Chapter Nineteen
The trouble Shive had feared all along came early the following morning when a young boy in filthy rags came riding up to the gates of the castle on a sway-backed old mare. He was soaked to the skin from the torrential rains that had started the evening before, and was shivering so badly with cold and terror that he could barely speak.
Cian recognized the child when he came out of his workshop to see what all the commotion was about. “It’s Tadhg, from Breachnach, one of our outlying villages to the west.”
“Can you tell me what’s wrong, Tadhg?” Shive asked gently, seeing that the boy shied away from the huge men towering over him.
Shive had been in the courtyard about to go through the early morning drill with the troops when the boy had come tearing in.
The one word Tadhg uttered was enough to still everyone on the estate for a several moments.
“Vikings!” he gasped.
“Dear God!” Shive crossed herself, and grasped the boy’s shoulder. “When did they attack? How many of them?”
“Three hundred at least,” the boy revealed.
“Irial, the horses, now! My men come with me, along with groups of fifty under Cian, Oisin and Irial. Mahon, I want you to send out messengers to start mustering men from the other villages in the west. There’s no telling where they will attack next. We will need patrols as well from now on, Mahon, especially outside of these walls. And I also need volunteers to ride out to find Tiernan and give him the message to meet us at Breachnach,” Shive ordered.
She went into the castle portal for a moment to shout to Mairead to get food ready for the troops, and then dashed up the ladder for her weapons and cloak.
Cian ran after her hurriedly. “Shive, you can’t go!” he began to protest. “I promised Tiernan I would protect you. You stay here to look after things. I’ll--”
“No, Cian, I’m going and that’s final. We also need bandages and medicine. See to it yourself. We leave in ten minutes,” Shive commanded, racing back into her workroom to get cloth and her sewing kit to help the wounded.
Then she ran to the kitchen to pick up the supplies of cold meat, cheese and bread organised for the men, and as an after thought added several skins of wine.
Cian moved to help her with her burdens. Several other men came to help distribute the rations into various saddlebags.
“Shive, I really don't think--” Cian tried to discourage her again.
Shive was adamant. “Cian, I’m going to Breachnach, and I’m ready to fight. Make no mistake. If we find the Vikings, we'll have to stop them from pressing further into our territory. We all know what will happen if they do,” Shive said grimly.
She swung up into her saddle. She raised herself up in her stirrups and stood on the horse’s back in order to issue her commands. She wanted to prove her worth to her new clan, and wanted to show Tiernan and Cian and the rest of the O’Haras that she could be relied upon to look after things.
“Ride out, now, with two scouts up ahead for the first five miles,” she ordered. “And you, Stiofan, don’t open this gate to anyone other than myself or Tiernan or Cian.”
Then she sat her horse, spurred her mount and went thundering out of gates of Castlegarren.
The journey to the village of Breachnach seemed interminably long, but after three hours of hard riding in the daylight on their fine beasts, they reached the devastated village.
The eerie silence enveloped them, and Shive nearly swooned. The dead and wounded lay everywhere like so many rag dolls. Every building had been razed to the ground, all the livestock run off, and every scrap of food stolen.
Shive’s heart burned at the injustice of it all. She asked a few of the survivors what had happened, and began to get a fairly clear idea from the tracks Oisin found that the Vikings were heading south. Shive dispatched riders to go survey the area, and was just about to begin helping more of the injured and getting accommodations organised for them for the night when her eyes lighted on a large wooden object lying on the ground.
Her hands trembled as she reached out to take it, and she sank to the ground in despair.
“Shive, what is it? Are you faint from the sight of blood? Or is it the baby?” Cian asked urgently.
“No, Cian, it was the sight of this,” she said numbly holding up what seemed to Cian to be an ordinary warrior’s shield.
“I don’t understand,” Cian asked, puzzled.
“You're looking at it upside down. Look at the pattern. It’s a hart, my family’s symbol. It was my brother Fiachra’s shield, to be precise.”
Cian stammered again, “I don’t understand...”
“Oisin, Brendan, go over to the shore and see if you see any Viking ships anywhere and report back to me,” Shive ordered as she threw the shield aside angrily and began tending the wounded.
“Shive, what are you trying to tell me?” Cian asked desperately, seeing the odd glint in her eyes.
“That either the attackers of this village were my family members dressed up as Vikings, or the Vikings landed in my family’s territory and are working for and being helped by my father Uistean MacDermot."
Cian gaped. “No, Shive, I can’t believe that. The wedding, the alliance...”
“Never meant anything to Uistean, as well you know. Oh, I’m not complaining. I wanted to marry Tiernan to make restitution somehow. I believed Father would eventually get tired of the feud and give up. It’s my own fault. I knew him for what he was, and I did nothing. I’ve been living a ridiculous idyll, like some romantic fool.” She shook her head in disgust,
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Shive. Surely none of this can be your fault!” Cian protested, bewildered.
“Don’t you see, I was so happy with Tiernan that I allowed myself to be blinded to the real dangers, ignored them, hoping they would go away. Now your family has suffered because of my stupidity,” Shive said, as tears coursed down her cheeks.
“Shive, you’re upsetting yourself for no reason. Here, let me do that. You go sit down to rest.”
“No, really, I'd rather be doing something.”
Just then Brendan and Oisin arrived back. “Not a ship or any sign of a landing to be seen, Shive,” Brendan reported.
“Then they can’t have gone far. Right, I need fifty men, now. Mount up.”
“Are you mad!” Irial began to argue with her, shaking his gray locks. “These are Vikings we’re talking about! They give no quarter, and are the most savage fighters in the world. I gave my word to your husband that I would protect you. Don’t make me break that word because of your headstrong foolishness.”
“What am I to do, Irial? Let them destroy even more villages? My father is responsible for this. I must stop it now, before it’s too late. I’m pretty sure I know where they are. We can catch them, take them by surprise. Brendan, Oisin, track them now. We’ll be a few minutes behind you.”
The men glanced at Irial and then back to Shive, and finally nodded and moved off into the forest.
“Cian, you stay here and look after the wounded.”
“Don't be daft, Shive. I’m coming with you, Tiernan would have my hide if I let you do this on your own. I’m not even sure I’m going to let you do this. I could just knock you out and tie you up.”
She gave a tight smile. “You wouldn’t, Cian . You’re too much of a gentleman for that. Besides, you know I would never forgive you if you didn’t let me have this chance to put everything right. This is all my fault, for being so blind.”
Cian would have pressed her for further information, but she had already stepped away to issue further orders about food and shelter for the night in case they were some time returning to the castle, and swung back up into her saddle with a determined air.
Brendan and Oisin signaled to her from about three hundred yards up the track, and Shive spurred her horse forward. As luck would have it, after about an hour of hard riding, Shive’s band of men found the Vikings resting by the side of a
small lough.
“At them, men. No quarter given!” Shive urged as she spurred her mount forward.
The fighting was some of the bloodiest Shive had ever witnessed, but she was not about to back down from this fight. Not after what she had seen in the defenseless village that morning. She hacked, punched and slashed her way through the enemy side by side with her valiant troops, until at last not a single Viking was fit to raise a sword.
“Should we bury them?” Cian asked breathlessly after they had surveyed the field and seen that all of them were dying or dead.
“Nay, leave them for the wolves. It’s all they deserve,” Shive said disgustedly, and sheathed her blood-drenched sword.
"We'll interrogate the ones still alive, and see why—"
"Nay. don't bother. I know why."
She shook her head in disgust and wiped some of the blood off her face. Cian was relieved to see it was not her own.
“Shive, this can’t be good for you. Please sit down and rest,” Cian requested softly.
“We need to bury our own dead, Cian. Then we have to get back to the village to help the wounded,” Shive said in a firm tone, trying to stamp out any feelings of remorse she might have about the slaughter of so many. But Tiernan had lost far too much because of her family already, ,to run the risk of any Vikings being left to cause havoc on his lands.
Fortunately, Shive’s wounded amounted to less than ten, with only two of the younger warriors dead, but they were all exhausted after the fray. They sat down and hastily ate some of the food Cian and Shive had brought in their saddlebags, and thirstily drank from the lough and splashed their blood-bespattered faces.
Shive sat neither eating nor drinking, as she tried to come to terms with what Uistean had done. The previous attacks on Tiernan’s family had been bad enough. At least they had been upon the clan’s castles, full of men trained to fight. But attacking a harmless village? And employing Vikings to do it? It was unheard of. The last thing any respectable Irishman would do was to invite invaders to his own country, unless of course...
In a blinding flash, all became as clear as the cool water of the lough before her. If Shive had stopped to think about it all sooner, how many lives might have been saved?
“Shive, please, you must eat something,” Cian urged, when he saw her go pale suddenly.
“N-n-no, I’m going back to the village first," she stammered, stunned by the enormity of her father's nefarious plot. "Then I’m going back to Rathnamagh to see Uistean.”
Cian frowned, confused at her referring to him by his given name. “Your father?"
She nodded.
"Shive, if he really is responsible for all this, do you think that’s wise?”
“It may not be wise, Cian, but it’s what I have to do.”
“Tiernan will never let you go,” Cian protested.
“That’s why I’m not going to tell him. And you aren’t either, Cian. Not until it’s all over one way or the other.”
“My God, what are you saying?”
She raised her gaze to meet his head on, and hoped she sounded more certain than she felt. Uistean was nothing if not wily. “I’m going to expose the whole truth once and for all, no matter what the cost. You and Tiernan and the rest of your clan are not going to go on suffering for something none of you did, all because of the sick hatred and ambition of one foolish and evil old man.” Shive rose to her feet purposefully and grabbed the reins of her horse.
“Please, whatever's troubling you, at least talk it over with Tiernan if not with me!”
Shive shook her head bitterly. “Do you think Tiernan will ever want to see me again after what's happened here today?”
“Even if your father is responsible, you can’t be held to blame for his actions!” Cian insisted, shaking her by the shoulders.
“Can’t I? Some people might say I was part of this plot. That I married Tiernan in order to lull him into a false sense of security so that we could devastate his lands when he least suspected it. When he was out on campaign on the opposite side of his territory.”
“Anyone who thought that would be a fool!” Cian said angrily. “Surely these three hundred dead Vikings prove that.”
Shive’s voice was firm as she commanded, “Let go of me, Cian. I thank you for your friendship and your concern. But this is my life, and I'm going to start leading it as I see fit. Not as you or my father or even Tiernan would have me lead it.”
“Tiernan is your husband! You love him, I know you do!” Cian yelled as Shive swung into the saddle.
“He won’t want to be my husband for much longer when he finds out the truth about all this. In any case, he would laugh himself silly if I were ever foolish enough to tell him I loved him. Tiernan doesn’t want my love. He never has. After today, he will probably only want my blood. In spite of everything you’ve just said, this is my fault. I've known for weeks now who killed Fiachra, yet I did nothing about my awful discovery. I should have known he wouldn't stop there. I was living in a fool's paradise for a time, a silly, romantic idyll because I fell in love with Tiernan. But this is the real world we live in." She pointed to the wounded being tended to by the other men. "I didn't act before, and yes, I do blame myself. But I blame the man responsible more than anyone, and I’m going to bring him to justice for his crimes right now. Just as soon as I go back to the village to tend the wounded."
Spurring her horse, Shive galloped off into the woods, leaving the rest of the men to follow on behind, including the bewildered and very frightened Cian. He had no idea what had got into Shive’s head, but she was behaving completely irrationally.
Yet perhaps she was right. Maybe Tiernan would blame her, and cast her off.
In the end, as he rode back to Breachnach, Cian decided not to interfere unless he were certain Shive were in danger. He couldn’t tell anyone about his fears, least of all Tiernan. They were so vague and formless, he wasn’t sure he could even begin to put them into words. What could Shive possibly think she could do against her brother's killer… Who was it? Surely not…. And what proof do she have against him?
Shive rode back to the sacked village like a woman possessed. Without even troubling to wash the blood of the dead Vikings from her hands and cheeks, she proceeded to tend to the wounded.
Many already festering limbs had to be amputated, but Shive never once cringed as she wielded her sharp hunting knife to help excise the flesh from the bones cleanly, before one of the other men applied a small saw. Then she sewed up the wounds as neatly as she could, and moved on down the row of wounded to tend to the next patient.
She was in the middle of a particularly tricky amputation when at last Tiernan came riding up into the village with his small band of men.
“My God, what's happened here?” Tiernan exclaimed softly as he dropped out of the saddle to the ground heavily. Silent and white-faced, he took in the scene of devastation.
His gaze met Shive's over the body of the injured man she was treating. His jaw set hard.
Shive longed to go to Tiernan, to try to comfort him, but she couldn’t stop what she was doing without risking the injured man’s life.
Tiernan immediately threw off his cloak and began to help more of the wounded, while Cian appraised him of the situation in a few words.
“There was a Viking attack. Young Tadhg came to warn us. This is all that’s left now after their raid,” Cian informed his brother quietly.
“God damn them to hell! Why us, of all people? Talk about the worst luck in the world!” Tiernan bellowed angrily, pounding one fist in the palm of his other hand.
Cian held his tongue and said nothing.
Shive overhead Tiernan’s agonized words, and knew she would have to tell him the truth, sooner rather than later.
Tiernan finally approached Shive just as she was finishing sewing her patient’s arm, and declared, “I would speak with you as soon as you are finished there, Shive.”
“I’m finished now, my lord,” Shive said
as she tied off the bandage around the man’s arm, and rose.
Tiernan took her by the elbow and led her to a small thicket, where he turned her to face him abruptly.
“Are you mad coming here like this? What if the Vikings had still been about and harmed you? And to see you sitting there amputating a man’s arm! I will not have my wife exposed to such horrors, do you hear me?”
“Tiernan, I had to do something to help, and ‘tis well that I did come. I know you’ll be even more devastated by what I have to tell you, but in truth this was no random Viking attack.”
He stared at her for several moments. “What do you mean? These strange Vikings picked this village on purpose? How? Why?”
Shive looked at the ground. Tiernan shook her roughly by the shoulders.
The Hart and the Harp Page 19
