Lords of Eire: An Irish Medieval Romance Bundle

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Micheline heart sank, trembling so badly that she could hardly speak. "If you are referring to those who would aid an innocent woman, then I believe you are mistaken. They have done nothing wrong."

  Behind her, Gilly suddenly bolted, racing from the kitchen and out into the yard. Edmund made no move to stop the girl, instead, retrieving an object behind him. Micheline noticed he had leaned a massive broadsword against the stone wall and, with a sinister smirk, glanced pointedly at his wife.

  "You are supposed to be dead, baroness."

  He was almost scolding her. Micheline swallowed hard, trying to shield both Valdine and Wanda from what was sure to come. "But I am not. And I do not plan on dying for a long, long time."

  Edmund ran his finger across the edge of the sword, a disturbingly deliberate gesture. "Plans are meant to be changed, baroness. I can see now that I must finish Corwin's duty. And when I am finished with you, it will be my pleasure to make Lady Martin and her sister pay for the crimes of my disobedient knight."

  Micheline ran cold, taking a step back. In fact, all three ladies were stepping back. "Why would you do this, Edmund? We have done nothing wrong."

  Edmund seemed not to hear her words as he continued to inspect the sword. "In truth, I never suspected that Corwin disobeyed me. Not until this very day. When I saw Valdine and Wanda in the yard speaking with Sir Spencer, I thought the knight was somehow coercing them to move against me and I was wise enough to follow them as they fled to the tower. But I never expected to discover the great secret between the knight and the ladies to be my supposedly-dead wife." He looked at the pale faces of Valdine and Wanda. "Isn't that what you were discussing with him, ladies? The woman my loyal knight was supposed to do away with?"

  Micheline would not let them further endanger themselves with an admission. "To spare a life is never wrong, Edmund."

  Johanne moved away from the captive servants, still clutching the spit. "But to disobey one's liege most certainly is. A conspiracy of lies that is punishable by death." She fixed Micheline in the eye. "This is your fault, Lady Micheline. If you had remained obedient to your husband, we would not have been forced to do away with you. You have your own foolish behavior to blame for the deaths of these people who have helped you."

  Micheline turned to Johanne, hating the woman more than she could express. "My behavior may have been foolish, as you put it, but at least it was innocent and pure of heart. Something you yourself can hardly claim."

  Johanne flared, the flicker of madness in her eyes. "But I am an innocent, my lady, referring to the relationship of which you no doubt speak. To learn the art of passion from a man of the same flesh has kept me pure for my husband. My flesh has not been polluted by the touch of an outsider. If you had understood this, we would not have had to do away with you."

  Micheline was baffled. Terrified and baffled. "That's nonsense. Incest is the very worst of sins and certainly you cannot claim purity. And where on earth do you suppose you would find a husband who would agree with your reasoning?"

  "The one man who is worthy of me!" Johanne exploded. "I have waited years for Kirk to realize I am the only woman in the world for him, not those foolish wenches who whisper sweet words or taint him with their crude touch!"

  Micheline continued to back away, pushing Valdine and Wanda along. "That's madness, Johanne. Kirk can never love you. He loves Mara!"

  The taut expression on Johanne's face slackened, melted, drained away. She stared at Micheline, her frail chest heaving unsteadily. Slowly, with the flame of insanity in her eyes growing brighter by the moment, she turned to her brother.

  "Is this true?"

  "Johanne, I...."

  "Is this true?"

  Edmund’s attention was diverted from Micheline. "I sent her away, love. She's no longer a threat to you or to Kirk."

  Johanne clutched the spit tightly, the flesh on her face tightening until she was hardly recognizable. As the three ladies continued to shrink from the volatile confrontation, Johanne took on the madness of the Devil himself.

  "You bastard," she hissed. "You have known all along. Why did not you tell me?"

  Edmund struggled to maintain control. "Because it doesn't matter. She is gone now and you do not have to worry over her."

  "But...!" Spittle dropped from Johanne's lips. "Why did not you let me wish her away? I should have wished her away!"

  "It doesn't matter..."

  "It matters!" Johanne shouted. Against the wall, the cook and Robert's mother were weeping with fright, growing louder as their mad mistress bellowed. "Of all the women I have wished away, Mara matters most. If Kirk loves her, then she cannot live!"

  Beads of sweat peppered Edmund’s brow. The woman he controlled so easily had turned the tables on him and he saw clearly that he was no longer in control. Johanne was lord and master, dominating him, bending him to her will. All of these years Edmund thought it was he who had reigned supreme over the realm of The Darkland, but he could see, simply, that Johanne was the ruler of their world. And it was he who had always submitted to her every whim.

  He realized that now. He did not know why he hadn't seen it before. The more Johanne raged, the more frightened he became.

  "She's gone, Johanne," he said quietly. "She's le Vay's wife now and you cannot harm her. Nothing can."

  Johanne continued to stare at him, her pale eyes twitching ominously. Suddenly, she lifted an eyebrow. "I see now, Edmund," she murmured, a bitter smile coming to her lips. "Oh, yes. I see quite clearly now. You did not want to kill her. You love her, too!"

  Edmund shook his head. "Nay, Johanne, I do not."

  Johanne nodded wildly, her lips hanging open and oh-so-sure of her demented conclusion. "You would not permit me to kill her because you loved her beauty and spirit. You sent her away so that I would not discover the truth!"

  "Nay, Johanne!"

  "She has taken both you and Kirk away from me!"

  "Johanne, listen to yourself!" Edmund pleaded. "You're mad, love, simply mad!"

  Johanne growled deep in her throat, bringing the spit up and wielding it like a spear. Edmund screamed but was unable to evade the weapon as she plunged it deep into his belly, twisting the rod brutally and loving every moment of his suffering. Micheline, jolted with horror, shoved Valdine and Wanda toward the open kitchen door.

  "Run!"

  The women obeyed. Leaving the screaming and grunting behind them, they raced from the kitchen in the same direction Gilly had taken. Emerging into the yard, they were immediately confronted by Sir Spencer. Having been summoned by the terrified young girl, the man was fully prepared to do battle. Micheline pushed the twins in his direction.

  "My lord, save us!" she cried. "Johanne has gone mad!"

  Spencer recognized the twins, assuming that the frantic woman behind them was none other than Lady Micheline. He charged forward, placing himself between the terrified ladies and the open kitchen door.

  "Where is she?"

  Micheline and the twins were huddled by the tunnel entrance, trembling with fright. Robert, Gilly and Fiona joined them, creating a fearful flock.

  "Inside," Micheline gasped. "She stabbed Edmund and I fear she comes for us!"

  Sword raised defensively, Spencer turned to the darkened doorway. It was difficult to see anything but he could hear faint whimpers emitting from inside. Moving slightly to gain a better look, he kept his weapon leveled in front on him.

  A long metal spit suddenly came hurling out of the darkness, striking Spencer' sword. He grunted with surprise as the weapon went flying, taking a step back as Johanne emerged from the kitchens. She collected the spit from the ground before the knight could reach it and Spencer raised his armored forearm in time to fend off two heavy blows.

  Taking another step back, he slipped on a pile of animal dung and nearly lost his balance. Howling like a fiend, Johanne took the opportunity to thrust the spit at his groin and Spencer could no longer deny the fact that his life was in serious jeopardy. The woman wa
s determined to kill him and he was equally determined to defend himself. But he needed his weapon.

  It was several feet away. Robert, seeing that Spencer was in trouble, broke from the frightened cluster of women and children, hurling himself toward the steel blade. Losing his footing, he ended up on his buttocks, spinning wildly through the mud. But the slick motion deposited him next to broadsword and he grabbed the thing, using all of his strength to toss it in Spencer' direction.

  "Sir Knight!" he shouted. "Your weapon!"

  Spencer' hand was up, catching the clumsy toss. Instantly, he lifted his sword in the path of the screaming lady, knowing that very shortly it would be life or death for one of them. Johanne jabbed the spear again, this time at his neck, and Spencer had no choice but to respond. Without regrets, he deftly parried her thrust and drove his broadsword deep into her fragile chest. Gasping and twisting, Johanne fell to the ground in a dying heap of blood and foam.

  Spencer stood over the woman as she cursed him soundly and breathed her last. Raising his visor with a shaking hand, he turned to the huddle of women and children behind him.

  "God's Blood," he exhaled slowly. "What in the hell has happened here?"

  Micheline stared at Johanne's contorted form, her eyes wide with shock. After a moment, she released Valdine and made her way, however hesitantly, toward Sir Spencer.

  "She... she went mad, my lord," she breathed, still too fearful to draw any closer to Johanne's corpse as if it would rise up and attack her. "She killed her brother in a rage when she learned that Kirk loved my sister."

  Spencer' pale eyes stared at Micheline a moment before passing a long glance at the lady he had killed in self-defense. He simply shook his head.

  "I did not want to kill her but she gave me no choice," he said hoarsely. "I fear she would have killed us all."

  Micheline nodded firmly, pulling the scarf away from her head. Soft brown hair tumbled down her back as she stared at the dead woman, hardly daring to believe that it was over. The madness, the fear, the torture; with the swift stroke of a broadsword, the conclusion had not been pleasant, but it had been swift. And she wasn't sorry in the least.

  "I realize that," she said quietly. "You were simply protecting us, Sir Spencer, and I am ever grateful."

  Spencer couldn't decide if he was disturbed over what had happen more than he was satisfied. He had killed a woman, which went against everything he believed in. But given The Darkland's reputation, he suspected he had done a great service to many. And paid vengeance for others.

  He turned to Micheline, noticing in a softer, more average way that she resembled her sister. In fact, he thought her to be rather pretty.

  "And you, my lady?" His baritone was soft. "Are you well?"

  Micheline nodded. "Well enough. Better still now that Johanne and Edmund have been sent where they belong - to the bowels of hell to pay for their horrible sins."

  Spencer did not know what else to say. Around them, the occupants of the kitchen yard emerged from their hiding places, daring to come forward to see what had become of their mad mistress. She was dead, as was her brother, disemboweled on the floor of the great kitchen. Though it was wicked to think of celebrating such an event, Micheline realized she was considering that very thing.

  Spencer thought he caught a glimpse of a very relieved smile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The funeral for Kirk's parents had been short, to the point. A lass from the kitchens of Wicklow sang a sorrowful Irish folk ballad, driving Steven to tears as the grave was filled. Ryan Connaught was buried holding his wife, the two of them wrapped in the linens from their wedding bed.

  Somberly, the small collection of mourners made their way back to the Castle, the walls slowly rebuilt by a workforce of soldiers and peasants. Kirk had personally screened every one of the Irish peasants before allowing them to repair his beloved Wicklow. Convinced there were no spies or rebels among them, he was satisfied with the progress.

  Niles and Albert had already been sent home on one of the de Cleveley boats. With all of the chaos finally quieted and a sense of order taking hold, Kirk had time to reflect on Niles' death and realized he missed his friend a great deal. But he still had Corwin, a fine fighter and companion, and he comforted himself in the fact that he had not lost the both of them. One, most certainly, was enough.

  Corwin, too, seemed particularly pensive over Niles' death. But he had been unusually quiet since setting sail for Ireland, going about his duties with silent efficiency, though Kirk had not lingered on the man's subdued mood. Mayhap it was the gloom of leaving his wife, or the distaste of battle altogether. For whatever the reason, he was unconcerned when Corwin wandered up to him after supper on the night of his parent's burial.

  The moon was full, the landscape ghostly silent. Kirk glanced at Corwin as the man came to rest beside him on the battlements, exchanging a few pleasantries before slipping into silence. As his eyes swept the countryside and keep, Kirk happened to pass a glance at Corwin and noticed the man was sweating profusely.

  "Corwin?" he asked. "Are you well, man?"

  Corwin seemed to be shaking. "Why... why do you ask, Kirk?"

  "Because you're soaked with perspiration. Are you feeling ill?"

  Corwin coughed nervously, the trembling in his body growing more evident. Kirk's brow furrowed with concern.

  "If you are ill, then mayhap you should rest. Steven can give up his bed for one night. In fact, you have not seemed well since we arrived in Ireland. Is something the matter?"

  Corwin closed his eyes as Kirk spoke, bowing his head as if to block out the question. Before Kirk was finished speaking, he made a strange choking sound and fell back against the stone parapet.

  "Oh, God… Kirk!"

  Kirk was gravely concerned. He grasped Corwin by the arms to steady him. "Corwin, what's the matter?"

  Corwin's brown eyes gushed over with tears. His gaze, wide and frantic, met Kirk. "I cannot... I cannot go on like this any longer! It is killing me!"

  "What is?" Kirk demanded softly. In truth, he was a little frightened. "What is killing you, Corwin?"

  Corwin suddenly grabbed him, holding his arms so tightly that Kirk lost feeling where the fingers bit into his flesh. "This... silence." He gasped as if it had taken all of his strength to spit it out. "I have been silent for too long and the torment is killing me!"

  Kirk tried to remain calm, to make some sense out of what Corwin was trying to say. "I do not understand, Corwin. What silence?"

  Corwin drew in a ragged breath, sagging as Kirk held him steady. The auburn head hung slack, lolling from side to side as if losing all control.

  "This silence I have carried with me for years," he whispered. "Silence that has eaten away at me, a dark silence that you can hardly comprehend. But I cannot be silent any longer! You must know what is happening!"

  Kirk's composure was slowly slipping. "Then tell me, Corwin. What is happening?"

  Corwin's head drooped again and he stared at the ground. Finally, he swallowed hard in an attempt to regain his composure. He would need all of his strength to get through this. "Dear God, Kirk, you must forgive me."

  "For what?"

  "For not being truthful with you. For not telling you what I knew, for not helping you prevent the deaths of nine innocent women."

  Kirk stared at him, the flicker of disquiet in his soul bursting into a roaring blaze. "Then be truthful with me now. What do you know?"

  Corwin lifted pain-filled eyes. "I know that Edmund ordered me to help him murder those women. He threatened to kill Valdine if I did not help him. He gave me little choice but to keep his dirty secrets."

  Kirk drew in a long, steadying breath. "I see," he murmured. The truth as he had always suspected. "Then it was you helping him all along. But the rumors pointed to Niles."

  "Edmund started those rumors to take suspicion off me. He knew you suspected that one of us was aiding him and he wanted you to believe it was Niles."

  "Because h
e had leverage against you," Kirk finished softly. "And you did what you felt you had to do in order to keep your wife safe."

  Corwin nodded miserably. "I hated myself for being so weak, Kirk. But I had no choice. Edmund gave me no choice!"

  Kirk released the man, allowing him to bump softly against the parapet. "I understand what you are saying, lad. But I do not understand why you have chosen this particular moment to confess."

  Corwin seemed to pale further, if such a thing was possible. "It... it involves Micheline...."

  Kirk grabbed him again, so hard that Corwin yelped with pain. Stone-gray eyes blazed at him. "What of Micheline? You haven't...?"

  "Nay." Corwin shook his head quickly. "But Edmund wanted to. He ordered me to kill her, but I couldn't. Instead, I locked her in the tower where she remains to this day. I was hoping you would return from Quernmore in time to take charge of the situation, but instead we were routed to Ireland sooner than expected."

  Kirk emitted a harsh sigh, his volatile emotions surging. "Damn you, Corwin! Has she been harmed?"

  "Nay."

  "What does Edmund know of her death?"

  "Only that she is dead. That I disposed of the body, as we have disposed of all the rest."

  Kirk released him, roughly, and the knight stumbled back against the stone abutment. But what terrified him the most was the fact that he wasn't finished yet.

  "There's more, Kirk."

  Kirk was chewing his lip with agitation. "Christ, what more could there possibly be?"

  Corwin swallowed. "Edmund promised to kill Valdine if I told you."

  Kirk stopped chewing his lip. He did not like the look in Corwin's eye. "Tell me what?"

  Corwin's trembling increased. In fact, he was nearly cowering. "But Valdine...."

  Kirk took a step toward him. "I shall kill her myself if you do not tell me what more there is."

  Corwin shrank, averting his gaze. When the mortal blow came, he did not want to see it. "It has to do with his plans for Mara."

  As he feared, Kirk went mad. He grabbed the knight, throwing him to the pathway of the battlement. His hands around the man's neck, he half-shoved him over the edge of the narrow walkway, a two-story drop to the ground below. Corwin gasped with terror, but his fear was nothing compared to the look of murder in Kirk's eyes.