Page 60 of Celtic Love and Legends (Lords of Eire)

CHAPTER TEN

T he bustling coastal city of Ciannachta was a sight to behold, but for Padraigan, it was a sight she’d seen many times.

And she was wary every time.

Ciannachta was a large community clustered around the south side of the mouth of the River Boyne as it met the sea, a fishing village mostly, but one with a good deal of commerce because of the location across the sea from the Welsh coastline. It was also a village that had been repeatedly attacked and burned by the Northmen and then rebuilt by the stubborn Irish, who refused to allow their village to die. It was a cycle of birth and death and rebirth that kept Ciannachta alive.

Padraigan hadn’t been in Ciannachta in months, mostly because she was afraid of being recognized. Everyone had known and revered the white witch, at least until Geric took control. These days, she didn’t want to attract the attention of villagers, well-meaning though they might be.

High atop the mound near the riverbank sat Cashel Cian, the crown jewel of the village, a fortress that was a great and powerful achievement. The cashel itself, the wooden and stone keep with the heavily thatched roof, was on the top of the mound, while the grounds for the army were down below. A wall, built from wood and stone, surrounded not only the cashel, but the entire village. In the distance, farms spread out against the rich green countryside. Everything smelled a bit salty and earthy, like the sea grass that grew in droves along the shore.

Padraigan had missed that smell. Inland, where she’d been hiding, the scents of the sea didn’t permeate.

Her objective this morning was to find three of Conor’s most loyal men, men who had left the army when Geric took control. They knew what Geric had done to his brother and would not, could not, serve such a man. They had been the men in command of the king’s army, and once they left, the army fractured. Men loyal to Conor had departed, but those who needed the food and shelter remained.

At least, that was what Padraigan had heard. She had heard that no one in the army loved Geric and the men he’d brought in to command his men and keep order were mercenaries, Northmen from the group of raiders he’d become friends with.

An Irish army being commanded by Northmen was never a good thing, and that was why Padraigan knew that the army, or what was left of it, would rise up if they knew their high king had returned.

But first, she had to find the high warrior.

Bradaigh mac Neil was his name.

Bradaigh came from a long line of warriors, back a thousand years to the time when the Romans had conquered Britannia and a few of them came to Hibernia, or Ireland, and nosed around. There had been no invasion. They never even tried. But Bradaigh’s ancestors were there to greet them and chase them off. All Bradaigh knew was war, and rumor had it that after Conor’s disappearance, Bradaigh had gone north to serve other lords, but then Padraigan heard that he’d remained on the outskirts of Ciannachta with his mother’s family, living on their farm.

She intended to find out.

Her first destination was the avenue of the smithies, where the blacksmiths worked with common fires and the acrid smoke of burning steel rose up in the sky. Two of Conor’s men had become tradesmen there, two of his commanders, who remained in the city. Padraigan had seen them there, once, when she came to town to procure ingredients she could not gather in the wild. Specifically, she was looking for Auley Bannan and Brone O’Donnagh. She knew they would recognize her on sight, so perhaps that was why she’d avoided them over the past year, fearful news of her presence might reach the cashel. She had children to protect.

But now, exposure was necessary.

The smell of hot steel assaulted her nostrils as she entered the avenue. There were dozens of smithies working from their stalls, some using the common fire for their work but others having their own bellows and forges. The ground was muddy and slick from the rains that had come over the past several days, littered with slag from the fires, but the avenue was busy. Cloaked, and with her usual walking stick that she didn’t need except for protection, Padraigan tried to blend in with the crowd.

It was mostly men, however, which made her stand out. A petite woman in a pale cloak wasn’t exactly masculine. The sooner she found Auley and Brone, the better. If they were even still here.

She wasn’t one given to fear, but at the moment, she could feel the familiar palpations in her chest. Fear that the men had somehow moved on. If Conor had any hope of regaining what was his, he needed his loyal men. Even a man as great as Conor couldn’t do it alone.

Then she heard it.

Shouting caught her attention off to her right. She was between stalls, so she moved out into the avenue, peering down toward the area where she heard the shouting—in time to see a big, burly man with black hair and a busy black beard as he regaled some men with a story. The shouting was coming from him because he clearly couldn’t tell the story in a quiet manner. But Padraigan knew that shouting because she’d heard it innumerable times before at Cashel Cian, when that very man bellowed orders to the army of the high king.

Auley Bannan had been found.

Padraigan couldn’t help the surge of hope. More than that, it was a surge of delight. She had known Auley for many years, and, at one time, he’d even spoken of a desire to marry her—but that had been before Conor’s disappearance and her dedication to duty. She’d fled with Conor’s children, and any talk of marriage ended. She’d often regretted that, but never more than she did at this very moment as she beheld her tall, strong Auley.

Gathering her courage, she moved in his direction.

Auley was a great storyteller. He always had been. He had an audience of a few men standing around, watching him stoke the fire in his own forge but making no effort to do any actual work. Auley was more devoted to his stories than to his craft at the moment.

Padraigan moved to the area behind his stall, watching from a distance as Auley shouted and laughed.

And on it went.

Auley had never been short-winded. He was vivacious and bright, well-seasoned and interested in the people around him. That had served him well when he’d commanded Ciannachta’s powerful army because, above all else, he could communicate with the men. He understood them, and they worshipped him.

When Geric took command, he’d worked hard to woo Auley, who had known Geric since he was a child and had hated him for as long. Geric had pleaded and threatened, but in the end, Auley refused to serve him. Only Geric’s respect for the man had allowed him to leave Cashel Cian unharmed. Whether or not Geric knew Auley had set up a trade on the avenue of the smithies was anyone’s guess, but Padraigan suspected that he knew. As long as Auley didn’t take up arms against him, Geric would leave him alone.

But that was about to change.

Hopefully.

Auley’s storytelling went on for quite some time as Padraigan hung back and watched. It seemed that the men of the avenue of the smithies didn’t grow tired of telling stories and gossiping like fishwives. Padraigan could hear them speaking of some merchant’s daughter and a pirate who had taken her to Anglesey. They joked about the two-headed grandchildren the merchant would have.

And on it went.

Eventually, the conversation stopped and the men actually went back to work, including Auley. He had two young apprentices with him. One of the boys had nearly seen her, but she’d ducked away before eye contact could be made. Now that Auley was back in his stall, however, it was time to make her presence known. She couldn’t wait much longer.

There were great piles of peat behind the stalls that the smithies were using to fire up their forges, and Padraigan hung back by the pile, beneath the shade of a yew tree that wasn’t particularly healthy because of the acrid smoke it was swamped in from day to day. She could hear Auley telling one of the boys to gather more peat, but when the boy evidently had his hands full with something else, Auley suddenly appeared to collect the peat. He was short-tempered, clearly unhappy at having to do such a menial task, and Padraigan stepped out from behind the yew tree, in full view.

At first, Auley didn’t see her. He hadn’t looked up from his pile of peat. But he caught sight of her cloak, something white in the corner of his eye, and glanced up with disinterest. At least, at first there was no interest. But the moment he realized who it was, his eyes widened.

“Padraigan?” he whispered as if afraid to even say her name. But his mouth popped open as reality dawned. “ Padraigan! ”

She smiled timidly, holding up a hand to quiet him. “It is I,” she said softly. “It has been a long time, Auley.”

He dropped the peat in his big hands, too startled to hold on to it as he faced her. “A very long time,” he said incredulously. “But… you’re here . You’re truly here!”

Padraigan nodded as she moved within arm’s length. “I am.”

“Where have you been?” he demanded, then quickly looked around to make sure no one had heard him. Given Padraigan the White was a marked woman, he didn’t want any witnesses to their conversation. “I have been looking for you for an entire year. Where did you go?”

“To safety,” she said. “I must speak with you, Auley. Something wondrous has happened.”

“What is it?”

Padraigan looked around, and because she was doing it, Auley did it too. He knew she was nervous. Hell, he was nervous for her. Thanks to Geric and his wizard, there was a price on her head.

Quickly, Auley grasped her by the wrist and pulled her over against the back wall of his stall. “ What are you doing here?” he whispered. “If you were in hiding, you must go back where it is safe. I will come to you when I can.”

Padraigan couldn’t help but notice that he hadn’t let go of her hand. Long-forgotten feelings threatened to stir again at the mere sight of him.

“I will return, but you must come with me,” she murmured. “Auley, Conor has returned.”

He stared at her in shock. “Conor… he’s come back?”

Padraigan nodded quickly. “Aye,” she said. “He has returned with Etain, but it has taken me all this time to bring them back. Olc’s curse was complete. They do not remember me or anything about their lives here. Etain cannot even understand my words. She speaks a language I have never heard before. But Conor… he remembers, Auley. It is coming back to him. He is coming to understand who he is and what he must do, and you must come to him. He needs you.”

Auley was clearly astonished. “By God’s holy order,” he muttered. “He actually returned.”

“He did.”

“I will be honest when I say I did not believe he would.”

Padraigan couldn’t argue with that. “Olc may be powerful, but my magic has been known to move mountains,” she said, looking around again to make sure no one was around. It had become a habit with her whenever she was in town because Geric had soldiers everywhere. “You must come right away. Where is Bradaigh?”

Auley was struggling to overcome his surprise. “He fled,” he said. “You know he fled when Geric took command of the kingdom. Bradaigh had to flee or risk death. Geric knew that Bradaigh would not swear fealty to him.”

“Where did he go?”

Auley pondered that question for a moment. “I am not entirely sure,” he said. “I heard he’d gone to serve the high kings of Uliad, to the west.”

“But you do not know for sure?”

He shook his head. “I did not want to contact him and risk Geric discovering his whereabouts,” he said. “Wherever Bradaigh is, he is safe and away from Geric and his Northman dogs.”

Padraigan understood. “But Conor has returned, and he needs his high warrior,” she said. “Can you not locate him?”

Auley hesitated. “If Conor has indeed returned, then that would be reason enough to locate him,” he said. “But I must be very careful in doing so.”

“How will you go about it?”

Auley thought hard on the question. It was one he’d pondered once, briefly, back in the days when Conor first disappeared and everything was in chaos—but as he’d told Padraigan, he let Bradaigh go for fear that any contact might bring Geric to the high warrior. Geric had soldiers everywhere, but worse than that, Olc of the Eye had spies all over the land. He had flocks of ravens that spied for him and men in the shadows who watched for enemies.

Finding Bradaigh would be dangerous indeed.

“Before he fled, I remember him speaking of a young woman he was fond of,” Auley said. “Do you remember her? Cara was her name. Her father was a weaver.”

Padraigan’s brow furrowed. “I think I remember hearing a rumor,” she said. “I did not know the lass.”

Auley nodded at the memory of the young woman with long, pale hair and a pretty smile who had Bradaigh, the consummate warrior, fairly smitten. “He wanted to marry her,” he said. “Can you imagine? Coming from the laoch ard who lived and breathed war, he actually found a woman he wanted to marry. But that all ended when Geric came to power.”

Laoch ard. The high warrior. Big, handsome Bradaigh with the dark hair, pale skin, and dark eyes. Conor was proud of the man whose battle tactics could put other men to shame, a man who had been both friend and advisor to the king. He had been more of a brother to Conor than his own ever had.

“What about the lass, Auley?” Padraigan asked. “Do you think she might know where he is?”

Auley shrugged. “’Tis worth a try,” he said. “And Brone… he must know that our king has returned as well.”

Padraigan nodded eagerly at the mention of Conor’s third great warrior, a man loyal to the bone. “Find Brone and tell him,” she said. “Bring him when you come.”

“Where shall we go?”

Padraigan pointed east. “Along the main road to Navan,” she said. “Do you know where the graves of our ancestors are located? The big hills along the road?”

Auley nodded. “I do.”

“I will meet you there at sunrise tomorrow.”

The light of hope began to glimmer in Auley’s eyes. “We will be there,” he said. “Brone is working for a merchant in Gardner’s Hill, but I will fetch him. We will come.”

“What is Brone doing with a merchant?”

“He protects the man’s goods.”

“And Bradaigh?”

“I will go now and find the lass. Mayhap she knows where he has gone.”

That was all Padraigan could do. The wheels were in motion, and she was beginning to feel some hope. She could see it in Auley’s face that he, too, was optimistic.

Her timid smile turned genuine. “The high king has returned, Auley,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “This time of darkness with Geric will come to an end. Our great lord will see to that.”

Auley nodded, grinning because she was. “It was agreeable to see you again, Padraigan.”

“And you, Auley.”

“Be cautious as you leave the city. Geric’s men are still about.”

She nodded, feeling more than the light of hope in his expression. There was renewed interest there as well, joy at her appearance as old memories stirred.

But Padraigan couldn’t give in to them. She was on a mission that was not yet complete, as restoring the kingdom of Ciannachta meant more to her at the moment than her own romantic feelings.

But it had done her heart good to see Auley.

“I will see you at dawn,” she said, finally letting his hand go. “Take care that you are not followed, by land or by air. Olc’s ravens are everywhere.”

Auley’s smile faded. “They do not bother me nowadays,” he said. “I am confident they will not follow me.”

“Be sure of it.”

He simply nodded, watching her as she scampered away, losing herself in the mews that existed against the backs of the stalls that lined the avenue of the smithies. It was a dirty lane, full of dogs and debris, but it was the best place for Padraigan to be. Auley knew how much it would mean to Geric to get his hands on Conor’s white witch.

But now, there was hope for the future.

Auley had a woman to see.