“No, the two heirs must marry,” Dermot argued, though Morgana could see Brendan glowering at them both.
“The lady is obviously unwilling, and I cannot blame her after what you have done! Brendan confessed, I heard him myself!” the eldest of the MacMahons piped up.
“In view of these serious charges, you must name your champion, Dermot. If your champion wins, she must be satisfied to wed you, and if her champion wins, you have committed crimes which are punishable by death.”
“Aofa is willing to marry Dermot to cement an alliance, aren’t you, Aofa?” Morgana demanded, pushing her sister forward as she desperately tried to avoid an all-out battle between the assembled men.
“But I am not willing to marry her. Nor is my brother Brendan. No, it must be you, Morgana. Therefore, name your champion, and let’s get this over with,” Dermot insisted, sounding almost bored with the whole affair.
“I am my own champion,“ Morgana announced to the crowd, amid mutterings of ‘Impossible!’ and ‘Ridiculous!’ from the group of English mercenaries.
“In that case, we name Ruairc MacMahon as our champion,” Dermot announced, as he waved his gauntlet to signal that Ruairc should be brought forward in chains to the front row of the crowd.
Morgana gasped as she took in his badly bruised face and saw that he could barely sit astride his horse, let alone lift a sword against her.
“Nonsense, what trick is this!” Morgana bridled, as all eyes focused upon her shocked white face.
“Ruairc is my named champion. If you wish to bring the MacMahons to justice, you must fight him,” Dermot demanded arrogantly.
“No, it is not permitted,” Seamus, the elder MacMahon spoke up promptly.
“Ruairc was cast out of the clan after the death of Conor Maguire, and so cannot fight on our behalf!” he informed the crowd, with a kind look at Morgana which showed he was on her side in spite of his own family loyalties.
“I take him back then, and restore his rights fully in front of all you here assembled,” Dermot said nonchalantly, playing the game by the rules, and enjoying Morgana’s discomfiture immensely.
“No, it is not possible,” Seamus rejected his words.“There must be a vote by the clan, and in any case, a champion is meant to defend the innocence of the accused. Since Brendan has already admitted his guilt, Ruairc is not permitted to suffer in his stead.”
Dermot looked at the older man with a venomous glare, and then conceded, “In that case, then, our champion must be Brendan.”
“I won’t fight her. I wish to marry her!” Brendan countered.
“But you have admitted your guilt! I am the chief. You will do as I say or be removed from the clan,” Dermot argued.
“No, Dermot, you want him killed so you will reign supreme in the clan. I won’t fight him to the death,” Morgana spoke up.
“But you must, if you wish your case to be answered before God,” the elder MacMahon cousin reminded her hesitantly.
“Can’t we just stop this now!” Morgana pleaded desperately. “Restore Ruairc, then I will marry him, and no one will be harmed.”
Both Brendan and Dermot turned on her.
Brendan stepped forward. “If I can’t have you, I’ll make sure Dermot and Ruairc don’t either!”
Brendan’s facade of love and kindness towards Morgana slipped as he leaned even closer to her, so that only she could hear, and taunted, “I hope you die better than your brother did, my dear. He sounded like a stuck pig, squealing for mercy, mewling and crying.”
Morgana’s stomach lurched, and unthinkingly she smashed her fist up into Brendan’s face before Finn pulled her away abruptly.
“Thank you for that, Morgana Maguire. It will make killing you a positive delight,” Brendan gloated as he swung up into his saddle and put on his helmet and gathered up his lance and sword.
Dermot declared, “It will be a trial by combat to the death. Morgana may put on her armour now, and then we shall proceed.”
“Morgana, for God’s sake, don’t do this!” Ruairc shouted, his green eyes imploring her not to fight.
Finn grabbed Morgana’s arm as she turned to move into place. “Are you mad? You can’t do this! You have no armour. Even if you did, he is a skilled knight! He’ll cut you to pieces!”
“I can’t back down from this challenge, Finn, for if I do, I will never be fit to lead either clan!” Morgana argued, as she moved over to where the horses had been tied.
“Then I will fight!” Finn offered.
“I’m sorry, Finn, I can’t let you die in my place. I could never forgive myself if that happened.”
“Are you telling me you have no faith in my fighting skills!” Finn demanded, the hurt evident in his pale blue eyes.
“I have every faith in them, which is why you are the head of the clan and the troops if I don’t succeed. But more than fighting skill, it takes strategy. My wits are the only things able to tumble Brendan down off his high horse,” Morgana said cryptically.
“I’m sorry, Finn, but I need to take back my loan of Darkie,” she added as she began to examine the bridle and reins.
Then Morgana checked the saddle girth, and began to shorten the stirrups quickly.
“Are you out of you mind? That horse isn’t as fast as our other mounts, you have no armor....” Finn begged.
Morgana silenced him with a telling look. “If I run away now, I will have to keep on running. You know what to do if I am killed. And if you ever get a chance to speak to Ruairc again, well, just explain my reasons, and beg him for his understanding and forgiveness.”
Morgana leapt up onto the horse’s back, and secured her feet into the shortened stirrups. She threw off her cloak, and with her dagger in her left hand and her sword in the right, she grasped the reins and rode to the mark the elder MacMahon had made.
“Seamus, I trust you to see to it that all is done fairly, that the truth is known and Ruairc restored to his lands titles and fortunes, no matter what,” she said firmly as she looked down at the elderly man.
“I will, my dear,” Seamus reassured her, “but you must take this lance.”
“I have no need of it.”
“You can’t sacrifice yourself like this, child! Here, take it quickly before Dermot calls on you to start,” the old man urged.
“I have no need of it, but if it makes you feel better, I shall take it.” Morgana smiled, and sheathing her sword in its scabbard, she took the heavy lance in her right hand.
Morgana caught a glimpse of some riders approaching in the distance, and with a joyous heart she saw it was Patrick. She knew with certainty then that their mission to capture the two main MacMahon strongholds had succeeded.
But just then, Dermot lifted the banner, and called for them both to make ready.
“Morgana, don’t do this, please. It’s sheer madness,” Ruairc implored, his voice cracking with grief.
“I love you, Ruairc, but this is the only way to settle things between us all. Remember our madness when we were younger, Ruairc, and you’ll understand,” Morgana said quickly.
Dermot lowered the banner to signal the start of the joust, and with a curious emptiness in her mind, Morgana let her instincts take over as she spurred her horse and took off at a gallop down the field.
She and the old faithful horse rode as one, like a centaur, as she steered Darkie over to the left with her knees, riding him closer and closer to Brendan’s mount as it thundered straight towards her.
The long deadly lance grew ever nearer, and at the last possible moment Morgana threw her own away and gripped her dagger firmly.
She could hear Ruairc’s voice a long distance away screaming, “No, don’t! Morgana!” but the blood thrummed in her veins as the horse and she moved in perfect accord. Morgana narrowly escaped the point of Brendan’s lance as she crossed in front of his steed, and raising herself up to nearly her full height in the stirrups, she jumped off her mount and toppled Brendan backwards out of his saddle.
Brendan’s sword flew to the ground, landing upright with its bejewelled hilt buried firmly in the boggy soil. Brendan was impaled on his own blade as his armour-clad figure tumbled to the ground.
Morgana narrowly escaped the sharp point herself as she landed on his chest.
Though the wind was knocked out of her from the fall and the impact of Brendan’s heavy armour through her padded jerkin, she flipped open his visor and put the point of the dagger to his throat. But now she saw the blood spurting out of his mouth and looked down to see the blade sticking straight up from his abdomen.
His eyes bulging in frantic disbelief, Brendan struggled and screamed in agony, and begged, “Don’t let me die like this!”
“You let Conor die exactly like that. It’s God’s punishment,” Morgana rasped.
Ignoring his weakening cries, Morgana rose shakily to her feet as Brendan’s life ebbed away. She stalked across the wide field over to where Dermot waited, disbelief written all over his face.
“Victory is mine,” she declared, stabbing her sword into the ground. “I now ask for justice.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Maguires, MacMahons, and English soldiers waited in an agony of suspense for Dermot’s response to Morgana’s triumph.
His brows knitted threateningly as he desperately tried to save his crumbling world.
“You didn’t fight Brendan fairly!” Dermot accused. “Marry me now, in front of all these men here assembled, or the clan shall fight.”
“Marry Aofa, and I will marry Ruairc. Thus we can avoid any more unnecessary bloodshed,” Morgana wheezed, trying to draw breath enough to be heard.
“No, I want only you!” Dermot insisted, as he dismounted from his horse and tried to drag Morgana away with him.
A sudden movement out of the corner of her eye caused Morgana to leap out of the way. She shoved the flying white figure towards Dermot, who fell with a gasp, clutching his chest.
Aofa had snatched Finn’s dagger with the intention of killing Morgana, but Divine Providence appeared to have guided her hand, for she had stabbed Dermot straight through the heart instead.
Aofa began to scream as she saw Dermot fall flat on his face with a gurgle.
She turned to attack Morgana once again.
Morgana brought up her sword to parry the blow. Aofa was so powerful in her fury Morgana was brought to her knees. She waited for what seemed an eternity for Aofa to strike the final fatal stab, but a cowled figure in the crowd stretched out its arm and ran Aofa through with a mighty sword.
Morgana fell to the ground as the body of her dead sister landed on top of her. She looked up disbelievingly as Mary pulled off her cowl which had concealed her.
“It is finished. They are all dead now, and all have got what they deserved, except for myself,” Mary said with grim satisfaction. “You are the undisputed chief of the clan, Morgana Maguire. Do with me what you will.”
Morgana was helped to her feet by Seamus MacMahon, and Finn, and she swallowed hard as she declared, “You saved my life, Mary. My sister was guilty, and you have won justice for the family. I refuse to punish you for her death, since she deserved to pay for killing my father.Live long, and may you prosper in my service, if you are willing to continue on at Lisleavan.”
Mary smiled. “I am willing, provided that Ruairc MacMahon is your lord.”
Morgana blinked in surprise, and then turned to Seamus.
“What is your will? Does your clan wish to fight, or will you take Ruairc back as rightful heir to all his father’s properties, and allow our families to be united?”
“I am truly sorry for all you and your family have suffered, child. Though we must have a family council regarding the second matter, I believe none of us are willing to fight. You have shown extraordinary courage this day, and we hope the deaths of Brendan and Dermot will atone for the great wrongs they have done to you and Ruairc,” Seamus answered.
“Thank you.”
She smiled joyously as Ruairc, finally released from his chains, hobbled up to Morgana and pulled her into his arms.
Morgana winced. “Careful, my love. The ribs are a bit sore.”
“You frightened me to death! I was certain you were going to be killed,” Ruairc agonised against her hair as he held her tightly to him.
“Well, I wasn’t killed. While we are talking about terrible frights, can I scold you for the mad trick you played on me yesterday, cutting the rope at Carrickdoo, and staying behind so I could escape! Look at you, you need to lie down and rest!” Morgana rebuked Ruairc.
“Let’s forget it all, shall we? Brendan, Dermot and Aofa are dead now. They can’t ruin our lives anymore.”
Ruairc kissed her firmly on the lips.
At length they broke off the kiss and both blushed at all the men staring at them.
“It’s not quite finished yet,” Morgana sighed, before turning to the head of the mercenaries and asking his name.
“I’m Captain Reynolds, my lady,” he bowed, his eyes full of admiration for her feat.
“Well, Captain Reynolds, you can see that the men who employed you are now dead. There will be no pay for any of you. But we would like to start to rebuild our fleet, our homes, and would welcome extra pairs of hands if you and your men aren’t afraid of hard work. We couldn’t pay you as much as you would get for soldiering, but with food and land and houses, you wouldn’t do badly if you chose to stay,” Morgana offered.
Captain Reynolds looked to Ruairc for confirmation, and then said, “We shall discuss your generous offer amongst ourselves, and I am sure many will be willing to stay. But lady, I would warn you now....”
“About the Spanish invasion, yes, we know all about that, and would pay you well if you choose to fight.”
“No, no, my lady, ‘tis worse than that. Dermot and Brendan have also got the O’Reilly clan on their way here as reinforcements,” Captain Reynolds said hurriedly.
Morgana grabbed him by the arm. “Are you sure?” she demanded anxiously.
“They are waiting nearby for a signal, a loud shot fired off. It will be dangerous for you to go back to your castle at Lisleavan with them lurking nearby, and they might try to overrun your land as long as they are here,” the Captain warned.
“We needn’t worry too much, though, for we are on the alert already for the Spanish invasion force. Besides, no such signal will go off now that Brendan and Dermot are both dead.” Ruairc shrugged.
But a second after he had spoken, the signal from Tulach regarding the sighting of the Spanish ships was fired.
“Good Lord!” Morgana cried as the cannon blast reverberated in her ears.
“What are we going to do?” Finn cried above the noise.
Morgana leapt onto the back of Dermot’s fine charger, and waved her sword to catch everyone’s attention as they all stood talking frantically at once.
“MacMahons, Maguires, listen to me! The Spanish are invading to put Princess Mary on the throne of England. They will destroy you homes, your crops, and your families if they get through. Some of us will die if we do fight, but the English administration in Dublin will blame us if we don’t.
“Worse still, the O’Reillys are coming, at Dermot’s instigation, to try to help wipe us out. If we don’t all stand together against these two common enemies, we will be cut down. Please, will you fight by my side, and Ruairc’s and Captain Reynolds',” Morgana cried at the top of her voice.
A roar went up. “Fight! Fight!”
“Listen then. Here is what we must do if we wish to have any chance of success. I want my men and the English mercenaries to pretend to fight, and my men only, lie down and play dead. The ones in the center should fall the most frequently. They will think that is our weakest point, and move in for the kill. Wait for my signal, a single shot, and then rise up, surround them, and attack.”
The mock fighting commenced almost immediately, with some fairly convincing grunts and groans from the men.
Morgana moved to the trees to t
ell the Maguire men hiding to get ready. “Wait for my signal, and you men, and circle around so they can’t retreat.”
A short time later, seeing the supposed battle taking place, the O’Reillys began to flood the field by the score. They attacked any man wearing the Maguire colors of blue and yellow on their sleeves, and the whole field, particularly towards the center, became a pile of bodies, as the genuinely wounded fell atop those men still playing dead.
The Faithful Heart Page 32
