Page 67 of Celtic Love and Legends (Lords of Eire)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“M ama, no !”

Destry was trying to dress Slane for the evening meal. Usually, he remained in his chamber and ate with a nurse, an old woman named Freeda who had once looked after Conor when he was a young boy—or at least a young boy in his previous life—but on this evening with the pregnancy being celebrated, Destry wanted him downstairs in the hall.

That smelly, smoky, dank, and damp hall. The place smelled like shit. Literally, like shit. She had no idea what it had smelled like before Geric took command, but it certainly smelled horrible after he left. Destry had spent six damn weeks trying to get that smell out of there.

Meanwhile, they were supposed to eat in it.

But Slane wasn’t cooperating with her. Destry was trying to put a clean pair of hose on the lad, but he wanted nothing to do with it. His skinny legs were kicking as she tried to dress him.

“Slane,” she said steadily. “Stop kicking. Let me get these on you.”

He whined and rolled onto his stomach. Destry flipped him onto his back again. As this was going on, Mattock came rushing into the chamber.

“Mother!” he said. “Look! This has torn. I cannot eat with a torn tunic!”

Destry had both of Slane’s legs, holding them so he couldn’t kick her. She looked at the tiny tear in Mattock’s tunic, in the seam. Somewhere behind her, Devlin was running around looking for something clean to wear. It was chaos in the chambers of the little princes, a normal moment in time with the family she never knew she had until six weeks ago. Destry had gone from clubs and VIP rooms to a Medieval castle and three boys that demanded all of her time. An instant family that, in fact, wasn’t so instant.

Sometimes she looked at moments like these and couldn’t believe the change.

But she loved every minute of it.

“Let me get Slane dressed and I’ll help you with that,” she told Mattock. “It doesn’t look that bad.”

She returned her attention to Slane as Mattock looked at the tear in distress. “I cannot wear it like this,” he said, catching sight of Devlin. His eyes narrowed. “He did it. He tried to grab it, but I got it first. This is his fault.”

The next thing Destry knew, Mattock threw a punch at Devlin and connected. As the boys went down in a pile, Conor came into the room and saw what was happening.

“Mattock,” he snapped. “What are you doing to your brother?”

Startled at the sound of his father’s voice, Mattock leapt to his feet. “He tore my tunic,” he said, pointing to the small tear. “I was punishing him.”

At least it was an honest answer, but Conor lifted his eyebrows in disapproval. “If anyone is going to punish Devlin, it will be me,” he said. “Do you understand? It’s not your job—I mean, it’s not your right to punish him. It’s my right.”

He had to put it in terms that Mattock would understand. The word “job” didn’t mean anything to him, but the word “right” where it pertained to permission did.

Mattock understood, all too well. “Aye, Dada.”

“I don’t want to see you doing this again, and most especially not in front of your mother.”

“I won’t.”

“You had better keep to that vow, because I can take the pony away just as easily as give it,” Conor said, looking between both boys now. “Do you understand me, Dev? Treat your brother with respect and things like this won’t happen. Same goes for you, Matt—treat your brother with respect. Brothers should always love one another and support one another, not be enemies. They should be the one person you can depend on.”

The boys nodded, but without much enthusiasm. Conor could see that Mattock, who always liked to look his best, was genuinely upset about the rip in his clothing. Devlin was a slob, but Mattock wasn’t. It was one of the personality differences he’d come to discover over the weeks about his boys. They were so different, yet so alike.

Conor inspected the tear for a moment. “Your mother can fix it, I think,” he said. “Des? Did you see this?”

Destry was still wrestling with Slane, but she stopped and tossed the hose onto the bed. “I did,” she said, frustrated. “I’ll fix the tear if you dress Slane. He’s kicked me twice.”

Conor picked up the hose, eyeing Slane as the boy lay on the bed and gazed up at him apprehensively.

Happy to be away from the kicking child, Destry went to Mattock and took a good look at the tear. “That’s easy to fix,” she told him. “Come into my room. My sewing things are in there.”

As Destry and Mattock left the chamber, Padraigan slipped in. Conor was standing over Slane and telling the lad he’d better not kick any more, which seemed to do the trick, because he managed to get the boy dressed and onto his feet. As he ran to find his shoes, Conor watched him go.

“I keep thinking he looks like my father,” he muttered. Then he shrugged. “Whatever genes are in my family, they’re evidently strong.”

Padraigan looked at him curiously. “What do you mean, great lord?”

Conor scratched his forehead, realizing she didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. “Heredity,” he said. “Some families have the same nose or the same eyes. My family seems to have big heads.”

Padraigan smiled. “That is because it is filled with great thoughts.”

Conor snorted as he looked at her. “I would like to think that’s true,” he said. “Who knows? Maybe it is.”

Padraigan’s smile faded. “In your case, it is, great lord,” she said. “In your brother’s case, he is only filled with ruthless ambition. It is about your brother that I have come.”

Conor grew serious. “What about him?”

Padraigan waited until Slane found his shoes and rushed across the corridor to his parents’ chamber where Destry was.

When the boy was gone, she spoke quietly. “I believe your brother is nearby,” she said. “I have been seeing much raven sign.”

“The birds that spy?”

“Aye,” she said. “Now that we are at Cian, there is no way to hide from them, but they come. I saw one earlier today. Your brother surely knows that you have returned by now.”

“I’ve had the castle for six weeks. He’s had six weeks to find that out.”

“I’m sure he knew the very first day we were here,” she said. “He is undoubtedly planning how to reclaim the castle.”

Conor frowned. “We send scouts out daily,” he said. “No one has reported an army approaching.”

Padraigan shook her head. “I do not think he will bring an army to your gates,” she said. “I have been having dreams of a great mist. I know there is danger in the mist, but I cannot see it. I believe that is a sign of your brother—you cannot see him, but the danger is there.”

Conor took her seriously. She’d been right all along about everything else, so he had no reason to doubt her. “Then what do we do?” he asked.

“Be cautious,” she said. “Keep the gates closed. Keep your men armed. Geric knows he cannot bring his army to tear down the walls because you will fight him, and then the prize of Cashel Cian will be destroyed and he will have nothing. It would, perhaps, be wise to reinforce the city walls. They are wooden and they burn. But to build walls of rock—that would greatly protect the city.”

Conor lifted an eyebrow. “Of course a rock wall would protect the city,” he said. “But building a rock wall twenty feet high will take years. It wouldn’t make any sense to do it now.”

“Then arm your subjects,” Padraigan said. “You have an army inside of Cian, but you have a greater army in the city. Arm every subject so they may fight for you when your brother decides to make his presence known. And I believe he will, great lord. You must be ready.”

Conor sighed. Not that he didn’t believe her, because he did, but he’d hoped that the peace they’d been experiencing would last a little while longer. He had Destry, his boys, and his castle. He was where he belonged. But the man who was his brother, a man he’d never even met, was still trying to get at him. Ruin him.

Kill him.

Padraigan was right. He had to be ready.

“Although I know it was futile, I was really hoping Geric just wouldn’t come back at all,” he said. “Honestly, I never understood why he left in the first place. He worked hard to take the castle and banish me, so why did he leave it the way he did?”

Padraigan lifted her slender shoulders. “He was always quite arrogant,” she said. “Why shouldn’t he leave? You were gone, and there was no threat. He took his Northmen to raid other parts of the countryside. The Northmen will only stay by his side if he continues to feed their coffers, and he knows that. Ciannachta is nearly destitute, so now, he is looting and pillaging like a Northman to keep his army happy.”

“So he leaves his castle to raid other places,” Conor said. “But I came back, and now the castle is mine again. And you really don’t think he’s going to bring that army back to my doorstep and burn the city down on his way in?”

Padraigan nodded. “He needs Ciannachta,” she said. “If he destroys the city and the castle, he will have nothing, and the Northmen will leave. If he cannot provide, they will find someone who will.”

That made sense to Conor. Geric’s army comprised men who valued gold over loyalty. “I’m sorry, but I’m still kind of new at this,” he said. “My education is extensive, but the reality of this world takes a little getting used to. It’s been that way since the moment I returned. I feel like I have one foot in and one foot trying to get in, if that makes any sense. I don’t feel like I’m completely immersed in this life and the way these people think yet. But I’ll get there.”

Padraigan smiled. “You are doing very well,” she said. “You have already done so much for us, much more than any king could have done. I think that, perhaps, going to the nether region was a blessing, because you’ve returned with knowledge not of this world.”

“What do you mean?”

Padraigan lifted her arms in a wide gesture. “Everything,” she said. “You have taught the men fighting methods they did not know. You have taught them things about the Romans and the Greeks, and about someone named Edward the First and his warfare methods. You have helped the bakers bake bread again, and you’ve helped merchants purchase their wares. I think that this would not have been possible had you not been given such knowledge in the nether realm.”

“So you’re saying that my banishment was a good thing?”

“Perhaps,” Padraigan said. “I have never asked you what the nether realm was like. Will you tell me something about it, perhaps when you are not terribly busy?”

He smiled faintly at her curiosity. “Sometime,” he said. “But the nether realm was some kind of time-travel portal. It wasn’t like I was floating out in space. I ended up over a thousand years in the future, and the world has changed a lot.”

“Is it a good change?”

“Some of it,” he said. “Medical advances are amazing. Things you can’t even dream of. And things like sanitation and education—all good. But there are still wars. There is still famine. Some things never change. But the burial mound we came through—you said it was built by gods. Why did they build it?”

“To travel to other places, like you did,” she said. “They came to us and took mates with them. The ancient mound has a name—it has long been called Caomhnóir Ama .”

“Guardian of Time,” Conor repeated. “And it can only be used on the solstice? When the sun is at the right angle?”

Padraigan nodded. “The light is what begins the machine of time,” she said. “The light starts the working, like a spark feeds a piece of kindling.”

“Then any bright light would start it?”

“It is possible, but for eons, only the sun’s rays have fed it.” Padraigan looked at him curiously. “What are you thinking? Are you thinking to try to return to the nether realm using another source of light?”

Conor shook his head. “I’m just trying to understand how it works,” he said. “And who built it. You’re Tuath de . Your people didn’t build it?”

“Nay,” Padraigan said. “It was here long before my kind came.”

“Where did your kind come from?”

“Through the Caomhnóir Ama.”

It was becoming a circular conversation, one Conor hadn’t intended to get into, but he found the subject absolutely fascinating. It was the scientist in him. He wanted to probe her more, but there wasn’t time. Destry had organized a lovely feast in the hall and he didn’t want to miss it—but before he went to find his wife and children, whom he could hear across the hall, he turned to Padraigan one last time.

“Maybe I’m not thinking of returning to the nether realm myself,” he said, “but I wonder if we couldn’t send Geric into it. Do to him what he did to me. Clearly, Olc had to open up the portal to send me and Destry through, so why not do the same thing to Geric? Can’t you open it?”

It was an interesting question, one Padraigan thought seriously on. “If that is your wish, I can try,” she said. “Olc has a spell to open the portal, for I saw it myself. I will think hard on the words he used.”

“Then there’s a way.”

“There is a way.”

A gleam came to Conor’s eye. “Good.”

With that, he left the room and went across the hall, where Slane was now jumping on the big bed he shared with Destry as she finished mending Mattock’s tunic. Padraigan had followed, watching as Conor caught Slane mid-jump, grasped Devlin as the boy harassed his older brother, and hauled both of them out of the room so Destry could finish what she was doing.

As he headed down the stairs, he ran into Auley, who was coming up to see what was keeping him from the hall. But he could see right away what it was, considering Conor had his hands full of children. He grinned, watching Conor retreat down the stairs. When he turned to follow, however, he caught sight of Padraigan standing in the corridor.

He paused. “Are you coming?” he asked her.

Padraigan was going to wait for Destry, but she changed her mind when she saw Auley. Nodding, she permitted him to escort her down the stairs that led into another corridor. The passage, lit by fatted torches that burned dark, heavy smoke onto the stone ceiling, was empty for the most part.

Once they hit the bottom of the steps, Auley turned to her. “I’ve not seen you all day,” he said quietly. “I looked for you, but I did not see you.”

Padraigan’s pale cheeks took on a hint of color. “It is taking all of my attention to help our great lord,” she said. “I have an important task.”

“I know,” he said as they started to walk again. “You have had an important task since I have known you.”

“It is my duty.”

“I know all too well.”

Padraigan could hear a rebuke in that. “You have a duty as well,” she said. “Our great lord needs you. I will tell you what I just told him—I have had dreams of a great mist that hides danger. I believe it means that Geric is near and the threat is approaching, but we cannot see it yet. He knows of Conor’s return, and Geric will bring his Northmen.”

Auley looked at her with concern. “A battle?”

Padraigan shook her head. “I do not think so,” she said. “He knows that Conor has the love of the people and the love of his men. I also do not think he will destroy that which he desperately wants—Ciannachta.”

“Then what will he do?”

“Stealth,” Padraigan said. “We must watch every road into the city. We must watch every man who enters, every stranger. We must watch the sea. We must arm ourselves and the king’s subjects. We must be ready for Geric, for if he chooses to come quietly, then he shall be met with fire.”

Auley nodded. Padraigan was as good as any battle commander and, sometimes, far more trustworthy. The white witch was well respected by the men, and Auley most of all—but for him, it went deeper. He’d loved her since nearly the moment he first met her, and the separation of the past year had been difficult for him.

But the six weeks since they returned to Cian had been like heaven for him. It wasn’t that they’d spoken frequently, because they hadn’t. It wasn’t as if they’d had time together in any way. It was simply being around her, and he swore that he wasn’t going to let more time go by without expressing his feelings to her. She already knew how he felt, but he hadn’t pressed himself. He never had. But in realizing how much he’d missed her over the past year, he knew he wasn’t going to make that mistake again. He’d been looking for the right time to speak to her…

Perhaps if he waited, that time would never come.

“Whatever you command, my lady,” he said softly. “I will do anything you command.”

Padraigan didn’t look at him. “The command against Geric will come from the king.”

“I did not mean the command against Geric.”

Padraigan fell silent for a few moments. Her instinct was to ignore it, but she simply couldn’t. He was speaking of things better left unsaid.

“It has been a long time since you and I have spoken of such things, Auley,” she said softly.

He was unapologetic. “You know how I feel,” he said. “It has been a long time since we have seen one another, and I cannot keep it to myself.”

“So you bring it up now?”

“I have been separated from you for a year,” he said. “It was the worst year of my life.”

They had reached the door that led to the bailey and the hall beyond. Padraigan came to a halt, gazing up at the man who was a good deal taller than she was. She knew that face, that body. She’d dreamed of it from time to time. She also knew the heart within, and it was a good heart.

One she longed for.

One she could not have.

“I am sorry for you,” she said. “I have missed you also. But we have spoken of this, Auley. I cannot… You must have a wife, and it cannot be me.”

“Then I shall have no wife.”

She sighed sadly. “I have a destiny to preserve this kingdom and this king,” she said. “It has been my destiny since I was young. When I am finished here, I shall return to my home in the Otherworld until I am called upon again.”

She spoke of the magical land where her people lived. Auley had heard of it before. But if she went there, he’d never get her back.

“I want you to marry me and remain here,” he said. “I have told you that before. I cannot go to the Otherworld.”

“And I cannot disappoint my people.”

“Is that more important than the calling of your heart?”

She lowered her gaze, pondering her answer. Auley thought he might have hurt her feelings, delicate flower that she was.

“I am sorry,” he murmured. “I did not mean to sound cruel. But is being immortal and alone greater than being mortal and loving one man until you die?”

She lifted her eyes. “I told you that if I marry you, I surrender my immortality,” she said. “I did not tell you so you could use it as a weapon of logic against me. I told you because I wanted you to know that my refusal of marriage had nothing to do with you.”

“You told me that you loved me, once. Is love not stronger than your destiny?”

“Love is the strongest thing on earth,” Padraigan said. “Look at our great lord and lady. Love brought them through the nether realm together. It is why they are here. Love is stronger than anything.”

“Then why can you not surrender to it?”

Impulsively, Padraigan put her hand on Auley’s cheek. “Because I do not have the choice to do so,” she said. “You must understand that my destiny has been preordained. I cannot walk away from it.”

“I’m not asking you to walk away from it. I am asking you to become my wife.”

She continued to caress his cheek. “You are asking me to give up all that I am.”

His features rippled with sorrow. “Then there is nothing I can say? Still?”

Padraigan shook her head. “Not now,” she said. “Let us wait until the crisis with Geric is over. Then… then perhaps we may speak of this again. But until Conor is securely on the throne and Geric is no longer a threat, I’m afraid that is where my focus must be. And yours.”

That was somewhat promising. Auley took it that way. With a nod, he began walking again, holding out an elbow to her in a polite gesture. Padraigan knew she shouldn’t take it, not when he was feeling so low, and she was feeling torn and cruel, but against her better judgment, she took it anyway. His arm was warm and firm and wonderful.

And it broke her heart.

Auley led her all the way to the hall in sorrowful silence.