Page 21 of Celtic Love and Legends (Lords of Eire)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

G lenteige’s great hall had been made into a massive place of warmth and food and great pungent smells. As Emllyn entered the hall on de Noble’s arm, her eyes were wide at the extraordinary setting.

The hall was built from the same fieldstone that the keep was constructed from, a very long room with an open fire pit in the center of it. Smoke escaped through a series of vents in the thatched roof, which had also been coated with mud to prevent the thatch from catching sparks.

Two long tables flanked either side of the fire pit, worn tables that had seen their fair share of feasting. One had a broken leg that was propped up by rocks. Even now, both tables were burdened with food, more food that Emllyn had seen in a very long time. Both tables held huge flanks of the buck that de Ferrer had killed and men helped themselves to the meat. The room was a busy, noisy place filled with the hungry and the drunk.

Dressed in a pale green silk surcoat with a beautiful white shift underneath that fit her figure to perfection, Emllyn had taken great care with her appearance. Her hair had been carefully brushed and braided, knotted into an intricate bun at the nape of her neck and anchored with big iron pins, and Elyse had even shared some of her cosmetics with her. She wore a dusting of ocher on her cheeks and beeswax mixed with the same ocher on her lips, giving her a lush and rosy glow. To finish off the look, Elyse’s maid had dusted her neck and shoulders with a fine powder mixed with gold dust. Literally, the woman was shining.

It was an effort that was not missed by de Noble when he came to collect her for the meal. He’d never seen anything so lovely, and it was a proud man who entered the hall with Emllyn on his arm. She was glorious. He took her around the feasting English and scavenging dogs to deposit her at one of the tables. The moment Emllyn sat, servants appeared with a trencher and drink. She didn’t even have to say a word as food was instantly being heaped onto her trencher.

Elyse was there with Connaught, both of them sitting conspicuously close in conversation until Emllyn sat down. Then, Elyse’s focus shifted to her friend.

“You look so beautiful!” Elyse gasped, visually inspecting her. “That dress never looked so good on me.”

Emllyn smiled as she collected her pewter cup of wine. “I am sure that is not true, but it is kind of you to say so,” she said, sipping her wine. “You look stunning, darling. Yellow becomes you.”

Elyse smiled demurely. “It is a gift from Christopher.”

Emllyn wasn’t surprised because the neckline of the garment was rather low and daring. “It is perfect,” she said. “He has wonderful taste.”

As Christopher dipped his head in thanks, Elyse grasped Emllyn’s hand and began perusing the room. Together, the women looked curiously at the crowd of diners.

“Where is Merradoc?” Emllyn asked. “Have you seen him?”

Elyse made a face. “Not since this afternoon,” she said, evidently displeased. “He made some comment about a two-headed baby so I chased him away. I am sure he will be here later.”

Emllyn fought off a grin at the physic’s comment and changed the subject. “It feels like a party, doesn’t it?”

Elyse nodded fervently as she surveyed the room. “So many unfamiliar faces,” she said. “These are your brother’s men; do you know many of them?”

Emllyn looked at the men congregated around the tables, eating and drinking, and throwing scraps to the hungry dogs. After a moment, she nodded.

“A few,” she said, suddenly spying Victor seated at the end of the other table. It took her a moment to realize that Trevor was seated across from him; she recognized the back of his head. Even though Devlin had told her he had survived, she still felt a jolt of surprise to see him. “I… I know the knights. There are at least two that I see.”

Elyse was trying to see what she was seeing. “Which ones?”

Emllyn pointed to the end of the opposite table. “Over there,” she said. “The bald man. That is Sir Victor St. John.”

Elyse’s focus settled on Victor. “Him?” she said as she pointed. When Emllyn nodded, she smiled. “Oh, he is handsome, is he not? But what of the dark–haired man sitting across from him? He does not look like a mere soldier. Is he a knight, also?”

She meant Trevor; the man was very handsome and well-formed, and he certainly didn’t look like a common man. Emllyn nodded. “He is indeed a knight.”

Elyse leaned in close to her, whispering in her ear. “Your friend John is here also,” she said. “He left the room a few minutes ago, probably to use the privy. I should have followed him to see how big his member was.”

Emllyn looked at her in shock before breaking down into a grin. “Elyse,” she hissed. “Christopher is sitting next to you and still you speak of other men?”

Elyse giggled. “Have you ever seen horses mate?” she asked. “Have you see how long their male members become?”

Emllyn shook her head reproachfully. “This is hardly appetizing dinner conversation.”

Elyse laughed. “That is what I tell Christopher he looks like,” she murmured. “He believes me. The truth is that it is not nearly so long and hard, unfortunately. I wonder if the farmer’s is?”

Emllyn laughed softly as she took a bite of bread, listening to Elyse prattle on about men and their manhoods. She had just reached for her wine cup again when she caught sight of Devlin entering the room.

Her heart leapt at the sight of him coming in through the main entry. Surprisingly, he looked quite different from the way she had seen him lately; he was dressed very simply in clean linen breeches, the worn peasant boots, and a clean tunic that was not torn or shabby. It was obviously borrowed because it strained against his broad chest, revealing his magnificent physique, as he headed to the table where Victor was sitting. He sat down beside the man and reached for a cup, leaning over as Victor said something to him. As the man spoke, Devlin’s eyes moved with great speed to the other table where Emllyn was sitting. She’s here, Devlin!

His gaze found her in a room filled with dozens of noisy, feasting people. There were several feet between them, smoke and servants and dogs, but he looked at her as if she were the only thing in that entire room. Their eyes locked and Emllyn smiled faintly at him. Through the haze and crowd, he smiled back.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Emllyn said softly.

She stood up just as de Noble was sitting down. He looked at her with curiosity and concern, but she waved him off politely. In her pale green gown that made her look like a goddess, she made her way over to the table where Victor and Trevor and Devlin sat. She smiled as she came upon them and, noticing that she was approaching, the three men rose to their feet politely.

“Greetings, good men,” Emllyn said, speaking to the group even though her gaze was on Devlin. “Is the feast to your liking?”

Devlin literally could not take his eyes from her; she looked like an angel. “It is, my lady,” he said as evenly as he could. “Everything is quite delicious.”

Emllyn’s smile broadened. “I am pleased that you are enjoying it,” she tore her gaze away from Devlin to look at Victor and finally Trevor. For a moment, she simply looked at Trevor, wondering what she ever saw in the man. It was an odd realization that there wasn’t as much as a skipped beat of her heart when she looked at him. “Are you well, Sir Trevor? I am pleased to see that you survived the destruction of my brother’s armada.”

Trevor knew the story of the mysterious Lady Emllyn; they all did. Victor had drilled it into the group. In truth, he had been a bit wary to see the woman now known as Emllyn Fitzgerald but her manner was quite different than it had been before. No longer did she look at him with adoring eyes; the woman before him seemed completely different from the one he had come to know and he was both thankful and pleased. He’d had visions of fighting her off again in spite of what Devlin and Victor had told him. Relieved, he nodded to her question.

“I am well, my lady,” he replied. “Thank you for asking.”

Emllyn smiled politely at him before she returned her focus to Victor. “I hope you enjoy your evening,” she said. “What are your plans after tonight? Is de Noble sending you home?”

Victor shook his head. “Not right away, my lady,” he said. “We will stay here until Kildare has been contacted and decides where he wants us to be. He may ask us to remain here to reinforce de Noble’s ranks or he may recall us home.”

“I see,” Emllyn said. She wasn’t concerned in the least that Kildare had been contacted, no longer fearful of his reaction to be told that his dead sister was now in Ireland. After tonight, she would go with Devlin back to Black Castle and that would be the end of everything. There was such relief in that knowledge. “I wish you all good fortune, then, in whatever path you take.”

Victor and Trevor nodded and Emllyn was about to say something more when there was some commotion behind her and she turned to see three men carrying instruments enter the hall. One man carried a clairseach, or Irish harp, while the second man carried a two-headed hide-covered drum, and the last man carried what looked like a wooden flute. Victor politely pulled Emllyn aside as the three musicians made their way to a corner of the room where they began to set up. Emllyn watched the group with delight.

“Musicians!” she exclaimed happily. “I do love music.”

“Have you ever danced a proper Irish jig, my lady?” Devlin asked.

She turned to look at him, perhaps a bit coyly. “And strain myself so?” she asked with feigned shock. “I should say not.”

The men grinned, including Devlin. “Then you must allow me to show you how to dance one without straining yourself.”

It was Emllyn’s turn to grin. “ You know how to dance?”

“Very well.”

She couldn’t quite picture it and giggled when she tried. “Very well, then,” she said. “You may show me how you do it. But do not be disappointed if I do not join you.”

The banter flowed, all quite proper in front of Victor and Trevor. In fact, Trevor moved aside and cleared a space for Emllyn to sit, and the four of them continued their witty conversation for quite some time, much to de Noble’s displeasure. The group talked, de Noble fumed, and the musicians struck up a beautiful folk ballad.

It was all quite normal and lovely, hardly belying the chaos the course of the evening was about to take. When Emllyn finally excused herself because she needed to utilize the privy, she couldn’t have imagined what lay in wait for her.

It would be the last pleasant moments any of them would remember for a very long time.

*

She had been running for days.

Nessa had fled Black Castle at Shain’s request, running into the night and heading south to de Cleveley’s settlement. She wasn’t sure exactly where it was but Shain told her if she remained near the coast, eventually, she would find it. It was of dire importance that she find it. The pale little servant, Enda’s timid daughter, was on a mission to find Black Sword. She was the only one left to do it.

She had to locate him.

So she pushed on through the intermittent rain, running and then walking when she became too tired to run, straining to reach the settlement of Glenteige where the feared and hated English lived. Only today, it was different. She wasn’t afraid of them. At the moment, she saw them as salvation.

It had been near sunset on the third day that she had finally located Glenteige. Fortunately, the gates were open as peasants spilled from the settlement to return home before the complex was sealed up for the night and she was able to slip in without any notice. There had been English soldiers at the gate but they hadn’t paid any attention to a small, lone female.

Once inside the settlement of Glenteige, Nessa was nervous and in tears. The sun was setting and she had no idea where to find Black Sword, so she wandered fearfully into the heart of the town, near the well, and got chased by a pair of dogs.

Scurrying away in terror, she ran down a narrow avenue and ended up at another big wall that was less guarded. She could see the top of a big keep on the other side and she clung to the perimeter of the wall fearfully, knowing that the commander of the settlement was surely inside the walls. She reasoned that if Black Sword was anywhere within this settlement, it would not be in obscurity. Surely he was near the heart of the place.

There was a single big gate that constituted the main entry to the inner compound and it was open as men and servants passed through it. This deep into the village, they would be less concerned about the people passing in and out. Security was not as tight as it was for the exterior walls. Nessa huddled in the shadows, waiting and watching for the opportunity to present itself for her to enter. She certainly didn’t want to ask anyone if they had seen a big man with red hair and a red beard because Shain had told her that de Bermingham was in disguise. She didn’t get the entire story but she knew that Devlin was on a great mission here amongst the English. She didn’t want to give the man away.

Still, she was desperate to find him. He had to know what was happening at Black Castle. When she saw a man leading two shaggy horses in through the gate, she crept up behind the horse that was farthest away from the sentries and slipped into the inner complex in the shadow of the big horse’s arse. Once inside, she bolted off and hid behind a big cart that was laden with thatching material. Here, she vowed to stay until the sun set completely. She reckoned it would be easier to search for the man once people settled in for the night and went to sleep. Less chance of someone see a suspicious woman lurking about.

So she remained, hidden behind the cart, watching with some interest as the great hall went ablaze with lights and people. There seemed to be a celebration of sorts happening. Exhausted, she must have fallen asleep because when she awoke, the hall was full of music and there were people milling outside in the small ward, talking and drinking. There was also a steady stream of men moving to the privy, which was built into the only corner tower of the wall. She knew that because she could smell the strong stench of urine radiating from it.

Huddled against the wheel of the wagon, she remained crouched in the darkness, watching all of the activity. Here in the heart of the English settlement, there was gaiety that was foreign to her. There was no such gaiety at Black Castle. At one point, a woman in a beautiful pale green gown quit the hall, the light from the fire illuminating her dress as she stepped out into the darkness. On her heel came a massive man clad in a simple tunic, evidently escorting the woman, and as they drew close Nessa immediately recognized Devlin and his English captive, the Lady Emllyn. Heart in her throat and a prayer of thanks upon her lips, Nessa moved out of the shadows and approached them as they passed by the wagon.

“My lord!” she hissed. “My lord, please !”

Emllyn came to a halt and Devlin nearly ran into the back of her because he didn’t make it a habit of responding to voices hissing from the darkness. But Emllyn had– she recognized Nessa in an instant and, in disbelief, pointed her out to Devlin.

“Look!” she whispered. “It’s Nessa!”

Devlin turned to see Nessa coming out of the darkness. She was wrapped in an old shawl and smelled of smoke and dampness. She was pale and trembling, and his brow furrowed intensely at the sight of her. Immediately, he charged forward and grabbed the woman by the arms, forcing her back behind the shadowed wagon. Emllyn scurried after them as all three of them faded into the darkness.

Devlin went to his knees behind the wagon, taking Nessa with him. He realized that he was quite panicked at the moment; there was no earthly reason the woman should be here, and that concerned him greatly.

“What is it?” he demanded. “Why are you here?”

Nessa was in tears. “My lord, ye must come,” she wept. “Sir Shain has sent me. He sent me to tell ye that Black Castle has fallen.”

Devlin wasn’t sure he heard correctly. He stared at her and his eyes narrowed in disbelief. “It what ?” he said, staggered. “My castle has fallen?”

Nessa started to weep more heavily now. “Sir Shain sent me to tell ye,” she sobbed. “Sir Frederick came back. He came back with the O’Byrne and let them in! They killed many people and they killed yer bird and ate it! Oh, please, my lord, ye must come and help us!”

Devlin just stared at her. He could feel a sense of grief and rage sweeping over him, filling his veins until every part of his body was hot with fury. The fingers grasping Nessa tightened on her arm to the point of causing her pain. She shrieked softly and tried to pull away.

Emllyn had been listening with horror. She could hardly believe what she was hearing and when Nessa winced because Devlin was hurting her, she pried the man’s hands off of the serving wench. She grasped the woman, giving her a gentle shake and forcing her to look at her.

“Nessa,” she said, trying to keep an even tone because she could see how affected Nessa and Devlin were. “Tell us what happened from the beginning; you said that Sir Frederick returned? Returned from where?”

“He tried to kill me,” Devlin told her, his voice faint and dull. “When I returned to Black Castle after leaving you at Glenteige, Freddy poisoned my wine but Iver drank it instead. He also tried to kill Shain but failed. When Freddy fled Black Castle, we feared he had come here to Glenteige because he knew of my plan to spy on the English. We thought he had come here to betray me and, consequently, put you in great danger. That is why Victor has only known you as Emllyn and why his men have only called you Emllyn. They did not want to put you in any danger in the eyes of your host.”

Emllyn listened with seriousness in her expression. “But Sir Frederick did not come to Glenteige,” she said, confused. “If not here, then where did he go?”

Devlin sighed heavily; it was all becoming very clear to him now what had happened. He and Shain had discussed two options; Frederick would either go to Glenteige to betray Devlin or he would go to an enemy and side with them against Black Sword. It would seem that even though Frederick hadn’t gone to Glenteige, he’d clearly created issues elsewhere. The man simply hadn’t faded away.

Devlin was overwhelmed with the realization of Frederick’s actions but he fought it; a muddled mind would do him, or his people, little good. What mattered now was what to do about it. Struggling for composure, he faced the weeping servant.

“What happened when Freddy returned?” he asked her quietly.

Because Devlin was calming, Nessa calmed, too. “He came back after ye had left,” she said, sniffling. “He begged for Shain’s forgiveness. He wept and called him brother. Shain believed him and feasted with him but that night, after everyone had gone to sleep, Sir Frederick murdered the gate guards and opened up the gates. The O’Byrne came in and killed everyone they could, including my mother. I escaped with Sir Shain and we fled. Shain sent me to find ye because most of yer soldiers are dead or have scattered.”

More than rage, Devlin felt utter and complete devastation at the thought of Neart. “And my falcon?”

Nessa sniffled sadly. “They took him first when they came into the keep,” she said. “A man cut his head off and they roasted him.”

Tears popped to Devlin’s eyes for his falcon, his friend and companion, who had suffered at the hands of his hated enemy. Devlin would make them pay; with God as his host and witness, he would make those bloody bastards pay.

There was a spark of revenge burning in his chest, growing by leaps and bounds. The fire filled his veins, causing his hands to shake and his heart to pound. It was revenge against the O’Byrnes, to be sure, but more than that it was revenge directed against Frederick. He’d always defended the man against others, refusing to think ill of him even when his maliciousness was obvious. But this was where every last scrap of good will towards Frederick ended and now, he became Devlin’s most deadly enemy.

He would find Frederick and the man would pay with blood and anguish a thousand times over. Now, Devlin’s vengeance was unleashed. Somehow, his anger helped him think clearer. He knew what he had to do.

“Emllyn,” he turned to her as she held Nessa’s hand. “Go inside and bring Victor to me. Bring him here, please, love.”

Emllyn nodded obediently and left them behind the wagon as she went into the hall. Meanwhile, Devlin turned to Nessa.

“Where is Shain and the remnants of my people?” he asked, his voice oddly calm now that his initial shock and fury had faded. Devlin was, if nothing else, able to maintain a level control in the face of madness. It was one of Black Sword’s greatest attributes.

“At Dungans Castle,” Nessa said.

Devlin’s gaze glimmered with recognition, and also with some concern. “Did he take the tunnel?”

Nessa nodded firmly. “That was his intention,” she said. “I heard Sir Shain order men to collapse it so that the O’Byrne couldn’t follow them.”

There had been a tunnel linking Black Castle and Dungans Castle since the two castles had been built and shared by the same clann. That had been decades ago, however, and both castles had changed hands many time since then. Now, Dungans belonged to a sect of Hospitallers, men who were hermits and most fearful. In fact, Devlin had never had any dealings with them, mostly because it was common knowledge to stay away from them. Rumors abound through the Wicklow countryside that the Hospitallers were really worshippers of Satan and that they drank human blood. Devlin wasn’t sure if he believed that, but he had stayed clear of them nonetheless.

“The castle must have been greatly compromised if Shain chose to take the survivors through the tunnel to Dungans,” he muttered. “That is a feared place.”

Nessa nodded. “I am glad I did not go with them,” she admitted. “Sir Shain lowered me over the wall as the castle was overtaken. I just started running and never looked back.”

“Then you do not know if they actually made the trip to Dungans?”

“Nay, my lord.”

Devlin sighed heavily as he pondered the information. “It’s very possible they never made it,” he muttered. “Those tunnels are very old. They could have been blocked any number of ways. It’s very possible that they are still at Black Castle, all of them, and if that is the case, then I must go directly to Black Castle.”

Now that her information was delivered and the highs and lows of her emotion were even for the moment, Nessa was showing signs of real exhaustion. She slumped back against the wagon wheel, sitting in partial mud and not even realizing it.

“There weren’t many, my lord,” she said. “I heard Sir Shain say there were no more than a few dozen men left.”

With that, she fell silent. Devlin sat next to her, his mind whirling with the revelations that had come this night. He knew he had to return and reclaim his castle; there was no doubt in his mind. But he needed men in order to accomplish that. He didn’t have any men at his disposal; but de Noble did.

De Noble did.

As he sat there and pondered that possibility, Emllyn returned with Victor. When Victor saw Devlin and a distraught serving woman hiding behind the wagon, he peered at Devlin with great curiosity.

“My lord?” he asked with concern. “You have need of me?”

Devlin did. He had need of an Englishman. In fact, he had need of many Englishmen. With a heavy sigh, he rose to his feet.

“Aye,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “I have just received word that Black Castle has been overrun by the O’Byrne clan.”

Victor’s eyes widened with surprise. “O’Byrne?” he repeated. “By God, if those aren’t the most warring men we’ve ever come across. They’ve overrun most of northern Wicklow and have destroyed several Kildare estates. Once we reclaimed Black Castle, Kildare intended to use Black Castle as a base to recover lands held by O’Byrne.”

Devlin smiled weakly as the man revealed some of Kildare’s most secretive plans. “They are a scourge,” he agreed. “They have ever been our enemies just as they have been yours.”

“They are everyone’s enemies, English or Irish,” Victor said with conviction. “I know de Cleveley has had problems with them as well.”

“Anyone in Wicklow has. What they have just done to me, they can do to Kildare and de Cleveley alike.”

“What will you do?”

Devlin sighed sharply, his mind working quickly. As he looked at Victor, he could only think of one thing.

My enemy’s enemy is my friend.

“You and I are soon to be related,” he said softly. “You said yourself that I am therefore your son. As your kin, I am to assume I have your support in all things.”

Victor’s gaze lingered on the man for a moment before shaking his head in resignation. “Black Sword,” he hissed. “She had to marry Black Sword, didn’t she? Why not a good, clean English knight who lives piously and is kind to his mother?”

“I am kind to my mother.”

“You are?”

“I would be if she was still alive.”

Victor tried to look disgusted by the comment but ended up laughing. His gaze moved to Emllyn, standing next to Devlin and gazing back at Victor with so much hope in her eyes. It was the hope of the young and foolishly in love. But Victor could not deny her.

“Aye,” he finally said. “I will support you above all others, including Kildare should it come to it. But you and he had better make peace very soon or you will put me in a very bad position.”

“Agreed,” Devlin said. “But for now, I need you to stand with me. Will you do it?”

“I will.”

“Then come with me. I have something to say to de Noble.”

Victor suspected what it was. Dreading that particular conversation, he followed Devlin and Emllyn back into the warm and glowing great hall.