by Brit Darby
“If,” the youngest man there said, “I m-m-might be askin’, m-m-miss. Wot, w-wot you doin’ a-alone an’ dressed like a m-m-monk?”
Another nudged him, as if he’d said something bad. “Hush, Willie.”
Alianor smiled at the stuttering lad. “It’s all right, and a fair question. A priest thought it would be safer, since I was traveling alone, to disguise myself as a man and a monk.”
“Now, why would an English colleen be travelin’ all alone in Ireland?” Seth’s question drew her gaze to him. She wondered what she should say.
“I’m afraid I cannot explain,” she replied. The risk in telling the truth was greater than the danger in angering these cutthroats. Alianor felt like she walked a line so fine, she could not possibly win either way. “Trust me, it’s urgent enough I will do what I must.”
A mumble went up among them. Seth spoke again. “You’re the one the King’s men are lookin’ for, aren’t you?”
Her protector watched her reaction and Alianor could not avoid his scrutiny. Seth had stood up against his own men to keep her safe, but could she trust him with the truth?
She decided she could. “Yes.”
“Why, she’s the cause o’ Danny’s dying,” Bow shouted, his former grumbling a cry of outrage as he jumped to his feet. “We ran into the King’s guard and they were looking for her. So she as good as killed Danny herself.”
Seth leaped up and grabbed Bow by the scruff of the neck, jerking him off his feet. Bow gagged, dangling helplessly in his grip. Seth said to him, “We’re murderin’ thieves and we takes our chances with the law. In the end, does no’ matter why the soldiers were out and ’bout. We determined our fate long ago when we took up our lawless ways and we’ve only ourselves t’ blame when we die.” He directed his next words to all his men.
“If’n your wantin’ t’ lay blame, blame King John. If it weren’t for him takin’ and givin’ our lands t’ bloody foreigners, and taxes bleedin’ honest men dry, we wouldn’t be driven t’ desperate ways.” He paused and looked straight into Alianor’s wide eyes. “I say if the colleen here has done somethin’ so foul the King’s got his entire guard out lookin’ for her, we should give her a hail and hurrah, and see she gets t’ where she’s goin’. Damme the King an’ his fuckin’ taxes.”
Seth gave a satisfied grunt and the other men nodded, all except Bow. He still dangled in Seth’s grip.
“Put me down, you bloody ox,” Bow choked out.
Seth did, letting go so fast Bow fell to the ground in a heap. The smaller man scrambled to his feet, his eyes blazing with anger. But he didn’t say anything more. He kept his tongue, realizing everyone was on Seth’s side.
Relief swarmed over Alianor. Suddenly, she was exhausted. Looking around the camp, she matter-of-factly asked, “Where can I sleep, Seth?”
Chapter Thirty-three
“ALIANOR.”
LIAM ROUSED FROM his stupor, a night terror touching him with its intensity. Misery. The taste of it was sour in his mouth. He swore he could hear a woman crying. His heart stampeded inside his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
Alianor was in danger. He knew it, instinctively, and drew a ragged gulp of foul air hanging like a cloud in the dungeon; the stench of death, misery and human waste. He slumped against a wall in anguish, unable to help her.
“Alianor,” he whispered, her name lingering on his lips, though reality told him she could not hear. In the quiet darkness of his cell, dire helplessness overwhelmed him. The other prisoners slept, and only the occasional scurrying and squeaking of the rats disturbed the silence surrounding him. He had imagined the sobbing.
It must be night, he surmised. At night the groans of other tormented men around him died away and a mind-numbing silence crept in like a bandit, waiting for the light of day so the torture might begin again.
Reality did not lessen the fear haunting him, much like the nightmare he could not recall but sensed was real. Alianor was in danger and he could do nothing to help her. Liam pulled at the manacles binding him like an animal to the damp bowels of the castle. It was futile. The clink of the chains was loud in the small chamber, mocking him, denying him his freedom.
“God help her,” he whispered in agony, the sound echoing off the stone walls, “for I cannot.”
ALIANOR WOKE FROM HER exhausted sleep. Disoriented, it took her a moment to remember where she was.
Bow knelt beside her, his hand still upon her shoulder where he shook her to wake her up. He placed a finger to his lips to still her startled response. He leaned a little closer. Alianor flinched as his foul breath blasted her. She was about to call out for Seth when he whispered urgently, “Your dog is hurt.”
“Turrean?” Alianor looked around in panic. Her concern grew when she did not see her familiar companion sleeping beside her.
“Aye,” Bow nodded. He looked worried, and his concern seemed real enough. “Come, I’ll take you t’ her.”
She did not move, staring at him warily.
“Best hurry. I think she’s hurt bad. Seth and the others have gone t’ get wood. No time to wait on them.”
As soon as he spoke, Alianor heard a howl in the distance. The sound spurred her into action. She scrambled up and stumbled after Bow into the darkened woods, her mind filled with one thought — finding Turrean.
Some distance from camp Alianor’s sleep-muddled mind cleared from a mixture of cold air and concern. She cursed her foolishness. She hadn’t given a second thought to rushing into the forest to find Turrean. Bow was dangerous and every instinct she possessed shrilled a warning. She stopped.
When she hesitated, Bow whirled and grabbed her, one sinewy arm wrapping about her waist as his hand clamped over her mouth to silence her. Alianor fought against his fierce grip but it did not budge. He easily lifted her from the ground. She kicked and clawed, but could not free herself from his iron grasp. Their struggle was almost noiseless, despite the fact she fought hard as he moved further into the thick dense cover of the trees.
“I’ll let you go, if you promise not t’ run,” her captor demanded, his dirty hand clenched so tightly over her mouth Alianor feared she would suffocate. She nodded. She was losing strength and needed air to fight on.
Bow’s hand relaxed and he lifted it off her mouth. She twisted free and brought her elbow up into his ribs. But before she could step away, his balled fist struck her. Pain exploded across her jaw. Alianor felt the warmth of blood from her split lip, the metallic taste filling her mouth.
“I should let her die for that,” he hissed at her.
Knowing he was responsible for Turrean’s disappearance and now controlled the dog’s life, Alianor gave up her plan to flee.
Bow grinned at her in the moonlight. “See, I’m not as stupid as you think. I knew I’d not get close t’ one she-bitch with a real bitch guarding her like a lion.” He chuckled at his own twisted wit. “Now, your dog’s a smart thing — knew I was up t’ no good. Followed me, she did. Right into the pit I found earlier today.”
“Where is she?” Alianor demanded; her pain forgotten as pure panic sent her heart to racing faster. “What have you done to her?”
“Me? Nothing.” He looked offended. “The pit was there already, filled with sharp spikes, a wolf trap most like. Filthy Sassenach sport,” Bow spat at the ground in contempt, “the kind even Irish scum like me don’t take kindly t’.”
Wolf trap? Alianor felt the blood leave her face.
Bow smiled — a strange smile. “Funny thing is, I’d have no trouble slitting your throat, but I couldn’t hurt your dog.”
He looked deep in thought, and continued. “I had a dog meself, when I was but a wee lad. I loved her but when me father saw she grew a fat belly, he slit her throat. He cut her open and killed all her pups, saying we couldn’t afford t’ feed a bunch of mongrels.”
His story sickened Alianor. She glanced away from his burning gaze.
He didn’t seem to notice she remained silent. “Me mate
s, hard times drove them t’ become murderers and thieves. But me, it was me father who made me what I am. He was the first man I ever killed — slit his throat right proper, I did.” He sounded proud for avenging the death of his dog so long ago.
Alianor grew impatient with his reflections. “I’m sure you didn’t trap my dog and drag me out here to tell me the story of your life. What will it take for you to spare Turrean?”
“Ah,” Bow drawled. “Direct and t’ the point — nice trait in a wench. No surprise t’ you I’m sure, but what I wants is that shiny bit o’ gold I seen you trying t’ hide from us.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Relief flooded over Alianor. The man’s purpose was sinister, but her secret savior came in the form a shadowy figure silently creeping up behind Bow. Turrean had somehow managed to claw her way out of the pit, covered from head to toe with mud, but alive.
“Don’t lie t’ me.” Bow took a step forward, fist raised again. Turrean leaped, catapulting through the air and crashing into him with a thud.
A cloud moved away from the moon, and the faint light showed Alianor the two figures, man and animal twisted in a mass of snarling, gnashing teeth. The flash of a blade caught her eye and Bow’s angry face came into focus. This time, it looked like he would spare no mercy for the dog. Alianor picked up a large piece of wood, and with every bit of strength she possessed swung it, smashing the branch across his back. The force of the blow splintered the wood into pieces.
Bow pitched forward and the knife flew from his hand. Alianor stepped in between him and Turrean, scrabbled for purchase and snatched up the fallen knife. Before Bow knew what was happening, she had it firmly in hand. He wrenched aside as she struck, the blade slicing into his side instead of his heart.
Blood flowed from the wound, deep but not fatal. The initial surprise on Bow’s face was replaced by fury. “Bitch,” he yelled, holding his hand to the gash. “I’ll kill you.”
He took a menacing step forward, but Alianor did not flinch. Feet braced, she faced him with no fear, no hesitation. The blade clutched in her hand lent her courage as she challenged him.
Moonlight cast harsh relief onto Bow’s face, and she had no doubt he meant to kill her. His eyes squinted with anger as he took another step forward, his intentions clear. But what frightened her most was the ugly gleam sparking deep within the black pools — lust for the kill. His father had created a monster.
She refused to show fear, and placed a hand on Turrean when she felt the dog tensing to pounce again. “Stad,” she commanded.
Bow growled at her. “I’ll take what I want, and even your vicious dog can’t stop me.”
“Turrean isn’t the one who you should worry about.” Alianor saw Bow didn’t take her threat seriously when he grinned.
“Hand it over, nice-like, or I’ll slit your pretty little throat and take it from your dead body.”
“I’m the one with the knife now. And, believe me, I have no problem finishing what I started, you pond scum.”
“Looks like the lady wants t’ carve you up and feed you t’ the beasties, Bow.”
Seth stepped out from the darkness of the trees. Bow saw all his mates were gathered around them.
“Did he hurt you, colleen?” Seth asked Alianor.
“Her!” Bow screamed, spittle spewing from his twisted mouth. “Did I fucking hurt her? She stuck me for no damned reason.”
Seth strode over to where Alianor stood. She trembled so hard she feared she would collapse, but she was ready to fight. If necessary, she’d take them all on.“’Tis over little one. He’s no’ goin’ t’ hurt you. I’ll no’ let him.” Seth’s words were soft, reassuring, yet Alianor found she was unable to let go of the knife. She did not move but remained ready to defend herself.
The great bear of a man looked confused and sad. Finally he reached out and gently pushed a tangled clump of hair from her face. “I’ll no’ hurt you either, colleen. I promise.”
All the anger remaining inside her burst, surged to the surface. With an anguished cry, Alianor darted past Seth and lunged for Bow. The dagger flashed in the moonlight, ready to plunge home into his black heart. Camber’s death, the King’s lust, de Lacy’s evil and Bow’s attack, all culminated into a fury she could no longer hold back.
Seth’s reaction was lightning-quick for a large man and he blocked the strike against Bow. His meaty hand clamped onto her wrist, forcing the blade to fall to the ground. Alianor still shook so hard her legs gave out. Seth’s strong arms caught her when she collapsed. Great, heart-wrenching sobs tore from her as he carried her back to their campsite.
“HERE,” SETH TOSSED A bundle at Alianor the next morning. “The boys scrounged these things for you t’ wear. Might look a bit suspicious, a monk travelin’ with the likes of us.”
Alianor smiled a little at his wink, and accepted the clothes. He turned around, offering her a little privacy for her to change.
“Best hurry, colleen,” Seth’s voice was quiet, yet urgent. “Brady spotted a dozen or so of the King’s guard down the road. We’d best be on our way.”
A trickle of fear touched Alianor knowing the soldiers were so close, but she stowed it away with a grim determination. No one — not Bow, not the King — would keep her from getting to Wolf Haven.
“One moment,” she said, digging into the deep pocket of the robe she discarded.
She drew out the cross, and the emerald glinted in the sunlight causing her breath to catch in her throat. Alianor gazed at the precious possession with awe. The breeches given her had no place to keep it, so she pulled the heavy chain about her neck and tucked the cross beneath her linen shirt. The gold was cold against her flesh, its weight now eerily familiar.
Stepping from the trees toward Seth, Alianor touched his back. He turned, his soft brown eyes gentle on her. “Thank you, my friend.”
He nodded. Seth’s platonic affection for her was apparent; his protective air and dogged devotion touched her deeply.
When they rejoined the others in the camp, Alianor looked about for Bow. Cautious, she looked to Seth, her question clear on her face.
“He’s gone, colleen. You’ve no need t’ fear Bow any longer.”
“Aye.” Willie, the lad with the stutter, grinned from ear to ear. “S-Seems Bow was afeared y’d, y’d stick him a-a-again.”
“You damme near scared him t’ death.” Seth hooted with laughter. “Bow scrambled fast as he could out of camp first light. There ain’t a one of us goin’ t’ miss the bastard.”
Alianor heard the echoed sentiments of the five men as they agreed with their leader. They were a motley lot of Irishmen, mean and savage-looking. Despite this fact, Alianor felt a growing kinship with them.
Willie’s smile never faded and he approached Alianor timidly. “W-wot’s you w-w-wearin’, m-m-miss?” He had spied the glint of the chain about her neck.
The young man, really a boy still, looked at her innocently. Willie was simple-minded, Seth had told her, and hence his special protectiveness extended to the lad, too. Willie’s question sent a shiver through Alianor, yet he had no idea he caused her angst with his simple curiosity.
“Something that has been in my family since ancient times, Willie.”
Alianor hoped the others were too busy clearing the camp to hear his question, or her reply. She tensed upon discovering all eyes turned on her and realized she had no choice but to trust these men. Trust Seth could protect her again, if need be. He stood nearby, his look as curious as the others.
“W-w-wot is it?” Willie asked.
“It’s a cross, and the stone within it is called the Jewel of Knowledge.”
A murmur went up between them and Alianor said a quick prayer beneath her breath.
Seth broke the strained silence, doubt clear on his face. “’Tis but a myth, colleen. Seòd Fios is a legend, a tale told by the old ones, nothin’ more. Likely someone sold you a worthless trinket.”
Common sense told Alianor to drop it, to agree
with Seth and let them believe what he said. But something else, something urgent prompted her on. “No, the legend is true.” She withdrew the cross from her neck and held it up, the morning light reflecting off the five facets of the emerald. A collective gasp rippled through the men as they gawked in awe. It was as if the stone pulled all of them under its green spell, the magick Seth scoffed at hypnotizing them.
“A man called Liam Caomhánach awaits a death sentence. I need to reach his people at Wolf Haven. I must unite them so we can free Liam, the Emerald Prince.”
No one spoke, each man left to his own thinking. Nobody moved, the power of Seòd Fios still felt by all. Alianor tucked the cross away again, her look serious as she spoke to Seth directly. “I need your help, Seth. I need you to take me to Wolf Haven.”
He hesitated. “That bit of metal and stone could feed a lot o’ families, colleen.”
“True,” Alianor agreed, “but ’tis worth much more than money. This bit of metal and stone holds the key to freedom for Connacht.”
Seth stared at Alianor, as if he wanted to believe her words, but couldn’t. “’Tis hard t’ eat a myth. Or have faith in a legend when there’s a hunger gnawin’ in your belly.”
“I know, but our people hunger for more than food. They hunger for freedom from their English overlords and Irish kings, they long for peace amongst their own. They crave return of their lands, a leader. They seek hope long lost to them.”
Alianor heard her words and wondered where they came from. She had been raised in an English family and only recently learned a different truth. How could she understand what she was saying? How could she feel it, all the way to her bones? Even more, believe it with all her heart and soul?
She looked at Seth and spoke plainly. “I’ll die before I let anyone take this cross.”
Alianor meant it, though it seemed strange to hear her own passionate words. She stood firm, facing the chance she would be cut down as she stared into the eyes of these men; strangers, thieves and murdering cutthroats. Desperate men who possibly saw lives of ease and luxury reflected in a shimmering emerald.
