The Faithful Heart

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  Morgana had overheard all of their conversation despite the painful throbbing in her head, and felt physically sick what she had learnt. To think that Aofa had been in league with them all along, had been Dermot’s lover. Worse still, she had actually helped kill her own brother and father, and was now actively plotting the overthrow of her own clan, maybe even her own country.

  Morgana knew she would never get out alive if she struggled against the MacMahons. The best she could do would be to playact. She could pretend she had lost her memory due to the violent blows to the head, and wait for an opportunity to use what she had learnt against them.

  Morgana forced herself to lie still as she felt Brendan’s hands strip away her habit to reveal the trunk hose and shirt underneath. He tore the gown into strips, and examined her head carefully as he tried to stanch the flow of blood.He pulled the auburn tresses to one side, and gently brushed them and then tied them out of the way into two plaits with several leather thongs.

  “Ruairc always was the luckiest of the three of us,” Morgana heard Brendan sigh as he worked.

  Then he brought a basin of water and pressed a cool compress to her aching jaw. He stroked the cloth down over her neck to the tops of her breasts, where the shirt parted. Morgana tried not to jump as she wondered desperately what she should do. When he got too close for comfort, she let a small groan out of her, and opened her eyes, appearing to squint blearily.

  “Morgana, are you awake? Morgana?” Brendan called to her softly.

  She groaned again and tried to sit up.

  Her cry of pain was genuine as Morgana’s whole world spun dizzily. She fell back onto the pillow clutching her skull with one hand, and Brendan’s arm with the other.

  “Good God, my head!” she cried, desperately trying to focus her eyes.

  “It’s me, Morgana, Brendan MacMahon. Do you know where you are, or what’s happened to you?”

  “Brendan? Thank God. Where are you, I can’t see you,” Morgana moaned, her words a mixture of lies and truth, for though she certainly remembered where she was, her vision was no more than a grey fog.

  “You’ve hit your head out hunting, that’s all. I’m going to bring you back to Carrickdoo and look after you there,” Brendan said in evident worry, as she stared at him unseeingly.

  He called to some of the men to fetch his horse and a cart.

  “I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble, really. If you could just escort me safely back to Lisleavan, I’m sure my father will look after me,” Morgana said cleverly.

  Brendan paused for a second and then cleared his throat. “Your father, sister and Ruairc are all away down in Dublin. They would never forgive me if I were to let anything happen to you,” he lied.

  “Don’t even mention Ruairc to me, not after what he’s done! No, if you won’t bring me back to Lisleavan, then take me to the convent at Kilgarven. I’m meant to be entering my novitiate there any day now, though I can’t remember exactly when,” Morgana said.

  Brendan touched her forehead with his hand and checked her for any signs of fever. He waved a finger in front of Morgana’s face, and saw that the unusual violet eyes, the colour of rare amethysts, didn’t register anything.

  “Don’t be silly, you’re welcome to stay as my guest at Carrickdoo, and I won’t take no for an answer. Come, my dear, put your arms around my neck, and I’ll take you back there,” Brendan insisted, as he wrapped his arms around her waist and began to lift her.

  Morgana’s ploys having thus far failed, she knew she had little choice but to comply. If Brendan and Dermot were convinced she had lost her memory, then it was only a matter of time before she would find a way to escape and warn Lisleavan of the MacMahons’ plans.

  As for her loss of vision, Morgana had heard of people who lost their sight temporarily after a blow to the head. She had felt his hand waft air across her face as he had waved it back and forth, but it had been nothing more than a dim gray image.

  She was worried about her relative helplessness at the hands of the MacMahon brothers, but she was not unduly concerned. She see well enough to get away is she had to.

  But Morgana began to make up her mind that this was really for the best. She could use her enforced time at Carrickdoo to learn more about Dermot and Brendan’s plans, and perhaps even win Brendan over.

  Brendan was twenty-two to her eighteen, six years younger than Ruairc, and easily manipulated if Dermot’s treatment of him were anything to judge by. Morgana recalled that Ruairc had often expressed his worries about how his younger brother had been led astray by Dermot and the O’Reillys over the years that he had been fostered at Magnus’ household in Cavan. Was it possible the young man still had a shred of decency left in him somewhere, even if he had participated in Conor’s death?

  Morgana looped her arms around Brendan’s neck, and tried not to shrink from his touch as she felt him clutch her body to his possessively.

  “No need to be so tense, I won’t drop you,” Brendan whispered softly against her silken auburn hair.

  “It’s very frightening not being able to see,” Morgana replied quickly, as he carried her along the corridor.

  “What on earth do you think you’re doing!” Dermot bellowed.

  Brendan carried her outside to the waiting cart. “Wait here a moment.”

  Morgana closed her eyes and feigned sleep, while she strained to hear their conversation in the convent gateway.

  The gist of Brendan’s argument was that Morgana’s memory of the past two years since Conor’s death seemed to have disappeared, and that she was blind. Therefore, it made no sense to keep her in the convent when the Spanish soldiers were going to arrive at any moment in the next week or two.

  “Plus, we need to keep her out of Aofa’s way. Who's to say she wouldn’t poison Morgana, or the whole lot of us come to that, if it suited her purposes!” Brendan argued with evident concern.

  Dermot grunted and gave in. “There is sense in what you say, but I warn you, little brother, if you let her escape, or try to take advantage of her, you will pay dearly for it!”

  The argument at an end for the moment, Morgana felt the cart weighed down for a brief second, and then Brendan slid back to sit beside her, and then gave orders for the vehicle to drive off.

  Morgana pretended to doze for most of the journey, while she wondered what the others would make of this turn of affairs when they found out. Morgana hoped the men left behind in the woods had seen her, and were following along at a discreet distance.

  In some ways Morgana also prayed to be rescued, but she knew she could learn much about the brothers’ plans just by just keeping her ears open. Her vision wasn’t completely gone, merely very fuzzy. Morgana could see the countryside when the sun peeped out of the clouds. Perhaps she could find papers and correspondence to incriminate the MacMahons, in case her own family were accused of plotting with the Spanish, she thought hopefully. But above all, Morgana knew she simply had to resign herself to waiting patiently while events took their course.

  Back at Lisleavan, Ruairc bellowed, “What do you mean, she was taken captive! How on earth could you have been so stupid as to let her go!”

  Finn was glad he had gone against Morgana’s orders and kept Ruairc locked up in the dungeon, for he was sure Ruairc would have ripped him limb from limb had he been free.

  “They went up to the convent to help bury the dead, but Morgana was suspicious, and so Owen and Fintan went on ahead to see who was using the convent now that the nuns were dead. They both swear it was Aofa who answered the door to them, gave them a drink of water, and sent them on their way as quickly as she could without arousing any undue suspicion.

  “So Morgana decided to go in, pretending that she was returning to the convent. She was in there for about an hour, and then they brought her out, laid her in a cart, and brought her to Carrickdoo,” Finn explained.

  “What do you mean, laid her in a cart?” Ruairc barked.

  “Well, Fintan stayed behind
to keep an eye on things, and he said that when she came out, Morgana had a bandage around her head, and had to be carried by a tall, dark-haired man.”

  “Black hair or brown?” Ruairc demanded.

  Finn frowned. “Brown, I’m fairly sure he said dark brown hair, and thin.”

  “My brother Brendan, I would guess,” Ruairc muttered, taking some small comfort from the fact that Dermot hadn’t killed her outright or had her at his mercy. “Go on. Tell me about Morgana.”

  “That’s it really, there was a bandage around her head, and her face was all bruised and swollen, Fintan said,” Finn concluded.

  “By God, when I get my hands on them....” Ruairc growled.

  “Ruairc, calm yourself. You might be able to turn this situation to our advantage if you just calm down. Now think for a minute! Did Aofa know you were going to the convent with Morgana?” Finn demanded.

  “No, I was meant to take her down to Dublin myself, but I lied and said I was going to go visit the O’Donnells one more time, and then return to Dublin myself in a few days,” Ruairc replied more calmly.

  “So for all they know, then, since Aofa’s disappearance, you have been in Dublin, not here?” Finn asked.

  “That’s right.”

  Finn hesitated, wishing Morgana were there to advise him. He arrived at his decision, and at last he spoke reluctantly. “There are two other things you should know first, Ruairc, before you get any more deeply involved in this.”

  “And they are?” Ruairc queried worriedly.

  “The first is that Morgana has discovered the reason for the dissolution of the monasteries and the killing of the nuns, as well as the presence of all that treasure, and those gowns. That ammunition you claim you saw coming down the mountain pass is being loaded into the three religious houses in preparation for the landing of a Spanish invasion force, probably at Kesh, maybe even at Lisleavan itself.”

  Ruairc slumped down the wall until he was sitting again, and held his head in his hands. “Dear God, what have those madmen done!”

  “Morgana is convinced that their ultimate goal is to set Princess Mary on the throne, hence the gowns and treasure from her uncle the Emperor. I needn’t tell you what will happen if they invade here. Either way, the Maguires will be dragged into whether we like it or not,” Finn stated in a grim tone.

  “Sweet Jesus, I can't believe even Dermot and Brendan would be so lost to prudence and decency as to allow a foreign force to invade their own homeland,” Ruairc moaned.

  “And because the Spanish soldiers are arriving on Irish-built Maguire ships, we will be attainted of treason if they fail.”

  “And if we fight we will be cut to pieces!” Ruairc returned bitterly as he looked at Finn.

  “We're trying to consider all possible alternatives at the moment, Ruairc, but perhaps one of them might be for you to act as an intermediary, to help us bargain, and agree to terms with your brothers,” Finn suggested in a tentative tone.

  “And why on earth should I parley with those traitors and murderers?”

  “Because your employer the Earl of Kildare’s son, Silken Thomas, has started a bloody rebellion in Dublin,” Finn informed Ruairc.

  “Are you sure?” Ruairc exclaimed as he rose to his feet and clung to the bars of the cell.

  “We’ve had a message from the O’Neill, warning us that the Pale is in an uproar. His old ally’s fortunes are in decline. He has warned us that we and other Gaelic clans should resist the temptation to capitalise on the turmoil, since it might mean serious reprisals on the part of the English should they take desperate measures to put down the rebellion,” Finn informed him.

  “With the Spanish invasion and Kildare rebellion occurring simultaneously, and with you having been up here in Maguire territory, it might look very bad for our sept if the English start looking for someone to blame. They might even attaint us of treason to get hold of our lands,” Finn spelt out the implications for Ruairc fully.

  Ruairc sighed. “Regardless of whether the Spanish succeed, we will have dozens of dead on our hands. The Maguire clan won’t be able to recover from this.”

  “That’s why we want to know if you're willing to go over to Carrickdoo to see Morgana, see if she is all right, and discuss terms with your brothers.”

  “There must be another way. I feel like a traitor to all I have ever loved or believed in by not trying to get revenge for Conor’s and Morgan’s deaths. My brothers and Aofa were responsible, of that I am certain. How can I go to them cap in hand and ask for Morgana back, when I know this to be true?”

  “I'm not saying we won’t fight, Ruairc. I'm simply pointing out that we need to buy time. That's why she went into the convent in the first place, don’t you see? She wanted to gain more time for us to prepare for the invasion. If they have Morgana, they will never guess we are getting ready for them. The O’Donnell men and Tiarnach O’Connor are on their way here now to discuss strategyu, and determine whether we should repulse them on the coast, or let them into the lough and then try to trap them.”

  “Right, you’re the sea captains, so I shall leave that for you to decide. What do you want me to do now?”

  “We can’t have you going in straight away, or they might get suspicious. We will just have to wait a few days, and then you can go to Carrickdoo, claim that you have just arrived back from the O’Donnells home, and act as if you know nothing of all this. Then we shall see.”

  Mary, eavesdropping on the entire conversation from the top of the stairs, gritted her teeth. So it had been Aofa all along.

  The older woman steeled her resolve, and though she grudgingly hated to admit it, she knew she owed Ruairc MacMahon all the support she could give him.

  Once Finn had gone, she crept down the stairs to the dungeon where the cousins had insisted on keeping Ruairc if only to ensure that he didn’t sneak off and attempt a rescue of Morgana single-handedly.

  “I would speak with you, Ruairc MacMahon,” Mary called through the bars, as Ruairc lay in his cell with his guts twisting into knots of frustration and despair.

  “What can you possibly have to say to me, Mary?” Ruairc answered wearily.

  “I heard what was said down here just a few moments ago. I will come with you to Carrickdoo. They will not suspect me. I was there when Aofa was captured. They might think you have come to investigate my claims and help recover her for the family.”

  “You have always blamed me for Conor’s death. You never gave Morgana my message the other night when Anna came. A message which could have given us more time to prepare for what my brothers have been plotting for two years, ever since they murdered Conor. Why should you wish to help me now?” Ruairc demanded mistrustfully.

  Mary sighed, and confessed, “I know you did not kill Morgan, for he was being poisoned long before you ever came back from Dublin. Plus, you helped save all those sick villagers by nursing them tirelessly for days on end.

  “I also know that the dagger that killed Conor was not wielded by your hand. I helped them in their plan, though God forgive me, I knew nothing of their full intentions. I was the one who slipped into your room and stole your dagger to make a copy. Aofa and Dermot said the replica dagger would be left at the scene of a crime, and that once you were out of the way, Morgana would be disgraced, and Conor would be head of the Maguires.

  “I knew of your errand for Morgan, you see. How he was planning to diivide the estate between his two eldest heirs. I couldn’t bear us having to share the estate with Morgana, a mere female, and yourself, a MacMahon,” Mary admitted candidly.

  “So Morgana and I have you to thank for all the suffering we have had to endure for the past two years, and all because of your petty jealousies. And now two good men are dead because of your envy!” Ruairc raged.

  “It serves me right that I have benefited nothing from the misfortunes both of you have borne. I ask now for your forgiveness, Ruairc MacMahon, so that I may right the wrongs I have done to you and Morgana. If you wish to resc
ue her, I will help you.”

  Ruairc scowled blackly, but in the end he accepted Mary’s offer of help. “Right, when I go, I shall take you with me. But God help you if you fail me in any way.”

  “If I fail, death will come for me anyway.”

  With that she turned and marched up the stairs stiffly, leaving Ruairc alone in the dark, haunted by his terrible fears for Morgana’s safety.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Morgana spent over a week in Carrickdoo as a ‘guest’ of Ruairc’s younger brother Brendan before she had a first glimmer of hope regarding her sight returning fully, and any chance of escape. She was sure that Finn and Patrick were using her incarceration at the MacMahon stronghold to consolidate their position in the Maguire citadels. All the same, Brendan’s constant romantic attention grew extremely wearing after the first few days.