Emllyn’s smile faded as she brought a hand up to stroke his stubbled cheek. “When will we marry, Dev?”
“As soon as I have regained Black Castle.”
She didn’t like that answer. “But why wait?” she pressed. “Why not before you go?”
He sighed. “Because it is better this way,” he said. “If you marry me now and I perish in battle, you will forever be known as Black Sword’s widow. That will make it difficult for you to remarry. This way, if I perish in the attempt to reclaim my castle, no one will ever know that you and I were lovers. It will make it much easier on you to marry a man of standing.”
Emllyn wasn’t happy about that at all. She abruptly sat up, smacking him in the chin as she moved. Devlin grunted, putting a hand to his jaw, as Emllyn climbed off the bed.
“Listen to me and listen well,” she said angrily, pointing a finger at him. “I do not care about remarriage. You will be my husband and you will be the only one I have, and I will shout to the heavens how proud I am to be Lady de Bermingham. Don’t you dare say that you will perish in this battle, do you hear? I’ll not listen to you.”
He put up a placating hand in the face of an angry lady. “As you say,” he said, meek and submissive. “I did not intend to upset you. I am simply trying to think of you.”
“You make what we have between us sound cheap!”
He sat up, genuinely trying to soothe her. “I would never do that,” he insisted. “I was simply trying to… God’s blood, I don’t know what I was trying to do. Get into bed with me this instant and stop your scolding. I’ll not have our last few hours together be filled with anger.”
Emllyn cooled. She didn’t want any anger between them, either. But she pretended to be stubborn. “I will not get back into bed until you tell me you love me.”
“I love you with all that I am.”
“Swear it.”
“I do, a thousand times over.”
“Swear you will return to me.”
He paused, gazing at her with warmth and adoration. Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto the bed beside him. Emllyn wrapped her arms around his neck and together, they fell back onto the bed. Gone was the scolding, now replaced by a warm and fluid tenderness.
As Devlin kissed her neck gently, peeling back the top of her shift in his hunt for more delicious fruits, she wrapped herself around him and gave herself over to completely. Devlin buried himself in her softness.
“If I have control over my own fate, know that I will do everything in my power to return to you,” he murmured. “But if I don’t….”
“Do not say that!”
“If I don’t,” he said, louder, “then it is my wish that you marry a man who will be good to you. I want to know you are well taken care of and treated with the greatest of respect.”
Emllyn’s eyes filled with tears at the thought of Devlin not returning. “Please,” she whispered tightly. “Do not say such things. I cannot bear it.”
He stopped kissing her and grasped her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. Tears streamed down her temples and he tenderly kissed them away.
“Such is the life of a wife of a knight,” he murmured. “There is always the possibility that I will not return and it something you must live with. But know this; you have shown me more about joy and love in the few short weeks that I’ve known you than I’ve ever been shown in my entire life. If I die tomorrow, I die a contented man and it is you who have made it so. But if I return, it will be to live every day with you by my side, a better man than I have ever been.”
There were still tears in Emllyn’s eyes but there was great happiness there as well. She put her hands on his face, feeling the warmth against her skin.
“Please, Dev,” she murmured. “Can we please be married before you go?”
He sighed heavily. Of course, he want to marry her immediately, this very moment, but he was honest with her when he said he thought it would be easier for her to marry well were she not the widow of a hated Irish rebel. Still, it would be his fondest desire to call her wife before he headed off to battle. He wanted it as badly as she did.
“I am not entirely sure we can find a priest at this hour,” he said.
Emllyn nodded eagerly. “We can,” she said. “De Noble has a priest who gives mass every Sunday. There is a chapel to the east of the keep.”
“Outside of the walls?”
“Aye.”
He could see how excited she was. He didn’t have the heart to deny her. Therefore, he pushed himself off the bed and headed for the chamber door.
“Then I shall return for you,” he said. “Make sure you are dressed and waiting. I will seek out de Noble and have him send for the priest.”
Emllyn was thrilled beyond measure; it was almost enough to make her forget her fear of the impending battle. “Do you think he will?” she teased. “After all, you will be marrying the woman he wants for himself.”
Devlin gave her a wry expression. “I will twist his arm if he doesn’t help me,” he said. “I might even kick him.”
Emllyn giggled as he winked at her and quit the chamber. Quickly, she dressed in the pale green silk she had worn to the feast. Then, she ran to wake up Elyse. Surely the woman would want to attend a wedding.
Together, the women waited for Devlin to return and he did, nearly two hours later. There was very little time for the ceremony before the knights had to dress for the impending battle march, so before Victor, de Noble, Elyse, Connaught, and Trevor, Emllyn wed Devlin in a ceremony that took place in de Noble’s solar. Having no ring to give her new husband, Emllyn gave him the incomplete embroidery she had made instead. It was all she had to give and it said everything she wanted to say.
Everything leads me to thee.
When Devlin rode from the gates just before sunrise, it was with that piece of half-finished sewing next to his heart.
∾
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Eleven days later
Men had been trickling back for two days now. Beaten, bloodied, the men of de Noble’s command returned to Glenteige telling stories of horror. At first, Emllyn had posted herself at the gates of the settlement, watching every single soldier who passed by and asking them of the battle. She particularly wanted to know of Devlin and Victor, but so far, no one could seem to tell her much of anything. The stories were much the same, however; the O’Byrnes would not go quietly. It had been a blood bath.
But Emllyn would not give up her vigil. She had been at the gatehouse of Glenteige for two straight days, even sleeping inside the small sentry room that was just inside of the great gates. The soldiers had given the woman their cot. On the morning of the third day of her lonely and apprehensive vigil, Emllyn was awoken from a restless sleep by Merradoc.
She could barely see the old physic in the light of the early morning as he quietly roused her. Somewhat startled to see him, she sat up on the creaking cot, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
“Merradoc?” she said. “What is amiss?”
Merradoc shushed her quietly, draping a cloak over her shoulders in the cool temperatures. “Nothing is amiss,” he said. “I came to see how you were faring. Elyse is concerned.”
Emllyn yawned as she pulled the cloak more tightly around her shoulders. “I am well,” she said. “How is Elyse?”
Merradoc sat next to her on the cot. “She cries constantly,” he said. “But she remains in her solar, trying to keep busy.”
“I asked her to come and wait with me.”
Merradoc gave her a wry grin. “She will not leave the comfort of her rooms, you know that,” he said. “Moreover, she will not let Connaught see that she has been waiting for him. She is very prideful.”
Emllyn laughed softly. “Never let it be said that Elyse has waited for any man.”
“Precisely.”
Emllyn yawned again and looped her arm affectionately through Merradoc’s, leaning her head against his shoulder. “
Seventeen men returned last night,” she said softly.
“I know.”
“None of them could tell me anything about Devlin, although one man said he saw him fighting near Black Castle’s keep several days ago,” she murmured. “At least now I know he made it inside.”
Merradoc patted her hand comfortingly. “Truly, girl,” he said. “You must learn to be braver if you are to be the wife of a great warrior. If you worry like this every time de Bermingham goes off to fight, then you are going to drive yourself into an early grave.”
She eyed him. “What would the Romans do?”
“Throw a lavish party to wait it out.”
Emllyn grinned. “I hope to get better with practice,” she said. “This is my first battle with him. Do take that into consideration.”
Merradoc patted her hand again, noticing that the sentries outside were preparing to open the gates for the day to come. It was usual for them to crank open the great wood and iron panels before daybreak so the farmers could enter the city and conduct business. Emllyn yawned again and he gave her a tug.
“Come back to the keep with me,” he said. “Let’s get a good meal into you and mayhap a bath. Then you can return to your lonely vigil of watching men return from battle.”
Emllyn almost refused but on second thought, she rather wanted a bath. Two days of sleeping on a dirty cot in a cold room with a dirt floor was wearing on her. Perhaps she should allow herself a bit of comfort. With a reluctant nod, she stood up next to the man and allowed him to lead her from the room.
It was cold and dark in the gatehouse as they turned for the village, which was just now coming alive. People were out, preparing for the day, as the great gates slowly opened behind them. Emllyn was exhausted, holding on to Merradoc’s arm as they moved away from the gatehouse, thinking of sleeping in her own bed for a few hours before returning to her vigil. They hadn’t gone too far when they heard the sentries take up the cry.
More returning soldiers were sighted.
Emllyn paused, turning to the gates as the sentries moved about urgently. Merradoc saw the look on her face, knowing he could never remove her now, so he sighed heavily and turned her back around for the house. Slowly, they made their way in that direction. By the time they reached the gates, they caught sight of three soldiers stumbling towards them. It took Emllyn a moment to realize that one of them was a badly wounded Trevor.
She gasped at the sight of him, being dragged by two other men, and she broke out in a run. Merradoc was right behind her, as were several soldiers, and they took Trevor from the two exhausted men who had been trying to carry him. Very carefully, they lowered him to the ground.
“Blankets!” Emllyn snapped at the nearest soldier. “In the guard room; get the blankets from the bed!”
The man went on the run as Emllyn returned her attention to Trevor. He was on the ground now with Merradoc leaning over him, and Emllyn sat down by his head, cradling it so it would not be on the cold, moist grass. She could hardly look at what Merradoc was doing, inspecting the rather gaping wound in the man’s torso that was hastily wrapped. It was a horrific sight and tears sprang to her eyes.
“Oh… Trevor,” she breathed. “Do not worry; Merradoc will fix you as good as new.”
As she said it, Merradoc cast her a long glance and grimly shook his head. Emllyn bit off her sobs, feeling Trevor’s loss already as she stroked the man’s clammy head.
“All will be well,” she assured him tightly. “Trevor, what happened? Is the battle over?”
Trevor was as white as snow and his lips were an odd shade of gray. He squeezed his eyes shut and tears streamed down his temples. It was indicative of his pain and sorrow. Emllyn began to openly sob, reaching down to hold the man’s hand tightly. He knew he was dying; they both did.
“Have no fear,” she wept, squeezing his hand. “I am here. You are not alone.”
Trevor’s entire body was trembling as he opened his eyes again and looked at her. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “I should have told you….”
Emllyn gazed into his pale face, thinking that perhaps she already knew what he meant. “There is nothing to forgive,” she assured him, stroking his head. “You had no interest in me. I am not angry with you in the least, truly.”
Trevor looked up at her, his eyes muddled and red. His mouth worked as if he wanted to say something more but he ended up sighing heavily and closing his eyes. It was just too difficult for him to speak. Still, there were things Emllyn had to know. He’d spent three days trying to make his way back to Glenteige; he had to tell her what he had seen. She had to know.
“De Noble and his men went to the castle gates to create a diversion,” he muttered, grunting when Merradoc did something to his wound that Emllyn refused to see. “I went… went with Sir Victor and de Bermingham. While de Noble held the attention of the O’Byrne army, we climbed the old sea steps that took us into the rear of the keep. There were men in the bottom of the keep, de Bermingham’s men that the O’Byrne had captured, and they helped us take the keep.”
He faded off and Emllyn shook him gently. She was hanging on every word. Don’t stop now!
“Trevor,” she pleaded softly. “Where is Devlin? Where is Victor?”
Trevor coughed, bringing up gobs of black blood. Emllyn flinched but she didn’t become ill at the sight, as horrible as it was; using her cloak, she wiped the blood from around his mouth and neck. Trevor spoke with a red tongue and red teeth.
“We… we held the keep as de Bermingham and Victor and de Noble charged into the ward to regain the rest of the fortress,” he mumbled. His voice was becoming weaker. “We could see the fighting from the keep; de Bermingham fought his way through swarms of O’Byrnes as he tried to get to the gates. He was able to make it and the gates partially opened, and de Noble’s men poured into the gap. It was truly a sight to see, Emllyn… it was a sea of men and swords. When the swords fell, they used their hands. Clothes were torn, flesh was damaged. It was terrible.”
Emllyn was nearly mad with concern. “Where is Devlin?” she demanded. “What happened to my husband?”
Trevor’s eyes opened and he gazed at her; she could see the life fading. His eyes were dulling rapidly. “I… I could see that the battle was very bad indeed,” he whispered. “Connaught held the keep while de Ferrer and I went out to help. It was complete chaos; those who were not fighting were fleeing. Men were running from Black Castle with horses and their arms laden with goods. It was clear that Devlin and de Noble were gaining the advantage because the O’Byrne were running for their lives. Then, towards sunset, I saw de Bermingham in a mortal battle with a big Irish warrior. He seemed to know him. He called him Freddy.”
Emllyn’s emotions took another hit with that stunning news. “Frederick,” she breathed. “That was the man who betrayed him. He was the one who let the O’Byrne take Black Castle.”
“De Bermingham killed him,” Trevor muttered. “I saw it myself. He cut his head off and then threw the head and the man’s body into the sea.”
Emllyn closed her eyes tightly to that horrible scene, swallowing away the nausea she felt. But her eyes opened once again and focused on Trevor. “Was Devlin well after that?” she asked. “Was he wounded in his battle with Frederick?”
Trevor’s eyes closed again. “He did not seem to be,” he whispered. “But de Ferrer did not survive… I saw him fall. After that… the battle lasted all night and the next day, too. Those who did not flee were killed. There were bodies of the dead everywhere. I did not see de Bermingham or Victor or de Noble again once the battle waned. But I found this.”
Clumsily, he reached into his torn and bloodied vest and pulled forth a piece of material. He held it up to Emllyn and she immediately recognized it; Everything leads me to thee. It was the embroidery she had given Devlin on their wedding day.
Emllyn stared at it; it was muddied and torn, as if had been stepped on and buried in the dirt. As she stared at it, she could feel Merradoc’s hand o
n her arm. He was pulling gently at her, trying to force her to stand up, but she couldn’t hear him. She was in a fog, a fog that swathed her in memories and reflections, something that prevented her from screaming out as she saw the symbol of her love for Devlin crumpled in her hand. It was a fog of self-protection, a pain too deep for tears. In one swift motion, her heart was ripped out and she hadn’t even felt it. She was hollow.
“Emllyn,” Trevor was grasping at her. “I do not know where your husband may be. When O’Byrne fled, I know that several men went after them. De Bermingham might have been among those who gave chase. I simply do not know. I was chasing the last of the O’Byrne out when I was gored. I… I knew I had to make it back here to tell you what I saw.”
Emllyn was still staring at the fabric but she heard Trevor’s words. In her haze of sorrow, it was all she heard.
“Thank you,” she murmured. She realized she was still holding onto his hand and she squeezed it tightly. “If… if you did not see his body, then he must be somewhere else. He is not dead.”
“Nay… he is not,” Trevor breathed, although he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. He simply said it for Emllyn’s sake. “It was so chaotic in the battle that it was possible your favor fell and he didn’t even realize it. You… you will tell him something when next you see him.”
“What would you have me tell him?”
Trevor was so weak that he could no longer hold on to her. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open. “You will tell him… tell him that it was a privilege to serve under Black Sword.”
Emllyn watched him take two more breaths and then he was gone. Clutching Devlin’s wedding embroidery against her chest, she wept deep and painful tears for the man who had brought her and Devlin together.
∾
They buried Trevor in Glenteige’s small cemetery, placing him in a lovely spot near an oak tree that had been there for hundreds of years. It was peaceful and serene. After the burial, Emllyn sat next to the grave for the rest of the day, pondering Trevor’s short life and wondering if she would soon be sitting next to Devlin’s grave as well. The embroidery Trevor had returned to her had become a permanent part of her body, as much as a finger or an ear. It was clasped in her left hand, never to leave it. When she held it, she felt very close to Devlin.
Lords of Eire: An Irish Medieval Romance Bundle Page 70
