Rory

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  desperately he wanted Tilden, he couldn't let it cloud his sense of

  right and wrong. He mustn't be the cause of an innocent girl's death.

  He let the sword drop from his hands. In the silence, it clattered to the

  floor. One of the soldiers kicked it away, to insure that Rory couldn't

  retrieve it.

  "Now kill the Blackhearted O'Neil," someone shouted, and the blades

  of a dozen swords began slicing his flesh. A sword tip pierced his

  shoulder, branding him with searing fire. Another sword thrust

  through his arm, rendering the limb useless.

  With blood streaming from a dozen wounds, Rory staggered, then

  dropped to his knees. But before the fatal plunge could be made,

  Tilden's voice broke through the shouting.

  "Nay. Hold. I want this man kept alive."

  "Why?" one of the soldiers demanded.

  "Just do as I say. Bind him and put him on a horse." Tilden shoved the

  wench ahead of him toward a small back room. "I have some

  unfinished business here." At the shouts and laughter that followed,

  he favored the others with an evil grin. "But it shouldn't take long.

  These peasant lasses are little better than bloodless corpses. When

  I've finished with her, we ride to Dublin. There is a ship leaving for

  London on the morrow. And I intend to be on it. With the

  Blackhearted O'Neil in chains." He swaggered from the room,

  already savoring his homecoming.

  With the Blackhearted O'Neil as his trophy, the queen would surely

  hail him a hero. As would all of England.

  * * *

  "Let go of me. Let go." AnnaClaire pushed furiously against the hand

  that had covered her mouth, stifling her cries. "Don't you see? I must

  go to him. I must."

  She shoved at the lad who barred her way. But despite his slight size,

  Innis was amazingly strong.

  "Nay, Englishwoman. Listen to me." He caught her arm and shoved

  her roughly against the wall, then suddenly shielded her body with his

  own as a line of soldiers trouped out, dragging Rory with them. "To

  show yourself now is to die."

  "I don't care." The tears were dangerously close to the surface, and

  she wiped at them with the back of her hand. ' 'Did you see him, all

  bloody and wounded? Innis, I must go to him."

  "What you must do is save his life," he said on a hiss of fury. "And

  you'll not do that by revealing yourself to these bastards. If you do,

  they'll do worse than kill Rory O'Neil. They'll torment him by

  torturing and killing you before his eyes. Now what do you think that

  would do to him, my lady?"

  "How would you know about such things?" The lad sounded so much

  like Rory, she could scarcely believe her ears.

  "I saw what they did to my mum. And the others." His voice was

  tight, to keep the fear at bay. "It'll take more than the two of us to save

  Rory. But at least for now he's still alive."

  When the room emptied he caught her hand, dragging her out into the

  darkness.

  "Where are we going?"

  "We must ride to Ballinarin. Our only hope now is to get the O'Neil to

  amass an army."

  AnnaClaire was grateful for the boy's cool head. For, though she

  knew that he spoke the truth, her heart broke at the thought of riding

  away and leaving Rory in the hands of his cruel captors. While she

  went through the motions, pulling herself into the saddle, taking the

  reins of her horse and following behind Innis, she couldn't get the

  image of Rory, all bloody and wounded, out of her mind.

  Chapter Seventeen

  As they raced along the road leading to Ballinarin, AnnaClaire wasn't

  certain which was pounding harder—the horses' hooves or her heart.

  The image of Rory, bloody and broken, was indelibly imprinted on

  her mind. It tore at her heart. Twisted inside her with a pain far worse

  than any knife. She had to save him. Had to. She wouldn't let herself

  think about the horrors he would have to endure. For to do so would

  leave her shattered.

  She glanced at the darkened cottages of the villagers as she rode past.

  These simple men were farmers. Crofters. Shopkeepers. For so long,

  they had been downtrodden by the whims of imperious men from

  across the sea. Even if they were to rise up to defend one of their own,

  what chance would they have against seasoned soldiers?

  Oh Rory, she thought. Hold on. Please hold on. We'll find a way.

  Following Innis' lead, she leaned low over the horse's head and urged

  him into a run until they raced across the lawns and came to a stop in

  the courtyard.

  "Wake the household," she shouted to the startled housekeeper as she

  and Innis burst through the door.

  "But, my lady, they are still abed."

  ' 'I said wake them, Mistress Finn. Tell them to come at once to the

  library." To avoid further protest AnnaClaire hurried away, with Innis

  running alongside her to keep up with her frantic pace.

  Gavin and Moira were the first to arrive. Though they were dressed, it

  was obvious that they had done so hastily, and weren't at all happy

  with being summoned like servants in their own home.

  "You'd better have good reason for this, Englishwoman," Gavin

  muttered as he drew a cloak around his shoulders and ushered his

  wife closer to the fire.

  Conor, his clothes disheveled, his hair flying, entered the room

  directly behind Briana.

  He glanced around. "Where's Rory?"

  "He's the reason I woke you." AnnaClaire stopped her pacing and

  glanced toward the doorway, where Friar Malone was just rushing in.

  He was the only one who looked as though he'd been up for hours. No

  doubt in prayer.

  "Rory's been captured by English soldiers."

  "And how would you know that?" Gavin demanded.

  "Because I witnessed it."

  The older man's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, woman?

  Explain yourself."

  "Rory planned to lead the soldiers away from Bal- linarin, in order to

  save those he loved. But he fell into a trap. When he arrived at the

  village tavern, the soldiers were expecting him."

  Briana's eyes rounded. "Is he dead then?"

  "Nay." AnnaClaire heard the collective sigh of relief from his family.

  "But he was wounded. There were dozens of soldiers surrounding

  him as they led him away."

  "Where will they take him?" Gavin asked.

  "Tilden said he would take him to England."

  Conor caught her arm in a rough grasp. "Tilden? That bastard's here?"

  "Aye. He was the bait they used to trap Rory."

  His eyes were hot and fierce. "And how is it that you were able to

  witness all this? How did you know what Rory was planning?"

  "He came upon me as I was preparing to leave."

  "Leave?" Gavin's tone was clipped. He took a step toward her.

  "I was...planning to ride to the village and give myself up to the

  soldiers."

  The older man's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So that you could lead

  them to Rory?"

  "Nay. So that I could lead them away. But when Rory heard my plan,

  he insisted that his was better. And safer. When I tried to stop him, he

  bound my ha
nds and feet so I couldn't follow."

  "Bound hand and foot and still you managed to escape?" It was clear

  that Gavin O'Neil didn't believe her.

  "'Tis true," Innis said softly. "I heard her struggling. When I freed the

  lady and heard that she planned to go to the village alone, I insisted on

  going with her."

  "Two fools. Two bloody fools." Gavin began to pace furiously before

  the fire. "I'll summon the chieftains of every village. Within days I'll

  have an army assembled. We'll stop the bastards."

  AnnaClaire shook her head. ' 'Even a day or two willbe too late. By

  then Rory will be on his way to Fleet Prison."

  "Damn them. Damn them all." Though Gavin was itching for a fight,

  he could see the wisdom of her words. "Aye. The bastards will want

  to parade their prize before the queen." He turned to his middle son.

  "Conor, you'll go to England at once. Use whatever contacts you have

  to prepare a defense of Rory at the Court of Elizabeth while I prepare

  an army."

  "Aye." Conor was relieved to have something tangible to do. It would

  replace this terrible, wrenching fear that his brother was doomed.

  As he started toward the door AnnaClaire followed. "I can be ready to

  travel within the hour."

  "And where do you think you're going?" Gavin's booming voice had

  everyone turning.

  "Why, to England. With Conor."

  "Nay, lass. You'll stay here and honor Rory's wishes. This was what

  he wanted. That you stay here at Ballinarin where you'd be safe. And

  we'll damned well abide by his wishes."

  "That may be what he wanted. But it isn't what he needs."

  "And I suppose you claim to know what he needs?" Gavin's tone was

  contemptuous.

  "Aye. What he needs is someone who is comfortable a.t Court.

  Someone familiar with the people who surround the queen. I can

  introduce Conor to the men who have the queen's ear. Lest you forget,

  one of them is my father. I intend to plead for his help."

  Gavin pounded a fist on the mantel. "Your father is a bloody

  Englishman. Do you really think he'll care about the plight of an Irish

  outlaw?"

  Her voice lowered with feeling. "He'll do it because I'll ask him. And

  whatever else you think of him, he is a father who loves his only

  child."

  When the older man opened his mouth to protest, Moira touched a

  hand to his arm. "She's right, Gavin. Rory needs all the help we can

  give him. If AnnaClaire can help, we must accept it."

  Feeling betrayed, he fixed his wife with a look of fury. But the anger

  died when he saw the pain in her eyes. He closed a hand over hers,

  then gave a grudging nod of his head. "All right, lass. You'll go with

  Conor."

  They were all surprised when Innis said, ' 'I want to be allowed to go,

  too."

  "To England?" Briana placed her hands on her hips. "You'd leave

  Ballinarin?"

  "Rory needs me. More, Lady AnnaClaire needs me." '

  "The Englishwoman?" Briana's eyes widened. "And why would she

  need the likes of you?"

  "If I hadn't gone with her tonight, she'd have charged into the tavern

  and flung herself into the thick of the battle."

  Gavin studied the young woman with new respect. "A scrapper, is

  she, lad?"

  "Aye. When she saw Rory's blood, I thought she'd scratch out the

  eyes of every soldier in the place." Innis turned away when he saw the

  look AnnaClaire sent him. "I have to go with her, or she's bound to do

  something foolish and dangerous."

  Moira's voice was choked with tears. "Nay, Gavin. You mustn't let

  him go. I couldn't bear it if I were to lose all my men this day."

  The older man's shoulders sagged. The thought had occurred to him,

  as well. Their family reunion had been so brief. And now they would

  once again scatter far across the sea. If this was all he could do, at

  least he would keep the youngest safe at home.

  "You'll stay at Ballinarin, lad."

  "It isn't fair. It's my fight as much as yours. I've lost my family. All of

  them. I don't want to lose Rory and...the Englishwoman as well."

  Gavin's voice grew stern, to cover his churning emotions. "You heard

  me, boy. You'll stay here. We're your family now. And we'll keep you

  safe."

  At that Innis pushed his way past AnnaClaire and Conor and raced up

  the stairs.

  "Mistress Finn." Moira turned to the housekeeper, who stood just

  beyond the doorway, holding the hem of her apron to her eyes.

  Throughout their entire exchange she had taken in everything with

  sighs and moans, endlessly crossing herself. "Take the lad some broth

  later to cheer him. Now you'd best order a hearty meal before

  AnnaClaire and Conor depart."

  The housekeeper nodded before turning away.

  Friar Malone watched and listened in silence. Hadn't he just been

  wondering what sort of relationship would develop between the lad

  and the Englishwoman? And now, in the space of mere hours, so

  much had changed between them.

  Perhaps it was the fact that AnnaClaire, like Innis, was an outsider,

  brought to Ballinarin for protection. But the old priest thought it was

  something much deeper. In his lifetime he'd seen every facet of

  human nature. If he had to hazard a guess, he'd say the lad had long

  harbored guilt that he hadn't been strong enough to save his mother

  from a horrible death. A death he'd been forced to witness, and relive

  in his mind over and over. Perhaps the lad was reasoning that with

  AnnaClaire he was being given another chance to protect a

  gentlewoman from all manner of frightful things.

  Or perhaps, with the Englishwoman's coloring, the lad was beginning

  to see her as the mother he had lost.

  Friar Malone shook his head. He hoped Innis would never be called

  upon to prove his courage. For if he were, the lad had the

  single-mindedness of one who would lay down his life before he

  would admit defeat again.

  "Safe journey," Moira whispered as she kissed AnnaClaire's cheek.

  "God go with you both," Friar Malone intoned as he lifted his hand in

  a blessing.

  AnnaClaire and Conor pulled themselves onto their mounts and

  prepared for the long ride to Dublin. The wagon bearing their trunks

  and young Velia, who would serve as lady's maid to AnnaClaire, had

  already gone ahead.

  AnnaClaire looked around the courtyard. All the servants had

  assembled, as well as many of the villagers, who had been summoned

  from the fields.

  "I don't see Innis," she said.

  Briana let go of her brother's hand and dabbed at her eyes. "The last I

  saw him, he was lying across his bed sulking."

  "I wanted to tell him goodbye. And to thank him again for his help.

  He was so brave. He truly did save me from leaping into the fray."

  "I'll tell him." Briana's voice was little more than a whisper. "He isn't

  the only one who is brave. I think what you're doing for my brother is

  the bravest thing I've ever known. You love him, don't

  you?"AnnaClaire nodded.

  Weeping, the girl turned away.

  Moira stepped cl
oser to press AnnaClaire's hand to her cheek. She

  looked up, meeting the younger woman's eyes. "I'm grateful for what

  you are doing."

  "I have no choice. I have to be there, to do what I can."

  "I know. I know now that you love Rory every bit as much as his

  father and I love him." Her lips trembled, but to her credit she kept her

  voice controlled. "You'll see that my son comes home to me?"

  AnnaClaire nodded, suddenly too overcome with emotion to speak.

  "And AnnaClaire," Moira said as she released her hand and took a

  step back. "I want you to come back to us as well." She nudged her

  husband. "Tell her."

  The O'Neil cleared his throat. "Englishwoman..." He swallowed and

  tried again, his voice softening. "AnnaClaire Thompson, our home is

  yours. If you should..." He stopped, corrected himself. " When you

  manage to free our son, we pray you will return with him to

  Ballinarin."

  "Thank you." It was all AnnaClaire could manage to whisper over the

  lump in her throat.

  "Come," Conor said as he turned his horse. "We've a long journey

  ahead of us."

  "Goodbye. God speed," came a chorus of voices as the horses' hooves

  clattered across the courtyard.

  AnnaClaire looked over her shoulder, hoping to see Innis waving at

  one of the windows. But he was nowhere to be seen.

  It was her last glimpse of Ballinarin. The sun was just burning off the

  mist that shrouded the towers. She felt a sharp tug and knew that this

  raw, savage land, like the man who loved it, had captured her heart.

  AnnaClaire leaned on the rail of the ship and watched as the land

  seemed to slip away. So green. With that strange light casting a soft

  halo all about it. There was a softness, a gentleness, about the land

  that defied description. Rolling meadows dotted with sheep. Ancient

  stones keeping their silent sentinel on distant hillsides. The turrets of

  castles and graceful manor houses rising up beside thatched-roof

  cottages that looked as though they sprang up from the very earth.

  And in the bay, fishermen in their rough boats, casting their nets, as

  their fathers and grandfathers had before them.

  Conor joined her at the rail. "Regretting your decision to leave?"

  She shook her head. "I couldn't stay. Not knowing Rory is bound for

  Fleet." She drew her cloak firmly around her shoulders as the wind

  whipped up, filling the sails, sending the boat flying over the waves.