Page 62 of Celtic Love and Legends (Lords of Eire)

CHAPTER TWELVE

T he street of the weavers was perhaps the busiest street in all of Ciannachta.

It was a street that contained more then weavers. There were barrel makers, a few merchants who sold dry goods, and even a wheelwright. Because there were weavers on the avenue, there tended to be livestock also. Some of the weavers would insist on inspecting the coats of the sheep whose masters were trying to sell them. Sometimes there were even goats, for they had fine hair that could translate into fine thread.

The weavers on this avenue could make anything from thread to fabric. They each specialized in something different. Given that the village was at the mouth of the river where it joined the Irish Sea, there were always vessels bringing commodities as well as taking them back across the sea.

The weavers, as well as the rest of the village businesses, had suffered much under the rule of Geric, but they were trying to come back.

They were working hard at it.

Auley found his way onto the street shortly after the noon hour. He hadn’t been on the street in several months, at least since Cashel Cian fell. Truth be told, he didn’t much venture away from his own stall, fearful he might attract too much attention from the wrong people. Geric left him alone so long as he wasn’t being obvious or causing trouble. But that didn’t mean that Auley was ignorant from what was happening with the new king.

Far from it.

He kept abreast of the movements of the army as well as any political dealings going on, at least the ones that were apparent. What had been widely apparent since Geric took control was the number of Northmen that had invaded their village. It was well known that most of Conor’s army had departed when Geric came to power, and in order to fill those gaps, Geric had struck some sort of deal with men who had historically been their mortal enemies.

They started appearing shortly after the new king assumed the throne, and even now, Auley could see them in the avenues. Sometimes they did business with the merchants, but mostly they simply took what they wanted, and no one fought back. They knew if they did, they would lose their business and perhaps even their life.

Auley had to deal with those men in his own business, though they seemed to stay away from him because he was a very big man who could easily handle a sword. He didn’t have to deal with them the way some of the merchants did, and that included the weavers. He’d heard tales that the Northmen would simply take as they pleased, leaving the weavers without anything to sell. There used to be more merchants on this avenue, but with the advent of the Northmen, several of them had simply gone elsewhere.

On this afternoon, he didn’t see any Northmen on the avenue of the weavers, which was a good thing. He was looking for a girl named Cara, so he began making inquiries. He was trying to be very casual about it because he didn’t want to arouse suspicion. If Cara was here, he didn’t want to chase her away. He was looking for a man, and he hoped she held the key.

On his third inquiry, to a very old man who was weaving an exquisite piece of fabric, he was told that Cara was the daughter of Cavan the Tongue, a man who had a stall at the very end of the avenue. Auley thanked the old man and moved toward the indicated stall, though he was curious to know why a man would be called “the Tongue.” Perhaps it implied the gift of speech. In any case, Auley was cautious as he approached the stall, which seemed to be one of the larger ones on the avenue.

It was a long stall with stone walls and a low ceiling. Auley hit his head as he entered, noting a very long, somewhat dark structure. Rubbing his forehead, he saw a customer or two, and an older woman trying to sell them some thread. He didn’t see anyone else, so he politely stood back by the door and waited.

The older woman saw him and greeted him, but she was busy with the customers who eventually bought a bundle of blue-dyed thread. She took their coin, gave them the thread, and then encouraged them to return soon as they headed out of the door.

Once they were gone, she turned to Auley with an oddly hungry expression on her face. “What’s wantin’, young lord?” she asked. “Something for your wife? What does she need?”

Auley shook his head. “I am looking for a woman,” he said. “I am told she is here.”

Her eyebrows lifted in delight. “If you are looking for a woman, I am here.”

“Is your name Cara?”

The woman’s face fell. “Nay,” she said. “What do you want with Cara?”

“I come with a message.”

“Give it to me and I will tell her.”

Auley shook his head. “I must give it to her directly,” he said. “Is she here?”

The woman frowned. “Who are you?”

Auley could hear the suspicion. “I mean her no harm, I swear it,” he said. “But I have come with a message for her. Will you at least tell me if she is here?”

She looked him up and down. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want?”

He remained calm. “My name is Auley,” he said. “I am a smithy, and I have a stall over on the avenue of the smithies. I am a man of means and of good reputation, but I must speak to Cara. Is she here?”

The woman eyed him, backing away. “I’ll not give you any information,” she said. “Go away now. I will not speak to you.”

With that, she rushed off, heading toward the rear of the long stall that was crowded with bales of wool, yarn, and other textiles. She lost herself somewhere in the back, because he could hear her grunting fearfully.

Auley watched her go, wondering why the woman was so suspicious. That seemed odd.

Feeling disappointed that he’d come to a dead end, he left the stall, but not the area. He wasn’t going to give up so easily.

There was a mews behind the stalls, a small and dirty alleyway that contained rubbish and carts and other things stored by the merchants. Auley ducked back to the mews, staying low, hiding behind the edge of a cart that was a few stalls down from the one he’d just visited. He thought that he might catch the older woman coming out of the rear, and perhaps she would lead him to Cara. She hadn’t given him a straight answer about Cara, whether she was at the stall or whether she even knew her, but her skittish response to his query told him all he needed to know.

She knew Cara.

Auley waited.

Some merchants lived where they worked, meaning some stalls had living quarters attached to them, but that didn’t seem to be the case with this stall. As he’d hoped, he caught the older woman bolting from the rear of the stall, rushing away from him and onto one of the main roads that carved through the town of Ciannachta.

He followed.

It was busy on this day before market day, so Auley was able to pursue her without much trouble. There were people, trees, wagons, and muddy roads, and he slipped by all of it, following the woman who was heading to the northern part of the village, to an area of larger homes that sat along the River Boyne.

There were fewer people on this end of town, causing Auley to become more creative in the way he concealed himself. The woman hadn’t been watching her back, which worked to his advantage, and he followed her right up to a home that was built of stone and heavy timber, with an enormous front door. She banged on the door a few times, calling to whoever was inside.

Auley crept closer.

Finally, the door opened and the woman asked for Cara. Auley could hear her. She made no attempt to enter, but he crept up behind her about the time a lovely woman with pale hair came to the door and addressed the older woman pleasantly.

Auley made his move.

“Are you Cara?” he asked, coming up behind the older woman and pushing her aside. “My name is Auley. I’ve been sent with a message for you.”

The older woman shrieked, and Cara, puzzled by the question and the entire situation, started to panic because the old woman was. She screamed and stumbled back as Auley came through the door, but he hadn’t taken two steps when something was flying at his head. Had he been any slower, it would have decapitated him. He fell to the ground as a heavy sword embedded itself in the door behind him, then he rolled to his knees and leapt to his feet. He grabbed for the nearest weapon, which happened to be a chair, and swung it at the man behind the sword with all his might. The man took the brunt of it, but he didn’t fall. He didn’t even let go of the hilt of the sword stuck in the door. As Auley balled a fist to throw into the man’s face, he came to an abrupt halt.

He recognized the face.

His eyes widened.

“Bradaigh?” he gasped. “ Brad? ”

Bradaigh mac Neil looked at Auley with equal surprise. Those dark eyes against that pale face were something Auley had seen many times in his life. The high warrior of Ciannachta was before him, and the sight brought him comfort that he didn’t even realize he’d missed.

“Auley?” Bradaigh said incredulously. “Is it you?”

Auley nodded with glee. Suddenly, he and Bradaigh were in an embrace, relieved and joyful at the unexpected reunion. Bradaigh, usually a reserved man, let his guard down for the moment.

He pulled back, looking Auley in the eye. “By all the saints,” he muttered. “I can hardly believe it is you.”

“It is me.”

“And you are well?”

“Very well,” Auley said. “And you?”

“Quite well,” Bradaigh said. Then he stepped back, looking over Auley’s shoulder. “All is well, love. Come to me.”

Auley turned around to see Cara coming away from the wall where she’d been cowering fearfully. She took Bradaigh’s outstretched hand, and he pulled her against him.

“This is my old and dear friend,” he told her. “This is Auley Bannon. You have heard me speak of him.”

Cara, bright and young and lovely, but also still a little scared, nodded unsteadily. “I have,” she said. “Welcome to our home, Auley. Blessings upon you.”

“My lady,” Auley said as he dipped his head, but then he looked at Bradaigh curiously. “ Our home?”

Bradaigh nodded. “We have been married for several months,” he said. “We live here with her mother and her father and her aunt, whom you apparently followed here.”

Auley grinned. “May your marriage be as strong as your heart, lad,” he said softly, looking between them. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here. Do you have a moment to speak with me?”

Bradaigh nodded. “For you, anything,” he said, letting go of his wife so he could yank the sword out of the door. “Sit with me. Let us speak of old times.”

They’d upended the room with their brief fight, so Cara and her aunt were righting chairs and the table. Bradaigh and Auley took a seat as the women rushed off for food and drink.

“You were never the sentimental type, Brad,” Auley said as he settled back in the chair. “You know I’ve had a smithy stall not far from the street of the weavers, don’t you?”

Bradaigh shrugged. “I knew you were there,” he said. “I’ve seen you on occasion, though I did not want to speak to you. Geric has eyes everywhere. Someone would report back to him that we were plotting if they saw us speak.”

Auley nodded. “I know,” he said quietly. “That is the same reason I never sought you out. I was afraid we’d be seen.”

Bradaigh’s gaze lingered on him a moment. “But something has changed,” he said. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Because you were sweet on Cara before Geric came,” he said. “I did not know if you were with her, but I thought she might be a place to start. I knew her father was a weaver, so I followed the trail.”

“And it led to me,” Bradaigh said. “Why? What’s amiss?”

Auley looked around to make sure there was no one around before leaning forward and lowering his voice.

“Conor has returned,” he whispered. “Padraigan has come to me. We have been summoned by our king.”

Bradaigh’s eyes widened. “He came back? From the nether realm?”

Auley nodded. “He is back, along with Etain.”

Bradaigh could hardly keep the shock off his face. “By all the saints,” he murmured. “I do not understand… How? Olc banished them both, and surely they were gone forever. But they’re back?”

“So Padraigan told me.”

“Is she sure?”

“I am certain she would not have lied to me.”

“And you are convinced this is not a trick?”

“Padraigan would die before seeing us come to harm. You know that.”

Bradaigh nodded quickly. “I do,” he said. “’Tis only… I simply cannot believe it. I never thought I would hear that he had returned.”

“I told Padraigan that we would come to him tomorrow,” Auley said. “I suppose we shall see then if this is real or not. Conor was sent to the nether realm. Hopefully something did not return with his face and voice, claiming to be him.”

Bradaigh eyed him warily. “A demon?”

Auley shrugged as if anything was possible, something that unsettled them both. But they knew Padraigan and knew she was trustworthy. She wouldn’t have summoned them if the return of the king was not true.

But the whole thing was simply mind-blowing.

“We must find Brone,” Auley said. “He will want to join us. The last I heard, he was employed by a merchant in Gardner’s Hill. I saw him a few months ago when he came into town with his lord. We spoke a few words of greeting, but nothing more. It simply wasn’t safe.”

Bradaigh nodded. “We will go now,” he said. “It sounds as if there is no time to waste if we are to meet our lord tomorrow morning.”

Auley sat there a moment, a pensive expression on his face. “You realize what this means, don’t you?” he said. “This is the beginning of our return. Even as I say it, I can hardly believe it. I did not think we would ever see Conor again.”

“Nor I.”

“And you are prepared to wrest back his throne?”

“I was ready the moment it was taken from him.”

That was the high warrior in him. Auley didn’t reply as Cara and her aunt returned with drink and food, waiting until the women deposited their load and cleared the chamber before speaking again.

“You must send your wife and her family out of the town,” he said in a low voice. “It will not be safe for them here if you are to fight against the usurper.”

Bradaigh picked up the pitcher of ale, pouring his friend a cup before he poured one for himself. “I know,” he said steadily. “Like you, I never really thought this moment would come, but even so, I planned what I would do if it did.”

“What will you do?”

Bradaigh set the pitcher down. “My wife’s family has a home in Dundalk,” he said. “I will send them there. They will be safe while I do what I must do.”

Auley took a drink of his wine. “There is much we need to plan,” he said. “I’ve not paid much attention to Geric and his movements, but I do know that he has a large contingent of Northmen with him. They make up more than half of his army.”

Bradaigh snorted softly. “Thieves and murderers,” he muttered. “They only swear fealty because he has given them most of what was in the Ciannachta coffers, or so I have heard. He lets them roam the streets of the town and do anything they wish. They steal goods, women, and anything else they want. Ciannachta has become their personal Garden of Eden. But they have one flaw—they have become fat and lazy over the year. There are no battles for them to attend, so they are not prepared for any action against them.”

“You know this for certain?”

Bradaigh nodded. “I have been watching,” he said. “I still know men at the castle, men still in the army. They tell me what is happening. In fact, right now, Geric has taken most of his men north to loot and pillage because they have nearly picked Ciannachta clean. They’ve gone to raid, which means there are hardly any men at the castle. If Conor is truly returned, now is the perfect time for him to confiscate Cashel Cian. There would be very little resistance, if any.”

Auley hadn’t known any of that because, as he’d said, he simply didn’t pay attention to the movements of Geric and his Northmen mercenaries.

“And you think the men left behind would show loyalty to Conor?” he asked.

Bradaigh nodded. “Without question,” he said. “From what I’ve seen, the men left behind are of our kind. The Northmen have gone with Geric.”

Auley stared at him for a moment, realizing that this was indeed perfect timing. “We must find Brone,” he muttered with quiet urgency.

Bradaigh nodded without hesitation. “We must,” he said. “Gardener’s Hill, you said?”

“I did.”

Bradaigh’s dark eyes glittered. “This is a moment I did not think we would ever see,” he said. “But now that it is here… I have missed the feel of a sword in my hand. I have missed my calling, Auley. Living the life of a weaver… though I love my wife, it was an unhappy thing for me. God sent you here today. He sent you to me. I will once again do what I was born to do.”

Auley could see the fire in his eyes. “You are the high warrior, Bradaigh,” he said.

“And you are the master commander.”

Auley lifted his cup in salute. “Long live the king,” he whispered.

Bradaigh lifted his as well.

Within the hour, they were off to Gardner’s Hill.