“Well,” said Gemma. “I’m certainly glad ye are here. I have need of yer…uh…special abilities with one of the men.”
“One of the men?”
“Aye, only a few more hours until the Bacchanal and we already have a mon sneaking about without a formal invite, mind ye. Caught up near, well, near the cottage where ye and Mavis stay. Peeking in the window slit. Shadrae brought him back down here last night, to the main keep and he’s in the storage cellar. Wouldn’t speak, wouldn’t identify himself and acted like he had no idea what the Bacchanal was,” Gemma laughed.
“What has been done about it?” asked Kyra.
“Nothing really. Ordinarily we would send him onto the mainland, but with the sentries posted everywhere and the ferry docked, we’ve no way to get him back down there now without causing a big ruckus with yer father. I’m in no mood for yer father today, lass,” she added.
“I ken ye aren’t”, said Kyra. “Me neither, if ye want to know the truth of it. I still haven’t told him about the babe, he just kens I’ve set up for spying here and I’m going by Kara instead of Kyra. With Patrick and Darina both gone, how long did the council say that we would remain on high alert?
Gemma reached across the table and handed a mug of water to Kyra, “I guess until one of them returns. We have another council meeting tomorrow eve and I have petty court duties all day tomorrow on the mainland. Ye know, it will be the first time I’ve been back on the mainland in quite a while, mayhap six days I s’pose.”
Gemma rose and stretched her long arms high up into the air. “I’ve much work to do in preparations for the Bacchanal celebrations. It will be a small one, only men from our clan can attend this eve and they have to be approved by Ruarc before coming over on the ferry. “’Tis why the one we have in the cellar is a poor suspect. His story doesn’t add up.”
“He wouldn’t tell ye anything?”
“Not a word, acted surprised to be here. Shadrae has done her best to interrogate the captive, but ye know how Shadrae is. He’s probably a little roughed up, but no worse for the wear. Take a look a’ him and let us know what ye think can be done. Follow me,” she motioned.
Gemma gestured for Kyra to follow her down the long, winding corridor at the back of the kitchens, This led to the doors which opened into the underground storage cellars. The ale and salted meats were stored underground, as were other supplies like grain and special herbs. The chandler had an antechamber just offset from the bottlery and adjacent to that was the storage cellar where the prisoner was detained.
Kyra slowly shoved the door open and caught a glance of Shadrae standing a few feet in front of the prisoner. He was seated on a three-legged stool, back to the door with his arms tied behind his back and his head hung low against his chest as if he were sleeping. There wasn’t much light in the room, save for the large candelabrum in the right corner and the lanthorn setting atop a small wooden chest to the left of the man.
She could tell he had been whipped with something, but only small welts rose on his backs and shoulders and not a drop of blood was in sight. He was sweating, or he was wet, perhaps Shadrae has dunked him in the water bucket, she wasn’t sure. She motioned for Shadrae to join them in the corridor and she obliged, shutting the door behind her.
“What ye got there, Shadrae?” she asked glibly.
“A very uncooperative mon, I’d say. Won’t tell me who he is or where’s he from, or why he was so interested in that wee babe.”
“Wee babe?” Kyra asked.
“Aye. He nearly scared the life outta Mavis and reached his hands through the window slit as if to take that babe. Ye know we’ve had some problems of late with stolen chillens.”
“Aye—I know,” gasped Kyra placing a hand over her mouth.
“Mavis hadn’t outfitted the babe proper yet, ye ken? She wasna’ exactly dressed, still toddling about in her wee rabbit-skin breeches she was. So he may’a thunk her to be a lad, rather than a lass.”
“Oh my,” said Gemma. “I hope he is not one of them child thieves, Patrick will kill him.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
O’Malley Lands
Darina rose from the cold, flowing river and squished the water down the length of her red hair until she expelled the most of it. “Do no’ turnaround,” she repeated for what seemed the hundredth time to a very impatient Payton. Grabbing her extra pair of truis and a tunic from her saddle bag, she jumped into the clean linens soaking wet. After she fastened her belt and secured her dagger and broadsword she punched Payton in the back, “Yer turn.”
Grabbing her horse by the lead, she made her way up the sloping hillside and beckoned, “I’ll wait up here. When ye are done, we are going to the plateau whether ye like it or not.”
The noonday sun was high in the sky and although she wasn’t certain she could make an audience with Covar, she knew it was her only hope of finding her husband. After all, hadn’t they both told her that Covar could find Patrick anywhere, if he was wearing his ring? This has to be the way, she thought. For the last six days, she and Payton scoured the Burke lands, and save for a close scrape with some vagrants on the main road to the castle, had found nothing. Nothing, that was, except an eerily empty monastery, an unguarded castle and no sight whatsoever of any Burke soldiers. Even the market was empty; it was as if all the people had vanished into thin air. Payton managed even to examine the armory, and there was no one at all. There were plenty of weapons, but not a soul in sight.
Darina spread out her cloak on the fresh green clover and removed the pouch of nuts, fruit and dried meats. Eating was a welcome break from the monotonous and unyielding search of Burke lands. Happy to be back in her own territory, she sent word on ahead that they were returned but had one more task to settle before they would arrive at the keep.
She hadn’t let herself cry yet, that was a part of herself she wouldn’t share with her husband’s brother. She saved those tears for her husband, to be unleashed along with her wrath at a later date. For now, her heart beat mostly for the brother she never knew. The true Lord of O’Malley lands, as young as he was, was her own flesh and blood, and she dearly hoped to find him before something horrible happened. She wasn’t able to tell her four sisters yet that they had a brother; and she wasn’t sure she could do so without bringing him with her. No, it couldn’t end this way. Better to never tell them they had a brathair than to tell them and then mourn his death.
It was simply unfathomable that her mother was not told the child lived. How could her father have been so insensitive—letting the entire family, the entire clan, mourn the death of a child without a word? She would take that up with him in the afterlife, she swore to herself under her breath.
“What are ye mumbling about now, Darina?” Payton asked throwing himself down on the ground beside her and grabbing the last bit of cheese, shaking his wet hair about sending splashes of water all around them.
“I just don’t understand what me da was thinking sending Braeden off from the clan and his family. Look where it’s gotten us,” she sighed.
“I ken yer father was a wise man, Darina. I believe he knew what he was doing and I think that whoever has Braeden, doesn’t know who he really is and has no idea what they are dealing with.”
“What do ye mean?”
“Braeden is a warrior in his own right, Darina. Been trained with the best of them, he has,” he said, taking a big bite out of an apple.
“Trained, how?”
“Yer trained, are ye no’?”
“Of course I am, I had to be, there are so many women in O’Malley land, we all serve in the forces at some time or another. ‘Tis a requirement prior to marriage. Why?”
“Well because, I am no’ at all sure if ye know this or not, but Lucian from your clan is the brother of Airard from my clan,” he said.
“And?” she asked.
“And—it appears that Gemma kens my father somehow.”
“How do ye ken that?”
“I can’t rig
htly tell ye, but I ken it’s the truth. I believe that there was some planning going on between our clans with regard to Braeden’s…uh…learning. Me da insisted from the time he could walk straight that he be trained in self-defense and archery and sword use and the such. He is a very skilled combatant.”
“Well, that’s good then,” said Darina.
“So, that’s why I say—if he was taken, whoever has him has no idea what he is about. I wouldna be surprised if he’s already escaped and just can’t find his way back to us.
“I hope yer right, Payton. But for the life of me, I can’t figure out why we haven’t heard back from Patrick yet. That bothers me immensely.”
Payton stood up and readied his horse. “Don’t let that bother ye either, lass. Patrick is a smart mon. No doubt he has a plan and we’ll know the right of it soon enough.”
***
Odetta sealed the missive with the candlewax and handed it to Reni. “Make sure that Dougal takes this straight to O’Malley lands. He is to speak with no one and to only return when he has a response. He is not to return without a response. Do you ken?”
“Yes, me lady. I understand,” replied Reni, wiping tears from her cheeks and bowing before her mistress.
“Now stop that weeping, it does us no good. Send him in now, and come back here at once, when ye are finished.”
Odetta rose from the table and fumbled with the fire in the hearth. The abandoned wharf was a good enough place as any to meet Dirk to discuss their predicament and she knew that Easal, who was now Eaton in reality, would never find them here. She had taken to spending her afternoon “naps” at the wharf and along with Reni, was making some considerable headway in undermining much of Easal’s destructive behavior.
The sound of footsteps broke her attention and she turned to Dirk, “Dirk, thank ye so much for meeting me here. Ye were not followed?” she asked.
“Nay, me lady. I was no’ followed,” responded the armory overseer. “Any word on our girls?” he asked forlornly.
“Nay. I’ve sent out me own sentries to search for then. Easal has refused to assist in the matter.”
“I see. What need have ye of me services?” he asked, absentmindedly running an index finger along the edge of the trestle table.
“I need to speak with ye privately, of a matter of most importance, and I need ye to do yer absolute best to believe what I tell ye. I say this because it may be verra difficult for ye to do so. Do ye understand what I’m saying?” she asked.
“Aye. I think I do.”
“Easal is no’ himself,” she started, and turned to pace with her hands behind her back across the rickety floor of the abandoned wharf.
Dirk nodded his agreement in confusion.
“I believe, and I’m not sure whether or not ye believe, but…oh well,” she sighed. “Dirk, do ye believe in spirits and such?” she asked tentatively.
“Aye. I do me lady, verra much so.”
“Well, Dirk, there is no kind way to say this, especially about me own husband, but I may as well share this w’ ye as it appears it affects us both.”
“Go on,” he bade.
“Dirk, I believe Easal, my husband, the mon I love, has been overtaken by an evil and malevolent spirit.”
Dirk gasped, grasped his sword by the hilt and swinging it away from his body still entombed in its belt casing, sat himself down upon a three-legged stool that nearly toppled under his weight.
“Ye don’t mean?” he asked, his face as pale as a ghost.
“I do, and I have no idea what can be done. Naelyn and I have tried everything, we even consulted with the priest from O’Malley lands and he confirmed our greatest fears. Easal is possessed.”
“Me lady, what can be done about this?”
“Dirk, I don’t know but what I do know is that we have to be verra careful. He doesn’t know I’m here, I am hiding from him and if he knew I was speaking with you, it would not be good.”
“Ye do no’ think he has anything to do with our daughters missing, now do ye?” he asked.
“Of course I do. There is no other explanation,” she replied.
“I’ll kill him!” Dirk shouted, causing the unsturdy stool and rafters on the wharf house to shake, pitching him to the floor.
“Calm down a bit. Ye won’t be able to kill the likes of him, at least not by yerself. Let me tell ye what I’ve done about it. Here, have a seat,” she bade, motioning for him to attempt the stool once more.
“I’ve had Reni, my maidservant, contact all of the Burke clans’ members with family in McTierney territory, and they have all gone for a little visit. Took our biggest sailing vessels with them, gets them there faster. I’ve asked that none return for two fortnights. Those with contacts with the McDermott’s to the east are doing the same, they are travelling on foot. There are only a few remaining in our territory then and what few are left, are not necessary to take up arms, I’ll be sending to the O’Malley lands for refuge.”
“O’Malley lands?” he gasped. “Ye think they will heed our request for sanctuary? They are our enemies, are they no’?”.
“Well, yes they are, they have been, I’ve no idea what they think of us now. Ye ken they have a new laird?”
“I had heard the O’Malley passed, but I didna’ know there was a son?”
“There wasn’t—at least to me knowledge. The eldest daughter has married the son of a Lord from up north and he is the new O’Malley. Took their name and all, swore an oath, he did.”
“Ye really think they will offer us refuge?”
“I think they will. I have sent Dougal on ahead with a missive and request. I have explained that me daughter and your daughter is missing, and we believe that Easal has been behind the childnapping’s all this time, and we intend to deal with him swiftly and severely from within our own clan. But, our people will need refuge until such time as that is accomplished.”
“Verra clever, me lady,” he said as he bowed.
“Now, what I need from ye is this,” she began.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Isle of Women
Kyra rattled off a list of items she would need for her interrogation of the prisoner. Gorman, the elderly butler, and one of only a handful of males permitted to live on the isle, nodded his aging head and scampered off at the last of her requests.
“Ye sure ye know what yer doing?” asked Gemma with a look of confusion.
“Whatever ye do,” added Shadrae, “do no’ look him in the eye.”
“What do ye mean?” asked Kyra.
“Do no’ look him in the eye, lass. Trust me,” said Shadrae and took off down the corridor towards the stairs. “Call me if ye need me.”
Gemma and Kyra looked at each other and laughed. “She always was a very dramatic one, wasn’t she?” Gemma chuckled.
“That she is,” added Kyra. “Now, ye can station a guard outside the door, but tell them they are not to enter. Under no circumstances, no matter what they hear or don’t hear, they are no’ to enter unless I bid them to, ye ken?”
“Aye,” said Gemma.
“Ye gonna be alright, Kyra?” Gemma asked, as she watched Kyra remove all of her clothing, except her thin yellow chemise. She twisted her shoulder-length hair into an almost-bun and secured it atop her head with a hair comb. Removing her leather slip-on boots, she began wiping her body down with a damp cloth and then applied lavender and sandalwood body oils up and down the length of her long, muscular legs. She opened one of the decanters Gorman left her and plopped a rose petal soaked laurel leaf into her mouth, chewing ferociously before spitting it out and rinsing with water.
“Uh…Kyra, what are ye about?” asked Gemma.
“I mean to torture the mon,” Kyra smiled.
“I don’t understand…” Gemma began.
“Ye want information, do ye no’?” she asked
“Aye, we must have information Kyra, but what do ye…”
Kyra interrupted again, “Shadrae has no idea how to get a mon to ta
lk, let alone wield any power of him. I will simply give him an…uh…incentive,” she smiled wickedly. “Now, wish me success.”
Gorman led the way into the storage room and lit two additional candles, which he secured atop the long table to the left of the doorway. The prisoner grunted and fumbled about, obviously in and out of some type of deep slumber or suffering from a small concussion, she wasn’t sure.
Kyra spoke softly and slowly, unseen behind the prisoner’s back. “Gorman, would ye please assist the gentleman in relieving himself and washing up? I will return shortly to attend to his…uh…other needs,” she said as she handed a chamberpot to the elderly butler. “There is no need for him to remain tied up at this point, there are plenty of guards around, he’ll no’ get far,” she added. “Oh…and see he has a bit o’ that fish and some oatcakes.”
Some twenty minutes later or so, Gorman exited the chamber and nodded to Kyra that the prisoner was well-fed, had attended to his privileges and was more alert, therefore ready for whatever she had in mind.
With one last visit with the lavender oil, Kyra stepped through the doorway and barred the door behind her. The man was still seated on the stool facing the furthest wall, his back to her. She stood still, less than three feet from the man and waited. She twisted her body about causing her chemise to swing back and forth sending the scent of lavender and sandalwood flowing through the room.
He grew rigid on the stool and sat bolt upright, senses reeling. She stepped towards him and repeated her sinuous moves, the muscles in his neck and shoulders clenched and she could make out what a truly fine specimen he was. Pity I’ll have to torture ye, she thought.
She laid a warm hand on the back of his neck and shoulder blade and he jumped, nearly toppling over as he did so.
“Do no’ be afraid of me,” she said. “I am here to attend to yer needs,” she added, placing the other hand on his other shoulder. His breathing grew ragged and he stiffened further under her touch.
Celtic Shores, Book 2 in the Celtic Steel Series Page 16
