Legacy of Luck

by Christy Nicholas

  Éamonn found the battlefield just as the Highlanders were sweeping through. The English were on the losing side of the battle, judging from the uniformed bodies on the ground.

  The fighting men had moved on, and Éamonn looked around. He didn’t notice any civilians, and let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Katie would be safe, then. He caught a glimpse of blond hair dancing in the wind and steadied his gaze.

  Lochlann MacCrimmon.

  He rushed to the man’s side and saw him still alive. He had a nasty rip in his side, and blood oozed out into a large, dark puddle.

  “Lochlann? Lochlann, can you hear me?” Éamonn took his hand.

  The injured man moaned, and his eyes fluttered open. Then they opened wider.

  “What… what are ye… why are ye here?”

  “I came to find Katie, of course. But she didn’t want me anymore. You’ve won, Lochlann.” The concession was empty, and from his face, Lochlann knew it.

  “Nay, ye must take her now.” Lochlann’s voice gurgled, and he coughed.

  “She doesn’t want me, Lochlann. I don’t think she’d even want me… if you…”

  The setting sun colored the field in gold and rose as it dropped below the tree line.

  “Take her. Take her from… from… Donald… don’t let him…”

  Éamonn hadn’t expected that.

  “Love her, Éamonn. Even ye should be able to… manage so much, aye?” Lochlann smiled, though he obviously remained in pain. Éamonn returned the smile, though his throat started to close. He had done this man a disservice. Lochlann truly cared for Katie and would have made a good husband for her.

  Lochlann closed his eyes, and so did Éamonn.

  A snarling voice, barely human, came from the tree line. “Murderer!”

  Looking up in surprise, Éamonn saw Donald MacCrimmon, blood streaking his face, charging him with a sword. He rolled off to the side to evade him, scrambling for one of the many discarded weapons. All that came to hand was a long knife. He jumped to his feet and crouched, ready for the next attack.

  Donald circled him, insanity in his eyes. He reminded Éamonn of berserker tales, men who lost all sense and humanity while they fought. The blood made him especially inhuman, his dark eyes glowering out from the gloaming. He groaned again, but Éamonn thought it a groan of pain rather than rage. Donald put one hand on his stomach but didn’t break eye contact.

  “You killed my brother, you fucking murderer!” Donald snarled. He circled around Éamonn, who tripped on one of the bodies lying in the mud. With a charge, Donald closed the distance as Éamonn struggled to regain his balance.

  “We’ve no reason to fight, Donald. Your brother already lay dying. I did nothing.” He pushed hard into Donald’s mind, to calm him into a semblance of reason. It didn’t work.

  “I’ll rip your lying heart out and fry it with onions!” Donald charged again. He had no finesse in his movement. Éamonn jumped out of his way easily enough. Pain in his shoulder told him he hadn’t escaped completely unscathed. He didn’t dare check the wet trickle. Was it blood or sweat?

  “Calm down, Donald. We have no quarrel.” He pushed so hard, he retched in his mouth and gagged it back down.

  It might be working, if just a little. Donald lowered his sword, and a soul-wrenching scream sliced through the air. Donald glaze flickered toward the noise, to his right. Éamonn was just about to look as well when he saw a dark form tackle Donald and take him to the ground.

  Ciaran.

  The two wrestled on the ground, splashing in mud and blood in the darkening clearing. Éamonn couldn’t think, his head pounding so hard it might split. Deirdre’s scream, he was sure of it. But he saw her at the edge of the trees, in no apparent distress. She must have just screamed to distract Donald while Ciaran jumped him.

  The two combatants stilled.

  After a long minute, Ciaran rose, a long, wicked knife in his hand, blood and gore dripping from the blade. Éamonn waited for several breaths, but Donald didn’t move.

  * * *

  If Éamonn could just find Katie before someone else did— But his luck had deserted him for good. He heard her voice well enough, already in someone else’s clutches. He considered taking her by force, but he only had a long knife. The man holding Katie stood as tall as he and had a good four stone more in weight, with a long sword besides. Likely his comrades would come to his rescue. All Éamonn could do is plan for her rescue.

  To that end, he ‘became’ one of the rebels. He joined them in their search for prisoners and for a celebratory drink after the job was done. No one recognized him, of course, but in a group of over two hundred, who knew everyone, after all? His Irish accent would mark him out, but there were several others with the lilt of his homeland. Many Irish had left after the Battle of Aughrim, more than fifty years before. Perhaps it wasn’t so unusual to find his countrymen dotted through the Highlands, a logical place to be if you were so idealistic you wanted to fight for your king for a living.

  From the snippets of conversation, he learned what had happened that afternoon. The rumors of a force of rebels in the manor house were a ruse for an ambush. They lured the soldiers into a pass and to an easy slaughter. Éamonn tried to find out if any of the English soldiers had escaped, but his neighboring revelers weren’t sure.

  “Och, some must have run away, the lily-livered cowards. What Highlander would run away and leave his comrades to fight off the devil? None I know, for sure!” He raised his cup in a toast, and Éamonn raised his own in tacit agreement.

  Éamonn had never stood strong in his political ideals. He had wanted to live his life, love his woman, care for his horses, and enjoy his days. While he resented the English king over Ireland, fighting about it wouldn’t do a bloody thing. The English army remained the mightiest in the world, and ragtag bands of rebels would be hard pressed to make it even twitch.

  He found where the prisoners were being held, at least. There were a couple crofters’ cottages down the road, and several guards were posted around them. The few men who were captured would be ransomed, if possible. The women and children might be ransomed if they had kin who would pay. If not… he didn’t really get a straight answer to that. At least he had time—and an idea.

  As the evening wore on, he pulled out his dice cup and rattled it a few times. This pulled in several gamers, and they formed a circle.

  He didn’t have scruples about using his Fae-given talent with this group. He played for higher stakes now than just a few coins.

  Éamonn won, and he won often. He threw a few losses, just to throw off accusations of cheating, but the markers grew as the night descended. His opponents dwindled until the last man, one of the officers of the band, threw his cup down.

  “All right, I’ve had enough. You’re too lucky by half, friend. Must be yon Irish luck they’re always gabbling on about. Well, you’ve enough markers to buy half the regiment, lad!”

  “Do you think I might trade them in for something, Alistair?” God, how his head ached.

  His opponent’s eyes narrowed as he scratched his three-day beard, “What did you have in mind, Éamonn?”

  Holding the pile of markers out to the officer, Éamonn said, “I thought I might have the pick of the women prisoners?”

  Alistair stared at him a long moment and then guffawed into raucous laughter. He patted Éamonn on the back. “Now there’s a lad who knows how to spend his coin! Aye, boy, I can promise you so. We’ll have to find out if she’s family for a ransom first, mind you, but you go and take your pick.” Still chuckling, he walked off with Éamonn’s markers.

  With a huge sigh of relief, Éamonn gathered his dice and cup and made a beeline for the prisoners’ cottage.

  The guards let him in. Alistair had already talked to them.

  It was dark and gloomy inside. They had no fire or candle. He whispered, “Katie? Katie are you in here?”

  A couple women answered yes. Oops! Katie was surely a popular
name in the Highlands. “Katie… MacCrimmon, I’m searching for.” It galled him to say the name, but it was hers, now.

  “Éamonn?” A harsh whisper came from one corner, near the bedstead. He made his way through the lumps in the dark until he found a space next to her. He fumbled until he found her hand and held it in his.

  “Katie? I can get you out of here.”

  She said nothing.

  “Katie? Did you hear me?”

  “I heard you. What do you want from me, Éamonn? I told you already. I’m married, and that’s the end of it.”

  “I saw Lochlann, Katie. He… he didn’t survive the ambush.”

  “Ambush? They were ambushed?” Her voice rose, but he shushed her. She sounded pitiful, like a lost child.

  Éamonn nodded. “He still lived when I found him but got a bayonet through the stomach. He… he asked me to take care of you, Katie. To save you from Donald. His last thoughts were of you.”

  She made no sound, but tears dripped down her cheeks, sparkling in the dim firelight.

  “Katie, Katie, listen to me. I think I can get you out of here. Will you let me?” He pleaded with all the gods he knew that she would say yes.

  “I suppose… wait, how are you getting me out?”

  Sheepishly, he ducked his head, and then realized she couldn’t see. “Well, I sort of… won you.”

  Her voice rose. “Won me!”

  “Shhh! Yes, I won you. I played dice until I cashed my winnings in on the first pick of the hostages. That’s how I’m getting you out.”

  “You… you… won me at dice?” She spat the word with indignation. He’d had enough of that.

  “Would you rather I traded a horse for you, like Lochlann? Do you want out of here or not, Katie? I could leave you to the tender mercies of the men out there if you prefer. After they determine who can be ransomed off, they’ll have their joy of the rest. Do you truly prefer a gang rape to me?”

  Stunned silence followed for several heartbeats.

  “Fine. What do I need to do, then?”

  “When the officer comes and asks you if you’ve family to ransom, you say your husband died in the fighting, and that’s all the family you have. Then, I’m allowed to take you away. All right?”

  “It’s the truth after all.” She sounded wretched again, and Éamonn had the strong urge to gather her into his arms and comfort her.

  “Wait, what about Donald? He might… he might claim me…” She shrunk back from him, her back against the stone wall. Damn that brute, what had he done to her?

  “Donald’s dead, too, Katie. You have me now.” Mentioning Deirdre just now might not be the smartest thing he could do.

  “Hmph. Fat lot of good you’ve done me in the past.” Her fire returned quickly, and he was glad.

  “I’m here now, aren’t I? I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”

  “And you’ve promised other things to me in the past, Éamonn. How do I know you’ll keep this one?”

  “A cheann dearg, it hurts my heart every day I’ve not been able to keep you from harm. You do know that, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know what I know anymore, Éamonn.” She deflated.

  “I won’t let you down, I swear it by all that’s holy.”

  With a kiss to her hand, he made his way out of the crowded cottage. Another nod at the guard and he went to the other two cottages for a similar amount of time. He must appear to be searching for the ‘best of the bunch’ when he told Alistair his choice.

  Alistair brought Katie out and questioned her, and she put on a good show of struggling against the guards. Éamonn wasn’t entirely sure her venomous glares at him were totally faked, but he took it with a grain of salt.

  A couple soldiers ogled her and protested Éamonn’s claim, but Alistair stared them down.

  “He won fair and square, boys. There are plenty other lovely lasses in there for the likes of you.”

  In the end, they were out of the camp within the hour.

  “And now what, oh grand plan master?”

  “Back to Ireland, as fast as we can. Being in a war in a foreign land isn’t my idea of a grand party.”

  Grudgingly, she agreed on this as a reasonable plan. They went back to where Ciaran and Deirdre were waiting with the horses.

  Only, they weren’t there.

  The remains of a campfire proved they had been there. Scuffled hoof marks and boot prints showed signs of a struggle.

  “Damn Ciaran to the nine circles of hell. Couldn’t he manage to keep from being captured for a couple hours? Well, at least he can honestly say he can be ransomed. It will buy us time.”

  “And your Deirdre?” Katie’s question sounded sickly sweet.

  With a deep sigh, Éamonn sat on a log “Look, Katie. Let’s talk about Deirdre.”

  “And what should we talk about, Éamonn? You slept with her. While you were searching for me, you slept with her. That says it all, doesn’t it?”

  “I’ve stopped. I’ve not touched her in over a week. She… well, she’s very persuasive when she wants to be. I didn’t want to, even while I did it, but she would come and rub up against me, and touch me—”

  “I know exactly what she does, Éamonn! She’s my sister. She’s done it to a dozen other men!” Katie snapped at him.

  “A dozen?” Deirdre had been no maid, but a dozen? She aged but sixteen.

  “At least! You’re not so special as you think, Éamonn Doherty. She’s well experienced in the arts of seduction, and you’re just the latest in a long line of conquests.”

  “Well, I’m done with her, and glad of it. She must have lost her power over me sometime in the last week because I can resist her now. Being one of a dozen makes it that much easier.” He paled. He couldn’t imagine a girl so young having lain with so many men.

  “Hmph. I’ll believe that when I see it.” She crossed her arms and stared out into the night.

  “Truly, Katie. Would you like me to pledge my troth to you now? Here?” He got off the log and knelt before her. He extracted her hand and kissed it.

  “I pledge to thee, Caitriona MacCrimmon, I will love thee with all my heart. I shall protect thee with my body and my soul, and have no others but thee, ‘till my dying day. I say this without hope or prayer that you will return my vow, but with a simple truth. I am yours, from this day forward.”

  Her head was but a shadow against the stars in the midnight sky. He wished with his heart for a fire so he could see her face.

  She sighed, but not a sigh of exasperation. It was a sweet sigh. He stood and put his arms around her, and she crumpled against him with a ragged sob. One sob turned into more until she cried with childlike abandon against his chest.

  “Shhh, shhh, a chroi. I’ve got you now.”

  “Éamonn, what am I to do? I can’t deny I love you. I never stopped. I just shoved it into a convenient hole in my heart. But I… Lochlann…”

  “He was a good man, Katie. He deserved better than a cold death on a battlefield. We’ll honor his memory, yes?”

  She sniffed, her tears streaking down her face. “He was kind to me.”

  “And in the meantime, we’ve got make a plan to find Ciaran and Deirdre.”

  “No, you don’t.” Ciaran’s voice came out of the darkness.

  “Ciaran? I thought you were taken!” He slapped his cousin on the back. Deirdre was with him as well, and the girls gave each other wide berth in the darkness.

  “We were, but we managed to slip out after all. Some fighting among the drunks pulled the soldiers from one of the huts. I managed to convince the other prisoners we could overpower the two left with numbers. It worked. Most of us escaped into the night. It was a grand caper.”

  “If a bunch of prisoners is on the loose, we’d better get going. They’ll come searching. Have you the horses, by any chance?”

  “No, they’ve still got those, and most of our packs, I’m afraid. We’ve got nothing but our clothes.”

  “Well, we’ve
got to get back to Inverness. We can get supplies again there. I don’t like the idea of walking through the night, but we’ve got to get a head start.” Éamonn grabbed his own pack from the ground. “Here’s bread to tide you for now, if you’re hungry.”

  “Starved!” Katie gobbled her own piece.

  “Why are we headed to Inverness? Shouldn’t we make our way straight back to Campbeltown?” Deirdre’s voice held a strange mixture of whining and demanding.

  “We’ve got to get some supplies before we go back.” Éamonn tried to explain.

  “Hmph. No. No, we don’t.” Deirdre snorted with derision.

  “Deirdre, there were precious few towns of any size on the way here. What makes you think there are any on the way? This is the Highlands of Scotland, not the Dublin Pale.”

  “There are plenty of supplies right down the road.”

  “The ambush site? Deirdre, I’m not robbing the dead!” Ciaran crossed himself, and Éamonn followed suit.

  She rolled her eyes. “Why? They aren’t using them. Most of them won’t even have family to bury them.”

  Katie burst out into tears again. Éamonn rushed to comfort her, and Deirdre snorted.

  “We need to bury him, Éamonn. He d-deserves that, does he not?”

  “He does, Katie, he does. New plan, Ciaran. We go bury Lochlann, and then we find new clothes.” He turned to Katie. “Do you want to bury Donald, too?”

  Her spine stiffened. “Donald can rot on the cursed ground. I do hope his black soul is burning in Hell for eternity.” Her voice hardened into a caustic note Éamonn had never heard from her.

  “Did he… hurt you, a chroi?” Éamonn pulled her into his arms again. She didn’t cry this time.

  “He hit me. He beat me. He didn’t… take me, or anything like that. Though I swear he came close to it a time or two. No, the world is better off without the likes of him, no question.”

  * * *

  No one had much strength left to walk in the night after they buried Lochlann, so they found a clearing well off the main track, and curled up to sleep. They had only what remained in Éamonn’s pack and a few supplies taken from the ambush field. Everyone else had lost clothing, supplies, horses, etc. Even Deirdre wasn’t interested in stealing clothing from dead bodies.