Fateful Encounter

by June Francis

  ‘I’ll go on ahead,’ said Constance, turning away and walking swiftly through the rain. Her throat ached strangely as she splashed through the puddles to the tiny wooden church.

  The villagers had not yet started arriving, and she felt relieved. She attempted to force all thought of Niall and Brigid out of her mind and to focus on the sin that had kept her from Mass; only to discover that the bitterness, which had festered deep inside her over the last year or so, no longer had such a strong hold. What good had it done her to bear a grudge against not only God, but Milo? He was dead. There had been times when she had wished him out of her life, but she had never consciously wished him dead — so she could not be responsible for that. Even so, she would confess her sins — her gladness that she was free of his cruelty. Perhaps, then, she could pray for herself, and Niall, and Brigid, and Robin, and a whole host of others. Later, as the smell of incense and burning tapers mingled to rise heavenwards, she was aware of a kind of peace, even if at the same time she was still unsure about forgiving and forgiveness.

  After she had spoken to the young priest, Niall came up. ‘Some of the people would be known to you, Mistress Constance,’ he said politely. ‘May I introduce them?’

  She nodded as politely as he did, having been aware of people’s curiosity in the church. Some she already knew by name, but others came forward now. She realised, if she were to stay, that at some time she would have to know all their names — but there were too many new ones now to remember.

  Some young people spoke to Brigid, delaying her, so that Niall and Constance began to walk back together. He walked a little apart from her, aware of the interested eyes of the villagers on them. He wondered what Constance had thought about the service and the villagers, and his paying attention to Brigid. He glanced at the rain-bedewed lovely profile of the woman beside him, and wondered anew at the power of the attraction he felt. How serious she looked!

  They were both startled out of their contemplative mood by a duck suddenly quacking and taking flight almost from beneath their feet. Only Niall’s quick action prevented Constance from falling.

  ‘Thank you.’ Her voice was slightly breathless. ‘My thoughts were far away.’

  ‘Not in England, I hope?’ He steadied her, not wanting to let her go.

  ‘Perhaps.’ After one quick glance at his face, she disentangled herself. ‘I — I was mainly thinking about names. There are English and Irish here, yet the people seem content to live side by side.’

  ‘Sometimes they can barely tolerate each other,’ he said, his face expressionless, despite still feeling the sensations her soft roundness beneath his hands had roused. ‘When someone’s pig wanders into someone else’s garden, it can cause an almighty quarrel, ending in a fist-fight, resulting in black eyes and swollen jaws.’

  ‘That can happen in England,’ she replied firmly. ‘You are trying to disillusion me, Master O’More. Perhaps you would like me to return to England?’ She noticed that Brigid had drawn alongside.

  ‘This is dangerous country, Mistress de Wensley. I would suggest that, as soon as your kinsman is exchanged, you return home with him.’ He smiled down at Brigid, as she tucked her hand in his arm. ‘Do you not agree, little sister?’

  ‘About this being dangerous country for Mistress de Wensley?’ There was a strange glitter in Brigid’s eyes. ‘It is dangerous for any stranger who would attempt to take what is ours.’

  Constance felt a shiver run down her spine, and she thought about how she had collided with Sil that night they had followed him. ‘Perhaps I shall return home, once Robin is free.’ She was certain that Brigid had seen Niall holding her a little longer than necessary. How jealous she must be! And how Sil with his magic was using that jealousy. She left the pair of them and ran the rest of the way home, glad to see Grannia when she got there — so normal, so welcoming, and so uncomplicated!

  That evening Niall brought Constance a tabby, young and sleek with a huntress’s gleam in her amber eyes. Their fingertips touched as he passed the cat over. A pleasant tingling passed up her arms. ‘I hope you’ll sleep better this night, Mistress de Wensley,’ he murmured, his eyes as bright as the cat’s.

  ‘I’m sure I shall, Master O’More,’ she responded colourlessly, her arms folding convulsively about the cat.

  But she did not sleep well, aware of Brigid’s restless movement a foot or so away. The girl sat up suddenly, and Constance’s heart seemed to jump into her throat. Brigid slid from the bed and padded in her bare feet over to the door. One of the dogs uncurled itself as she opened it, and whined softly, pawing at her shift. She pushed him away, and the next moment she had vanished.

  Constance did not hesitate, but flew across the hall and out of the door, but already Brigid was not to be seen. She ran to the stable, her bare feet making no sound on the grass. The dogs followed her, but the only traces of Niall were his hat, and a soiled tunic, still damp from the rain. She whirled round, her eyes spinning to take in every corner of the dark building. Nothing! Had he lied when he had told Brigid he spent the night here? Or had he heard her leaving the house, and followed?

  Slowly Constance wandered out of the stable, and she reached down to the dog at her side. It licked her fingers, and she found comfort in the act. She would be a fool to carry on the search, not knowing which way Brigid had gone. With a great deal of deliberation, she turned and went back towards the house, to wait impatiently and anxiously for one or both of them to return.

  It was the sound of someone knocking on the door that roused Constance from the doze she had fallen into just before dawn. Forcing her eyelids open, she stumbled to open it, even as she heard Grannia stirring on the pallet.

  It was Niall. He stood leaning against the wall, his eyes half-shut, stubble on his chin and his fingers hooked into his girdle. One eye opened wide as he took in the sight of her in the thin skimpy shift. Constance’s hand went to her throat, only to fall when she realised that there was no undergown there to button. She sought refuge from her confusion in words. ‘Where have you been, Master O’More? Brigid is missing — but perhaps you are aware of that?’

  ‘I’m aware of it,’ he murmured, opening his other eye and rasping his chin with his fingers. ‘She’s as safe as she can be, with Sil at large. She’s with Kathleen in the hills, but I have men watching them.’

  ‘So that’s where she went!’ She felt quite weak at the knees.

  ‘Not immediately.’ He straightened. ‘May I come inside?’

  She nodded. ‘Grannia’s awake.’ She thought she ought to let him know — why, she did not reason.

  He smiled. ‘She can make us some porridge.’ He followed her in.

  Grannia let out a shriek, and immediately pulled the covers over her shoulders. Niall’s eyes met Constance’s, and he laughed. ‘You’ll have to make the porridge.’

  She nodded, but first went to put on her cote-hardie, needing to turn away for a moment from his gaze. She set the fire glowing by blowing on the peats after that, and was glad of the task. ‘What did you mean by “not immediately”?’ She kept her back to him while she found bowls and oats, and filled a pot with water.

  ‘What I said — first, she went somewhere else, but we don’t know where. For several hours she vanished. I thought that Sil might have whisked her away, so I went into the hills with some of the men. Just before dawn, she was seen wandering among the cows in Kathleen’s care.’

  ‘How strange!’ Constance faced him, trepidation written in her expression. ‘I don’t like what’s happening. How can she vanish like that?’

  ‘It’s not so strange,’ he said reassuringly, coming over to her. ‘In the dark, and among the trees, she could easily slip past my men and me. What I find uncanny is that she remembers nothing about being here at all.’

  ‘Just as she didn’t seem to be aware that she had attacked me with the knife,’ murmured Constance, her face worried.

  ‘Wepresume she didn’t seem to be aware. We never mentioned it to her �
� I didn’t, and I presume that you didn’t.’ She nodded. ‘Kathleen told me that she never mentioned seeing your kinsman to Brigid, but what she said to you did take place. Kathleen has seen him since, and told me that he still is anxious about you, seeming to have no thought for his own safety.’

  ‘Youtold me that hewas safe.’ Constance put a hand on his arm and looked up at him with shadows in her eyes.

  ‘He is as safe as I and the captain can make him.’ He smiled wryly. ‘But it’s possible that Sil could have questioned the men and used that information to frighten you, perhaps — even to make you more aware of his power. Brigid and Sil were close, once — it was Kathleen who told us about seeing them. My foster-father put a stop to their meetings — as far as he was able to. But Brigid has not been the same since. Your kinsman’s safe, I’m sure.’

  ‘I wish I could see him,’ she said sadly, moving away from Niall.

  ‘It’s out of the question! The captain would not allow him to come down here, and I would not let you go into the hills. You’re safer here in the valley.’

  ‘Am I?’ Constance tossed her head back and looked straight at him. ‘If Brigid can pass out of this settlement at night, what is preventing others from passing in?’ He spoke heavily. ‘We allowed her to pass out. The gate was opened for her. I told you that a watch is being kept day and night, and we wanted to follow her night or day, knowing that Sil often works when others sleep.’

  ‘But you still lost her, and I — I never even thought of checking the gate last night,’ she said angrily, ramming the pot on the burning wood and peats.

  ‘You were awake?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Do you never steep, woman?’

  ‘Do you? Her eyes were shadowed by anger and fear and bewilderment.

  ‘With one eye open.’ His hand on her bare arm helped her to rise from the fireside. ‘Was it Brigid you still feared? I never thought ...’

  ‘You never thought that she would make the attempt again?’

  ‘No, I never thought that you were frightened of her doing so — and I should have realised it.’ He wetted his linger, and rubbed the black smear on her chin. She was suddenly still, but he seemed unaware of her stiffness. ‘You have no need to fear Brigid, anyway. She will stay in the hills with Kathleen. I have made the use of her I wanted to, and she seems to be perfectly content now to stay away from here.’ His fingers touched the smooth curve of her cheek, making her already rapidly beating heart increase its pace. ‘Does that make you feel happier?’

  ‘Ay,’ she replied in a low voice, almost hypnotised by the little flame that seemed to be burning deep in his eyes. ‘Do you always make use of women, and then get rid of them, Master O’More?’ Of its own will, her body brushed against his.

  His hand stopped at her throat. ‘I don’t think an “Ay” would raise me in your estimation, Mistress de Wensley. But don’t we all use people at times to get what we want? I didn’t get rid of Brigid in the way you imply, but it is safer to have her where she is now.You are safer.’

  There was a silence, and neither of them moved. He wanted desperately to kiss her, and Constance feared his taking her in his arms in case she liked it too much. ‘I don’t feel safe,’ she murmured. ‘Was all that affection you — you showed Brigid yesterday a sham?’

  ‘Iam fond of her — as a brother is of a sister. But even then I was thinking of your safety. Sil’s use of her jealousy might have caused her to try and harm you again.’ His fingers strayed down her neck, and stilled on her shoulder. ‘Your safety is my first concern.’ Constance forced herself to speak on. ‘Is that because I have more to offer you than Brigid? Land and a horse, is what you said a few days ago.’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’ he said softly. ‘That I have an eye on your manor? If that were all, I could have got rid of you at any time since we met, and carried on as I did before you came.’ His hand slid down her arm, and his fingers caught up her hand to carry it to his lips. Her throat moved convulsively, but she could not speak the words she should have said then, because she was caught up in an onrush of longing to be able to let go of all resistance to his attraction.

  Niall felt the tension seep out of her, and gently pulled her into his arms. His kiss was less gentle as he found her responsive. There was a hunger in that long kiss they shared, but he drew away first. Not too much too soon, he thought, gazing down into her dazed face. He did not want to scare her at this stage in their relationship. And, besides, he was suddenly aware of Grannia’s fascinated eyes on them. He cursed inwardly. He would have to speak to the girl, otherwise the news would be all over the settlement by dinnertime. And it could get back to Sil. He wanted to keep his cousin guessing his intentions and feelings towards Constance. Thus, it would be less dangerous for her.

  ‘I — I think the water is boiling,’ said Constance, also aware of Grannia. Unless she were careful, it would be all over the settlement that Master Niall had no sooner got rid of Brigid than he was kissing and cuddling the new Mistress. She must be more circumspect — and speak to Grannia. ‘Shall we have our porridge?’

  He smiled, and removed the pot from the fire. She watched him, thinking that where Niall O’More, Irish horse-borrower, was concerned, she would have to be more careful, and not fall into his hands like a ripe plum in late summer. He had the ability to make her sensually aware of herself, as Milo never had. She could only put it down to their first encounter, so she must try to keep her distance.

  They sat on stools, bowls in hands, and talked of affairs, of the mare about to foal, of limewashing the walls, of trestles and benches and crops — and if their knees brushed several times, each seemed completely unaware of it.

  *

  The days grew longer, and there was much to do. The villagers seemed to have accepted Constance’s presence among them, and willingly co-operated with the few demands she made. On her instructions, Grannia and her mother went into Naas to purchase linen for sheets and napkins. Niall would not allow Constance to go, reminding her of possible danger.

  Constance chafed at the restraints he laid on her. She was not to wander down to the river alone, or to ride without him, and then not far from the settlement. Because she had decided it was wiser not to be alone with Niall, she did not ride at all. But the carpenter had worked swiftly, and her trestles were soon made, which made her glad, because she could not enjoy eating her food on her knee for every meal. The chair would take longer, because it would be intricately carved with flowers and leaves. The walls in the hall were washed with lime, and she had plans to make a tapestry for the one that caught the most of the light — that was if she stayed, of course. She found that, as each day passed, she grew more reluctant to leave.

  When one of the mares foaled a perfect replica of herself, Constance was very conscious of the plans she and Niall had discussed weeks earlier, but it was the trigger for Niall to mention his plan to go to Connemara.

  ‘When?’ she asked, her throat suddenly tight, knowing that she would miss him, and fear while he was away.

  ‘In a few days,’ he answered, stroking the new mother’s mane. ‘I knew that, by telling Brigid I was going, I would buy us a little time to make our own plans.’ His voice sounded strained. ‘Sil will act as soon as I leave. I don’t doubt that.’

  ‘You mean that he will follow you and attempt to kill you?’ She did not look at him, not wanting him to guess how anxious she felt.

  ‘Sil, or some of his men.’ He forced a smile. ‘Don’t be afraid for your own safety, though. I shall have this place watched, and if anything were to happen, I would hear about it.’

  ‘I’m not afraid,’ she lied, rubbing her cheek against the mare’s soft neck and looking down at the foal. ‘But still I shall be glad when you return, and this matter is settled one way or another.’

  ‘So shall I,’ he said softly, his eyes on her face. ‘Perhaps then we can concentrate on the future.’

  She wondered what he meant by that, but she did not ask.

  It ra
ined that evening, and he came into the hall as he had been wont to do at such times, and played draughts with her. Grannia and her mother were hemming sheets. Constance found it unsettling having Niall just across the trestle from her. In so many ways he was a different man from the one who had pulled her from the bog and ridden to the cave near Athy with her. Had she, to him, become a different woman? They had lived soberly and sedately, taking life seriously as they performed all the mundane tasks of everyday living, yet often she had felt that tug of attraction. Niall, however, always treated her with a polite deference that at times maddened her. Now, looking at him and attempting to stamp his features on her mind, she feared that in a couple of days she might never see him again. She suddenly ached to have his arms round her and for him to kiss her, just to see how it felt — whether it still had the power to thrill her. In the last few weeks, she had become familiar with the serious cast to his high-cheekboned, sometimes haughty-looking, profile. Of late, his smile had often been missing, and that worried her. Maybe he was not as confident about defeating Sil as he had sounded?

  The next day the weather was sunny again, and the air was heavy with the fragrance of early summer growth. Had everything been normal, Constance could have felt gloriously content, but something happened to brighten the day. They had a visitor. Kathleen burst in on them in the middle of supper. Her face was rosy from living so much out of doors, and her blue eyes seemed even bluer. Altogether there was a glow about her that had not been there before.

  ‘So here you are,’ she declared. ‘Fancy eating indoors on such a beautiful evening.’ Her arms went round Niall’s neck, and she hugged him.

  He kissed her cheek. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked sternly. ‘I thought I told you to stay with Brigid.’

  Kathleen pulled a face. ‘She is not alone. Some of the girls and your O’Toole friends are keeping her company. She has been her old domineering self of late, telling me that I’m doing things wrong.’ A look of irritation crossed her pretty face, but it passed quickly. ‘May I have some bread? I’m hungry.’