The Faithful Heart

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  He insisted on helping her dress, wash, and even comb her hair. Morgana felt like a puppet on a string as she moved along with the dance he set. Morgana might have almost felt sorry for Brendan were it not for the fact that every time she looked at him she saw the murdered body of her brother.

  But Brendan seemed completely smitten by her, and watched her every move with a mixture of adoration and downright lust. He often fondled her, and Morgana had to tolerate his caresses, though they made her feel sick inside.

  Fortunately Morgana’s supposed intentions to become a nun helped her restrain his ardour to a certain degree, as did her jaw and bruised head. She could eat little other than broth, and for the first three days could barely even sit up in the bed. But when she was left alone in the lofty bedroom on the fourth storey of the castle, Morgana practised being able to find her way around the room without a stick to guide her, and gazed out of the windows to see if she could discover any means of escape.

  Above her room was a rope and pulley system for bringing stores up to the top level of the residence easily. Morgana had every hope that if she could just get to a window near the rope, she could lower herself down to the ground and escape. She could hear the sound of horses’ hooves clattering in the cobblestoned courtyard day and night, and knew she would only need a few minute's start to outrun any pursuers and get back to Lisleavan to tell them all she knew.

  By the end of the fourth day there, Brendan had become careless talking in front of her, almost as though Morgana were deaf rather than blind. She learned that the Spanish were overdue, and that his brother Dermot was livid at the delay.

  She also discovered that the O’Reillys were in on the plot with the Spanish as well, and hoped overrun the Pale and get the richest picking they could manage in the ensuing confusion.

  Morgana sat playing chess and making small talk with Brendan most days. In the evenings he was kind enough to read to her, and tried to discuss subjects which he assumed she had an interest in.

  Morgana knew he fully intended to propose marriage to her. It was difficult not to recoil from his groping hands and beseeching words as he got down on bended knee and declared his ardent love for her.

  Morgana’s sight was just beginning to get back to normal, and she took in the small parlour quickly as she searched for a means of escape. But she knew she could not get out of the high window in the parlour without a rope. Seeing no chance of escape, she heard herself asking for time to think over his proposal.

  “I am very flattered, Brendan, but we hardly know each other. I was destined to have become a nun by now, so this is all very sudden. Besides, can you seriously tell me you wouldn’t mind a blind wife?”

  “Not with all the other attributes you would bring to the marriage, your housewifely skills, you riding abilities, which are legendary, your skill with figures and trade,” Brendan complimented her.

  My land and ships, Morgana thought to herself as she listened to the fulsome praise.

  “Won’t your brother object to this?” she asked aloud.

  “But you said you had no wish to see Ruairc ever again!” Brendan said uneasily.

  “No, I meant Dermot,” Morgana said patiently.

  Brendan’s face fell.

  “Oh, yes, of course, but I can’t see why. He could marry your sister Aofa, and then the whole family would be one extended clan. It would be marvellous. Just think how powerful we would be!” Brendan enthused.

  “Yes, I can just imagine,” Morgana said with a forced smile.

  Just then Morgana heard the door swing open, and Brendan scrambled to his feet.

  “Who’s there, Brendan?” she asked, as she clung to his arm convincingly.

  “It’s Dermot, come just in time to stop this young puppy from making a fool of himself.”

  “A fool is it? Morgana has agreed to marry me, so now who is fooling himself, Dermot?” Brendan gloated.

  “Now, Brendan, I never said....” Morgana protested.

  But Dermot was already at his younger sibling’s throat.

  “You’ve been taking advantage of her blindness to get into her bed, you little bastard,” Dermot hissed, grabbing him by the upper arms.

  “Never! She likes me! Is that so surprising?” Brendan shouted, as he gripped his brother in return and shook him by the edges of his opened doublet.

  “Well, let her try me for a change. Let her sample all three brothers, and when choose which of us she likes best,” Dermot sneered.

  He grabbed Morgana and began to kiss her.

  "Ow!" she exclaimed as he rammed his jaw against hers.

  Morgana’s hands moved up to push against Dermot’s chest, and she fought back her nausea as the brandy and garlic fumes of his breath threatened to overpower her.

  She pretended to faint, but it only seemed to increase Dermot’s ardour.

  He began to shred the front of the simple gown she had been lent by one of the housemaids.

  Morgana’s emotions took over from her reason as she threw all caution to the winds. Brendan was trying to force them apart by now, so she let fly. She punched Dermot in the groin, before bringing up her knee to connect with his face as he doubled over in agony. She then swung him into the wall, where she slammed his head against the stone with a resounding thunk.

  Brendan stood amazed as he stared at the crumpled form of his brother.

  Morgana went over to him and begged, “Take me out of here, now, and don’t tell him it was me, will you. He’ll kill me.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No, just the gown is torn, but he was disgusting. I feel sick. Could you take me to the privy?”

  Morgana pretended she was shaking with fear and cold, so that Brendan offered, “Here, you wait for me outside this door when you’re finished. I’m going to go find you something else to wear, and I will get you a cloak as well.”

  Morgana was just about to creep out of the privy and down the stairs to the courtyard when she heard an all-too-familiar voice insisting he had ridden all the way from Belleek to see his brothers on urgent business.

  Good Lord, it’s Ruairc! Morgana thought to herself, and wondered what to do.If Ruairc had come to rescue her, there was no way they would make it out of the castle alive, unless she somehow managed to outwit Brendan.

  “And I told you, the lady remains outside,” the guard insisted.

  “Mary, you wait outside while I speak to Dermot and Brendan, is that clear?” Ruairc ordered loudly.

  Morgana listened through the privy door as Ruairc greeted his brother by saying, “Well, Brendan, and how are you? I’ve just ridden all they way here from Belleek, because one of the O’Donnells’s serving women has told me the most alarming tale about Aofa Maguire being kidnapped. Do you think your men or the O’Reillys might be willing to track her down? Morgana is meant to be taking her vows at the convent any day now, so I wouldn’t like to disturb her again, just after her father’s death, to have to look for her sister.”

  Brendan pulled Ruairc into the small room downstairs he used as a study and demanded, “Lower your voice! Morgana is here, and she remembers nothing of what has happened since her brother Conor was killed.”

  “What do you mean, she can’t remember anything?” Ruairc asked sharply.

  Brendan smirked. “Well, she does recall that she never wanted to lay eyes on you again after Conor’s murder, and has agreed to marry me.”

  “I don’t believe you! If you’ve harmed her!” Ruairc threatened, advancing on him menacingly.

  Brendan shouted hastily for his guards.

  “I swear to you, I’ve done nothing to her. She fell, hit her head, and she has lost her memory, and well, and her sight.”

  “Are you trying to tell me she is blind?” Ruairc choked. “Where is she!Let me see her!”

  “She doesn’t want to see you, Ruairc!” Brendan stated flatly.

  “I’ve come here peacefully to search for Morgana’s missing sister, and find Morgana ill and blind.Now let go of
me, and take me to her!” Ruairc insisted.

  “Calm down!” Brendan urged, hoping Morgana could not hear their argument. “I will let you see her, but only one one condition. You will say nothing of Aofa’s disappearance or her father’s death, nor anything about the convent where she has spent the past two years. It would only confuse and upset her,” Brendan said sternly.

  “I agree to your terms. Where is she?”

  “She’ll be brought here now, and I hope you understand that I cannot possibly leave you two alone together.”

  “Just let me see her, damn it!”

  Morgana came out of the privy, and managed a wan smile as she felt along the wall in a convincing manner.

  Brendan beamed. “There you are, my sweet. All better now?”

  “Yes, thank you, though I’m afraid Dermot has left this gown is in tatters,” Morgana said ruefully, trying not to look in her beloved's direction.

  She wondered what Ruairc must be thinking as he stared at her, his green eyes glittering in the candlelight.

  “Never mind about the gown now, Morgana,” Brendan counselled as he led her into the room and threw a warm cloak over her shoulders and tucked it around her neck to cover her breasts.

  “Morgana, we have a visitor who would like to see you, and wish us well for our upcoming marriage. Will you please speak to him, for my sake?” Brendan coaxed softly.

  “If it pleases you.” Morgana smiled up at Brendan winningly. “Who is this friend?”

  “It's Ruairc, my dear,” Brendan said quietly.

  Morgana stepped back.

  “Brendan how could you ask me to speak to him of all people, the coldblooded murderer of my brother!” Morgana gasped, though she winked at Ruairc.

  “Morgana, please, I just wanted to see how you were....” Ruairc began.

  She could see the warning looks Brendan was casting in his direction.

  “Morgana, there's no need to be so agitated. He just wants to wish us well. Ruairc, Morgana tells us you have been in Dublin. Do your fortunes prosper?” Brendan smiled.

  “I haven’t made my fortune yet, but I intend to,” Ruairc declared.

  “Please, I am a bit fatigued.May we sit down?” Morgana requested, and held out a hand to be guided to a seat. Ruairc took it hastily, and Morgana squeezed it with all her might, willing him to continue with her ruse

  “And tell me how Aofa and my father fare in Dublin? Have you seen much of them, Ruairc? Or is it that my father cannot bring himself to forgive you either?” she asked coldly.

  “They are well,” Ruairc replied mechanically, as he wondered at the vice-like grip.

  “Perhaps the delights of the fair city have helped him recover from his grief. He does love Dublin so,” Morgana stated conversationally.

  Ruairc let her rattle on after that, for he knew she was putting on a performance for Brendan's benefit, the point of which he could only begin to guess.

  “Ah, but then of course, though he enjoys himself in Dublin, he can’t wait to get home to hunt. And his favourite dish simply can’t be made in the city the way Mary does it here at home, wild boar with prune sauce,” Morgana turned to explain to Brendan.

  Brendan listened to Morgana’s seemingly idle chatter, and began to relax since it did not appear to pose any threat.

  “Do you think Father will return for my forthcoming nuptials?” Morgana asked suddenly.

  Brendan sat upright and shook his head.

  “No, as you say, though he is not angry with me any longer, his grief is still keen. And Aofa will no doubt be having such a splendid time with your cousins that she may not deign to return either,” Ruairc said smoothly with a telling glance at Brendan.

  “In that case, though I hate to ask this under the circumstances, as my father’s favourite foster son, and eldest male in our family circle, you will have to give me away at my wedding ceremony,” Morgana said quietly. “There is little time to make other arrangements, and the convent no longer seems to be a sensible option for me,” Morgana said with emphasis on the words ‘time,’ ‘convent’ and ‘option.’

  Ruairc began to get the drift of her message, but all the same, Brendan was staring at him, waiting for a response to Morgana’s outrageous request.

  “You can’t seriously expect me to stand by and allow you to marry my brother?”

  Morgana nodded. “I do expect it, for the good of both clans.”

  "But--"

  “If you won’t do it, I shall have to find some one else, but in front of all the assembled clans I want everyone to know who my choice of husband is, so there will be no disputes or ill feeling. Brendan, you will of course allow our parish priest Father Doyle to preside over the ceremony, and of course it must be at Lisleavan.”

  Brendan’s smile froze on his face. “But dearest, you are not well enough, and....” he began to protest.

  “Tradition dictates that the wedding must be paid for by the bride’s family. As long as Ruairc is here with my housekeeper Mary, they won’t mind escorting me home to Lisleavan, where I can get a proper gowns and so on, and make the necessary arrangements,” Morgana said cleverly.

  “I-I, um, don’t think you are up to it, your fall, your blindness,” Brendan stammered.

  “But Brendan, you can’t wait on me hand and foot like a servant, and arrangements must be made. If we have a quiet wedding, everyone will think we have done something amiss. All the clans must be gathered for it,” Morgana maintained firmly.

  A groan from Dermot in the next room determined Brendan’s course of action.

  “My brother Dermot would never allow it. Your family is still in mourning over your brother’s death, so the wedding will be here in a week’s time,” Brendan stated in a tone which brooked no refusal.

  “Do you accept this, Morgana? Are you willing to marry this man?” Ruairc asked with seeming anger.

  “I know you're upset, Ruairc, but by the end of the week you will simply have to accept where things stand, as will both clans.” Morgana smiled softly, and gazed up into his emerald eyes.

  Ruairc stared into Morgana’s eyes for a few more moments, trying to read them clearly, and then said with apparent reluctance, “I shall give you away then. I will be back at eleven on Saturday morning, and shall bring Father Doyle and some of the other men with me.”

  “A small wedding, remember, Ruairc,” Brendan cautioned, and then called for Ruairc’s horse.

  “Keep an eye on the convents and monasteries. I have no idea when the Spanish are arriving, but your brothers are expecting them any day now,” Morgana murmured quickly as Brendan left the room for a moment.

  “But you’re hurt, your sight,” Ruairc protested.

  “It’s nothing to worry about.‘Tis mostly pretence. Aofa did it, not Brendan, so don’t waste your anger on him. He is merely Dermot’s puppet. But you must get me out of here somehow, and we must warn everyone of what they intend,” Morgana instructed in an undertone.

  “I love you,” Ruairc whispered, squeezing her arm.

  “So nice to see you again, Ruairc,” Morgana said flatly, as Dermot groaned again, and Brendan returned to the room.

  “Are you leaving, Ruairc?” Brendan asked none too subtly.

  “I'm just going now, Brendan.Look after Morgana well,” Ruairc cautioned. "She is a rare treasure."

  “I shall, Ruairc, believe me. She is a treasure beyond belief,” the younger man gloated.

  He bowed, and then Ruairc was gone.

  “Dermot is waking up. We had better get him to his room, and I think perhaps I had better avoid him for a few days.” Morgana smiled prettily, fluttering her eyelashes at Brendan coyly.

  “I agree. A few days in bed with a sore head would do him a world of good,” Brendan said with an ambitious gleam in his eyes she shuddered at.

  Morgana saw it was only a matter of time before they fought with each other over the sole ownership of the MacMahon lands.

  Morgana pondered on ways to sow seeds of dissension between the
m from now until the proposed wedding.

  She herself was the major bone of contention, for Dermot still insisted day after day that though the wedding was to take place on Saturday, it would be himself and Morgana who were to wed each other, and Aofa would be left for Brendan.

  Morgana said haughtily, “I should think I have the right to choose, and I choose Brendan. Nothing would prevail upon me to marry you after you've given your word to my sister.”