by Kristen Cobb
Nessa smiled. “I just remembered something I need to do.” Bag still slung across her shoulder Nessa headed for the door. Without Marta’s generosity she would currently be on her way back to Leinster, the plan to save Conor a complete failure.
Nessa spent the rest of the morning and a large portion of the afternoon searching for the plants she needed. Treating people with this sort of problem before taught her exactly what the remedy required. Her knowledge of the healing arts came from the earth itself rather than a human teacher. Deciding how potent to make a particular potion however was a skill that needed to be learned by trial and error.
Thankfully she managed to find a sufficient quantity of the plants required to make a large batch of the potion for Marta. She also brought back an intact specimen of each to replant outside Marta’s cottage. Eventually she would leave Connaught. Before that happened she hoped to have a small garden started so Marta would have access to the plants she needed to make the potion herself.
The small iron pot was half full of water on the iron grate in the hearth, a fire burning beneath it. The smell of burning peat filled the cottage. When the water finally began boiling she quickly grabbed the pile of stems and leaves from the table, throwing them into the pot.
“I hate to sound ungrateful dear but if that is dinner I do believe it will be a mite thin.”
Dinner never even occurred to her. “Sorry, I forgot all about making us something to eat. I am not much of a cook.”
“No matter, I have some bread and cheese. I am quite certain there is enough for both of us. What are you making if not dinner?” Marta came over to the hearth, peering down into the pot of boiling water with mild curiosity.
“A potion to help your hands.”
Marta looked up at her, clearly shocked by the statement. The woman made her feel like a giant. Marta peered back into the pot, intently now, with much more interest, eyes narrowed. “You are a healer?”
“I have some experience using plants to treat wounded warriors. I help others when I can.” It was not in her nature to stand by and watch anyone suffer.
“Do you truly think it will help?”
“It should give you back the use of your hands. There will still be some discomfort, especially on rainy days. I can alter the strength of the potion if I need to. We will see how this one works first. You need to drink one cupful in the evening and one in the morning. I will show you how much once it cools.” Nessa remained by the pot, watching it boil. Timing was crucial when making potions.
“Is this what you were doing earlier when you left? Gathering herbs for my potion?” Marta still appeared to be having difficulty taking it all in.
Nessa smiled at the old woman and nodded. “I also started a small garden out back. There are only two plants now but I will gather a few more. I can show you what they look like before I leave and how to make the potion yourself.”
They both watched the water boil in silence, startled when someone knocked on the door. Nessa bent and picked up the rags to lift the small pot off the grate over the fire as Marta walked over to the door. Conri entered just as she placed the pot onto the cooling grate.
“I brought you two some food from the castle.” Conri set the sac of food down on the table then walked over to the hearth, looking down into the small pot. “I never expected to find you cooking.”
A huge smile lit up Marta’s wrinkled face. “That is not dinner. It is a potion to help my hands.”
Conri’s brown eyes opened just a bit wider in surprise. “You have been busy.”
“It is the least I can do after Marta was kind enough to shelter a complete stranger.” Nessa made the mistake of looking directly into Conri’s eyes. The rest of the world immediately slipped away into obscurity. Her breathing deepened, the urge to touch him nearly overwhelming in its intensity.
“Marta is one of the nicest people you will ever meet. I hope your potion is able to help her.” Conri’s gaze never wavered from hers.
Nessa laid a hand gently on his arm. “As are you. I am starting to lose count of all the times you have saved me. It is a great risk you have taken by allowing me to stay. What if Rory finds out I am still here?”
“Rory and I have discussed the matter. He is well aware of where you are.” Conri looked down at her hand on his arm.
Embarrassed, Nessa quickly pulled away. “And he has agreed to let me stay?”
“So long as you do not cause any trouble.” Rory acquiesced much easier than expected, making Conri more than a little suspicious. Most people underestimated Rory but he knew better. The man was a master manipulator.
“Does Marta know who I am?” She did not want to cause problems for the kind old woman. “Perhaps it would be best if I slept out in the woods somewhere.”
“He told me everything. I for one have a few people I would like to see turned into rocks if you take requests.” The grin that split Marta’s face from ear to ear was infectious.
Nessa found herself laughing. “I cannot turn people into rocks.”
“Pity, I think that girl Alana would be first on my list. She makes Conri’s life miserable.” Marta walked over to the table and opened the sack of food Conri brought them. She began laying out items on the table.
Nessa grabbed a small wooden cup and a metal ladle from a shelf above the hearth. Filling the cup about halfway with potion she set the ladle back on the shelf. “She was waiting for him when we rode in this morning. I hear she is not the only one that follows him around begging for his attention.”
Sedric and Allister filled her in during their journey here. According to them women nearly swooned each time Conri so much as walked past them. He had a curiously near debilitating effect on her as well. Seriously erotic thoughts concerning the handsome warrior’s body ran through her mind each time she laid eyes on him. The main problem with that being they were together constantly. This afternoon was the first time he let her out of his sight since the incident with Tiernan.
“Certainly not. Alana is simply the worst of the lot.” Marta pulled an impressive array of food out of the hemp sack.
Nessa set the wooden cup down on the table. “Let that cool for a bit then drink the whole thing. That should be about the right dosage.”
Her eyes met Conri’s for a moment as he sat down at the table, obviously intending to eat with them. Neither of them seemed able to look away. No man had ever affected her this way. Something needed to be done about the situation. Perhaps tumbling the handsome warrior would… She nearly set her head in her hands and groaned in frustration. All she ever seemed to think about lately was bedding Rory’s captain. To make matters worse he turned out to be one of the most considerate individuals she ever had the privilege to meet. He fought for her right to remain here near Conor even knowing her loyalty lie with an enemy of his king and he helped frail old women. A man of great empathy and kindness hid beneath the obnoxious aloof exterior. Seducing Rory O’Connor could not possibly be further from her mind.
Will slowly opened the door to the cottage. His heart hoped Nessa would be here waiting for him. His head knew better. Sunlight flooded into the main room through the now open doorway allowing him to see a young boy sitting quietly on one of the upholstered benches.
“How did you get in here?” The door showed no signs of tampering and the wooden shutters all barred from the inside. He’d never seen this boy before in his life. Will quickly scanned the rest of the room to make certain no one else lurked in the shadows.
The boy held up a metal key, Nessa’s key. Will walked across the room, grabbing it out of his hand. “Where did you get this?”
“From Nessa. She asked me to give it back to you when you got here.”
Maybe the boy could lead him to Nessa. He would not be able to apologize until he found her. She was bound to be seriously angry with him this time. He definitely went too far. “What is your name?”
“Donal. Are you Will?”
“Yes, Do you know where Nessa is?”<
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“No. She left before the men came.” Donal hated thinking about the men. If he had been bigger maybe he could have stopped them.
“Did she leave the city?” The boy appeared to be no more than seven or eight. Getting useful information out of him would not be easy.
“I think so.” Donal thought about the question for a moment. “Yes, she definitely went far away because she said she could not stay and help my sister Ceara. Then Ceara died.”
It was not at all like Nessa to refuse a dying child. That alone had him worried. Donal mentioned the men coming. He knew what that probably meant, having just stepped off the ship he had yet to go into the city. “What men came Donal?”
“Men with swords and metal clothing. They killed lots of people and then they left.” Which was something he did not understand. It seemed as if they only came to kill people. Why would men do that?
“But Nessa left before the men came?” Metal clothing could only mean body armor. That spoke of a foreign fighting force. Irish warriors did not wear armor. He knew Nessa traveled abroad with Dermot to gather an army from the English king. Had Dermot attacked Dublin? Maybe the boy only thought Nessa left the city. If Dermot attacked the city Nessa would have been with his men but Donal seemed to think she fled before that happened.
Donal nodded. “She said she had to leave before it got dark.”
“Come on, I will take you back to your parents.” Will held out his hand for the boy.
Donal looked down at the ground. “They are both dead. The men killed them.” He had no home left, no family, no one to take care of him. Seven years old and he was all alone in the world. Then a thought hit him. “Would you take me away on the ship with you? I will work hard and earn my keep, I promise.”
“No, absolutely not. A ship is not a suitable environment for a young boy.” Will watched Donal’s excitement fade into despair.
Donal felt tears welling in his eyes. Father Laurence kept bringing him food but he could not stay here forever. Just last week he had an entire family, now they were all gone. It did not even seem possible. He would give anything to have Ceara following him around and his parents bothering him to come home before dark.
Will could not imagine being all alone in the world at Donal’s age. He had been raised by loving parents with everything a boy could want. He could not leave Donal behind to fend for himself. Maybe Laurence could find a home for the boy. Being a priest it was his job to help.
Will held out his hand again. “Come on, I need to speak to Father Laurence. Do you know if he is still here in Dublin?” Laurence would know Nessa’s whereabouts. Whether he would share the information was another matter entirely.
Donal jumped off the bench, grasping his hand tight, nodding vehemently. “He comes to feed me everyday.”
Which meant Laurence knew the boy was hiding out here, in a dark deserted cottage without any adult supervision. Will looked down at Donal’s hopeful face and tried to smile. The fact that Laurence left the boy here did not bode well.
Will opened one of the thick wooden doors on the front of Christ Church Cathedral. The blackened iron hinges curled around themselves in a circular pattern against the weathered wood of the door. Slowly stepping inside Donal clutched his hand even tighter as they took in the shocking scene before them. There were people everywhere. What would usually be a place of peace and tranquility was chaotic and loud. Children ran about through the wooden pews yelling to each other. The din of so many adults in one place only added to the volume. Carefully crafted stained glass windows allowed in natural light but no fresh air, the smell of so many unwashed bodies in one place incredibly unpleasant.
They made their way up the center aisle as quickly as possible under the circumstances. People were sleeping on pews in the midst of the din. No wonder Laurence left Donal at the cottage. Could the priory be just as full of survivors? He guessed that to be a likely scenario. On their way here he witnessed first hand the devastation wrought on the city. The dead were still being collected and loaded onto wagons to be transported out of the city. There were too many bodies to even consider burying them inside the city walls.
The alter was relatively well lit with candles. Laurence sat on the edge of the wooden platform speaking to a boy no older than Donal.
“Run along with you now and go play.” Laurence stood as he watched them approach. The boy quickly sped after a child being chased by a giggling mob. “You are one of the last people I expected to see. What are you doing here? You should be home with your new wife.”
Laurence’s comment did not sound angry or bitter in any way but rather sincere. The man was gracious and compassionate to a fault. Will knew his first round of apologies would need to start here. “I would never marry anyone else. I lied to make Nessa jealous.”
Laurence’s gaze conveyed pity rather than condemnation. “You cannot trick her into marrying you. Perhaps you should get on with your life and…”
“No. There is no one else I want as my wife.” He was immovable on the subject.
“There is no guarantee Nessa will ever be ready to settle down and become someone’s wife.”
“Is the destruction Dermot’s handiwork?” Nessa never agreeing to marry him was not a discussion he intended to have. Without her he felt as lost as Donal.
“Yes, fortunate that you did not show up a few days sooner. Asculf abandoned the city, along with most of his men, leaving us relatively defenseless.” Laurence glanced around the cathedral, sighing deeply.
“Was Nessa here when it happened?” He looked directly into Laurence’s eyes, silently asking the rest of the question. He had no idea if Donal realized the woman he apparently trusted was Dermot’s most valuable weapon in battle. It could easily have been Nessa that slaughtered Donal’s parents.
“No.”
The first good news he heard all day, at least she had not played a part in the devastation. He had been trying to convince Nessa to abandon her role as Dermot’s druidess for years. He hated the thought of her roaming around Ireland always caught in the midst of a battle. What if one day Nessa was the one killed? “Where is she now?”
“I do not think it is a good idea…”
“At least give me the chance to apologize. If she cannot forgive me I will leave her be.” Will waited patiently while Laurence mulled over his request.
“Give her some time. Eventually she will return and then you can…”
“I will take Donal with me.” Will realized he was blackmailing a priest but desperation made a man act less than honorably at times.
“But only if I tell you where Nessa is.” Laurence’s compassionate expression disappeared.
Will turned away, unable to meet Laurence’s knowing blue eyes. He felt Donal’s grip tighten. Will glanced down at the boy. Donal was looking up at him with the saddest eyes he had ever seen. Will glanced around the cathedral at the barely controlled chaos. He would never be able to live with himself if he left Donal here. “Does the boy have any family that can take him in?”
“None that I know of. He will need to stay here for the time being.” Laurence reached out to grab Donal’s hand.
Will knelt down in front of Donal. “I am not going back to the ship. Actually I have no idea where I am going to live or where my next meal will come from. In the end it is your choice.”
“You would take me with you?” Donal’s voice held the tiniest glimmer of hope.
“If that is what you want, yes, I will take you with me.” A surprising sense of relief settled inside of him. It felt right.
Donal’s small arms wrapped around his neck so tight it became slightly uncomfortable. Will closed his eyes, praying to God he would be able to do right by the boy. His life was not exactly conducive to caring for a seven-year-old.
“Nessa left with Rory O’Connor’s army. She is on her way to the high-king’s main stronghold in Connaught.”
Will looked up to find Laurence smiling down at him.
Nessa took
the last bite of a fresh blackberry tart, closing her eyes as she chewed, the sweet decadent pastry a rare treat in her world. Dermot’s cook was not nearly as talented as the individual that made this delectable bit of pastry. She opened her eyes to find Conri watching her, a slight grin curling the edges of his mouth. “Dinner was delicious. Thank you for bringing it.” He delivered so much food there would still be some left for tomorrow morning.
“Meara agreed to let me pilfer food from the castle kitchens for you as long as I promised to dance with her daughter Duana at Rory’s Samhain celebration.” Conri popped the rest of a blackberry tart into his mouth.
“Is she another stunning beauty madly in love with you?” The very instant the words were out of her mouth she wanted to take them back. She sounded jealous instead of casually sarcastic. The fact that he had beautiful women chasing him apparently annoyed her.
Conri finished chewing his blackberry tart before a grin spread across his face. “No. Duana is special.”
“So the bargain will not prove much of a hardship.” There it was again, the jealousy she should not even be feeling. They were nothing more than friends, and barely that. The man had enough problems with women. “I should not have said that. If Duana is special to you then I am certain she must be a wonderful person.”
“And why is that?” As a rule he ignored the jealous comments women threw at him. Their feelings were nothing more than an annoyance. Quite the opposite was true with the woman sitting next to him. He reveled in her jealousy. It meant she wanted him. For some reason that mattered a great deal.
Nessa thought about his question for a moment before the perfect answer came to mind. “When I traveled to England with Dermot I heard stories of knights. It is a special designation given to the greatest of their warriors. They must not only be brave but honorable as well. That describes you perfectly. If you say she is special then she must truly be a beautiful person because you would never be swayed by mere physical beauty. I look forward to meeting her.”
Marta laid a hand over one of Nessa’s. “Well said dear.”
