by Ashley York
The words hung in the air. Heavy and thick.
“Since the first. I kept watch over you. Kept you safe.”
A childhood spent in abject poverty, beaten by a couple that cared nothing for him.
“I was not always successful. I thought the monastery might be better for you. When I heard you had your father’s propensity for...adventure, I realized I was wrong.”
A monastery where he dared not show any “passions” of the flesh or he would be condemned to the fires of hell.
“My father was a knight?” John’s voice cracked.
He’d shared with Rowena that he would pretend William was his father, working especially hard to please him and receive his approval.
“My dearest, most loyal friend.”
Names ran through Rowena’s mind. De Boer, Mortimer, FitzOsbern, De Noer. She had heard so many but no faces to put to them.
Rowena turned to John. His stoic expression ready to crack. Just as she was convinced he was not going to ask for the name, his mouth curved into a sad smile.
“I have never hidden the fact that I wished to know who my father was. A bastard yourself, you were raised always knowing who your father was. Always knowing you would take over your father’s dukedom. I had no such inheritance. I was thrown away. Discarded. Unwanted.”
“He did not know of your existence.” William’s tone implied that explained everything. Did it?
“Your closest friend and you did not deem it necessary to tell him of me?” John dismissed that with a wave of his hand. “You did not deem it necessary to tell me?”
William’s eyes never wavered from John’s face as if measuring his response, deciding how best to reveal the name that would change John’s life forever. He toyed with him. Rowena wanted to rip the man’s eyes out.
“William FitzOsbern is your sire.”
There it was! William FitzOsbern. Rowena couldn’t release her breath but William was not done.
“Some Northumbrian wench had captured his attention. He’d spent the entire winter bedding her. When he learned she was the daughter of Morcar, he set her aside.”
“Why?” Rowena’s face heated at her outburst, spreading down her neck when William turned his intense gaze on her. She hadn’t meant to demand more clarification but truth be told, being the daughter of some northern earl explained little.
“Morcar had sought to defy me. FitzOsbern’s loyalty to me was unshakeable, even in love.”
The sudden silence and the way William glanced between them seemed an unspoken condemnation. He knew about Leofrid.
“You are very much like him,” William said. “An amazing knight. An amazing warrior. An amazing man.” Tears filled his eyes. “I take pleasure in spending time with you, John, on your own right but when I see my dear friend in your mannerisms? Your expressions? Your laugh? I had always considered myself truly blessed.”
The heat in the room was rising. There was a knock at the door. William’s irritation was ready to explode when the door opened behind them.
“My lord, I have been sent for Rowena. Her babe—”
Rowena was up and turning around without being given leave to do so. “Ruth? What has happened?”
The hefty gray-haired man sputtered. “Noth—no, forg—forgive me, my lord.”
“Just answer her question!” William shouted, causing the man to sputter even more.
Rowena curtseyed before the king, “My lord, may I have leave to see to my child?”
“Saxons don’t use wet nurses?”
She dropped her eyes, grinding her teeth to keep from defending herself against his condescending tone.
“I wish her to care for our daughter, my lord.” John’s interruption came just in time. “Surely we can continue our discourse without her presence?”
“Bring the child here!” William ordered. The door closed behind them.
Rowena struggled to draw breath but returned to her seat beside John. Unbelievable arrogance.
William began pacing, his hands together at his back, his eyes downcast. “William was a loyal man. I had thought the same of you. When I hear that a man I had ordered killed took more than a year to actually be killed...well, let me say it gave me pause.”
The king stopped and faced them both. “I understand your plight, John. Rowena. But I will be obeyed in all things! Do not doubt that. That I love you dearly, John, and I do love you dearly, is a fact. For all these reasons. So I will turn away from your disregard of my orders. I will not have you strung up for treason. This time.”
He bestowed a bright smile on Rowena before continuing. “And I am certain you prefer your husband to be there with your family and in one piece so let me warn you as well. The Godwin’s reign has ended. I am rightful king and it will be my sons who reign after me. If you have any other thoughts, you need to set them aside if you wish to enjoy a long life.”
The screaming baby could be heard long before the door was opened and Ruth was given to Rowena. Her gown was again dampened and she withdrew to the closest alcove alongside the Great Hall to see to her child.
The sound of Ruth’s greedy suckling and gulping made John smile despite his angst at William’s revelation. The man knew all this time that FitzOsbern was his father but felt no need to inform John. Was there some harm that could have resulted from his knowing? No! Merely peace of mind which was certainly not a priority, not to William.
“Lovely child, yes?” John’s peace was complete and he saw William with new eyes. “Our second girl. Mayhap the next will be a boy.”
Rowena gasped and John smiled at William.
“She thinks to hide from me that she is with child again.”
William smiled, his manner reserved.
“I am verily pleased at the revelation. I cannot say why she would not want to share her news with me.” John sighed, leaning forward a bit. “My lord, I will be your devoted knight and always swear fealty to you. Until my dying breath but I believe you have wronged me.”
The king pulled back, his eyes wide with outrage. John raised his hand.
“When I spoke of not knowing from whence I came, you could have easily eased my concern by telling me. When I came to you asking if I might marry Lady Emma, FitzOsbern’s daughter, you could have told me then that she was my half-sister and explained to me that what I felt for her was not the passion of a lover but the love of a brother. When I came to you wounded and broken, my body burning with fever, praying to God that my father may know that I lived a valiant life and died honorably, you could have told me you would make it so.” John looked upon his mentor for what he hoped would be the last time. “You did not. You allowed me to live not knowing my father and not letting my father know me. You played with my life as if it had no meaning at all.”
John went to one knee, bending his head. “I swear my fealty to you, King William, that I will defend you at the cost of my own life.”
A loud burp echoed through the chamber. With his head still bent awaiting his lord’s leave to stand, John smiled. He had a more wonderful life than he’d ever dreamed of and he would live it to the fullest.
“You may rise, Sir John.”
Rowena came to stand beside him, Ruth propped up in her arms looking around with wide, violet eyes. Rowena’s eyes searched his. He nodded and hoped she understood he would be fine. He knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
“Have we your permission to leave, my lord?”
William nodded. After showing him due respect, John and Rowena exited the hall and right out the front door. John stopped at the guard room and asked word be sent to their chamber that their servants were to follow.
The conveyance barely unhitched was prepared again. They settled into the luxury of the enclosed carriage. Ruth was asleep again. John kissed Rowena gently on the lips.
“How long have you known I was with child?”
“A few days.”
“Why did you not just ask me if it were so?”
“I did not need to
ask. I waited for you to tell me when you realized it.”
Rowena smirked. “You talk a good talk but methinks you enjoy not sharing all that you know.”
He sighed. “That is the way of it. But I will share a thing or two with you. More important than anything else.”
“One?”
“If need be, there is no torn loyalty within me. It will always be you that I back.”
“My thanks, my lord. And two?”
“That I love my dear Saxon bride.”
CHAPTER FORTY
~
Drogheda, Ireland
The Great Hall was quiet when Tisa and Tadhg came inside. Smells of home drifted to Tisa and she smiled.
“Do ye remember the smell of that sweet bread, Tadhg?”
He breathed in just as deeply. “The best! Where is yer father?”
“There’s little doubt that he is sitting beside the cook as she makes this bread.”
Roland O’Brien’s voice carried to them through the hall. “I dunna need to rest! Now leave me be. If I want—”
The man stopped abruptly at the sight of his daughter. Fergus stood beside him, a wide grin on his weathered face.
“Daughter!”
Tisa went without hesitation into her father’s arms. He held her tight against him, kissing her head. “I have missed ye something fierce.”
Fergus accepted Tadhg’s extended arm then patted him on the back.
“I love ye, da,” Tisa said.
Tadhg coughed. “Sir?”
Her father stiffened and his arms quickly fell away when he stepped back. “What do ye here?”
“Father, Tadhg and I are wed!”
“What? How can that be? What of the damn Meic Lochlainn?”
“Damn, indeed,” Tadhg said before making eye contact with Fergus who nodded his head in agreement.
Tisa quickly sobered. “Darragh is dead and so is Aodh.”
“In battle?”
“One of their warriors turned against them,” Tadhg said.
“Darragh’s last words to me were to marry Tadhg so I did.” She reached to take his hand. “And I am very happy.”
“Glad I am that ye’ve wed the lad. He’s had his eye on ye forever.”
Her father’s smile was genuine despite his teasing but he still looked tired.
“Roland.” Tadhg’s tone was grave. “We’ve more to tell you.”
“Mayhap I’ll go and fetch some of that sweet bread,” Fergus said before narrowing his eyes at Roland. “If yer father left any.”
“I did! Now go bother someone else.” Roland fidgeted on his chair as if unable to get comfortable.
“Do ye have pain?”
“My body aches every time it rains.”
It hadn’t rained the entire trip home. Tisa and Tadhg exchanged worried glances.
“I have news for ye. ‘Tis something I just learned myself.” Tadhg sat on Roland’s left where he indicated. “I ken why my father broke it off with ye and I ask yer forgiveness for the deed.”
“I would forgive that man anything. He was closer to me than a brother.”
“Ye’d always been close,” Tisa said. “We’ve heard there was a time when ye all believed Padraig was dead.”
Roland leaned his head back and blew a breath. “A terrible time. So much death and dying. Then poor Moira. She was beside herself.” He leveled his eyes to look at Tisa. “Yer own mother had passed. She had been ill for a long while so ‘twas no surprise, more of a blessing. She was in so much pain. But Padraig. Every day I prayed that Padraig would come home safe and sound.”
Tisa swallowed, not sure what to say next.
“Ye took good care of my mother. Of all of us. I thank ye, Roland. Ye’re a good man.”
Roland nodded but his eyes seemed distant, as if reliving the terrible time.
“And there was a moment when ye took comfort in each other.” Tisa fought to keep any censure from her tone. “Ye and Moira had lost so much.”
A frown creased Roland’s forehead but he didn’t speak.
“Nothing ye had meant to have happen but,” Tadhg placed a hand on Roland’s arm, “a child was conceived.”
Roland’s eyes widened and he leaned forward as if he might strike Tadhg.
“Father! Moira chose not to tell ye, not to tell anyone, but Brighit is yer daughter.”
“NAE!” The big man’s voice trembled, his pain so deep. “Dunna say ‘tis so! Poor Moira. I dinna ken. ‘Twas wrong. We were overcome with grief.”
He dropped his face into his hands and wept.
“We are not here to judge ye. I’ve come to ask that our alliance be restored, Roland.” Tadhg waited until Roland had lifted his head. “The alliance between our clans should never have been severed. Can we put back what once went wrong? Ye are a good man. I hold ye in high regard and pledge to defend ye and yer household from any that may come against ye. Now and in the future. Ye have my word.”
Roland searched his face before smiling again. “Let it be so!”
Fergus’ impeccable timing caused Tisa to believe he’d been listening and waited to enter. She smiled her thanks. Many servants loaded down with fruits, vegetables, and sweets followed him in.
“This is cause for celebration! Fergus, gather the villagers.”
“They await a chance to see their Tisa even now. Young Liam ran to spread the news.” Fergus winked at her. “They’ve missed ye. We all have.”
“We have a joining to celebrate! A joining of clans and a joining in marriage.”
Tadhg’s relaxed smile was wonderful to see. Tisa hugged him close, bringing her mouth to his ear. “When will ye tell him that Brighit has returned from England and will be here anon?”
“He will learn soon enough.” Tadhg pulled back and kissed the tip of her nose. “We will respect his decision about telling her.”
Tisa nodded. “Tadhg?”
He loosened his hold of her so she could step away. “Have I told ye that I love ye? More than life itself?”
“I believe ye have but I will never tire of hearing of it.”
Her eyes filled. “Then have I told ye I’m carrying yer child.”
He dropped his jaw with his audible gasp.
“What is amiss?” Roland asked. He glanced between the two of them then smiled. “Oh, did ye just learn she was with child?” He slapped Tadhg hard on the back. “Ye’ve got to be more observant, son.”
Her father turned away laughing at his own joke. People were quickly filling the hall as the trestles were set up and covered with as much food as they could hold.
“Sweet, Tisa!” Ignoring everything around them, Tadhg gently gathered her in close, almost as if he thought she might break. “A child! Just as we’d planned.”
“I will not break.” She hugged him much tighter to prove her point.
He grunted as if she held too tight.
“Oh, stop!”
Tadhg took her mouth, caressing his lips lightly over hers before deepening the kiss into a passionate display of his love for her, leaving her knees weak and wishing they were in a more private area.
“I love ye more than I ever thought I could love anyone. Ye are the fulfillment of my hopes for my life. Not bad for the sixth son.”
“Sixth son?” Roland asked. “Aye, the legend of the seventh son. Ye’ve done well for yerself despite the legend.”
Tisa’s brows lowered. “My love, ye are wrong.”
“Tisa, I ken the legend as well as ye do.”
Tadhg’s tone indicated his rising irritation with the subject, as if he’d heard about it his whole life. He probably had. It took three generations for the blessing to be fulfilled. To have the hopes of those generations dashed was surely a great loss.
“The sixth son will have nothing but trouble.” Tadhg made the pronouncement as if proclaiming a death sentence. “Now, had I been the seventh son—”
“Ye are Padraig’s seventh son.” Tisa was only too happy to interrupt his tirade. “The prie
st, Matthew, told me yer father had been joined with another before Moira and they’d had a son. Both were lost.”
Tadhg’s expression went blank. “I am the seventh son?”
“Ye are.”
“Hah! And the legend has come true. A toast!” Roland said in a loud voice, lifting his simple mug. “To the joining of my daughter, Tisa, to the seventh son of the seventh son of the seventh son of the MacNaughton Clan, Tadhg. May they have a warm home full of love and children. And to the restoring of our alliance with the MacNaughton. May we continue to have a peaceful existence with all those around us.”
All drank in agreement. Tadhg shared his cup with Tisa then kissed her again with all looking on.
“Huzzah!” The united shout of happiness.
“Huzzah.” Tadhg whispered before capturing her lips again.
EPILOGUE
~
MacNaughton Clan - One year later
The birds outside were loud enough to wake the dead, which was exactly what Tisa was wishing she were. Young Darragh’s birth had been easy, the carrying even more so. Not with this one. Sick every morning, tired every afternoon. Being only four months along did not give her much hope that things would be getting better any time soon.
“Oh, ye’re awake.” Tadhg came in. Little Darragh, wrapped snuggly inside his brat and close to his heart, slept soundly. “Just taking him out for a peek around the place.”
She pressed further under the covers. “Sounds like a wonderful day outside.”
“That is for certain but methinks having this young warrior with me makes it even better.”
Tisa watched Tadhg as he walked around the room. The sheer joy on his face always warmed her heart.
“Tadhg, he is too little to ken what ye’re showing him.”
“Not true!” He managed to unwrap the babe, tuck him beside Tisa, all without awakening Darragh. “He watched all that was going on around him. That’s why he is asleep now. I exhausted him.”
“I dunna question that!” Tisa held him close to her.
“Sean and Thomasina have come.”
Tisa started to sit up but quickly needed to lay flat again.
“Still sick? Can I bring ye something?”
“Sorry I am to be feeling like this. I dunna want to stay in bed. It has been too long since Sean and Thomasina have come to visit.”
