“So you do not like the Irish yet you do not particularly like the English,” de Noble ventured after a moment. “In truth, I do not blame you. For a peaceful and simple man, these are difficult times.”
“Aye, m’lord.”
“When were you last at Black Castle?”
Devlin pretended to think. “Over a week ago, I think,” he said. “It was the last of my winter produce and my spring crops are just little seedlings now.”
“I see,” de Noble said thoughtfully. “And when you were last there, what was it like? Were there still O’Connor troops there?”
Devlin’s brow furrowed in thought. “If they were, they must have been hiding, for I don’t remember seeing a lot of men,” he replied. Then he reached for his drink and knocked it completely off of the table, spilling it. He grinned apologetically. “I fear I’ve had too much to drink, m’lord.”
De Ferrer picked the cup off the floor and handed it to de Noble, who picked up the ale pitcher and refilled it. “Nonsense,” he said. “For aiding the Lady Emllyn, you deserve a rest and good food and good drink. You will be our guest for the night.”
Devlin nodded gratefully. “Thank you, m’lord,” he said. After a moment’s hesitation, he continued. “I would like to know how the lady is faring, if I can.”
De Noble was looking at him with his razor-sharp stare. “She is no longer your concern, John,” he said steadily. “We will take care of her now.”
Devlin could feel his heart begin to race, just a little. “But… but I told you I would not leave her with people I did not know or trust,” he said, suddenly sounding not quite so drunk. “You promised the lady that I could stay.”
De Noble shook his head. “My daughter promised that you could remain,” he clarified. “I said nothing of the kind. A lady of that high ranking wants nothing to do with a dirt farmer. Surely you know that.”
Devlin didn’t react for a moment because he could feel rage building in his chest and he knew that it would do him no good. Therefore, he could do one of two things – he could protest vigorously, which would only get him thrown out, or he could try another avenue, one of sympathy and pain. Swallowing his pride and his natural urge to battle the English, he lowered his gaze and stared at his lap.
“I do,” he muttered. “’Tis just… well, I have protected her since I found her. I hid her from a patrol of Black Sword’s men after Kildare’s armada was destroyed and I’ve kept watchful eye on her. You see, I lost… I lost me own wife and daughter not too long ago and the lady reminds me a good deal of me wife. If… if I could just see the lady for tonight, to see how she is feeling, I would be grateful. I know the English are more generous than me own people, so I would hope for your permission.”
He kept his gaze lowered, hoping his lie would garner some sympathy. If it didn’t, he wasn’t quite sure what more he was going to do except lay siege single-handedly to the keep, which would not produce good results.
As Devlin hoped, de Noble relented somewhat. It wasn’t an unreasonable request so he truly had no reason to deny it. The older knight took a drink from his cup, his gaze shifting from Devlin and taking on a far-away look. He was reflecting on something.
“I know what it means to lose a wife,” he said finally. “My wife died a few years ago but I think I lost her even longer before that. She did not like Ireland. She wanted to remain in England, so I permitted it.”
Devlin could see that he’d hit a nerve with his talk of a dead wife. He took advantage of it. “Me wife was a good woman,” he said. “We had grown up together so we had been together a very long time. But she got sick, as did my child, and I lost them both.”
De Noble wallowed in his own reflection a moment longer before looking at Devlin. His expression went from wistful to controlled in a split second; he didn’t like to think about his dead wife and he certainly didn’t want to discuss her with this peasant. He was an intensely private man.
“Then I am sorry for you,” he said. “I will permit you to know how the lady is faring, then. But after you stay here tonight, you will return home. There is no longer any need for your presence.”
That wasn’t a directive that Devlin wanted to hear. He decided to swallow his pride completely and open himself up, hoping they’d let him stay. He didn’t want to leave Emllyn and the very thought was causing him tremendous grief.
“But… I can be of help to you here,” he said eagerly. “I am strong; I can shoe horses or help in the kitchens. I can butcher animals or tend the horses. As I told you, my crops are seedlings and I have no more income for a while. With the Irish raiding my fields, I have almost nothing left. I would be a good worker, m’lord, I swear it.”
De Noble’s gaze lingered on him a moment before he turned his attention to de Ferrer and Connaught. He smiled faintly as he toyed with his cup.
“He is a big one,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind using him as a body guard. I would imagine he’d be fairly formidable in a fight.”
De Ferrer and Connaught looked at Devlin from across the table, each man studying him. Devlin could feel their stares, the hostility, perhaps the jealousy or curiosity. It was difficult to get a read. He was trying to look hopeful and not look intimidating, which was a difficult stretch. He hated being at the mercy of the damnable English, begging them for a job. It was to gain information, that was true, but more than that, he realized he didn’t want to be separated from Emllyn, not even for an hour. Already, it was killing him and it hadn’t even been that long. All he wanted to do was go back and sit by her bed just to be near her. It was a stunning realization but a powerful one nonetheless.
He simply didn’t want to be without her.
“Can you fight?” de Ferrer asked, breaking into his thoughts.
Devlin pushed aside images of Emllyn and focused on the older knight. “I can use me fists and feet,” he said. “I’ve been known to brawl.”
“Have you ever fought for the rebellion?” Connaught fired at him. “Have you ever joined your kinsmen in taking up arms against the English?”
Devlin looked at the man, studying him a moment. There was something brash and fiery about him. “I have never fought for the rebellion,” he said. It was the truth; he had led the rebellion. “And who are you to ask me? I detect Irish in you, lad. So you take up arms for the English and fight against your countrymen?”
Those were hostile words as far as Connaught was concerned. He bolted to his feet, hand on the hilt of his sword in threat. “You will not question my loyalty, you lowly whoreskin,” he snarled. “I am an English knight and you are shite beneath my feet.”
“Sit down, Chris,” de Noble held out a hand to him, easing the young man back into his seat. “He didn’t mean it as an accusation. It was merely a question.”
Connaught wasn’t happy in the least. He hissed his displeasure and plopped down in his seat, unwilling to participate in the conversation any longer. De Noble’s attention dwelt on the man for a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to rise up and charge their guest before returning his focus to Devlin. His expression seemed to harden.
“Connaught is a legacy knight for de Cleveley,” he said. “He was born in Ireland and his heritage is Irish, but his family is sworn to de Cleveley. His father and father before him served as ambassadors for de Cleveley here in Ireland.”
The worst kind of Irishman as far as Devlin was concerned. Traitors to their own country. Devlin couldn’t help the look of contempt he gave Connaught, who fortunately wasn’t looking at him. If he had, there might have been punches thrown at the very least. Devlin eventually returned his focus to de Noble.
“You have many Irish here that serve you,” he said. “Allow me to serve you as well. You have been helpful and kind in assisting the injured lady and I owe you me gratitude. At least let me repay you your kindness.”
De Noble sat there a moment and gazed at him. It was clear he was contemplating something. With a long sigh, he moved to pour himself more wine. He also poured
more in Devlin’s cup even though Devlin hadn’t touched it since the last time he’d filled it. Now, they were getting down to business.
“If you want to show your gratitude, then I have a proposition for you,” de Noble said. “You claim you have been to Black Castle and, presumably, the people at Black Castle know you as a farmer. You can move easily in and out of Black Castle and no one would question or suspect you. John, we have been at war against Black Sword for quite some time. He is a great battle commander and men naturally follow him. However, it has been our suspicion for some time that Devlin de Bermingham is gathering the clanns to launch a massive attack against Glenteige. When you told us that you had seen O’Connor troops there, that only confirmed our suspicions. My proposition to you is this – if you return to Black Castle and gather information about what Black Sword is planning against us, I will let you return to see your lady friend. I will even let you spend time with her. But you would be far more help to us inside of Black Castle, seeing what Black Sword is up to, than you would be here shoeing horses or butchering pigs. Will you do this for us, John? Will you do this for your lady friend who will undoubtedly be in danger should Black Sword lay siege to our settlement? There is information I must know and I think you are the perfect man to get it.”
Devlin was stunned by the proposal. His first reaction was to laugh at the suggestion but he wisely kept his reaction suppressed; of all of the tasks or questions or proposals, he had been asked to spy on himself!
It was nearly too much for him to bear but in the same breath, he realized that he could beautifully manipulate the situation if he had de Noble’s trust. But he would very carefully have to temper what information he gave the man because if they discovered who he was and of his treachery, then they would logically suspect that Emllyn was a part of it. It would reflect horribly on her.
Nay; that couldn’t happen. In order to keep Emllyn safe, Devlin would have to be extraordinarily careful. He could hardly believe how twisted and complex the situation had become. He had set out to make Emllyn as spy on his behalf and now, he was to become a spy for the English.
The tides had turned on him and it would take a calm and intelligent man not to be caught in a trap of his own making. This was a chance of a lifetime and he truthfully had no other recourse than to take it. He was in deep and it would only get deeper.
“Aye,” he said after a moment, with a hint of reluctance. “I will do it. To keep the lady safe, I would do anything.”
De Noble’s expression was as close to triumphant as the emotionless man could get. “Excellent,” he said. “Then let us eat and drink to celebrate our new association. I will send a servant up to see how the lady fares but on the morrow, you will set out for Black Castle.”
Devlin didn’t feel much like talking after that and he pushed the alcohol away so he wouldn’t drink anymore. He tended to get moody when he’d had too much to drink and he didn’t want to do or say anything that might jeopardize everything. The English knights, however, were quite willing to drink to excess and eat. Devlin simply sat in silence and watched them.
A servant was sent to see to Emllyn’s welfare and returned some time later to say that the lady was asleep and that Lady Elyse was watching over her. It was the only bit of news Devlin received and it did not make him happy. As the evening wore on, he became increasingly unhappy and morose as the feasting English continued into the night.
By midnight, he had shifted to a seat by the massive hearth, surrounded by farting and snoring English dogs, wondering what in the hell he had gotten himself in to.
When Emllyn opened her eyes, it was dark in the chamber except for the glow of the firelight.
She lay there a moment, studying her surroundings without moving her head, unable to see much in the dark reaches of the room. It took her several moments to orient herself and remember where she was, and then it all came back to her. De Cleveley’s holding, Devlin had told her. They had gained entrance according to plan. She didn’t know if she felt better or worse to know that.
They were in.
But what wasn’t according to plan was her wound. That had nearly destroyed everything. Shifting slightly, she had barely moved when there was a face in her field of vision. She recognized the gentle and lovely features as the Lady Elyse.
“My lady?” Elyse said, a warm smile on her face. “How are you feeling?”
Emllyn wasn’t entirely sure; she blinked as she pondered the question. Her thinking and reasoning seemed to be clearer, at any rate.
“My head aches a great deal,” she said, her voice hoarse and scratchy. She moved her body a little, including her leg. “My leg hurts also, which is of no great surprise.”
Elyse smiled sympathetically. “I know,” she said, putting a gentle hand on her forehead to feel for fever. “Your fever seems to have eased.”
“Is it still there?”
“Still, but it seems much less.”
Emllyn was grateful for the improvement. She began to look around the room, noting that other than Elyse and a serving woman who was over near the hearth, they were alone. Devlin wasn’t in the room. Seized with anxiety, Emllyn tried to sit up.
“Where is D… John?” she stumbled as she tried to climb off the bed. “Where did he go?”
Elyse rushed to her side, putting her hands on the woman to try and keep her in bed. “He is supping with my father,” she assured her quickly. “He is well, my lady. Do not fear.”
Emllyn wasn’t eased in the least. Her eyes welled with fat tears. “Bring him here,” she begged tightly. “Please bring him here.”
Elyse was trying her best to soothe her. “My lady, I swear he is unharmed,” she said. “As soon as he finished eating, he will return.”
Emllyn struggled with her fear, wiping away the tears that fell. Elyse was so soothing and kind that she couldn’t help but be eased. Still, she was very worried.
“I am afraid the knights will try to harm him because he is Irish,” she said. “He… he saved my life. I owe him much. I do not want him out of my sight.”
Elyse nodded soothingly, gently forcing her back on the bed. “I will go myself and bring him here,” she said. “He seems to be very attached to you as well. I suspect we could not keep him from you if we tried.”
Emllyn’s anxiety eased as a concern of another sort took hold at Elyse’s statement. He is very attached to you. There was something about the way she said it, as if Devlin’s attention was more than just simple camaraderie. She said it as if it was meant to be something sweet, and the statement unnerved her. It also excited her.
“Why would you say that?” she asked.
Since her patient was now awake and fairly mobile, Elyse began to remove Emllyn from the heavy cloak she was wearing. It was filthy and torn.
“Because he is very protective of you,” she said, gently pulling at the cloak and removing Emllyn’s arms from it. “It is apparent that he feels responsible for you.”
Emllyn fell silent, pondering the woman’s observations, as Elyse proceeded to remove her from the cloak and surcoat. When she was down to the shift, she called for a bath and in little time, a small army of servants brought forth a big copper tub, lined with linen, and began filling it with warm water.
Meanwhile, Elyse had gone to her wardrobe, overflowing with goods, and brought forth a beautiful silk robe that she put around Emllyn’s shoulders as the servants filled the tub. She also brought forth things for the bath; soaps, scrapers, oils, and a giant sponge.
Emllyn watched the activity and felt tears sting her eyes again; God, it would be so good to be clean and warm again. She felt as if she hadn’t been clean or warm, in pleasant company or in a well-furnished room, for years. The past few days of her life had made such an imprint on her that it was difficult to think past them. She was to be treated with kindness and civility again, and not surrounded by people that hated her. The tears were those of joy.
When the tub was nearly full, Elyse put her hand in it and
tested the water. Satisfied, she poured a measure of oil in the water that made the room smell like roses. Then she went to Emllyn where she sat upon the bed.
“I realize that you have an injury and that you still are with fever, and mayhap it is very foolish to put you in water under those conditions, but mayhap a bath will make you feel better,” she said. “Let’s try, shall we?”
Emllyn nodded as she went to stand gingerly on her sore leg. Elyse grabbed hold of her and steadied her as she walked to the bath.
“Thank you, my lady,” Emllyn said. “Your thoughtfulness is appreciated.”
Elyse simply smiled as she helped remove Emllyn from her shift, exposing her naked body to the glow of the firelight. Elyse tried not to stare but she had to admit that Lady Emllyn had a delicious figure, ripe and round in all of the right places. Elyse was rather slender, everywhere. She wished for such full breasts as Emllyn had. As Emllyn carefully lowered herself into the bath, Elyse helped her keep her leg out of the water by propping it up on the edge of the tub.
“I am sorry the water is not terribly hot,” Elyse said. “I did not want to aggravate your fever. But we shall get you warm and clean, my lady, have no fear. Water will wash away all of the sins of the world, I say.”
Emllyn closed her eyes as Elyse and a servant went to work, pouring water over her head and setting about scrubbing and oiling every inch of her body. The water smelled like an entire field of roses and Emllyn settled back, letting Elyse take charge. Already, she was feeling better.
“May I beg you to tell me a little about yourself, my lady?” Elyse asked as she worked. “Living here at Glenteige with only my father and a few others for company, I very much miss the companionship of ladies such as yourself. It is a rather lonely life here at times.”
Brides of Ireland Page 53
