The Faithful Heart

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know, Ruairc. I can’t think Aofa would do such a thing, for all the reasons you’ve just highlighted, but all the same, I have to be suspicious of her being with him at the time. And she was delighted to see you take the blame. Not to mention the fact that those gowns in her room were all stolen, from both Niamh and some other woman even more vastly wealthy than the O'Donnells.

  “Ruairc, if you will forgive my saying so, Aofa always seemed to, er, like you in the past, rather more than mere friendship would warrant. Why should she suddenly turned against you so violently?” Morgana asked quietly.

  “I, er, well, I resisted her, um, blandishments when I first arrived, and I think she resents me. Now you needn’t look at me like that!I certainly didn’t invite her attentions! She came to my room when I was asleep!” Ruairc defended himself hotly.

  “I see,” Morgana said coldly, turning her back to him.

  “No, Morgana, no you don’t see, not if you are going to let Aofa's spite and lust drive a wedge between us!” Ruairc argued as he stretched his hand through the bars to touch Morgana.

  “Nothing happened, I swear! I threw a blanket over her and got her out of the room.I never laid a finger on her, so help me. Aofa has only ever wanted to make trouble between us, because she envies our love and all that we share. I beg you not to let her accusations cast doubt upon my love and fidelity for you. I told you the truth the other night. There has been no one since the moment we met, though it's been damned hard all these years to just keep company with my hand!”

  Morgana blushed, and stepped further away for a moment. Her emotions were so raw after what they had shared in the hovel. Once again, guilt gnawed at her. Maybe if they hadn't stopped for dinner, maybe if they had not taken shelter in the storm and begun to make love, she might have been home in time to… Perhaps if she hadn’t been giving herself to Ruairc as a lover, Conor would still be alive…

  She shoved the last two thoughts violently aside. No, the fault was not hers, and not Ruairc's either. It was the fault of the killer or killers. She couldn't see the pattern yet, but she was going to. It was only a matter of time, and of watching, and waiting to see the pattern emerge.

  She turned to face her beloved at last. “I won’t let Aofa's actions come between us, Ruairc,” Morgana sighed, “but you can see how you must stay down here for as long as it takes to convince Aofa that her little scheme has worked. And if the real assassin thinks you are to take the blame, then that person might get careless.”

  “That person might also go after you,” Ruairc pointed out worriedly.

  “Don’t worry, I know what I'm looking for now. If I develop any signs, I shall know what to do. Father was caught unawares, and that’s why he died.”

  “I want to get out of here so I can protect you, my love! There are far more ways to kill than just poison!”

  “Not now, in a couple of days when the funeral takes place. I’ll let you out then.”

  "I want to be at the wake, the funeral. I loved your father—"

  "I know you did. I'll arrange something later."

  "And what of me? The killer could just as easily give me poison and say I killed myself with my own weapon out of guilt."

  Her eyes widened in horror, but she had to admit, he did have a valid point. She put her hand on the one that rested on the bars. "You are to take no food from anyone other than me, then. You're right. We're both in danger now."

  “I love you, Morgana. Thank you for believing in me,” Ruairc said, as he stroked her shoulder

  “I do trust you, Ruairc, but it wouldn’t be wise to show it, not until the traitor is caught.”

  “You will let me come to Morgan’s funeral though, won’t you?”

  “Yes, of course. You have every right to be there, but you mustn’t stand with me, it’s too dangerous,” Morgana sighed. She then moved closer, to stroke his lean, hard jaw, and kiss Ruairc through the bars of his cell.

  When she finally brought herself to break off the kiss, Morgana said, “I will bring you food myself. Don’t take anything from anyone else’s hand, not Mary, Aofa, or even Niamh. Do you understand?”

  “I do, Morgana, but heed that warning yourself,” Ruairc urged.

  “Don’t worry about me, Ruairc, I’ll be fine.”

  Morgana sighed wearily, as the full impact of her father’s death and the blame once again being put upon Ruairc dredged up unpleasant memories which Morgana wished she could stop being haunted by.

  “What will you do now?” Ruairc asked quietly.

  “Rebuild this clan, restore it to its former glory. Conor and Father are dead. Finn and Patrick aren’t here. There’s no time to waste. If our enemies wish to take advantage of Father’s death, we must be prepared for the worst. I loved him, and I love you. But I must go now, dearest. I have business in the castle which will not wait even for Father to be buried. We're running out of time if we wish to defeat our enemies. Whatever they're planning, they've had over two years to put into execution. Try to sift through the pieces, dearest Ruairc. You always were much better than I at discerning hidden motives.”

  He nodded. "I will try. You're right. Whatever is happening, is going to happen sooner rather than later, especially now that they've got their wish and your father is finally dead."

  He choked at the last words, and they clung to each other in grief and love through the bars for a brief, blissful moment, taking strength from each other's love. I

  t was a relief to know that it was the one certain thing in their reeling worlds, solid and enduring, in the past, and well into the future, Morgana knew now as she clung to him for a brief second longer like a drowning woman gripping a life line.

  At last she let him go. "We shall mourn father together, and then talk about the future anon. For now, try to get some sleep, and when you're feeling a less grief-stricken frame of mind, start putting your considerable mental powers to bear on our predicament, and then we can decide how to act."

  “Sleep?" He shool his head."Impossible, a thaisce. Even if it weren't foryour father's dreadful death, there is no peace for me, my love. I dream only of you every night, and wake up in agony when I find I am alone,” Ruairc confessed.

  “It's been the same for me too, Ruairc,” Morgana admitted shyly.

  Ruairc pulled her back against the bars for one last kiss.

  “I need you desperately, Morgana. Please, let me out of here!” Ruairc begged as she stepped away.

  Her back stiffened. “With Father not even cold, it wouldn’t be right. Don’t ask this of me, Ruairc.”

  "Nay, my love, I don't mean for that! I seek only to comfort and protect you! The only person I trust at the moment to be with you is myself!"

  "I know," she said, sniffing. "But I don't trust Aofa. I wish to God I had never told Mary to let her out of the dungeon as soon as I was gone."

  They both looked at each other in horror.

  "Morgan has been well ever since she and Gergus were locked up," Ruairc said quietly. "She was sitting with—"

  "I know, I know!"

  "Then how much more proof do you need—"

  She threw one hand wide in despair. "Whatever it takes, but it's still almost unthinkable. She was the world to him. Most people would believe it more of me than her. After all, he treated me very badly."

  Ruairc sighed, and ran his fingers through his thick ebony hair in frustration. "It might serve the little minx even better than we're both here. If we're not careful, she could accuse you. Say that he died because the two of us had returned."

  Morgana's eyes widened in horror. "Surely no one would believe—"

  "Most people who knew you would not. But she's nothing if not a troublemaker. And she hates and envies us both. In fact, I can honestly say, even with all the worldly people in Dublin I've had to deal with as a courtier for the Earl of Kildare, I've never met anyone with such a full and well-developed set of all seven deadly sins as Aofa." He shook his head.

&n
bsp; She sighed and nodded. "She got most of them from her foul mother, curse her for the manipulative whore she was. But Father has to take the blame too, for her pride and lust. He let her do as she pleased from the time she grew a bosom. Encouraged her to make a good match using her wiles."

  Ruairc paced up and down again for a moment. "Mayhap that's it, my love. She's doing this to make a match with someone your father never would have approved of. Or, he did approve, but he made it clear that she was not to inherit everything, or all she thought she was entitled to. So she decided to take matters into her own hands."

  Morgana gripped his fingers harder. "You know, you could be right. Or even worse, whoever it is is putting her up to this, using her as a pawn for his own ambitious ends. Get Morgan Maguire out of the way, and the whole of the region becomes unstable. They've been treating us like we're ripe for the spoils for two years now. So why wait any more? Finish Morgan off, and finish the job."

  Ruairc nodded. "Except that they hadn't counted on the two of us making peace with him. Perhaps they even thought that you had already taken your vows."

  She squeezed his hand once more. "That could be it! The bishop should have been here already to perform the ceremony, but he was delayed."

  "And would you have gone through with it?" he asked quietly.

  She sighed and shook her head. "No. I would have been the worst fraud in the world if I had. I would have found some excuse to not go ahead with it. I was even getting ready to leave when I heard of the delay and my reprive, that he would not be here for 6 more weeks."

  "I'm not saying it all has only to do with you. Clearly other things are at work here, especially the piracy. And the provoking of the O'Donnells. Whoever is responsible had been plotting and planning for quite some time. Morgan's death was part of the scheme all along. So now we have to wonder, what's behind it all, and why now. And what are they going to do once they find out that you are tanaist ?"

  She stroked his tousled hair back from his brow. "We both know what's going to happen. They're going to hit us sooner rather than later. And they must know you are here, and fear that we will ally ourselves with one another again. No one who knew us could fail to know how deeply in love we once were. Aofa fears I forgave you for Conor, and would now have me hate you for Father's death."

  "And do you, forgive me for Conor?" he asked softly.

  "Nay, my love."

  His face fell.

  "There was never anything to forgive. I know it now. I think I always have."

  "Then why—"

  "Please, Ruairc, let's leave it for now. I must go and set my plans in motion, and keep an eye like a hawk on my foul half-sister. If I find evidence of her guilt, well, death will be too good for her."

  "All the same, my love, you need to be careful," he said, clinging onto her hand as though he would never let her go.

  Morgana drew comfort and strength once again from the simple contact, but she ached for so much more. She reached to cup the back of his head, and kissed him again. The bars between them were both an impediment and an erotic enticement, making them ache to be one at last.

  Finally she withdrew from the kiss with a shaky sigh.

  "I must go, my love."

  “All right, I’ll release you for now, but our time together will come soon, Morgana, and I won’t let you run away again,” Ruairc threatened huskily.

  “When I am sure the time is right, Ruairc, I won’t run away. I’ll become your lover, and nothing will ever separate us again,” Morgana promised with a small smile.

  "Be careful, love, or I'll have to storm the gates of hell to get to heaven to find you and make you keep that promise."

  The glow in his eyes told her he was not exaggerating.

  "Let's just hope we're both not in hell when you call on me to keep that promise."

  He shook his head. "Impossible. We've already been there these past two years. I would have heaven for us both."

  "Amen to that. And let's pray for that for father as well. It must have been terrible for him to know his mistakes too late to do anything about them."

  "And to have his most beloved daughter feed him poison wth her own two hands."

  Morgana shivered, and chafed her arms up and down with her opposite hands to get warm. "It's almost unthinkable."

  "Well, someone killed him. Go on, love, go upstairs and see what's happening now, and come back soon."

  She nodded. "Thank you, darling, for all your love and support."

  "I could support you better if I were out of here," he said, slapping the bars impatiently.

  "Let me deal with the threat Aofa poses first, and then I promise, you'll be free. We both will be."

  He blew her a kiss, and she smiled.

  Picking up her lantern, she ascended the stairs slowly, feeling as though the weight of the world was balanced precariously upon her shoulders.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Morgana left Ruairc alone in the dungeon and stopped in at her father's wake to say a few prayers. When she was finished, she sought the privacy of her study, where she forced her mind away from her worries about the identity of the assassin.

  Her suspicions were becoming more and more focused upon certain individuals, and she knew her own safety was at stake if she wasn’t careful. But now that she was beginning to get a fuller picture of the circumstances of her family ever since she had left, she felt certain the only way to defeat her enemies was to act even more cunningly than they.

  With that view in mind, she forced herself to focus her attention upon her plans for each of her three main castles. She entered all her purchases in the ledger, and calculated the daily amounts of provisions required for Lisleavan at present.

  Then she estimated her needs per man, if any of the clansmen were to return from their self-imposed exile abroad. Lastly she guessed how many people would attend her father’s funeral feast, and drew up a list of dishes to be prepared.

  She gave a list of animals to be slaughtered for Owen to oversee, and ordered the kitchen servants to fire up all the ovens for baking and roasting.

  Morgana then moved to her father’s room, and with the help of Matthew the tailor, she removed all of Morgan’s clothing from the chests and presses. They counted them and placed to one side with other items which she secretly sent to the caves at Clashmore, where she hoped the clan would eventually reassemble.

  At the end of a long evening, Morgana made a brief visit to Ruairc to bring his some food and spend some time alone with him.After a few quick kisses, she returned to maintain her vigil by her dead father’s side all through the night.

  Only as the dawn began to peep in through the windows did she rise stiffly and go down to the kitchens to start her daily round of chores.

  Mary scowled blackly when she came into the room and saw Morgana doing her usual tasks.

  “Your father isn’t even cold yet! Put on some mourning clothes, and go back to his side,” she scolded.

  “There are many there already at the wake, without me sitting by idly,” Morgana muttered rebelliously. “There is a duty to the living as well, you know. The best way I can pay tribute to my father is to restore the Maguires to their former glory. I need all the men for ploughing today, and the O’Donnells will go hunting again.

  “I will also need all the women to make preparations for the funeral feast, and I shall divide my time between both tasks. Has the miller got the mill working again? And Michael, the baker, is he able to fire up his ovens?

  “I’m not sure, within the next day or two, I believe he told me,” Mary said sullenly.

  Morgana was surprised at the normally calm older woman's reaction to her father's death. Normally, she seemed so calm. “Come now, Mary, you know it is for the good of the clan. Now that people have heard of his death, they will come to pay their respects, and I am ever hopeful that Finn and Patrick will be found. We will need to get everything ready for a full house.”

  “Without your father,” Mary pointed out
harshly.

  “The murderer will be brought to justice,” Morgana stated in a tone ringing with conviction.

  “Aye and it’s the same man who killed your brother Conor, Ruairc MacMahon! He should have never been allowed to go free!”

  She shook her head. “It may well be, Mary, but Ruairc wasn’t responsible for either death, of that I am sure. Father trusted Ruairc, and so do I.”

  “Then you are both a pair of childish simpletons! He is a wolf in sheep's clothing and--”

  “Be careful how you address the chief of the sept, Mary Maguire,” Morgana warned, her eyes glittering.

  “I meant no offence, of course, Morgana Mor,” Mary apologised sulkily, using he chiefs complimentary title of ‘great.’ “But I would have justice for both deaths. Ruairc MacMahon should be put to death immediately for what he has done.”