by James White
Lifting his heavy satchel onto the table, Declan opened it and withdrew a scroll which he unrolled and held flat while the other read it with a face that grew paler by the moment.
"I can provide all that you need," Padraig said finally, "but it will take time. I will have to employ many of my female relatives as seamstresses, and my brother will need more help at the smithy to beat out all these weapons. The horses and other equipment are less difficult to obtain, but expensive. Have you considered the cost?"
"Yes," said Declan, reaching into his satchel again.
"And you must realize," Padraig went on quickly as if ashamed of having mentioned the subject of payment, "that with the best will in the world these arrangements cannot be kept secret. There will be talk and it is sure to reach the high and powerful of this land." He tapped the list with a bony index finger. "Declan, are you preparing to fight a war?"
"You have been honest and even kindly in your previous dealings with me," said Declan, temporarily avoiding the question, "which is why I am asking for an additional favor. I know there will be talk, but I would like you to do most of the talking and to guide any wild rumors there may be back onto the paths of good sense. You might point out that I am not a threat to this province since I will be equipping and training my men outside Cashel and in full view of the King of Munster so that my warlike intentions must therefore lie elsewhere, and in the meantime the traders of this town will be benefiting from the gold I shall spend. If asked I would be pleased to explain my plans to your king, but not the position of their objective.
"The answer to your question is that I am preparing to fight a small war," he went on. "I will prepare for it so well, with cavalry and foot soldiers dressed and equipped uniformly and trained so highly that their very appearance and bearing will instill fear in an enemy, that it might not be necessary to fight it. At least, that is my hope.
"And to answer your unspoken question," he ended, "I have no purse of gold for you this time, but I hope that these, when melted down, with the gems and precious metals they contain, will cover the cost. If it should be necessary, more of them will be provided."
From his bag he took the golden shield, helmet, and wide, ornamental cuffs that had been given to him by the Aztecs and laid them on the workbench. Padraig's wife rose from her seat and hobbled forward for a closer look. For a long moment they neither breathed nor spoke.
"They, they are beautiful," Padraig said when he had again found his voice. 'The craftsmanship, the delicacy of the embellishments… I have never before seen or heard of their like. It would be a crime beyond crimes to melt them down. If I may ask, how and where did you come by them?"
"They are gifts," said Declan in a voice that politely discouraged further questions, "from the rulers of a far country."
"My apologies, I did not mean to pry," said Padraig, and suddenly he smiled. "But you will not be surprised to discover that I have another cousin, a distant one who moves in high places, too high for us to have need of him, until now, that is. He is a usurer, a money lender among other things, and a provider of services to those in the highest places. In these islands and in Gaul he will know of rich Roman governors and kings who would welcome these as unique additions for display in their treasure vaults. Even with the exorbitant fee my cousin will charge for making the arrangements, the sale of this strange helmet and these accessories undamaged and whole as they are will bring you a goodly sum that should be enough for your purposes.
"It will, however, take a little time."
It took more than a little time. On his return, Brian and Captain Nolan said that it might take anything up to a year, and agreed with him that he should not begin choosing and training his force until he was able to pay and equip them. Black Seamus would not have been averse to a long stay in Cork, since it would have allowed him more time with his Maeve. But Brian, regrettably, would shortly have to separate from them because he had to report back to his principals without further delay. So they sailed east and then northward past the ragged western edges of the kingdoms of Munster and Connaught to the harbor of Sligo. There Declan and Ma'el's wagon were disembarked in pouring rain within a short drive from the Strand Hill, their final destination, before Orla continued to its home port of Donegal town in the Kingdom of Tirconnel.
The night was wet, heavily overcast, and Ma'el's sensors reported nobody within visual distance but themselves when he drove the wagon into a narrow, steep-sided ravine and released the horse to find its own way home just as the space vehicle dropped to a silent landing beside him. Sinead ran to him and wrapped her arms so tightly around him that she seemed intent on squeezing the life out of his body while complaining that listening to him in her earpiece was not the same as having him there. Declan had no argument for that But they had to prise themselves apart to help the old man transfer most of the wagon's contents to the space vehicle, after which it was concealed as it had been earlier in the desert by collapsing the walls of the ravine and covering it. Sinead made the dimensional jump into the laboratory where as soon as possible they resumed trying to squeeze each other to death, among other delightful things.
The days and nights, which were the same inside Ma'el's caverns, passed happily through the late summer into the autumn and winter with Sinead seeming to grow larger by the day. In a poor attempt at humor he had once called her "fat boy," but she had cried sorely and he did not do so again. She was afraid, or at least deeply concerned, and he thought he knew why. But in the intensity of his own concern his manner in broaching the subject that night was direct and not as gentle as he would have wished.
"I am a very large man," he said, "and you are a small woman. My own mother was small and perfectly formed and, I was told, very beautiful as are you. She died bringing me into the world. I have felt the movements, the kicking in your belly, and they are very strong. I-I am fearful that it will happen again."
Sinead blinked and looked away for a moment, and when she turned her eyes on him again they were wet.
"So that is what has been eating at you for these past weeks," she said gently. "I, too, am concerned but not afraid. Ma'el says that it seems to be a law of nature on this world that small women are attracted to large and even ugly men, look at Seamus the Black and his Maeve…" she smiled impishly, "… although you are not quite as ugly as he is. They mate with men who will give them big and healthy children, they have been giving birth to such children since time began, and as a rule they do not die while doing so. The deaths that occur have other causes. Besides, you forget that I am a healer, that Ma'el's scanner enables me to look inside myself, and that so far all is well."
"You are sure?"
"As sure as I can be," she said, moving closer to him, "so ease your mind because there are other matters to concern it. And speaking of which, are you not being overambitious? I would be happy with you on a small farm or a…"
"No," said Declan firmly. "I want a secure home for my family to be, not one that can be threatened by robber bands or wars between neighboring tuaths. Besides, I do not see myself as a farmer
…" He broke off, then went on in an excited voice, "… You said that Ma'el's scanner showed you that everything was all right. Could you see if… Is it a boy? Or a girl?"
"Yes," she said.
"I meant," said Declan, "if you could see which it was?"
"Yes," she said again. "It is, or rather they are, one of each."
On Declan's next interdimensional visit to Cashel- Padraig no longer remarked on the fact that he appeared suddenly out of the darkness on foot and departed in the same fashion-Sinead warned him that she was nearing her time and would not be able to fly him there again until it was all over. But it transpired that Padraig's cousin, after an initial lack of success throughout Roman Britain, was reporting serious interest in the Aztec treasures from their own Hibernian Kingdom of Dalriada that was being led by an unobtrusive court advisor and diplomat called Brian O'Rahailley, but that the transaction was not expected t
o be completed until the late spring. Padraig, who seemed unusually knowledgeable about such matters for a tailor, listed the strategic and tactical advantages of fighting a war in the summer. Declan received the news with happiness and relief because it meant that he would be close to Sinead when she needed his reassurance most.
But when the time came, he was terrified rather than happy because she wanted more from him than spoken reassurances.
"Listen closely to me, Declan," she said in a voice that was firm and impatient between her increasingly frequent gasps of pain, "and stop shaking as if you had an ague. We cannot bring another woman in here even if I would trust myself to a local midwife, which I would not. But you are level-headed, have steady hands, and are not afraid of the sight of blood, all of which you proved when we took off the leg of Tomas the helmsman. This will be much easier for you, so stop shaking your head." A grimace of pain tightened her mouth for a moment before she turned it into a smile and said, "After all, you are only helping to take out what you already put in, so just follow my directions and we will both be all right…"
She continued to give directions, not only during the double birth itself but for cutting and tying off both umbilical cords and slapping the newborns' bottoms until they cleared the fluid from their lungs with thin wails of protest, and for removing the afterbirth. Again at her direction, Declan and the old man gently washed the blood from the infants' bodies, and the boy, who was in Ma'el's arms, began crying again until a thin, Taelon fingertip was placed gently in his mouth and he sucked at it and was quiet. Declan placed the girl on Sinead's breast, and Ma'el, his eyes seeming to be larger and softer than usual, did the same with the boy before they tucked a warm blanket around all three of them.
Declan looked down at Sinead, unable to find any words that would convey what he was feeling while she looked up at him. Never before had he seen a woman look so pleased and proud of herself.
'They're very hungry," she said finally. "I'm fortunate that there weren't more than two of them."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
It was a strange force that Declan led, too small to be considered an army that would worry the tuaths and small kingdoms through which it passed, and a little too large and well-disciplined for them to be mistaken for a band of marauding robbers. Even stranger, but more reassuring, was the fact that while his men were more than capable of living off the land by going out and taking what they needed in the way of food or reluctant female company, they did neither of these things. Instead they remained close to their tents, spent the daylight hours engaged in fighting drills and kept no company but their own while Declan replenished the supplies for men and animals by paying the local farmers and town merchants a fair price for them.
After one look at his size, weapons, and scarred face, they thought better of trying to ask an unfair price.
The traders were happy as were the local clan chiefs and minor kings who exacted their tithes for these transactions. When anyone asked about his intentions he would reply that he was on the way to settle a land dispute involving a small kingdom, which he would prefer not to name, in the far west of Connaught. And now he was here.
The territory stretched from the lower slopes of the Nephan Beg mountain to the eastern shore of Loch Conn and enclosed three large towns, many farms, a lake fishery, fields well populated with cattle, and all dominated by a sprawling, uneven castle of stone and wood that covered the top of a low hill. It was a land that was fertile but with too many rocky outcroppings to make its cultivation easy, and it was doubly beautiful in that he had not expected ever to see it again and because it was his home.
He halted his men within clear sight of watchers in the castle but far enough from the line of defenders placed across his path to make it clear to them that, even though his force was better equipped and outnumbered theirs by two to one, he did not intend to attack at once. Instead he led his horsemen forward until they faced the other line at a little more than speaking distance, then he dismounted and walked forward in the prescribed manner to show that he wanted talk before fighting.
The defending line ranged from the old to the very young. A little over half of them carried swords and shields; the rest looked as if they had been called from the fields in haste and bore only their farming implements, and only ten of them were mounted. One of these, a huge, white-haired man of enormous girth who carried a long-axe that was the twin of his own, dismounted and came forward to stop within two paces of him. Declan put out his hand and spoke first.
"Your hair is white, Liam Mor," he said, "and your horse must dearly love you when you are not on its back, but I see that you still favor the long-axe."
Big Liam moved closer to stare intently at Declan's face, the old eyes under the thick, white brows lighting up with recognition. "The face is badly marked," he said, laughing, "and I hope you seriously chastised your barber for it, but… young Declan, is it you?"
The question was unnecessary because their handshakes changed suddenly to bear hugs that lasted for several moments before they broke apart with reluctance and Big Liam spoke very seriously.
"Good it is to see you well, young Declan," he said, "but now we know that we must do battle."
"But not this day," said Declan, smiling, "perhaps not ever. I have something to show you." He nodded toward the castle. "Does he still live, and is he watching?"
"He lives but not, I think, for long," said the other, glancing at Declan's weapon, "whether it is your long-axe or his slow, wasting illness that takes him. He is in a pitiable state, if there is any pity in your heart after what he did to you. His wife and her two sons-she gave him no other children-have been running the kingdom as best as they are able. They will be watching."
Declan nodded and pointed to the watch tower on top of a nearby hill. "As I remember," he said, "the stone and woodwork of that structure was unsafe and it was abandoned to the weather. Have you a use for it now?"
"No," said Big Liam, looking puzzled, "we await a large enough storm to tumble it."
"Good," said Declan, and turned briefly to give a prearranged signal to one of his wagon drivers who, moments later, began walking carefully toward the tower carrying a heavy urn. Smiling, he went on, "I'm going to meet my man there, place the device, and return at once, so there's no need for that overlarge body of yours to follow me up and down the hill."
Big Liam gave a huge sigh of relief and said, "Bless you, Declan."
When he returned he spoke to his men, but loudly enough for the mounted defenders to hear him as well. "Listen well to me. A device has been placed inside the tower which will make a very loud noise. Everyone, move well clear, then the horsemen will dismount and be ready to pacify their animals when it happens." To Liam, he added, "I filled that jar with fireworks powder from Cathay. I hope there was enough to…"
A tremendous thunderclap rent the heavens and shook the ground under their feet. The roof and wood interior of the tower rose high in the sky like pieces of a burning fountain and its stonework burst open into bright red cracks and tumbled onto the hillside. Smaller pieces of rock and dust fell around them like a stony rainstorm.
"… There was enough," Declan said to Liam when the dust and smoke had cleared and they could hear each other again, then he added, "You have seen what I can do. Know that my force will take no hostile action against your people here unless they first offer violence to me, or if I do not return unharmed to them before sunset. I apologize for making these unnecessary threats to you, for I know you to be neither witless nor suicidal." He nodded toward the castle. "Now I would like to speak with himself."
"Alone?" said Liam in surprise. "Without your personal guards?"
Declan clapped the other on one massive shoulder. "When serious talking has to be done," he said, "I prefer the company of a sensible and honorable enemy rather than a too-loyal and perhaps excitable friend."
They remounted their horses and walked them slowly through the line of defenders towards the castle and into
its courtyard where a groom, too aged and infirm by far to join the other servants in the defense of their king, took their mounts. Except for the empty echoing of their feet on the stone-flagged corridors they walked in silence to the audience chamber and almost to the throne itself before Declan stopped and gave a small bow. Liam Mor opened his mouth, but the king held up one skeletal hand for silence.
"I know who it is," he said in a voice that was even more fragile. "What does he want, or do I know that, too?"
Declan cleared his throat, silencing Liam once again.
Firmly, he said, "I can speak for myself, Father, and I will begin by telling you what I do not want."
He paused to look at the woman in the chair beside the old king and her two sons standing on each side of them. The queen, who had hated Declan as a child and worked constantly to drive him away so that one of her then very young sons would inherit, was still a handsome woman, but her features were almost disfigured by the fear she was trying vainly to hide. Her two sons, who were scarcely into their twenties now, were armed and plainly not afraid. The dark-haired one was staring at him, his lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line and arms folded tightly across his chest. The redhead was gripping the hilt of his still-sheathed weapon with knuckles white and looking as if he was about to do something brave and stupid. Declan did not want that.
If the redhead attacked him then so would his brother and, out of loyalty to his king, so would Big Liam. He did not want to be forced into killing anyone here, especially not the aging weapons master, Liam. It was time to use the subtler weapons of words.
"I have returned home," Declan went on, "But I do not want it to be a home freshly splashed with the blood of my father and his family and friends. You know of my forces and have seen what devastation I am capable of inflicting on this castle and the buildings in the nearby towns…" He was not telling the entire truth, but this was not the time to tell all of it, that he had used more than half of his store of Cathay black powder in demolishing the watch tower. "… You must already have realized that if any harm was to be done to me here, a terrible and merciless fate would befall everyone serving this house and the kingdom it rules. My men are well-trained and disciplined, they obey my every word, and they would be frightful in their anger if any harm should come to me here. You should know also that they are being well rewarded for their work in helping me win this dispute and, if it can be accomplished without loss of life on either side, they will be doubly rewarded and I shall be very well pleased."
