Lords of Ireland II

by Le Veque, Kathryn

  Trevor still stared at it. And stared. Then, realization dawned; his eyes widened as he reached out to take Devlin’s big, white hand.

  “You, my lord?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “But… but I do not understand! How?”

  “How, indeed.”

  “And… and you are agreeable to this?”

  “Aye.”

  Trevor’s expression washed with one of great pleasure and he shook Devlin’s hand firmly. In fact, he was nearly overjoyed to shake it.

  “Then the rumors of your courage are true,” he said enthusiastically. “You are the bravest man I have ever met!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Only thirty-three out of an armada of one thousand men?” de Noble was incredulous. “That is all that survived?”

  Standing in de Noble’s fine solar with its faintly smoky air and hide rugs, Victor nodded seriously. “It was a disaster for Kildare,” he said quietly. “Black Sword and his men were waiting for us. The weather was so bad that the ships crashed together as we tried to moor them, essentially breaking them apart. Men struggling to shore were easily picked off by de Bermingham’s men.”

  De Noble’s mind ran over that horrifying scenario, men being easy prey for Black Sword’s blood thirsty troops. “But you survived?”

  “Barely, my lord.”

  De Noble sighed heavily. “Surely Kildare must be aware of this defeat.”

  Victor shrugged. “I would not know,” he said. “Unless Black Sword sent him word that the fleet was destroyed, I suppose the man is still waiting for word. It was a little more than three weeks ago.”

  De Noble’s gaze lingered on Victor, trying to overcome the terrible news of the shattered fleet. “And what’s this you say about a traitor knight under Black Sword’s command?” he asked. “You asked me if such a man had come here from Black Castle.”

  “Did he?”

  “Nay,” de Noble shook his head. “We have not seen anyone like that. However, a little more than a week ago, a farmer brought a woman to us who declared that she was Kildare’s sister.”

  That was exactly what Victor wanted to hear. He feigned surprise. “His sister?” he repeated. “How is it possible?”

  De Noble perched himself on the edge of his great oak desk. “She said she had been on a ship to witness her brother’s victory over the Irish and evidently washed up on shore when the armada was destroyed,” he replied. “The farmer is the only man from Black Castle’s region that we have seen here. As for the woman, from what you have told me, she is lucky to have survived.”

  Victor’s thoughts were immediately riveted to the woman they all knew as Emllyn. “Is she still here?”

  De Noble nodded. “Of course,” he said. “We have been providing her with the best of everything, and she and my daughter have become very good friends.”

  Victor digested the information but as he did so, something de Noble had said caught his attention. “You said that she ‘declared’ she was Kildare’s sister,” he said. “Do you not believe her?”

  De Noble shrugged. “She is fine and beautiful enough, so she is certainly a lady of nobility,” he said. “Is she who she says she is? It is possible. Why? Do you know his sister?”

  “I do indeed.”

  De Noble’s face lit up. “Perfect!” he said, coming off his desk and heading to the solar door. He opened the panel, shouting to a servant he saw in the feasting hall beyond. “Send the Lady Emllyn to me immediately. Tell her we have a visitor who wishes to see her!”

  As the servant set down the broom in her hands, de Noble returned his attention to Victor. “I suppose we shall see if she really is Kildare’s sister,” he said. “Meanwhile, where are the rest of your men? You said there were thirty-three. Did you alone escape Black Castle?”

  Victor shook his head, thinking that very soon he would be getting to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the alleged Lady Emllyn. He could hardly stand the anticipation. But even as he pondered that thought, he was also very aware that de Bermingham’s defector knight had not come to Glenteige to lay wide open Black Sword and his secrets. It was excellent news, one that he felt a great deal of relief at purely for Emllyn’s sake. Or Catherine’s; whomever she turned out to be. In any case, the woman would be safe. And Victor had to get his men inside the fortress.

  “I did not,” he said, carefully planning a portion of the lie he had only briefly touched on with Devlin. “A farmer by the name of John released us. He was somehow able to get us clear of Black Castle and brought us here. He was instrumental in releasing us and should be duly commended.”

  “John?” de Noble looked surprised. “A very big man with a red beard and a bald head?”

  Victor thought back to Devlin, who was not so much bald any longer; his red hair was growing in. Still, he nodded.

  “The same,” he said.

  “He is the same man who brought us Kildare’s sister.”

  “Then he is a valuable ally, indeed.”

  “Did he come with you?”

  Victor nodded. “He did,” he replied. “He is resting with my men just outside of Glenteige’s gates. I came ahead to announce our arrival and give you word of Kildare’s fleet.”

  It was a smooth and believable story that rested in de Noble’s mind, so much so that the man hardly gave it another thought. “I will send men out to bring them in,” he said. “It must have been an exhausting flight.”

  Victor was vastly relieved that de Noble didn’t question him anymore about John and their escape from Black Castle; he didn’t want to give the man more information than he had to because the tighter the web of deceit, the more chance there was for them to strangle themselves in it.

  “It was,” he agreed. “But there is no need to send men. I will go and retrieve them. You can imagine we have several that are ill, making travel very slow and difficult.”

  De Noble reached for a fine pewter pitcher of wine and two small pewter cups. It was a matching set he’d had shipped from England long ago. Pouring Victor a measure of wine, he handed it to the man.

  “As you wish,” he said. “Meanwhile, you will enjoy my hospitality until we can arrange passage for you and your men to return to Llansteffan Castle. I am sure Kildare is anxious to have you and your men returned to him.”

  Victor drank the entire cup of wine in three swallows; it was rich and tart and fortifying. De Noble took it from him and poured him some more.

  “Mayhap,” Victor said, smacking his lips as he accepted his second cup. “It is more than likely he might wish for me to remain here to fortify your numbers. He does, in fact, want you to retake Black Castle, doesn’t he?”

  De Noble’s expression remained neutral. “Did he tell you that?”

  Victor took another long drink of wine. “I know he has been sending missives to de Cleveley and I am assuming de Cleveley is informing you of what he and Kildare have discussed. The earl wants Black Castle back.”

  De Noble grunted and took a drink of his own wine. “That is no great secret,” he said. Then, he eyed Victor. “I will be honest when I tell you that de Cleveley is disinclined to launch against Black Castle, even to support an ally. We have our own problems with the Irish without stirring up Black Sword. He came down around us three years ago and I do not want to live through that again. The man stole my damn chair.”

  As Victor pondered de Noble and de Cleveley’s resistance to Kildare’s request, he heard quick and light footsteps approaching the solar door. By the time he turned around, a beautiful young woman in a yellow surcoat was standing in the doorway.

  Victor tried to control his reaction; he really did. It was the greatest feat of self-control he had ever exhibited because in truth, his mind was reeling and it would have been very easy to display his naked reaction of astonishment.

  He stared at the young woman; the young woman stared at him. Eyes widened and jaws dropped. As Victor stared at her, he could see the tears forming. Already there was about t
o be a scene and he hastened to prevent it. Not here, not now, in front of de Noble, who was watching the entire event very carefully. Victor had to step forward and take charge, and he did just that.

  “Lady Emllyn,” he said, moving to take Emllyn’s hand. He kissed it with more tenderness than he should have. “I have been hearing all about your harrowing tale, how you washed upon shore and how a farmer brought you to Glenteige. Thank God you are well and whole, my lady. Thank God indeed.”

  Emllyn stared at Victor as he kissed her hand. It was too much for her; tears spilled over and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from sobbing. Never in her life had she been so surprised, or had felt so much overwhelming astonishment. She struggled not to dissolve into gut-busting weeping as Victor held her hand and smiled warmly at her. God’s Blood, the struggle! Swallowing hard, Emllyn forced herself to acknowledge his kind words.

  “And… and you, Sir Victor,” she whispered tightly. “You were on the fleet. But you are alive.”

  Victor was still holding her hand, his dark eyes glimmering at her. “I am indeed,” he said gently. “Sir Raymond has been telling me all about your adventures in Ireland. I must say that I am surprised to see that you survived everything.”

  De Noble came out from behind his desk, his gaze moving between Emllyn and Victor. Emllyn seemed extremely emotional but that was to be expected, given the fact that she believed all of her brother’s men had been killed. He smiled at the pair.

  “So she is indeed Kildare’s sister?” he asked Victor.

  Victor gazed steadily at Emllyn for a long moment, silent words of understanding and comfort and acceptance passing between them. From this moment forward, Victor only saw Emllyn. For all of their sakes, and for the safety of many, it was all he could do.

  “Aye,” he said after a moment. “This is the Lady Emllyn.”

  De Noble was both thrilled and relieved in spite of the deteriorating situation between him and Emllyn over the past day. He made a point of catching the lady’s attention.

  “You will forgive me that I had to have St. John’s confirmation,” he said. “Without your brother to confirm your identity, to have one of his knights know you is the next best thing. I pray you are not offended by this.”

  Emllyn was still overwhelmed with it all; her head and thoughts were spinning. Victor eventually let go of her fingers and handed her his half-full cup of wine. She looked like she needed it. Gratefully, and with shaking hands, Emllyn swallowed the wine in two big gulps.

  “I am not offended,” she said, her voice trembling. “I suppose if I were in your situation, I would have done the same thing.”

  De Noble was relieved that she wasn’t cross with him for his doubt; he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire of their already-strained relationship.

  “Sir Victor says that thirty-three of your brother’s men survived the destruction of the war fleet,” he said. “He also said that John, your farmer friend, helped them escape from Black Castle’s dungeons.”

  Emllyn tore her gaze off of Victor and looked at de Noble. “John?” she repeated, trying to keep the excitement from her voice. “Has he returned?”

  Victor spoke. “He is with my men, outside of the walls of Glenteige,” he said. “I am going to retrieve them now.”

  Emllyn was moving with Victor; in fact, she nearly ran him over. “I will go, too.”

  Victor shook his head, forcing her to stop when she tried to push past him. “Nay, my lady,” he said. “It would not be safe for you. You will remain here and we will all sup together tonight, I promise.”

  Emllyn was as edgy as a cat and laboring not to show it. She very much wanted to go with Victor to retrieve the English prisoners simply so she could see Devlin, but she knew they would never allow it. Already they were resisting. So she forced herself to calm.

  “Of course,” she said, trying to look as if she was satisfied with the thought of seeing everyone at supper. “I suppose I am simply happy to know that some of my brother’s men survived. May I at least walk you to the door, Sir Victor?”

  Victor smiled at her. “I would be honored,” he said, turning to de Noble. “I shall return within the hour, my lord.”

  De Noble nodded graciously. “I will look forward to it,” he said, eyeing Emllyn. He knew she wouldn’t be happy if he tried to walk with them so he didn’t even ask. “My lady, I will see you tonight at supper.”

  Emllyn barely nodded at him as she preceded Victor out of the solar door. Once out in the foyer, with its rounded walls that tended to echo, Emllyn surprisingly kept a rein on her excitement and shock. She simply took Victor’s elbow as he walked to the keep entry. Once the door yawned before them, spilling white light into the dimness of the gray stoned keep, she paused and turned to him.

  “I…,” she began.

  Victor shushed her before she could speak more than one word. “I will see you upon my return, my lady,” he said, hearing his voice echo off the walls and knowing there were ears listening, more than likely de Noble’s. “I look forward to hearing about your adventures since you came to Ireland.”

  Emllyn looked at the man, wanting to say so much more. The tears threatened to return but she fought them. She knew why he was speaking so generically; if anyone understood the gossips and big ears of this place, she did.

  “And you shall,” she said. “I… I would also like to see John when he arrives. I would like to see the man who… who saved my life. Did he tell you?”

  “All that and more,” he said, letting go of her as he headed out of the keep. “I will send him to you when we return, my lady. Be of good and noble patience that all will work out as it should.”

  Emllyn lingered in the doorway, watching the man descend the wide, stone steps. Her heart was so full of thanks and gratefulness that she could hardly breathe. Her mind was full of a million memories and hopes, like butterflies, all living and breathing entities inside her soul. She lifted a hand in farewell to Victor.

  “Will you tell him something for me, please?” she called after him.

  There was no more echo to amplify their words; in fact, it all seemed rather still outside. There wasn’t anyone around that they could see. Victor paused on the steps.

  “What is that, my lady?”

  Emllyn swallowed hard; she was coming to suspect simply by the way he was behaving that he and Devlin had more than likely been in discussions with her as the main topic. It only seemed logical. From the moment she had seen Victor in de Noble’s solar, everything about him told her that he knew what had happened. All of it. She smiled faintly as she met his gaze, lowering her voice so that he could barely hear it.

  “Please… please tell him that everything leads me to thee.”

  Victor cocked his head slightly, considering her words, as a faint smile crossed his lips. Nodding in understanding, he turned and walked away. Emllyn watched him, blowing the man a gentle kiss when she knew he couldn’t see it. She simply felt that it was the right thing to do.

  He did, after all, love her, too.

  Victor had returned to the spot where he had left Devlin and his men. The walk from the front gates of Glenteige had been a wide-open one, as the settlement was surrounded by wide open spaces to get a better field of fire when the fortress was attacked. Things that could hide rebels like trees or bushes had long since been removed.

  As he stood on the precise location where he had last seen his men and de Bermingham, he noticed the trees about a quarter of a mile to the east were moving. More than moving, they appeared to come alive and Victor realized that his men were coming through the foliage. Weary, beaten, some men helping others to walk, the entire group was emerging from the forest, including the massive bulk of de Bermingham. They had evidently seen him approach and were breaking their cover. Victor went to meet them.

  Devlin was at the head of the group, moving faster than the others because he was perhaps more anxious than the others. He met Victor several feet in front of the others, nearly bowlin
g the man over in his eagerness and haste.

  “Well?” he demanded. “Did my knight make it to de Noble before we did?”

  Victor shook his head. “They have not seen him,” he assured him. “He is not here.”

  Devlin, who had let his imagination go wild for the past hour, literally had to catch his breath. The shock was so great that he actually gasped.

  “Freddy has not been here?” he asked again, just to be sure.

  Victor shook his head again, seeing how astonished de Bermingham was. “Nay,” he repeated for good measure. “De Noble and I had a long conversation where he assured me that no one from Black Castle has come. He says that the only reference to Black Castle in the past few weeks was a lone farmer named John bearing a woman who, he said, had washed upon the shore after Kildare’s armada was defeated.”

  That was good enough for Devlin; he was beyond the ability to measure his relief. “And Emllyn?” he fired at him. “Did you see her?”

  Victor knew what he meant. Is she your daughter? But somehow, Victor wasn’t sure he could tell him the truth. From his discussions with Devlin, and his brief encounter with Emllyn, he could already see the joy and adoration when one spoke of the other. There was a warmth there, a spring of hope everlasting, that was more powerful than anything he had ever sensed. Therefore, he wasn’t sure he could spoil it with reality. Sometimes reality was best left to one’s own interpretation.

  “I saw her,” he said. “She is healthy and whole, and she is anxious to see you. She told me to give you a message.”

  Devlin’s big body was quivering with anticipation. “What message?”

  “She says to tell you that everything leads me to thee.”

  Devlin stared at him. Then, he emitted something that sounded like a hiss, running his hand over his bristly head, his gaze lingering on the fortress in the distance. The longer he stared at it, the more impact the words seemed to have. He could feel tears of pure emotion sting his eyes. He blinked rapidly, chasing them away, before returning his focus to Victor.