Fateful Encounter

by June Francis

  ‘You might not be able to manage several alone. You would need help. In the past, I went across the sea to France with Philippa and my father.’

  He cocked an enquiring look at her. ‘Philippa?’

  ‘My stepmother,’ she supplied. ‘Before my stepbrothers were born, I went with them to Calais — that was before I was wed.’ She fell silent, and Niall remembered again what she had said about her husband when he had caught up with her on the way to Kilkenny. There was a look in her eyes now that made him feel angry towards the dead de Wensley, and protective towards her.

  He wanted to rid her of that look. ‘Why did you go to Calais?’

  She smiled. ‘My father, as I told you, is a wool-merchant, although now he takes little part in actually selling the wool.’ Her face took on a faraway expression. ‘When I was a child we did not have much — a small plot of land in Yorkshire that had been my grandfather’s father’s. But when Father went to France to fight in the train of John of Gaunt, he stayed in Calais and realised the potential of rearing sheep and selling their wool abroad. When he married my stepmother, she brought him a manor in Kent — that is in the south of England, if you do not know it.’

  ‘I know of it — when I passed through London with my foster-father. But go on.’ He was finding her tale interesting, and was relieved that she now seemed relaxed in his company.

  ‘So they put sheep on that manor also. Then they both became interested in weaving their own wool — there were already Flemish weavers in Yorkshire and Kent — so they imported some for their manors, and they taught our own people.’ She looked at him fully. ‘Cloth brought him to Ireland, and as a consequence Robin and me.’

  A shadow darkened her eyes, then her face brightened again. ‘But we were talking about horses. Ormonde told me that you borrowed his favourite horse and never returned it.’

  ‘“Borrowed” is the right word,’ stated Niall. ‘I have the horse still, but it is not so easy to return a horse to an enemy.’ He pulled a face. ‘What else did Ormonde say about me?’

  ‘That you charmed his god-daughter into helping you to escape,’ she said lightly. ‘Next time you take such a risk as entering an English castle, there might not be a woman to help you.’

  ‘I don’t need a woman to help me.’ His eyes lazily surveyed her oval face. ‘Women should stay out of such matters. Look what happened to you.’

  ‘That was unfortunate. But we are talking aboutyou — you were caught at Dublin Castle.’

  He shrugged. ‘That was unfortunate! The English suspect most beggars of not being what they seem.’

  Her eyebrows lifted. ‘You dressed up as a beggar?’ He winked. ‘’Tis surprising how much information the men at the gates drop, and I needed to know where Dermot was being taken.’ He gave a heavy sigh. ‘He’s at Trim, one of the most formidable of the English strongholds. If it had been any other, I would have chanced a rescue.’

  ‘Alone?’ She wrinkled her nose.

  ‘It is easier to slip through their defences like that then with a horde of armed men,’ he said confidently.

  ‘No doubt,’ she responded drily.

  He grinned. ‘You don’t believe me, even though I got in and out of Kilkenny Castle without being caught?’

  ‘You weren’t rescuing anybody, then.’ She paused to swallow the last of the fish.

  ‘That’s true,’ he said solemnly. ‘You — You did ask Ormonde about your kinsman and Dermot?’

  She nodded. ‘He said he would do all he could. He also mentioned that Sil and his men had gone from the cave near Athy.’

  He nodded. ‘What else did he say?’ She hesitated. ‘Well?’ His eyes narrowed.

  ‘He spoke of Sil. He suggested that you might have helped me simply to have your revenge on Sil for scarring you deliberately.’

  He rose slowly. ‘Go on.’

  Constance looked away. ‘In the old days, the tribes would not accept a leader who was not perfect in face and form, so that’s why Sil did that to you, he said.’

  The colour drained from Niall’s face. ‘Doyou find me ugly — marred in perfection?’

  ‘No!’ she exclaimed starkly, turning from him to contemplate the river. It disturbed her to see him thus affected.

  ‘It’s partly true,’ he said in a tight voice. ‘Sil would have blinded me because my brother defied him. He called our mother names ...’ He stopped abruptly, before continuing in a weary voice. ‘If Dermot had not come along — but that was a long time ago. You understand now why he hates Dermot, and why I love Dermot. Sil would let him remain in captivity, so that he can gain more time to sap away confidence in the leadership. He blames Dermot’s father for giving his support to Art MacMurrough. He whispers and schemes, drawing in this man and that. Only Dermot is strong enough to turn the tide.’

  ‘You’re strong enough,’ she whispered, whirling round. ‘You could withstand him.’

  ‘Maybe for a while, with the support of some friends in the tribe, but all would not follow me.’ He ran a finger down his scar. ‘This does exclude me — as well as my upbringing outside the tribe. There is also a strong possibility that Sil knows what part you and I had in spoiling his plans for the murder. He will come one day seeking us out, but I have my spies to watch him, and when I receive warning, Constance, you will run — all the way back to England, if necessary.’

  She looked at him, aghast. ‘How can you talk so — how can you decide what I am to do? I am mistress here, and I have no intentions of fleeing from the likes of Sil O’Toole! When you have warning, we shall inform the English authorities, and they will deal with Sil and his cut-throats.’

  Niall seized her by the shoulders. ‘You will do as you are told! What do you know about this country or its people, except what you have heard from an old man who fled years ago and dreamed of the past in his old age? You saw and heard Sil at Desmond’s feast. He has powers that even I fear, although I can withstand them — perhaps because we are kin, and maybe ... maybe I have inherited a share of those powers, but, God willing, I would never use them for evil as he does.’ His eyes scanned her face. ‘I could tell you of black deeds perpetrated by Sil that would make your blood run chill and give you dark dreams that would cause you to wake screaming.’ He held her a little away from him, and his voice softened. ‘Don’t be deceived by Sil’s flowing robes; he is no weakling, and being a woman would not save you from ending up on the hill with his knife or sickle to your throat, breast or stomach — and that after he had cast you beneath his spell and used you to his satisfaction.’

  She moistened her lips. ‘I — I believe you are trying to frighten me, Niall.’ she said, with a reluctant laugh. ‘Well, you have succeeded!’

  ‘Good,’ he said emphatically. ‘You will run when you are told?’

  ‘I shall run — but what will you do?’

  ‘I shall fight.’ There was a silence while each tried to read the other’s expression.

  ‘Of course,’ she murmured, twisting out of his hold and looking away from him. ‘I should have realised that without asking.’

  ‘Stop worrying.’ He touched her shoulder reassuringly before bending to take a jug from the river. ‘What I have scared you with, will not happen to you.’

  ‘You have a hundred pairs of eyes that can see everywhere?’ She turned to face him, her olive-skinned face shadowed by anxiety.

  ‘Something near that number.’ He took a drink of ale before handing the jug to her.

  ‘Am I to believe that — and trust your word not to worry?’ She held the jug firmly between both hands.

  ‘Trust me,’ he said quietly. ‘And drink up.’

  She took a gulp of ale, and felt in her mind an image without pictures but with sensations, of this man lying with her — caressing her — loving her — taking her. Hurriedly she gave her attention to the river, swirling, babbling round rocks, rushing on to its goal. Was she a fool to trust this man — or had she allowed her pity and a pair of grey eyes to sway her judgement?r />
  He was suddenly behind her, and she jumped when he spoke. ‘You are not missing your family too much?’

  ‘I am used to my own company,’ she replied, rather breathlessly. ‘Milo was often away. As for my close family, I miss them a good deal at times. I have longed, since coming to Ireland, for the particular sound of a voice. And London — strangely I have missed smelly old London.’ Her voice strengthened. ‘I found Dublin to be strangely homelike. I liked the river and the sea. In some ways, it reminded me of Liverpool, where Robin’s family lives and I spent some part of my childhood after my mother died. You go up from the river steeply there, too.’ She halted abruptly, her heart beating heavily just because he was standing so close. She wanted to turn round, to see what would happen if she did so. Would he kiss her? If that happened, it would be because she had allowed it, and then she could not guarantee that he would keep his distance. Hemust keep his distance! She felt there was danger if he did not. The fault lay in that first meeting — and all the subsequent meetings which had got them off on to a wrong footing.

  ‘Go on,’ said Niall softly, interrupting her racing thoughts. ‘What about this manor — do you feel at home here?’

  ‘Not yet, but it does remind me of Yorkshire in some ways. And I love Yorkshire.’ She turned to face him, and her next words were mundane. ‘I’ve just remembered that I came for water! Poor Master Upton was sweating copiously with the heat.’

  ‘You should not be fetching water,’ he said with a frown. ‘But perhaps we should not have eaten all the fish.’

  ‘I doubt there would have been enough for Master Upton!’

  ‘He’s a big man who would take some feeding!’ He grinned. ‘I pray that he’s not staying? There isn’t much left to eat in the storeroom. I would be constantly hunting while Brigid baked bread.’

  ‘Is there enough flour for bread?’ She watched him fill the pail.

  ‘Brigid will know that — ask her when she returns.’ He began to walk, and she fell in step beside him.

  They were both silent. Constance was suddenly remembering what Kathleen had said about her sister having plans for Niall and herself. Did he know of those plans, or did he feel brotherly towards Brigid, as Kathleen had said? She was suddenly uneasy; having appreciated the girl’s kindness to her, she did not want to upset her sister, but perhaps Kathleen had misread her sister’s intentions.

  The house was in sight, and she could see Master Upton leaning against the wall, his eyes shut against the sun. Niall exchanged glances with her. ‘Perhaps Master Upton did not need the water as much as he appeared to?’

  ‘He was vexed with me,’ she murmured, her eyes gleaming with sudden understanding. ‘He wanted you to stay here.’

  ‘Clever Master Upton! He knew I had gone to the river.’ He grinned and quickened his pace.

  When he shook the guide by the shoulder, Master Upton’s eyes opened to stare blearily at them. A beaming smile split his cherubic countenance. ‘You are staying, Master O’More?’

  Niall nodded. ‘I presume that you will have to be on your way back to Dublin?’

  Master Upton nodded. ‘With a clear mind, now that I know you will take care of Mistress de Wensley.’ He straightened up and stared at Constance. ‘I shall fetch my horse, if there is naught else I can do for you, mistress?’

  ‘I think you have done enough, Master Upton.’ A twinkle lurked in the brown eyes. ‘Would you like a drink of water, perhaps, before you go?’

  ‘That I would, so I’ll fetch a cup.’ He hurried away into the house, chuckling to himself.

  After Master Upton had left, Constance stood in the centre of the hall gazing about her.

  ‘What is wrong?’ asked Niall, following her gaze. ‘Do you not like the house?’ He sounded anxious.

  ‘I like the house well enough,’ she responded seriously, ‘but another bed is needed, and a screen. There are no trestles — and a chair would be useful. Also the walls ...’

  ‘They need washing, I know,’ he interrupted, a frown creasing his brow, ‘but Brigid has had no opportunity to begin the springtime tasks. Besides, washing walls is really a man’s job. I’ll see what I can do for you there.’ He moved away. ‘Also, you might need a girl to help you until Brigid returns. Who knows, she might stay a day longer than she intended? She worries at Kathleen, expecting her to do everything she asks, instead of letting the girl get on with her work.’ He paused at the door, his hand on the jamb. ‘If you need clean blankets, there are newly woven ones in the chest.’ He disappeared out of the door.

  For a moment Constance stared after him, wondering where he would sleep, then she picked up her baggage and moved ii to the bed. She noticed that the mattress sagged in the middle. When she came, the girl could help her to take it outside, where it could be shaken and left for a while in the fresh air.

  She changed swiftly into a grey serge gown and covered her head and neck with a linen coif and a wimple. The door opened just as she was pulling on a pair of old cotton mittens. Just in time, she thought, turning round. ‘Brigid!’ she exclaimed in surprise. ‘Niall thought you would not be back so soon.’

  ‘Did he not?’ retorted the girl in an insolent tone. ‘Perhaps he hoped that I would delay my return so that he could be alone with you? Maybe you wanted to have him to yourself, also?’ Her cold eyes raked Constance’s appearance, and her mouth twisted. ‘And he considersyou beautiful.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Constance could not believe what she was hearing.

  ‘You perhaps did not hear me, Englishwoman?’ Stifflegged, she moved over to Constance and glared at her. ‘You come over here and believe you can not only take our homes, but our men as well.’

  Some of the colour drained from Constance’s face. ‘What are you talking about? Have you taken leave of your senses to address me in such a way?’

  ‘You are the enemy. You are not wanted here, Mistress Constance de Wensley.’ Brigid folded her arms. ‘So the sooner you return to England, the better it will be for you — for all of us. We don’t want your interference in our plans. You will take what is mine, and we can’t allow that.’

  ‘We? Who is “we”?’ retorted Constance in a low voice, her temper beginning to ignite. ‘Is it Kathleen you link your name with? I do not believe thatshe sees me as an enemy. But you — you didn’t like me in the first place, did you?’

  Uncertainty flickered in Brigid’s face, and for a moment she looked lost. Then suddenly it was as if she found herself. ‘We Irish don’t want you. You English take what belongs to us. You must go back to England.’

  ‘I have no intention of returning to England,’ said Constance acidly, walking away from the girl before she gave in to her desire to strike her. ‘And if you hate me so much, perhaps it would be best if you returned to the hills where you have left Kathleen, and stay there until you learn some manners.’ She began to gather up armfuls of rushes from the floor, deliberately turning her back on the girl.

  ‘But you have to go!’ cried Brigid. ‘If you don’t, I have to — to ...’ The rest of the words were lost to Constance, as they were much to low to be heard, but the noise of the girl’s feet padding swiftly across the floor caused her to whirl round. Brigid was coming at her with a knife! Constance could neither think nor move, then, as the girl raised her arm, she flung the rushes in her face before pushing her over. The knife went flying, and Constance darted after it before Brigid could get there. She had her hand to it, when she caught the sound of the girl stumbling to her feet, and quickly she faced her to see that Brigid’s hand was to her head. For a second they stared at each other, then Brigid’s eyes went to the knife in Constance’s hand — and she fled from the hall.

  The knife slid from Constance’s trembling fingers as she forced her shaking knees to support her before starting across the hall in Brigid’s wake. What had got into the girl that she should behave in such a terrible way? A demon? Perhaps that was the reason? Fear clutched her heart. She had to find Niall and tell him what h
ad happened.

  She did not have to search far, for as she went round the side of the house, Niall was coming towards her. He was accompanied by a girl of perhaps fourteen, who was dragging a sledge behind her, upon which was a sack.

  ‘What is wrong?’ Niall seized both Constance’s hands, scrutinising her wan face. ‘You look as though you had seen a ghost!’

  ‘I — I ...’ she stammered, searching for words. ‘Brigid was here! She said things ... behaved in such a way!’

  ‘What things? In what way?.’ He squeezed her hands gently.

  ‘That I wasn’t welcome here — that I came to steal what was hers. This land ... Her — Her ...’ She stopped abruptly. Her man, Brigid had said, meaning Niall, perhaps!

  ‘Brigid said that?’ he demanded incredulously. ‘I told her ... I don’t believe she could be so foolish!’

  ‘You think I am fabricating this tale?’ She snatched her hands out of his hold, and a flush crept over her face.

  ‘No, but ...’ He ran a hand through his hair, raising it into a curling crest. His face wore a bewildered expression. ‘Perhaps you misheard?’

  ‘There is nothing wrong with my hearing!’ Constance tilted her chin and folded her arms. ‘But if you wish to take her side against me ...’

  ‘I’m not taking sides,’ he said irascibly, starting to lose control of his temper.

  ‘It sounds as though you are,’ she blazed. ‘Jealousy can be a terrible sin!’

  ‘Are you saying that Brigid is jealous of you?’ Some of the anger went from his face. ‘That’s understandable. She has been a kind of lady of the manor here for some time.’

  ‘That I could understand,’ said Constance, unfolding her arms, ‘but she told me to leave — to go back to England. When I refused, she came back at me with a knife.’

  He stared at her silently, his expression dumbfounded. ‘Then what happened?’

  ‘I flung some rushes at her and pushed her over — then she fled.’ She drew a shaky breath. ‘It is the truth, believe me!’