Warrior of Fire

by Michelle Willingham

  Instead, she changed the subject. ‘When you married my mother, did you love her?’

  The question caught Brian unawares, and he frowned. ‘Not at first. She was beautiful, and the union brought our two clans together.’ He studied her and added, ‘You look very much like her. Especially now.’

  ‘I don’t remember her any more.’ She had only been three years old when her mother had died in childbirth. ‘Sometimes I wish I had even one memory.’

  ‘She wanted sons,’ her father said. ‘She miscarried several children, and because of it, you were her treasure.’

  She risked a smile at him. ‘And yours?’

  ‘And mine,’ he agreed. ‘But I did love your mother in the end. I thought of remarrying, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to do so.’

  With that, Carice pressed, ‘When you love someone, you give away a piece of your heart. And you can never quite get it back.’

  He understood, then, what she was saying. ‘Carice, don’t endanger yourself by asking for something you cannot have.’ His gaze turned troubled, and he added, ‘For your sake, the High King must never know. I saw the way the Norman was embracing you. If Rory learned of it—’

  ‘Raine cares about me,’ Carice said. ‘And I have grown to love him.’ Though she had nearly succumbed to the hand of Death, Raine’s pleading words had bound her to him. He’d given her a reason to fight, and she had battled for each breath. ‘But that is not why I wish to speak with the High King.’

  Brian waited for her to continue, and she said, ‘I know I sought to end this betrothal. I never wanted to wed the High King, though you went to a lot of trouble to arrange it.’ She steadied herself and said, ‘But I am willing to consider it now.’

  His eyes softened, and he questioned, ‘And why is that?’

  ‘Because I want to save Raine’s life. And I will agree to wed the High King if they let him go.’ Inwardly, her heart was bruised and broken. She wanted to be with Raine, to love him freely and enjoy whatever time they had together. But she also knew that Rory Ó Connor was not about to forgive the insult of another man coveting his bride. He would have Raine killed or maimed as an example. And she would do anything to stop that from happening. Even if it meant giving him up to save his life.

  At that, her father turned solemn. ‘The Ard-Righ is not going to forgive a Norman soldier. Especially when others saw him embracing you.’

  ‘Raine was only trying to help me when I was poisoned,’ Carice interrupted. ‘And only a few people saw it. I can meet with the High King in private to explain what happened, but it must be done before Raine is harmed.’

  Brian let out a sigh and shook his head. ‘All your life, you have been a strong-willed daughter. What makes you believe you can convince the High King to obey your wishes?’ But despite his words, he lifted her into his arms.

  She sent him a grateful smile, though. ‘He may not. But I will do what I can.’

  Her father began walking from the chamber, carrying her outside towards the banqueting hall. ‘Carice, why would you give your heart to a man unworthy of it? You could wed any man in Éireann that you wanted. Why a Norman soldier?’

  ‘Because he saw me as a woman to be loved, not a possession to own. He took care of me and made me feel beloved. And that is all I ever wanted.’

  Her father’s mood darkened. ‘Do not tell the High King any of this, Carice. He is not a forgiving man. And if he believes you betrayed him with a Norman, it is not only Raine’s life that is in danger. It is also yours.’

  * * *

  The flare of torches hurt his eyes after being imprisoned in darkness. Raine squinted as he was led forward into a meadow clearing. The High King, Rory O’Connor, sat upon a raised platform, while the chief poet remained beside him. Several men were seated in a row nearby, and he realised that these were the brehons, the men who would place judgment upon him.

  Because he was Norman, he could sense their hatred and distrust. And while he knew that it was common for men to receive an advocate to speak on their behalf, no one volunteered to defend him.

  The first witness was brought forth, and Raine recognised the maid who had attended Carice. They questioned her about the poison, and she shook her head, denying that he was involved. The second maid agreed, and both admitted that the wine had been brought in by another man.

  The advocate changed the questioning and asked, ‘Do you deny that Raine de Garenne was seen embracing the High King’s bride?’

  The maid paled but shook her head. ‘I do not deny it.’

  The first maid agreed, as well, though a flush came over her face. They had witnessed him holding on to Carice, begging for her to stay with him.

  Raine kept his face impassive, uncertain of why these questions were being raised. He did not know the Irish system of justice, but he understood the tenuous nature of his freedom.

  ‘Would you agree that de Garenne had prior knowledge of the High King’s betrothed?’ the advocate pressed.

  Before the maids could answer, there was a rippling of conversation through the crowd. Raine turned and saw Brian Faoilin carrying Carice towards the High King. Her eyes were open, and though her complexion held a deep pallor, she was alive and breathing.

  Thank God. It took an effort not to fall to his knees. The sight of her filled him with such hope, Raine could not speak a single word. Only prayers of thanks came to his lips, and he lowered his head.

  The High King looked irritated at Carice’s arrival. ‘Why did you bring your daughter to this trial?’ he demanded of Brian.

  ‘I brought her because she wishes to speak to you, Your Grace. And because she lacks the strength to walk.’

  A sudden apprehension gripped Raine, for whatever had brought Carice here went beyond curiosity or the desire for conversation. This was dangerous in a way she could not possibly understand.

  The High King’s expression remained cool. ‘Can it not wait?’

  Brian helped lower Carice to stand, and he stood behind her for support. She lifted her gaze to Rory’s and said, ‘I came to warn you, Your Grace. You already know that someone tried to poison you, and I drank it by mistake. But there is another Norman in your midst, one who brought the poison with him. And he is the one who should be on trial now, not Raine de Garenne.’

  ‘We already know that de Garenne did not put the poison into the wine. That is not why he is here.’

  Don’t, Raine wanted to warn her. He looked to her father and said, ‘Take her away from here, Brian.’

  The Irish chief saw the warning and nodded his agreement. But the High King intervened. ‘No. If she chose to come this far, I would know why she delayed our wedding.’

  Carice lifted her chin and replied, ‘Because I was ill.’

  ‘Killian told me that you had no desire to go through with a wedding.’ The High King leaned forward in his chair, and there was no mistaking the venom within his voice. ‘And when you did arrive, this Norman was among your servants. You brought a traitor in our midst—two, if what you say is true about the other.’

  Raine wanted to move in to protect Carice, but if he did, the High King would only grow angrier. He needed to diffuse the man’s rage, to somehow make him see the truth.

  ‘I will fulfil our betrothal agreement,’ Carice said softly. ‘I will wed you to join my father’s lands with yours.’

  Her decision stopped Raine cold. Why would she do this? She had fought so hard to escape this marriage...and now she was surrendering? He didn’t know what to believe, especially when her blue eyes avoided his.

  But she wasn’t finished. ‘In return, I ask that you end this “trial” for a man who was not involved with my poisoning, and instead find the Norman soldier who tried to kill us both.’

  Although Carice kept her voice steady, he saw the slight tremor in her hands. And he
understood that she was doing this to save him. She had pulled upon the last of her strength to plead for his life, though she could not show the High King the truth about her feelings.

  He wasn’t going to let her go through with this. She would not sacrifice her own happiness to spare his life—he would fight his own battles.

  The Ard-Righ stood and motioned for his men to draw closer to Carice. In a low voice, he said, ‘This Norman was holding you as a lover would. He never left your side when you were poisoned. What is he to you?’

  Don’t speak, Raine wanted to warn her. Lies or truth would not matter to the High King. But Carice met his gaze and said, ‘I was unconscious, Your Grace. I can hardly be blamed for someone attempting to save my life.’

  ‘Do you know what the ancient law requires of a woman who is guilty of infidelity?’ the High King asked. His voice hardened and he said quietly, ‘Years ago, we used to burn them alive.’

  At that, Raine moved behind her. He wasn’t going to allow any man to lay a hand upon her. ‘She is innocent.’

  To Carice, he spoke beneath his breath in the Norman tongue. ‘Tell the High King that if I am guilty of admiring a beautiful woman, of not wanting her to die, then let that punishment fall upon me.’

  But her face turned sad and she shook her head. In a whisper, she answered, ‘I will not translate words that will bring you suffering. Not when I can set you free.’ There was bittersweet love within her words, and he wondered whether the High King had overheard their quiet conversation.

  She stepped away from him and knelt before Rory Ó Connor. ‘Your Grace, I am yours to command, whether you want me to wed you or return to Carrickmeath.’

  Raine wanted to go to her, to pull her from her knees and take her away from this place. The lines of her face were drawn, as if every movement took an effort. To Brian, he said beneath his breath, ‘If he lets her go, take her away from here. She’s about to fall, she’s so weak.’

  The chief gave a slight nod to show he’d heard him. But before he could move towards his daughter, Rory asked, ‘Did you know de Garenne was a Norman?’

  Carice raised her face and nodded. ‘I did, yes. Raine heard there was a plot against you, and he warned us about it. We believed that he could find the culprit and stop him.’ The lies contained enough truth to be believable, and her swift thinking seemed to make the king reconsider. ‘We never realised that the guilty man was his comrade in arms.’ She lowered her face again, and asked, ‘Please, Your Grace, search for Sir Darren de Carleigh. He is the man you seek, the one who wanted you dead.’

  The High King descended from the platform and came forward. ‘Why should I believe a word from either of you?’

  ‘You may not believe them,’ came a woman’s voice, ‘but perhaps you will believe me.’

  The crowd parted, revealing Aoife, the heavily pregnant woman whom they had saved. She was dressed in silks, her hands resting upon her swollen womb. A rope of pearls rested upon her forehead and a veil covered her red hair.

  ‘Lady Aoife.’ The High King inclined his head in greeting. Raine noted a slight tension within the man. ‘You did not send word that you were stopping at Tara.’

  She continued to walk slowly towards the Ard-Righ, and when she reached Rory’s side, she sent him a smile. ‘No. I came because my husband is journeying here. He received word that Norman soldiers attacked Tara, and several died.’

  Again, Raine saw the flare of uncertainty cross the High King’s face. ‘The Normans were traitors who disguised themselves among my people. But we resolved the matter, and there is no need for Strongbow to travel here.’

  ‘Since Norman soldiers died in the battle,’ Aoife continued, ‘my husband will have to notify King Henry of those men who were involved.’

  There was a thread of steel beneath her voice, of a woman unafraid of the High King. She was far more than a noblewoman—she spoke to him as an equal.

  Raine put the connection together, suddenly realising her identity. Aoife was the daughter of Diarmuid MacMurrough, the King of Leinster. It meant that her husband was the notorious Richard de Clare, known to all as Strongbow. A dawning hope broke within him, for she might speak on their behalf. But he worried that she also could endanger Carice, by her knowledge of their relationship.

  ‘I will have rooms prepared for you and your servants while I await him, then,’ Rory said, signalling one of his stewards to come forward. ‘You will want to rest after your travels.’

  Aoife nodded, her expression serene. ‘You are very kind. I am certain we can renew the peace between the Irish and the Normans. But that is not the only reason I am here.’

  Her glance fastened upon Raine, and she beckoned for him to come forward. ‘My husband will want to reward the Norman who saved my life from soldiers who attacked our travelling party. This man protected me, as well as my unborn child.’

  She sent a slight smile towards the Ard-Righ. ‘Strongbow would not be pleased if you harmed the man who saved the life of his wife and heir. I have heard the witnesses, and I can tell you that Raine de Garenne is innocent of any attempt upon your life.’

  Her gaze passed over him, and in Aoife’s eyes, Raine saw the trace of warning. She knew what Carice meant to him, but it also appeared that she also recognised the consequences of revealing the truth.

  Lady Aoife extended her hands to the High King and added, ‘Will you release him so that my husband and I may reward him for his service to us?’

  Chapter Eleven

  Carice forced herself to look downward to avoid revealing any joy. Though she knew the High King was furious at being interrupted, he had no valid reason to hold Raine prisoner. To do so would only threaten the peace with Strongbow.

  ‘He may be innocent of trying to poison me,’ the Ard-Righ hedged, ‘but his demeanour towards my bride was not innocent.’

  ‘Let him leave, and you will not have to see him again,’ Aoife suggested. ‘There is no reason to keep him as your prisoner.’

  She sent the Ard-Righ a kindly smile and continued. ‘Sometimes I grow weary of the tensions between our people. You and I both know that we are fighting to keep our country from becoming part of Henry’s kingdom. I wed Strongbow to protect my people from the Normans. Both of us would do anything to guard what is ours.’ She gave a light shrug. ‘One man who happened to take an interest in your beautiful bride is hardly worth the effort. Send him away.’

  Despite Aoife’s insistence, the High King didn’t appear at all interested in letting Raine go. It seemed that he was bent upon further punishment to satisfy his bruised pride.

  But then, Carice spied a hint of movement in the shadows. Discreetly, she turned to see what was happening. Someone was pushing past the Irishmen and women gathered together.

  To her surprise, she saw Trahern MacEgan. She hadn’t realised that he’d followed them to Tara. Surrounding him were the other MacEgan soldiers who had accompanied Killian earlier. The Irish giant held Sir Darren in a fierce grip, and there was an expression of satisfaction upon his face. ‘I believe you were looking for this man, Your Grace.’

  The Ard-Righ leaned forward in his chair. ‘Was this the Norman who brought the poison?’

  ‘He was.’ Carice faced him openly and said, ‘My maids will bear witness to that.’ She took a step towards the Norman, and her expression was grave. ‘I demand that he be punished for attempting to kill us both.’ She didn’t know if this would save Raine’s life, but it was her best hope.

  The brehons began to speak quietly amongst themselves. The Ard-Righ went to join them, along with his advisor, the chief poet. When he returned, before he could speak, Raine dropped to one knee. ‘Your Grace, I would like to ask for a trial by combat. Grant me the right to kill him on your behalf.’

  Carice’s heartbeat quickened at Raine’s suggestion. Though she knew he loathed his com
mander and wanted vengeance, she worried that he might die in the battle. It was a risk she didn’t want him to face.

  The High King’s expression remained guarded. ‘And if you are killed?’

  ‘Then judge him based upon your laws. But first, he should be tried by ours.’

  Carice tried to catch Raine’s expression, wanting so badly to plead with him not to do this. But if she dared to speak to him, it would only prove her own guilt. She could only hold her silence, terrified by what was to come.

  Raine stepped back, awaiting the High King’s response. The Ard-Righ consulted with the brehons and his chief poet, before he raised his hand to indicate that he had made a decision.

  ‘I will let you fight Sir Darren, according to your laws. If you succeed, then you may have your freedom as compensation. But you will not return to Tara.’

  The Ard-Righ gave a nod to his servants, who pushed back the onlookers to form a circle. Raine was given a blade, and the same was given to Sir Darren. A moment later, Aoife moved to her side. The young woman squeezed her hand in silent support, while Brian stood on Carice’s opposite side. Her fingers were trembling with fear as she watched the man she loved.

  Both stripped their armour and were bare from the waist up. The red lash marks upon Raine’s back were evident for all to see. Sir Darren had a powerful build, with broad shoulders and a few scars. He, too, was given a blade.

  Carice gripped her father’s arm, praying that Raine would succeed. The two men circled one another, and she had no doubt that Darren would attack Raine’s wounded back.

  ‘Shall I tell them about you and the king’s bride?’ the Norman commander taunted. ‘How you shared her bed and took her innocence.’

  Raine slashed his blade towards the man’s throat, but Darren dodged it, ploughing his fist into his gut. The air exploded from his lungs, but he countered with his own blow. ‘Keep your lies to yourself. No one here will believe your attempts to dishonour the lady.’