“You will forgive me that I had to have St. John’s confirmation,” he said. “Without your brother to confirm your identity, to have one of his knights know you is the next best thing. I pray you are not offended by this.”
Emllyn was still overwhelmed with it all; her head and thoughts were spinning. Victor eventually let go of her fingers and handed her his half-full cup of wine. She looked like she needed it. Gratefully, and with shaking hands, Emllyn swallowed the wine in two big gulps.
“I am not offended,” she said, her voice trembling. “I suppose if I were in your situation, I would have done the same thing.”
De Noble was relieved that she wasn’t cross with him for his doubt; he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire of their already-strained relationship.
“Sir Victor says that thirty-three of your brother’s men survived the destruction of the war fleet,” he said. “He also said that John, your farmer friend, helped them escape from Black Castle’s dungeons.”
Emllyn tore her gaze off of Victor and looked at de Noble. “John?” she repeated, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. “Has he returned?”
Victor spoke. “He is with my men, outside of the walls of Glenteige,” he said. “I am going to retrieve them now.”
Emllyn was moving with Victor; in fact, she nearly ran him over. “I will go, too.”
Victor shook his head, forcing her to stop when she tried to push past him. “Nay, my lady,” he said. “It would not be safe for you. You will remain here and we will all sup together tonight, I promise.”
Emllyn was as edgy as a cat and laboring not to show it. She very much wanted to go with Victor to retrieve the English prisoners simply so she could see Devlin, but she knew they would never allow it. Already they were resisting. So she forced herself to calm.
“Of course,” she said, trying to look as if she was satisfied with the thought of seeing everyone at supper. “I suppose I am simply happy to know that some of my brother’s men survived. May I at least walk you to the door, Sir Victor?”
Victor smiled at her. “I would be honored,” he said, turning to de Noble. “I shall return within the hour, my lord.”
De Noble nodded graciously. “I will look forward to it,” he said, eyeing Emllyn. He knew she wouldn’t be happy if he tried to walk with them so he didn’t even ask. “My lady, I will see you tonight at supper.”
Emllyn barely nodded at him as she preceded Victor out of the solar door. Once out in the foyer, with its rounded walls that tended to echo, Emllyn surprisingly kept a rein on her excitement and shock. She simply took Victor’s elbow as he walked to the keep entry. Once the door yawned before them, spilling white light into the dimness of the gray stoned keep, she paused and turned to him.
“I…,” she began.
Victor shushed her before she could speak more than one word. “I will see you upon my return, my lady,” he said, hearing his voice echo off the walls and knowing there were ears listening, more than likely de Noble’s. “I look forward to hearing about your adventures since you came to Ireland.”
Emllyn looked at the man, wanting to say so much more. The tears threatened to return but she fought them. She knew why he was speaking so generically; if anyone understood the gossips and big ears of this place, she did.
“And you shall,” she said. “I… I would also like to see John when he arrives. I would like to see the man who… who saved my life. Did he tell you?”
“All that and more,” he said, letting go of her as he headed out of the keep. “I will send him to you when we return, my lady. Be of good and noble patience that all will work out as it should.”
Emllyn lingered in the doorway, watching the man descend the wide, stone steps. Her heart was so full of thanks and gratefulness that she could hardly breathe. Her mind was full of a million memories and hopes, like butterflies, all living and breathing entities inside her soul. She lifted a hand in farewell to Victor.
“Will you tell him something for me, please?” she called after him.
There was no more echo to amplify their words; in fact, it all seemed rather still outside. There wasn’t anyone around that they could see. Victor paused on the steps.
“What is that, my lady?”
Emllyn swallowed hard; she was coming to suspect simply by the way he was behaving that he and Devlin had more than likely been in discussions with her as the main topic. It only seemed logical. From the moment she had seen Victor in de Noble’s solar, everything about him told her that he knew what had happened. All of it. She smiled faintly as she met his gaze, lowering her voice so that he could barely hear it.
“Please… please tell him that everything leads me to thee.”
Victor cocked his head slightly, considering her words, as a faint smile crossed his lips. Nodding in understanding, he turned and walked away. Emllyn watched him, blowing the man a gentle kiss when she knew he couldn’t see it. She simply felt that it was the right thing to do.
He did, after all, love her, too.
∾
Victor had returned to the spot where he had left Devlin and his men. The walk from the front gates of Glenteige had been a wide-open one, as the settlement was surrounded by wide open spaces to get a better field of fire when the fortress was attacked. Things that could hide rebels like trees or bushes had long since been removed.
As he stood on the precise location where he had last seen his men and de Bermingham, he noticed the trees about a quarter of a mile to the east were moving. More than moving, they appeared to come alive and Victor realized that his men were coming through the foliage. Weary, beaten, some men helping others to walk, the entire group was emerging from the forest, including the massive bulk of de Bermingham. They had evidently seen him approach and were breaking their cover. Victor went to meet them.
Devlin was at the head of the group, moving faster than the others because he was perhaps more anxious than the others. He met Victor several feet in front of the others, nearly bowling the man over in his eagerness and haste.
“Well?” he demanded. “Did my knight make it to de Noble before we did?”
Victor shook his head. “They have not seen him,” he assured him. “He is not here.”
Devlin, who had let his imagination go wild for the past hour, literally had to catch his breath. The shock was so great that he actually gasped.
“Freddy has not been here?” he asked again, just to be sure.
Victor shook his head again, seeing how astonished de Bermingham was. “Nay,” he repeated for good measure. “De Noble and I had a long conversation where he assured me that no one from Black Castle has come. He says that the only reference to Black Castle in the past few weeks was a lone farmer named John bearing a woman who, he said, had washed upon the shore after Kildare’s armada was defeated.”
That was good enough for Devlin; he was beyond the ability to measure his relief. “And Emllyn?” he fired at him. “Did you see her?”
Victor knew what he meant. Is she your daughter? But somehow, Victor wasn’t sure he could tell him the truth. From his discussions with Devlin, and his brief encounter with Emllyn, he could already see the joy and adoration when one spoke of the other. There was a warmth there, a spring of hope everlasting, that was more powerful than anything he had ever sensed. Therefore, he wasn’t sure he could spoil it with reality. Sometimes reality was best left to one’s own interpretation.
“I saw her,” he said. “She is healthy and whole, and she is anxious to see you. She told me to give you a message.”
Devlin’s big body was quivering with anticipation. “What message?”
“She says to tell you that everything leads me to thee.”
Devlin stared at him. Then, he emitted something that sounded like a hiss, running his hand over his bristly head, his gaze lingering on the fortress in the distance. The longer he stared at it, the more impact the words seemed to have. He could feel tears of pure emotion sting his eyes. He blinked rapidly, chasing t
hem away, before returning his focus to Victor.
“Is she your daughter, Victor?” he asked softly.
Victor paused before answering. “Do you really want to know?”
Devlin suspected the answer but stopped short of pressing the man. After a moment, he simply shook his head.
“I suppose it does not matter,” he said. “I fell in love with Emllyn. She will always be Emllyn to me.”
“As well she should be.”
Victor’s men were starting to gather around them so they let the subject die, never to be discussed again. Neither man saw the need. Whether she was Catherine or Emllyn, it simply didn’t matter any longer. She was loved either way. Together, Victor and Devlin led the ragtag band of English soldiers into the embrace of their ally’s fortress.
Once the party reached the enclosure that contained the great stone keep, de Noble sent out men and servants with blankets to assist them into the feasting hall where they would be fed and tended to. De Noble was also there to greet Devlin in the flesh. He made a point of seeking the man out as he stood next to the feasting table where the English were eating, stuffing his mouth with roast fowl. Two days without decent food had left him ravenous.
Devlin looked big and raggedy, and his hair was starting to grow in as bristly as a thistle. He was also starting to look more and more like someone de Noble had once seen, although he still couldn’t place him. He came up behind Devlin and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Greetings, John,” he said rather amiably. “It seems you are the English’s greatest ally in Ireland. I am sure you have already been thanked profusely for rescuing these men from Black Sword’s vault, but let me add my thanks as well. We are very fortunate to have you on our side.”
Devlin turned to the man, swallowing the food in his mouth as he did so. He forced a smile as de Noble reached out and took his hand to shake it.
“It was my pleasure,” he said. “I was glad to assist.”
“But how?” de Noble wanted to know. “How did you manage to do it?”
Devlin had to think fast. He didn’t dare look at Victor for fear of appearing uncertain, so he simply began speaking.
“When I arrived at Black Castle after I left Glenteige, all was quiet for the most part,” he said. “Since I had no produce for delivery, I tried to get in to see the cook under the pretense of finding out what he needed so I could supply the appropriate things. I managed to get into the fortress because they knew me but shortly after I arrived, Black Castle was besieged and I was trapped inside.”
It was mostly the truth, at least about being trapped inside. De Noble nodded in understanding.
“We heard that Black Castle was besieged,” he said. “Did she hold?”
Devlin nodded. “She did,” he replied. “Say what you will about Black Sword, but the man is a master tactician. Brilliant. In any case, once the siege was over, there was general chaos. I heard talk about killing the English prisoners because they could no longer feed them, so I managed to get into the vault and released them. We escaped through the postern gate and here we are.”
It was a simplified tale, one he prayed de Noble wouldn’t demand more details to. He honestly wasn’t sure how much more he could tell the man and not start tripping himself up with lies. But then, de Noble asked him a question that completely stumped him, more than any other question could have. It was very simple.
“But why?” de Noble wanted to know. “Why would you do this?”
Devlin was momentarily stumped. He did look at Victor, then, to see that the man was gazing back at him. He had heard the question, too, and was curious to see what Devlin would say. Weakly, Devlin smiled.
“I’m not sure, to be truthful,” he said. “My grandmother was English and I loved her very much. Then, I found an Englishwoman on the shore and saved her life. I brought her here and met a great many English who were kind. Why did I save Black Sword’s English prisoners? Because I couldn’t let them die. I just couldn’t. I cannot explain it any better than that, my lord. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”
De Noble, fortunately, did. He smiled at Devlin. “Then you are a truly noble and self-sacrificing man,” he said. “We are grateful. But I did send you to Black Castle with a task in mind, John. Do you remember?”
Devlin knew what he meant; he had been waiting for the man to get to this line of questions. “I do,” he replied.
“And?”
“And I heard or saw nothing that would interest you,” he said, quite honestly. “It seems to me that Black Sword has his hands full with the O’Byrne. He’s not planning anything against Glenteige.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I just told you; he’s consumed with the O’Byrne. The English are of little consequence right now.”
That seemed to satisfy de Noble, at least initially. But it was clear his mind was working. “Very well,” he said, still chewing on the information. “Finish your meal and then we shall speak more when you are finished.”
Devlin was grateful for the momentary reprieve but there was something else on his mind, something he wanted very much. “And the Lady Emllyn?” he asked. “You said I could speak with her if I completed my task satisfactorily. I would hope that freeing Black Sword’s English prisoners will buy me a few moments with her.”
Jealousy shot up de Noble’s spine; he could read the interest in Devlin’s face and it cut him to the bone. How could he compete with this big, handsome man? He couldn’t, of course, and he knew it. He’d suspected that the Lady Emllyn had romantic intentions towards the man even though she had denied it, and now he could hear that same amorous hope in Devlin’s voice. It inflamed him. He turned away from Devlin, struggling to control himself.
“Mayhap later,” he said, almost coldly. “She has not been feeling well. I will see if she is willing to receive visitors.”
Devlin wasn’t happy with that answer at all. He could see the man’s demeanor change when he brought up Emllyn and immediately, he suspected that de Noble was deliberately denying him. He fought back his rage; he was so close he could nearly smell her. He wasn’t about to let this insignificant English commander deny him his heart’s desires. He was a man who was never denied anything, by anyone. His quick mind began to concoct a plan.
“Thank you,” he said, although he didn’t mean it. “Since I face the prospect of visiting a fine lady, I would like to wash me hands and face. Is there somewhere I could accomplish this?”
De Noble was moving for the pewter pitcher of wine on the table. He glanced at Devlin as if to see for himself that the man was dirty. Where there had once been pleasantness between them, the mention of Emllyn’s name had erased all hint of that. Jealousy was in each man’s mind. Now, there was tense politeness.
“Aye,” he said. “There is a well outside and soaps in the knight’s quarters. Ask any soldier or servant. They will assist you.”
“Thank you,” he said politely. “If you will excuse me, then, I’ll go wash.”
De Noble let him go; at the moment, he seemed more interested in speaking with Victor, who suspected where Devlin was going. He also suspected he’d better occupy de Noble for as long as he could. He certainly didn’t want de Noble following Devlin or, worse, showing up at Emllyn’s door and hearing things he shouldn’t.
He had to keep the man busy.
∾
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Thirty-three English prisoners,” Merradoc said with disgust. “And I am supposed to tend them. They’re in the great hall as we speak, eating all of our food and shedding their lice everywhere. The Romans would have stuck the whole lot of them in a giant bath and made them stay there until their hides were nearly boiled off of them!”
Emllyn giggled. “Again with the Romans?” she asked. “I heard they were a violent lot.”
“No more so than the Irish.”
Chuckling, Emllyn turned back to her embroidery loom. Seated in her cozy chamber with Merradoc, who was hiding from de
Noble’s command because he did not want to tend a bunch of filthy prisoners, he was creating a bit of a distraction for her. It was rather off-putting. Emllyn was so bloody excited to see Devlin that she could hardly sit still, and it was an effort to focus on her embroidery. Merradoc was just creating more chaos.
Emllyn had moved the Garden of Eden scene up from Elyse’s solar and it was now the main piece she was working on because the words emblazoned upon it meant so very much to her. Everything leads me to thee. She had finished stitching the letters in fine green silk, as bold and bright as the sun. The garden picture was taking shape around it. When finished, it would be a magnificent piece.
But there was something more pressing on her mind at the moment other than Merradoc’s tantrums or lovely embroidery; Victor had said he would send Devlin to her and she didn’t want Merradoc to be in the chamber when Devlin made an appearance. She didn’t want to have to restrain herself and she certainly didn’t want Merradoc and his flapping lips to witness the reunion. Therefore, she had been subtly attempting to get the man out of her bower for the past half hour, at least since the prisoners arrived. But Merradoc was unwilling to go. He lay upon her bed and rolled around in the linen pillows feigning misery.
Misery that was feeding her impatience. Emllyn opened her mouth to make another go of removing Merradoc when the door to her chamber opened and Eefha entered. The old woman waddled in, puffing on her shite pipe as she brought in a tray of bread and cheese. Merradoc took one look at the woman and her stinking pipe and hurled himself off the bed.
“Good God,” he said, scowling as he moved past the old woman. “Medusa appears with her shitty pipe. Did we ever figure out who this woman belongs to? Why do you allow her to serve you?”
Emllyn fought off a grin, pleased that Eefha’s appearance had accomplished what she had not yet been able to; get Merradoc off her bed.
“Because she is quiet and respectful,” she said. “She does not talk my ear off and she cleans up after me. Why would I not want her around?”
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