“Oh, Fynn!” Riona gasped in dismay. Kieran had placed his honor on the boy’s word. He’d be furious.
Liex bounded in and across the bed. “You did? Where did you keep it?” he demanded, as if he should have been privy to the fact. “Did you taste it?”
Kieran silenced the younger lad’s barrage of questions with a glance so withering that even Riona felt its frosty bite. Yet when he turned back to Fynn, his expression thawed. “Of course you’re forgiven. How can a man accept forgiveness of his own sins—and I’ve had my share and more—” he injected with a rueful grimace—“unless he is willing to forgive those who’ve sinned against him? He looked over at Riona. That’s the way of it, isn’t it, milady?”
Riona nodded, her swelling heart trapping her words. My soul runneth over, she thought, as did her eyes. She wiped them on the sleeve of her shift.
“Ye gonna pardon Colga, too?” she heard Fynn ask the man who’d joined her as one in mind, body, and spirit.
“Aye, he’s suffered for his mistakes like the rest of us,” Kieran answered, but his gaze was fixed upon Riona.
“But who … what …?” she stammered.
Kieran checked her confusion with a reassuring brush of her lips. “Later, anmchara,” he promised. Whether explanation, marital intimacy, or both was implied didn’t really matter. She accepted his will, for here was a true king, a just and godly man … or at least he earnestly sought to be. God could ask for no more and neither could she, not as a woman, nor wife, nor anmchara. Her soul mate. Try as she might, she could not muster a queenly composure beneath his all-embracing gaze.
“Mebh …” Riona’s voice faltered. She cleared it with a muster of authority. “Will you dress the children for chapel?”
“Aye, milady but—” Mebh turned anxious eyes toward Kieran.
“Yes, Mebh?”
“Is he still there?” The woman enunciated he as though she spoke of the devil himself. “And that cursed vial o’ blood?”
“I’m certain Benin and Father Cromyn have seen to the removal of Maille’s body.”
“Maille!” Riona exclaimed. Until now, she’d not had time to consider whom Mebh madly referred to earlier when she warned Riona that Kieran and the priest were detained.
“And that cursed vial o’ blood,” Mebh repeated, casting a wary glance at Fynn.
Vial? “I thought it was holy water that was missing,” Riona puzzled aloud.
“So help me, I never opened it,” Fynn pledged with a shudder. “I was scared enough for having taken it.” He turned to Riona as though seeking someone to believe him. “All I wanted to do was give it back, but Maille’s men were always in the way. ’Twas a curse from the day I laid hands on it.”
“Sin usually is, sweetling,” she told him. It was the only thing she was certain of at the moment. “It gnaws at the soul like a canker that can’t be stopped until we expose it to God for His healing.”
“Maille was a canker on the shanks of mankind,” Mebh observed to no one in particular. “And I weren’t much better, so help me.”
“But Seargal fixed your sore, Lady Mebh,” Leila pointed out with a marked air of satisfaction that her friend had finally been taken seriously.
“Saints be, did ye hear what the little angel called me?” Mebh looked as though she might take flight in her euphoria. Grabbing Leila up in her arms, the woman swung her around. “Ye’re the angel sent to me, child, when my world could grow no darker.”
“And God sent Seargal to me after Maithar and Athair died because I was afraid of the dark and the boys just slept.” The little girl’s pout of commiseration turned to a bright smile as she pointed to Riona and Kieran. “And now I got a beautiful new mother and a big, brave father with hair just like mine.”
Before her very eyes, the stern warrior king of Gleannmara melted into a besotted grin. An angel no longer lit the room, Riona realized, as affected by Leila’s words as Kieran.
Love did.
THIRTY-SIX
Leaving Mebh to ready the children for the first morning prayer service, Riona leaned on Kieran’s strong arm as they returned to the royal lodge. The danger had finally passed, but it had taken her strength. Judging from the weary sag of Kieran’s shoulders, she was not the only one plagued by exhaustion.
If only she had the resilience of the children, she thought, as she heard Liex announce eagerly, “I wanna see the blood-filled vial.”
“No you don’t, dolt,” Fynn answered. “Trust me.”
The older boy erupted with an abrupt squeal of pain.
“That’s for callin’ me a dolt, dung mouth,” Liex crowed.
Was it only moments ago that their lives had hung in a balance between good and evil?
Mebh’s voice rose above the din. “Now git off yer big brother’s back, afore I jump on your’n, ye towheaded little mite.”
“Lady Gray!” Leila shrieked as only a little girl can. It was reassuring rather than spine-raking, at least to Riona, when the child ranted on quite coherently, “Don’t kick my kitten!”
Riona hesitated at the door of the king’s lodge to return to reinforce Mebh, but Kieran stopped her.
“Let Mebh handle it. Trust me, I know a good commander when I see one.”
At that moment, there was a loud whop, followed by a collective holler from the boys.
“What was that for?” one demanded in a voice breaking into manhood.
“That’s my pillow,” the other cried out in accusation.
“For actin’ like hooligans,” Mebh answered, with all the authority of a hen settling on her nest. And then she added, prim as one pleased, “An’ hooligans don’t use pillows … don’t deserve ’em. I know. I was married to one.”
Riona giggled and stepped inside, allowing Kieran to shove the door to behind them. “I think you’re right at that, milord.”
The bedchamber was a shambles, blankets strewn from the bed to the door. Faith, it felt as though another full day had passed since they’d abandoned it so filled with fear just hours before. Now joy and thanksgiving brimmed. She turned and went into her husband’s arms but pulled away abruptly on noticing the dampness of his leine. The bloodstains on the side jerked her beleaguered mind back to the matter of the vial and Maille. It was all a blur.
“Colga’s blood,” he explained before she could form which question to ask first. “He took the blade Maille intended for me. He’ll be fine,” he assured her. “A flesh wound.”
“But how did Maille get into the rath, and … was it really blood in the vial?”
“Mebh worked for him, and, aye, it looked like blood. I hadn’t the time to see. But Maille thought it contained diamonds, not holy water or blood.”
“Diamonds!” Riona gasped. It was enough to make a quick wit spin, but her sleep-deprived one churned in this bog of confusion. The more she learned, the thicker it got.
“ ’Tis a long, long tale that goes all the way back to Scotia Minor and a plot to assassinate Aidan,” Kieran assured her, stroking the side of her face with the back of his fingers. If there were diamonds among them at all, they were in Kieran’s eyes. “But for now, I’d as soon put it aside and concentrate on what is right, not what went wrong.”
A wise king as well, Riona thought, weariness slipping away with curiosity under her husband’s sway. Hands sliding from her face to her shoulders, Kieran squeezed them, standing back as if to reassure himself that she was there, safe and sound.
He froze as her robe gapped open. Lips thinning, he tugged the front open, fully exposing her shift beneath. He stared in alarm. “You’re hurt!”
Glancing down, Riona saw a tiny circle of blood where Mebh had cut her with the knife. “It’s only a scratch, I’m sure.”
Faith, the lot of them needed a physician more than prayers, she thought, tugging the drawstring neckline of her night shift down to the spot that coordinated with the considerable stain. To her amazement, there was no broken flesh at all—not even the scratch she suggested. But she kn
ew better. She recalled the sting of the blade slashing across her flesh, pushing into it.
First Leila, then Mebh … and now me.
Kieran caught her as she swayed, overwhelmed by all that had transpired and continue to do so. “Seargal was busy.”
Seargal. Leila’s invisible friend. The one who’d kept the little orphan company in her lonely world. Her guardian angel, whom Leila shared as freely as she’d shared her selfless love. God’s powerful healing light. God’s messenger.
Kieran eased down on the edge of the bed, pulling Riona on his lap and cradling her as snugly as the wonder that held them both. Riona listened to his breath, a rhythmic and reassuring sound that marked off time in the stillness of the room. A myriad of memories from their last weeks together played across her mind. Although unseen to all eyes but Leila’s, God and his messenger had been a decided presence among them all.
“What did Leila whisper to you?” Riona asked suddenly, recalling the little girl’s message from her friend to Kieran. “Well?” she prompted, when Kieran failed to respond. She drew away, astonished to find his eyes swimming with emotion. Indeed, his throat was besotted with it as well, until he cleared it in a fierce effort to regain his composure.
“He answered a question I’d cried out in my wavering attempt at faith.” He gave his head a shameful shake. “After all that had been done for us, I still doubted. If God had really sent an angel to protect Leila, I wanted to know where he was when she’d been poisoned.”
“And?”
It was a moment before Kieran could go on. “And I was told that … that Leila had gotten sick so that we all might be healed.” He grimaced. “Just like another Lamb who didn’t deserve to die.”
Riona went into his arms. Together they fell against the mattress, embraced not just by each other, but by the Spirit who had lived up to God’s promise. For the longest of times, they shared their tears and gratitude in silence, her head nestled under his bristled chin. She heard his heart beat in concert with hers, orchestrated by an unseen, soothing hand.
As her pillow jerked with a spontaneous movement, Riona raised her head in surprise and looked into the eyes of the man she’d pledged her life and love to forever in this world and the next. She supposed they should be dressing for morning prayer, but he stopped her as she started to rise.
“Earlier I almost said that you wouldn’t believe how God had sent me a message by an angel.” With a lopsided smile that drew her toes up short, Kieran cupped her face in his hand. “But you of all people would.” Leaning toward her, he brushed her lips with a reverence. “Because He sent you as well. As long as I live and breathe, anmchara, I will do my best to be worthy of this new beginning.”
Kieran kissed her tenderly, as though she were the essence of all his blessings. A heavenly gladness brimmed between them, spilling not just from the heart of man to that of the woman given to him but from soul to soul.
EPILOGUE
It was a cool, overcast day, but not even the clouded sky could dampen the spirits of the women gathered at Gleannmara’s gate. Children frolicked nearby, fresh faced and bellies tight as a tick’s from a hearty breakfast in the hall. They didn’t seem to mind the chill at all. The twins’ brats were more off than on as they helped Fynn hitch a goat to the cart for the smaller tykes visiting from Dromin.
Riona tugged her cloak about her shoulders and adjusted the brooch Kieran had had made for her. It was a miniature of his own, save the overall shape, which had been fashioned into a heart rather than a circle. Instead of the clans represented in the gemstones there was a stone for him and one for each of the children. His ruby rested in the brooch’s golden cleavage. The small sapphires stood for Fynn, Liex, and Leila.
He’d jested when he gave it to her that he expected to see its entire span set in the gemstones one day, and if Riona’s suspicions were correct, her husband would need to add a fourth stone in the spring.
“If you keep rubbing your belly, ’twill be no surprise,” Finella whispered beside her.
At the summer’s end, Marcus had set out for Scotia Minor with Aidan’s company, while Finella and Dallan had come to Gleannmara as promised. Their purses fat with money earned by their talents, they’d offered Riona a tidy sum for the use of the land where they’d talked of building a bruden. She refused, proposing instead that they use it to build a proper hall. In the meantime, they could live in the abandoned rath. All she required was that it retain the name of Drumkilly, home of Gleannmara’s champions and foster home to its Queen Maire.
“I can’t help it. It’s so hard to believe. I’ve not been the least sick,” Riona replied.
“Best keep the herbs I gave you, just in case,” her friend warned.
Siony bounced her rosy-cheeked baby girl on her hip. “Aye, I wasn’t sick at all till I looked like I was carrying a calf—”
“Ach, here they come,” Finella interrupted.
From the stables, a group of men led horses toward the gate. Among them were Riona’s cousins and Father Cromyn. Although the man had already blessed the impending journey at morning vespers, he insisted on seeing his nephew to the gate. Recovered from the stab wound he’d intercepted for Kieran, Colga walked beside the priest, listening intently to what his mentor was saying. He’d spent his recovery with his uncle before facing the penance agreed upon by Kieran and his chiefs for his crime of treachery.
Today was the day, as new as the man whom friends and family turned out to bid farewell. Instead of craving liquor, Colga thirsted now for the Word. His exile would begin with journeying to Scotia Minor to study for the priesthood. With a letter from Cromyn to commend him, he hoped to eventually join an expedition into the unknown with the light of God’s Word as Brendan and others had done.
Behind Colga and Cromyn, leading his shaggy steed Bantan, was Bran, who was not only Gleannmara’s official academic master, but who also wore the Dromin brooch as its elected chief. It was agreed that since Bran had more children in house than Gleannmara, the new school would be constructed by default on the border between the royal Niall land and the O’Cuillin Dromin. Six of the rescued orphans, including Siony’s Naal, were now under the bard’s foster care and tutelage.
Conspicuously without a steed was Gleannmara himself. Kieran kept the others company and jested with the men, but he would remain behind this time. He would not march with the Dromin and the other clan troops breaking camp outside the outer rath, readying for their mission to put down a rebellion in Scotia Minor. Kieran’s captains went in his stead to the call of the high kings of Ireland and Scotland to squash an invasion of Scottish Dalraidi soil by the Ulster king.
“And did you ever see such a fine covey of ladies,” Kieran exclaimed, upon reaching them. He slipped his arm about Riona’s waist and gave her a kiss. “Or a more beautiful queen?”
“Milord, you babble,” she demurred, her face growing hot as the men fell in with their lord in agreement. How she loved her husband! The old Kieran would have been the first on his horse, sword raised, at the hint of a battle. But like Colga, he had changed, as if made new.
“Colga,” she said, walking up to her cousin. “We shall miss you.”
“And I you, milady,” Colga responded. “But I shall have good company all the way to Scotia Minor,” he said, nodding toward the outer rath where the troops awaited.
She’d not been very close to her youngest cousin. Bran was more her and Heber’s contemporary, both in age and interest. The last months at Gleannmara had changed that as she watched a broken soul, who believed not even God could forgive him for what he’d done, mend with the nourishment of love and the work of the Holy Spirit.
“I thank God that the wolf of Tara has finally shed his sheep’s clothing so that he might be dealt with,” Kieran remarked wryly. “This day has been long due.”
Although there’d been no tangible proof, Baetan, the Ulster king who’d hidden safely in his court at the cursed and abandoned Tara of the high kings, was undoubtedly one of th
e driving forces behind the failed attempt to assassinate Aidan. Maille had been no more than a pawn whose chest rose and fell with Baetan’s breath.
“Thank you, Riona, for everything,” Colga said, kissing her on the cheek.
She returned the gesture chastely. “God’s speed. I will expect letters of wonderful tales of faraway places.”
Foiled at every turn, Baetan at last showed his true colors and launched troops to force the Scottish Dalraidi to pay homage and tribute to him. So once again the high king Aedh, as obliged to protect Aidan’s kingdom as Aidan was Erin’s, called upon his nobles to send troops to Scotia Minor. Gleannmara’s forces would be among the warriors.
“Now isn’t this a twist of fate?” Bran chuckled. “He’s off to become a priest and seek new experiences to give him tales to tell. While I, the would-be bard and ill-fitted cleric, find myself the chief he aspired to be with a wife and my own congregation of children.”
“You’re not complaining, are you?” Siony sidled up to her husband and gave him a beguiling glance.
“Hmm,” Bran said, pretending to ponder his answer carefully. “Let me see. I could be trapped in a boat filled with quarrelsome men, heaving my insides out, or in a warm home with a good wife and smiling, red-cheeked mites.” He took Aine from Siony and tossed the infant into the air. The baby girl giggled ecstatically as he caught her and hoisted her to his shoulder. “You’re a lucky man, Colga.”
Colga laughed along with the others, including Siony, who pinched Bran for his mischief.
“Don’t forget now to give that ham and summer food to Kermod,” Riona reminded the happy father as Bran swung onto Bantan’s back.
Every time someone passed close to Kilmare, she sent a gift to the sympathetic farmer whom Bran had talked out of the pony for their escape from Maille. A distant cousin had been elected lord of Maille’s estate, at least keeping it in Riona’s maternal family.
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