Page 65 of Celtic Love and Legends (Lords of Eire)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Somewhere north, near Belfast

“Y ou must rise, great lord. Awaken.”

The tent made of animal skins and roughly woven woolen fabric smelled like animals had roosted. It smelled rank, of blood and sweat and the disgusting mess that men made when they cared nothing for what people thought of them. A horrible smell that went beyond what men normally emitted, but something tinged with death.

Evil.

Geric the Usurper stirred upon his bed.

He hated the name, but that was the name not only his mercenaries had given him, but also the people of Ciannachta. He shouted at his people, repeatedly, demanding they call him Geric the Brave, but no one would. Even the mercenaries laughed at him when he told them to simply call him the king. They would speak among themselves in their own language, laughing at Geric but trying to pretend they weren’t. He had hired them and was still paying them, so as long as the money held out, they’d continue to show him the respect he’d paid for.

But even that was questionable.

“Great lord? Rise. We must speak.”

Geric heard that voice again, and he groaned, opening an eye to see Olc standing a few feet away, lighting an oil lamp. His draoi . Wizard. The old man with the impossibly black hair for his age and a face that looked like the sole of an old shoe. He had black eyebrows that grew upward, making him look as if a strong wind was blowing him right in the face. Wearing robes that were probably older than Geric was, he stood in the weak light of the lamp.

“What is it?” Geric groaned. “What’s so important that you felt compelled to awaken me?”

Olc shuffled over to a stool near Geric’s bed. He pulled it up to the side of the bed and lowered his boney body upon it.

“Are you alert enough so that we might have a conversation?” he asked.

Geric opened both eyes and looked at him. “Do I not look awake?”

“You do,” Olc said. “I simply want to be certain. It would seem we have some concerning news.”

“What news?”

“Your brother has returned.”

Geric stopped rubbing his face and yawning. Suddenly, he was quite alert, and he looked at Olc suspiciously. “What’s this you say?” he said. “That is impossible. Who told you such lies?”

“My ravens.”

“Your ravens are mad,” Geric muttered, now sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “And they are birds. Men do not speak to birds.”

“I do,” Olc said, cocking one of those wild eyebrows. “You do not call the ravens mad when they tell you something you wish to hear. Now you do not wish to hear that your brother has returned, but he has. My ravens have seen him.”

“Impossible.”

“He has reclaimed his army, and they took control of Cashel Cian two nights ago.”

Geric looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Are you serious about this?”

“I am.”

“But his return is impossible! You assured me!”

Olc watched his young king work himself up into a state, which wasn’t unusual with Geric. He was always in one agitated state or another.

“It is the doing of the white witch,” Olc said. “Her powers are formidable. I warned you of this. I told you that I could send them to the nether realm, but it was possible they could be brought back. I told you that repeatedly. It seems that they have, indeed, returned.”

Geric was starting to realize that this wasn’t some fever dream. Olc was completely serious. Disbelief turned to shock.

“Then Conor is truly returned?” Geric said with awe. “He’s come back from the nether realm?”

“He has come back, and his queen with him.”

Geric’s jaw dropped. “ She is returned also?”

“They must have found one another.”

Geric stood up from the bed. He was so astonished that he wasn’t watching where he was going and tripped over a shoe on the ground. He kicked it, stubbed his toe, and cursed. Then he whirled to Olc angrily.

“He has my castle now?” he nearly shouted. “By all the saints… I should have killed him when I had the chance. I should have killed him and made her watch it all. Then I would have kept her chained to my bed and fucked her every night until she bore my sons, time and time again, so I could breed my brother right out of her. And the sons… my dear little nephews… I should have killed them, too. I told you that!”

Olc was used to Geric’s mostly irrational ravings. “If you had killed the children, the village would have risen against you,” he pointed out. “If you had killed your brother’s men, the same would have happened. You know your brother and his family are well-loved. If you had killed them all, everyone in Ciannachta would have risen against you and your mercenaries. Banishing your brother and his wife and allowing the rest to go in peace, so long as they did not resist you, was the best you could do if you wanted to rule unopposed. I know you understand that.”

Geric was seething by the time the old wizard was finished. He stormed over to the tent flap and bellowed for the commander of the mercenaries before returning his attention to Olc.

“I understand that I listened to you when I should not have,” he growled. “This is your fault. My brother has returned, and now he has my castle!”

Olc didn’t change expression, but he lifted a hand, and suddenly, Geric was on the ground. He tried to get up, but an unseen hand to his neck seemed to be pinning him to the ground. He fought it for a moment, looking to Olc in outrage.

“Release me!” he said hoarsely. “By what right do you hold me down?”

Olc still hadn’t changed expression. “I earned the right when I helped you overthrow your brother and take his throne,” he said in an oddly loud voice that seemed to echo off the soft walls of the tent. “You seem to forget that you would not be king had I not helped you. I do not ask for much, great lord, but I ask for your respect. I have done much for you.”

Geric’s anger cooled, mostly because he knew that he was in a bad position. Olc could snap his neck without lifting a finger if he wished. He’d seen it before.

“I did not mean to be disrespectful,” he said calmly. “My brother’s reappearance naturally has me unbalanced. You would not hold that against me.”

Olc lowered his hand, and suddenly, Geric was no longer restrained. He sat up, slowly, as the old wizard eyed him.

“It is shocking, but not unexpected,” Olc said. “The white witch is powerful. Somehow, she was able to break the curse, and now your brother has returned. That means we cannot retake Cian the way we took it before. They will not be lazy a second time. I will admit, however, that we were lazy to leave so few guards at the fortress. I am told your brother took it with no trouble at all. Worse still, those we left behind used to serve your brother. They welcomed him back without resistance.”

“You mean we have lost the army we left behind.”

“That is exactly what I mean.”

Geric sighed heavily. “Then what do we do?” he said. “Conor is not stupid. He will be on his guard, and he will expect me to take his throne again. What shall we do?”

Olc stood up. “I have been thinking on just that issue,” he said. “You see, we need Cian. The castle must be held against the white witch and her magic. She stands for the freedom and kindness of men. Her and her kind have long been my enemy. If you wish for conquest and riches, and the continued alliance with the Northmen, then we must have Cashel Cian. We must get it back. But we must be clever about it.”

“I am listening.”

“Great lord.” A tall, rugged-looking man with a crown of wild, dark hair suddenly stood in the doorway. He spoke with a heavy accent. “I am told you have summoned me. What do you require?”

Geric, still on the ground, looked at the man. “Come in, Ranak,” he said. “I have just been told that my brother has returned and retaken Cashel Cian. Olc is about to tell us how to reclaim it. I want you to listen, since this will be your task.”

Ranak Hammer Jaw, the leader of the mercenaries, looked at Olc in astonishment. “The Red has returned?” he said. “But he was banished. I saw you do it myself.”

Olc nodded patiently. “As I pointed out to your king, the white witch has somehow brought him back,” he said. “My spies tell me that the wife has returned also.”

Ranak sighed sharply as he looked at Geric. “I told you we should have killed them.”

Geric held up a hand. “We have been through that already,” he said. “Now, listen to Olc. He has been thinking on the problem. Let us hear what he has to say.”

Ranak wasn’t receptive. “What is there to say?” he demanded. “Conor’s army is no match for mine. We will destroy them!”

Geric wagged a finger at him. “If you do not stop shouting, you will end up on the ground like me,” he said. “Shut your lips and listen. Olc will speak.”

Ranak may be reckless and murderous, but he wasn’t a fool. He knew what the wizard was capable of. Keeping his mouth shut was difficult for him, but he did. He faced the old man, arms folded defensively across his chest and an unhappy expression on his face.

Olc knew Ranak well. He knew the man only spoke with his sword. There was no such thing as a negotiation or strategy. He eyed the big, smelly Northman.

“If you do not wish to be destroyed when the white witch waves her hand in your direction, then we must show cunning in this situation,” he said. “My spies tell me that Conor holds Cashel Cian, but they also tell me that the wife and sons have come to live at the castle as well. They are back at Cian like they were before, as if nothing is amiss. It is well known that Conor loves his family and understandably wants them with him. Be clear—that is his weakness, and that is where we shall force him to surrender Cian without bloodshed.”

Ranak snorted. “Ridiculous,” he said. “I will not hide in the shadows looking for a chance to kill one of his children. I am a warrior; I do not kill children.”

“I did not say kill,” Olc said. “And I did not say children. Ask yourselves this—what was the one thing Conor loved more than his castle, his kingdom, his anything? What does he value above all else?”

Geric didn’t hesitate. “His wife,” he said. “I had a taste of the woman, and I understand why. She is a woman beyond compare.”

“Then it is his wife we shall target,” Olc said. “Not the castle, not even Conor. That is where we made the mistake before—we gave her a choice in the matter. She could stay with you to save her husband or she could go with him, and she chose to go with him. This time, there will be no choice. Queen Etain shall be our key to Cashel Cian.”

Geric shook his head. “It will not work,” he said. “She will be well guarded. How are we to get to her?”

Olc could see that both Geric and Ranak were doubtful. “We will think of a way,” he said. “You could go to battle against Conor, but he will be ready for you. Do you think he will not fight back with everything he has? Cashel Cian is a powerful fortress. Some say unbreakable. He will lock the gates and stay there while we lay siege. This will cost time and money, and meanwhile, Ciannachta will be destroyed. There will be nothing left. You will be a king of ashes. I am telling you that there is a smarter way if you wish to keep your kingdom intact.”

Geric looked at Ranak, who simply rolled his eyes and looked away. The Northman hated doing anything other than a full-on attack. It was in his blood. But it wasn’t in Geric’s blood—he was willing to listen if it meant keeping the city of Ciannachta intact.

He returned his attention to Olc. “My Northman friend loves death and destruction,” he said. “He does not like sneaking around.”

“Do you want your cashel returned to you in one piece?”

“I want it back the way I left it.”

“Then listen well,” Olc said. “We use stealth. We infiltrate the city and we watch the castle. Eventually, Conor will open the gates. His scouts will tell him that your army has disbanded, because we are going to split. Some will go to the sea, some to the land. We will regroup at Ciannachta and stay to the shadows, watching for the opportunity to capture Queen Etain. Once we do, we send a missive to Conor—his kingdom for his wife. You know what his decision will be, so he will take his wife and leave, and we reclaim Ciannachta. Why would you do it any other way?”

Geric had to admit that the thought of sneaking into Ciannachta and abducting his brother’s wife seemed less dangerous—and maybe even more interesting—than rushing in and laying siege. He could see what the old wizard was driving at.

“We use the element of surprise, do we?” he said.

Olc nodded. “That is the most brutal way of all,” he said. “When they least expect it.”

“And then what happens to my brother after that? I do not want him running free. He will raise another army to defeat me.”

Olc conceded the point. “Then we do what we should have done before,” he said. “We kill them all, and your throne will be secure. Your subjects will hate you, but what’s a kingdom without a little hate?”

Geric liked that plan. He liked the idea of slinking around, waiting for the right moment to pounce. He liked the idea of seeing defeat in his brother’s eyes when he realized he had to surrender his kingdom for the safety of his wife.

And then they’d be done with it once and for all.

With a nod, he agreed to the plan, and Ranak quit the tent in disgust. He didn’t like the old wizard, and, truth be told, he didn’t like Geric, either. The man was weak-willed and foolish. The only reason Ranak and his men served Geric was because he had mostly drained the treasury to pay them. They were all quite rich because of Geric. But when the money ran out, so would they.

But that brought about a problem.

The return of Geric’s brother now put an obstacle between them and the last of the funds in Ciannachta’s treasury. They were counting on that money. And that stupid wizard wanted to reclaim the castle in stealth. That wasn’t something Ranak wanted to do. Perhaps they’d agree to separate as the wizard suggested, and perhaps they’d even all go to Ciannachta the way they were supposed to—some by land, some by sea. Given his ships were moored near Belfast because he’d sent them along the coast to assist in the current raiding, all he had to do was send them back south. He’d give the command, and his men would attack from both the sea and land, and Conor the Red would be disposed of once and for all.

The old wizard wanted to play games. Ranak was going to make the final move.

When all was said and done, he’d leave Geric with a throne but a raided and burned kingdom. That, for Ranak, was the final victory. In the end, he didn’t care about a stupid Irish king. He only cared about his purse.

Geric thought he was doing the betraying when it came to his brother—but Ranak was about to turn the tables.

The victory would be sweet indeed.