Lords of Ireland II

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  It was the keep that had his attention as Lady Elyse led him towards it. It was at least three stories, built of the same gray stone that the wall was built from. It was sunk deep into the side of a small hill, as the entire complex was on a slight slope, and the entry door that opened wide to them was a massive thing built of iron and wood. The keep was also built in an odd shape; it seemed to have what looked like small wings off to the east and the west. He didn’t have time to study it, however, as Lady Elyse brought him swiftly into the dark depths of the donjon.

  Once inside, Devlin struggled to adjust his eyes to the darkness. The massive door had been deceiving, for the entry it opened into was very small and box-shaped. There were also holes in the walls on either side of the room and he realized they were archer holes; should the door be breached, archers would be positioned to shoot down anyone foolish enough to enter. It was rather clever.

  Lady Elyse directed them down the narrow corridor leading from the entry, which opened up into a large room that stretched for the length of the keep. It was a feasting hall because it had several well-worn tables arranged in it and a massive hearth that was spitting ribbons of gray smoke into the air. Dogs were wandering the room, scavenging for scraps, and Lady Elyse rushed past them. At the far end of the chamber was a spiral staircase, built into the thickness of the wall, and she encouraged Devlin to follow her.

  He did, struggling with his bulk to make it up the stairs and not smack Emllyn’s head into the wall into the process. It was then that he realized several men were following them including Lady Elyse’s escort. Devlin wasn’t surprised but he knew he might be in for great difficulty once he turned Emllyn over to Lady Elyse’s care. He was fairly certain the English were going to try and separate him from Emllyn. He had to be prepared.

  The third floor was arranged exactly like the second floor which, he discovered, was fairly complex in design. This was a Norman castle and reflected the engineering skills of that race. The third floor also had the big room that stretched the length of the keep, this one with big wooden dividers in it that separated bed chambers, but next of this room was a second room that also stretched the length of the keep. It was into this chamber that Lady Elyse took him.

  “There,” she pointed at an enormous canopied bed over near the equally enormous hearth. “Please put her there.”

  Devlin did as he was told, making his way through the sumptuous and well-appointed chamber to lay Emllyn gently on the bed that was surely covered in feathers. He’d never seen anything so light or soft. He stood there a moment, gazing apprehensively at Emllyn, as Lady Elyse came up beside him.

  “Where is her wound?” she asked.

  Devlin lifted Emllyn’s skirts to reveal the bandaged left leg. “Here,” he said. “It looks like a battle wound, evidence that she was indeed in some sort of battle. That is why I believed what she said, that she was on Kildare’s armada. And she… she is very fine. Her hands are fine and her skin is fine. She is a woman of great breeding.”

  He didn’t realize that his voice had softened dramatically as he spoke of Emllyn, but Lady Elyse was very aware. In fact, she actually came to a halt in her inspection of the unconscious lady, staring at the massive farmer who spoke of the woman with such tenderness. It was a surprising show of emotion.

  “I promise I will take great care of her,” she assured Devlin softly. “Now, let me take a look at her wound.”

  Devlin was very aware of the English knights standing back by the door to the chamber. He could feel their stares upon his back. He knew they wanted to speak with him but he remained next to the bed, vigilant, as Lady Elyse carefully unwrapped Emllyn’s leg. As she pulled the last of the wrappings off, she saw the mud poultice and stopped any further unwrapping.

  “Sir,” she said to Devlin as she gestured over near the hearth. “There is a bell for the servant. Will you please ring it?”

  Devlin looked over his shoulder. He saw no bell at first glance but he saw a silken cord that was strung up along the top of the wall. Following the silk cord until it ended, he could see a big silver bell at the end of it. He tugged on the end of the cord so hard that it pulled right off and rang the bell crazily. He turned to Lady Elyse apologetically with the cord still in his hand.

  “I am sorry,” he told her, laying the cord down at the end of the bed. “I suppose I shouldn’t have pulled so hard.”

  Lady Elyse was grinning. “You must be careful with your strength,” she agreed, eyeing the pure size of the man. He was quite handsome in her opinion, and she thought the fact that he seemed so protective over the lady to be very sweet. “What is your name?”

  Devlin hesitated slightly; it was the only part of his plan he hadn’t covered because up until a few hours ago, he was to be a mute. He wouldn’t have to tell anyone his name and he figured that Emllyn would call him something and he would just accept it. But now, he had been asked, so he said the first thing that came to mind.

  “John, m’lady,” he said. “It was my father’s name.”

  It wasn’t a lie; indeed, it was his father’s name. Lady Elyse smiled politely. “You are a farmer?” she said, repeating what she had heard the soldiers say. “That is a difficult profession. No wonder you are so strong. You must work very hard.”

  Devlin could see that Lady Elyse was a genuinely kind woman and he was surprised; all he’d ever heard of English women was that they were frail and silly. But Emllyn had changed his opinion and now Lady Elyse was coming to change it as well. He nodded at her statement.

  “Aye, m’lady.”

  Lady Elyse maintained her polite smile and was preparing to say something more when she caught sight of a servant out of the corner of her eye. Excusing herself, she went to speak to the servant, leaving Devlin standing alone with Emllyn. His focus returned to Emllyn, lying so pale against the fine coverlet. As he stood gazing down at her, his chest tight with apprehension, Emllyn suddenly stirred. Then she stirred again and groaned when she moved her leg. Devlin bent over her about the time her eyes fluttered open.

  “Shhhh,” he whispered to her. “You are safe. Speak quietly, Emllyn. There are many ears around us.”

  All Emllyn could see was Devlin’s big face filling her field of vision. She blinked her hot, crusty eyes. “Dev… Devlin?” she breathed. “What has happened?”

  He shushed her again, his gaze soft upon her. “You must not call me by my name,” he whispered. “I am John. You must remember that – John.”

  Emllyn was disoriented. “John?”

  Devlin nodded faintly, a quick bob of the head because he knew the English soldiers were watching him. He was terrified that one of them was going to walk up and pull him away, so he spoke quickly. “Can you listen to me?” he breathed. “It is important.”

  Emllyn blinked her eyes again, becoming more lucid. She could see that they were in a room, somewhere, and there were things about her that she did not recognize. Frightened, she fixed on Devlin.

  “Where are we?” she murmured.

  “De Cleveley’s settlement,” he whispered. “You must know me only as John. I am a farmer who found you after Kildare’s defeat. Do you understand me?”

  Emllyn could only slowly comprehend. After a moment, she nodded. “Aye.”

  Devlin’s eyes twinkled warmly at her. “Good lass,” he murmured. “The poison in your leg is raging so I brought you here. A very nice lady is willing to tend you, so I don’t want you to worry. All will be well.”

  Emllyn only moderately understood what she was told. Her mind was very muddled. As she lay there, gazing up at Devlin and struggling to digest what was happening, she caught a glimpse of a small, elegant lady with blond hair. Startled and apprehensive, she grabbed hold of Devlin’s hand as Lady Elyse drew near.

  Lady Elyse was surprised to find her patient awake. She smiled kindly at Emllyn. “Greetings, my lady,” she said in her soft, sweet voice. “I am the Lady Elyse de Noble. You have been brought to me because you are very ill. I would like to he
lp you if you will allow it.”

  Emllyn was frightened and bewildered, and tears popped to her eyes. “Aye… aye, I would be grateful,” she murmured as a tear trickled down her temple. “Where am I?”

  Elyse had a bowl of warmed water a servant had brought her and sat on a stool that another servant had pulled up to the bed for her. “You are at Glenteige Castle,” she said. “My father is Sir Raymond de Noble, commander of Lord de Cleveley’s garrison. You are safe, I assure you.”

  Emllyn was still holding on very tightly to Devlin’s hand; he ended up taking a knee beside the bed, holding her small hand between his two big mitts. Emllyn’s attention moved back and forth between Elyse and Devlin before finally settling on Elyse.

  “I am the Lady Emllyn Fitzgerald, sister of the Earl of Kildare,” she said softly. “He is allied with de Cleveley.”

  Elyse nodded as she and another servant began to bathe the mud off of Emllyn’s wound. “I know,” she said. “We are most honored to have Kildare’s sister as our favored guest.”

  Emllyn seemed to relax somewhat although she maintained a tight hold on Devlin. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I… I do not even know how I came here, to tell you the truth. I do not remember much, but please know that I am very grateful for your hospitality.”

  Devlin thought he should probably say something to address her complete bewilderment in the situation. She was waking up to a strange place and strange people. He didn’t want her to inadvertently contest his story because, at the moment, they were scrutinizing everything about him. One wrong word might see him living the rest of his days out in the vault.

  “I found you washed ashore on the beach after Kildare’s defeat at Black Castle, m’lady,” he said. “You told me that you were aboard the armada to witness your brother’s victory over Black Sword. You also had a very bad wound on your leg. Do you not remember any of this?”

  He lifted his eyebrows at Emllyn as he spoke. Please understand what I am telling you; this has become our story now! Emllyn gazed back at him intently as her mind churned over information that, in a better frame of mind, she would have caught on to quickly. It took her several long moments but eventually he could see the glimmer of understanding in her eye. Yes, it was all coming clearer now. A brief nod of her head told him that.

  “Aye,” she finally said. “I… I believe I do. I was on my brother’s flagship and we sailed to Ireland to meet the rebels who had taken over his lands. The ships… they crashed against each other when they made shore because the weather was so bad. I… I truly do not know how I made it out alive.”

  Devlin breathed a long sigh of relief. “I found you on the beach,” he repeated. “You must have swam away from the destruction.”

  Emllyn blinked, struggling to think clearly. “Mayhap,” she said softly. “I do not remember clearly.”

  There wasn’t much more to say; she had played into his plans perfectly and Devlin could not have been more pleased or more at ease. He squeezed her hand and resisted the urge to kiss it as well; instead, he turned his focus to Elyse as the woman began to gingerly bathe away the mud from Emllyn’s leg.

  “It was very swollen and painful,” he told Elyse, trying to be helpful. “I had nothing to give her for the pain.”

  Elyse was focused on her work, eventually washing away the mud to see the angry red cut beneath. She visibly cringed when she saw how bad it was.

  “We will remedy that,” she assured him as she looked up at Emllyn. “I will try to be very gentle, my lady. If it hurts, you will tell me and I will stop.”

  Emllyn gazed back at the woman with a mixture of fear and trust. “I will,” she said. “I am very thirsty. Could I please have something to drink?”

  The words had barely left her mouth before Elyse was in motion, whipping her servants into a frenzy as they disappeared out of the service doors and went scurrying around the room. As a pale young servant girl brought Emllyn a cup of whatever was in the pitcher by Elyse’s bed, they heard commotion at the chamber door.

  “Cattle!” came the screech. “All of you crowded around this door like cattle! One would think you have never seen a lady’s chamber before and judging by the lot of you, that’s probably close to the truth!”

  Devlin, Emllyn, and Elyse looked over to the chamber entry to see a small man with a worn leather satchel push his way through the knights that were clustered there. He was round and pale, with sparse graying hair and clad in dirty brown robes. He looked like a monk. He waddled his way over to the bed where Emllyn lay, eyeing the wound on her leg before he ever looked his patient in the eye.

  “Barbarians,” he hissed. “Who sewed this wound? My dog could have done a better job of it.”

  Elyse vacated her stool for the man. “This is the Lady Emllyn Fitzgerald, sister of the Earl of Kildare,” she said, eyeing Emllyn and hoping she wasn’t frightened by the man’s curt manner. “My lady, this is Merradoc, our physic.”

  The old physic barely flicked an eye in Emllyn’s direction; his focus was entirely on the wound. He set his satchel on the floor next to him and began pulling out pouches and phials.

  “I need vinegar and the strongest ale you can find,” he snapped at Elyse. “You will also bring me silk thread. I must re-sew this. And put the powder in that brown pouch into a half-cup of wine and bring it to me. Do this now before I grow old from sheer boredom and the lady dies from a raging infection.”

  He was dramatic and snappy in a hilarious sort of manner. Had Devlin not been so taken aback at the man’s horrendous bedside manner, he would have laughed at his brusque impatience. Elyse, however, was on the move, handing off the pouches to her servants as more of them rushed through the servant door with boiled linens in their arms. Everyone was running around doing Merradoc’s bidding and soon enough, there was a half-cup of wine being handed to Elyse. She brought it over to Emllyn’s bedside.

  “You must drink this,” she said softly. “It will make you sleep while he tends your leg.”

  Emllyn wasn’t so sure about being put into a drugged sleep; she was still holding Devlin’s hand tightly, eyeing him anxiously as she spoke to Elyse.

  “What will the physic do?” she asked.

  Elyse glanced over her shoulder at the old physic, who was pulling out a razor-sharp knife from his satchel.

  “Clean your wound and fix it,” she replied gently. “You do not want to be awake for that, my lady. Please drink this.”

  Emllyn knew the woman was trying to help her but she was still frightened. Devlin squeezed her hand reassuringly and she looked up at him, perhaps more fearful for him at the moment than she was for herself. She could see the English knights clustered back by the door. She had a feeling they were not there for her.

  “He stays,” she said to Elyse. “I do not want him going anywhere. Even if I fall asleep, I do not want him removed. Please make it so.”

  Elyse nodded firmly. “I will not allow him to go anywhere, I promise,” she said. “Will you drink this now?”

  Reluctantly, Emllyn complied, and within fifteen minutes she was snoring upon the linens. She seemed to be very sensitive to sleeping potions, as she had been sensitive to the draught Eefha had given her as well. Once she was fully asleep, evidenced when the physic pinched her toe, the old man finally went to work.

  As promised, Devlin remained at Emllyn’s bedside. He sat on the floor by Emllyn’s head as the physic removed the cat gut sutures he had put in her leg and replaced them with boiled silk thread. He put in fine, neat stitches. The physic also cleaned the poison out of the wound and doused it repeatedly in vinegar and ale. When he was finished with that, he bound her leg up tightly and left her to sleep. The entire procedure took less than fifteen minutes, a swift and confident undertaking by the snappy physic. When he was satisfied with his work, he began packing his items away.

  “I am going to bring her some rotten tea,” he told Elyse. “I will return later tonight with it. It will help her fever.”

  Elyse listened t
o him intently. “What should I do for her in the meanwhile?”

  The physic glanced over his shoulder at the sleeping patient. “Keep her warm and watch her closely,” he said as he collected his satchel and moved for the door. “If she begins to sweat or becomes delirious, send for me. Otherwise, I will return tonight.”

  Elyse thanked the man and ushered him to the door. The physic beat back the three remaining knights who were still standing in the entry, as the rest of the crowd had returned to their duties. De Ferrer remained, as did Elyse’s escort and another man, an older one who had made an appearance only a few minutes earlier. He had seen the old physic as the man finished stitching up the leg of the strange woman lying on his daughter’s bed, but nothing more than that. He stopped the physic before the man left the room completely.

  “How is the lady?” he asked.

  Merradoc glanced back into the room again, at the big bed where an enormous man sat on the floor next to it and an injured lady slept peacefully. He shrugged his shoulders.

  “We shall see,” he said. “The cut is deep. It looks like a sword wound to me. I shall see what I can do for her but no promises.”

  The older man nodded and let the physic continue out of the room. Then, he stepped into the chamber and headed for Elyse.

  “I hear we have had a visitor,” he said, eyeing Devlin seated on the floor. “De Ferrer told me about the lady and her savior. I have come to see for myself.”

  Elyse smiled at the man. “Greetings, Father,” she said as she gestured to Emllyn, fast asleep. “This is the sister of the Earl of Kildare, the Lady Emllyn Fitzgerald. She had sailed on her brother’s war fleet but was injured in a battle at Black Castle. She washed ashore and this farmer found her and helped her. We owe him a great deal of gratitude for saving her.”

  Sir Raymond de Noble was fixated on Devlin. A tall man with a full head of gray hair, de Noble seemed rather calm and wise, giving Devlin a good going-over as he stood there. De Noble’s dark eyes missed nothing as he studied him. Devlin stared back at de Cleveley’s brilliant commander. He’d fought the man before; now, he was seeing him face-to-face. It was an odd realization.