s and landed on Jeoffrey. His hazel green eyes took Jeoffrey in. There was something in his gaze, a little resentment and a lot of respect. Eoin clearly struggled with his feelings toward Jeoffrey, and rightfully so. Yet, here he was, fighting to save Jeoffrey’s wife from a foe when it was not his responsibility. The man could have stayed behind in Miathi and left Jeoffrey to handle the trial himself, but he had come.
Eoin patted the lad on the back and sent him scurrying back to training with another lad of about equal age and size. “I instructed all of our warriors to continue to train. We need to stay sharp, in case Clarice’s trial does not go well…” Eoin winced at having to say those words out loud to Jeoffrey, but he was an honest man and Jeoffrey was glad for his candor. His words also indicated he was willing to fight to claim Clarice back should the Brehon decide to give her over to Gregory. “I also thought it prudent to mix with the villagers here. Mayhap they will see that Clarice inspires the loyalty of many men.”
Jeoffrey thought about Eoin and his words for a moment, then looked around again to see what he was speaking of. Several of their warriors were instructing Caledonii’s warriors on techniques or working with younger lads. A few men had even seemed to catch the eyes of several bonny lassies who stared on from the side with awe at their sweaty, shirtless bodies. “Why did you come with me, Eoin?”
The man scoffed. “You mean in spite of the fact you stole my wife away? Why am I helping you?”
“Aye, that is precisely what I mean.”
Eoin looked away and took a deep breath, running his hand through his sweaty blonde hair. “Treasa will worry when we do not arrive soon. I was only meant to retrieve you and sail back to Ériu. But Treasa also holds you in the highest regard. If I did not help you and your wife, my own wife would have my bollocks. Still I cannot say that is the only reason.” He looked away again and Jeoffrey knew the man had a hard time expressing himself openly. “I respect you. You are a decent man. I wish to help you and your wife through this.”
Jeoffrey regarded Eoin for a silent moment, but before he could respond, there was a rumbling in the distance that caused him to turn around and squint into the sky, the sun now on its downward decent turning the clouds a coral pink.
“Tis the Miathi banner!” a warrior from Caledonii shouted from the closed iron gates. Jeoffrey’s heart worked overtime to pump blood through his veins. King Ailbert had sent witnesses to speak for Clarice as promised!
The fluttering Miathi banner came into sight with its deep blue backdrop and the image of a large black boar with long tusks whipping in the wind. Two warriors flanked the sides and three riders were in the middle. He could not make out their features, but long hair and billowing dresses caught his eye and he knew at least two of them to be women. The rider in the middle seemed tall and lean, yet unrecognizable from this distance.
Feeling a surge of hope, Jeoffrey ran forward to greet the riders, Alastar close on his heels. As the riders came into view, Jeoffrey’s stomach plummeted. The first face he saw made his blood run cold. It was Ealasaid. Had she come to speak against Clarice? After all, she had believed Gregory’s story of murder.
Soon, the other female rider came into view and Jeoffrey stepped forward to help her down. “Morna. You came,” he murmured gratefully as he helped her down gently.
“Aye. I cannot let her become the property of the man who wounded her. My mother wished to come as well, but King Ailbert could not spare both healers. I saw what that beast did to her and I will stand before the Brehon and the entire tuath of Caledonii to share the horror she suffered at his cruel hand.”
Overwhelming gratitude consumed him. The journey here from Miathi had obviously drained her of energy. Her soft purple dress was muddy at the bottom hem and dirt caked her face. Her plaited blonde hair had half fallen out of the leather band that had once held it all together. Even her cheeks looked ruddy as if she had been exposed to too much sun and she swerved slightly on her feet.
“I cannot thank you enough for coming here, Morna. We are forever in your debt.” Then he put a hand on her shoulder to stabilize her as she began to look as if she may swoon. The lass was young and innocent, and most definitely unused to travel. “Alastar,” Jeoffrey said over his shoulder. “Please see Morna to the gathering hall for some drink and food. Ask King Steaphan where she can stay.”
Alastar nodded and began to step forward with his hand out, but a tall muscular man with black hair stepped forward instead. When he turned slightly, Jeoffrey recognized him as Brennain, Eoin’s cousin from Ériu.
“I will see to the lass,” he said in a low, deep voice, yet clearly trying to soften his normally assertive tone to comfort Morna.
Her eyes grew wide as she looked Brennain up and down, and her pink cheeks darkened to a deep red. She must have realized how disheveled she looked, for her hands flew to her tangled hair, trying to smooth down any stray wisps.
Brennain grabbed her nervously fluttering hand and pulled it away from her hair. “You look beautiful, Morna.” He smiled, flashing two dimples and straight white teeth. His green eyes were brighter than the cursed clovers scattered across the grassy land. Remembering that this man was a son of one of the Sisters of Danu and her powerful husband who descended from the Tuatha de Danann, Jeoffrey smirked and turned away. The man was built like a stone wall and looked to have been carved by the gods. Although, if legend was true, he was a god…or at least his ancestors had been.
Brennain put his hand out and Morna hesitantly hooked her arm through his as he guided her away, whispering soothing words in her ear.
“Jeoffrey,” he heard Ealasaid’s hesitant voice from behind him and stiffened. He wanted to wring the lass’s neck and tell her to go back to Miathi, or better yet, find herself a new tuath.
Without turning to even look at her, he growled, “I suppose you came to finish what you started, Ealasaid.”
“What? N-nay! I have come to help her,” she squeaked.
“You have done, enough!” Jeoffrey spat as he turned to look at her and balled his hands so tightly he could feel his nails digging into the tender flesh of his palm. “You tried to give her over to that bastard!”
Her blue eyes were wide with fear and brimming with t
ears. “Please believe me, Jeoffrey! He convinced me of her guilt! He told me she murdered her husband! She was about to marry you and I feared for your life! I was protecting you! I love—”
“Do not say it, Ealasaid.” Holding up a hand to stop her from speaking, he let out a loud sigh and put his hands on his hips. His anger was boiling over fast and he had to restrain himself from pouring it out on the infuriating lass before him.
“I truly am sorry, Jeoffrey! But tis true and I only wanted the best for you.”
“You wanted to be rid of her! For your own purposes!” he barked and she flinched. Her green wool dress was soddened, and she shivered as a strong gust of wind blew past, whipping her red hair around her face.
Scrambling to remove her hair away from her mouth, she grabbed a handful with her small fist and looked at him pleadingly. “Look at me, Jeoffrey,” she shouted in exasperation and threw her hands in the air. “I did not travel here to destroy your wife! I swear by all the gods I truly believed I was acting in your best interests before, but I do see the truth now. I made up that horrible story about a rare plant and honestly did not believe she would fall for it or go at all. But she did and I immediately regretted it when he took her away. I could see it in his eyes. He is obsessed with her and I knew in that moment I had errored gravely. He would tell any lies to have your wife!”
She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I errored in more ways than one. I am much too ashamed to look you in the eye and speak of my other mistakes, but I swear it upon my soul that I will tell all at her trial. I will tell the Brehon that I believe him to be the murderer. He would do anything to have her in his possession.”
Jeoffrey narrowed his eyes at her and clenched his jaw. He wanted to believe the lass, he truly did. She looked beyond contrite and he was hard pressed to believe she would come all this way to speak against his wife, knowing very well she would have nothing to gain from it. He would never be with her in any case, but sending his wife into the clutches of that madman was the last thing that she would ever benefit from. Still…finding trust in his heart for her was something he struggled to do. “Ealasaid, look at me.” When she did, he saw her throat constrict and move as she swallowed hard. “If you care for me at all, lass, you will not betray me on this. I love Clarice with my whole heart. I cannot live without her. She carries my babe…”