The Warrior's Salvation (Warriors of Eriu Book 1)

by Mia Pride

  A large hand slapped down on Jeoffrey’s shoulder, causing him to grunt and laugh as he was nearly knocked over. “We are pleased that you accepted our offer,” Brennain said with a smirk.

  “Aye, Tuathal will be most pleased,” Flynn agreed.

  Eoin stood next to them in silence, seeming to carefully think out his next words. Jeoffrey looked at Eoin with what Clarice could only describe as genuine regret. It must have shown clearly because Eoin’s hard features softened slightly as he regarded Jeoffrey. “Och. Are we not all pawns of the men who command us? You were unfortunate to be born the son of Elim Mac Conrach, to be his heir, and his warrior to do his bidding. Treasa has told me enough times that you were a good and fair man to her. She bids me trust her judgment in this, and so I shall.” Eoin went silent for a moment and swallowed hard as if the next words out of his mouth would cost his greatly to say. “Out of love for my wife and trust in her judgment of your character, I will forgive you your past transgressions. Your father was an animal. She told me he threatened to kill you and you fought to protect her.”

  Before Jeoffrey could speak up, Clarice chimed in, “Aye. Tis true. His father was a madman. Jeoffrey and I were meant to wed many years ago. I was but a serf’s daughter and not good enough for the son of Elim. He threatened to kill me and Jeoffrey if I did not flee Ériu. Tis how I ended up here in Alba. Jeoffrey has suffered greatly over these years and much of that suffering is the fault of his father. Trust my word as well when I say that my husband is a man of honor and principle. He will be a good addition to your tribe.”

  Eoin nodded at Clarice and gave her a sideways smile. “Alright then, tis settled. We shall leave for Ériu in half a sennight. I do not wish to be away over long from Treasa and our wee lass.” He put his hand out to Jeoffrey and once again, they clasped forearms. So much of the tension she had felt only moments ago was already melting away. Mayhap this was the best for their family.

  Just then, the door to the gathering hall slammed open violently and the sound of wood shattering echoed all around. The candles flickered wildly, some burning out altogether as Clarice yelped in fear at the sudden commotion and gripped onto Jeoffrey’s strong arm for support. Several screams of terror filled the room as women ran away in fear. Unfamiliar men began to barge their way through the door, wielding swords, spears, and carrying large circular wooden shields painted red with white trim.

  The many warriors of their own tribe bellowed their terrible warnings to the intruders. Every warrior carried his sword, for no man was ever to be unprepared in case of a clan feud. But peace had been long standing with all surrounding tribes. Who were these men and what could they possibly want?

  “You dare barge into our hall with your men and your weapons?” shouted King Ailbert. His bellow caused Clarice to shriek again. It rang in her ears and caused the hackles on her neck to instinctively rise in fear.

  A man pushed through the intruding army, his red hair the only thing Clarice could see with half the candles now extinguished and the crowd of people around her. “You have two choices,” the man’s horrifying voice consumed the hall. “Hand over the murderer or you will have war on your hands!”

  King Ailbert stood up swiftly from his bench at the front of the room and pointed at the shouting man. “You come to my tribe and accuse one of my people of a murder?”

  The man guffawed and Clarice shivered. His voice was deep and familiar. It caused some repressed fears to come to the surface of her mind as dawning awareness took hold. It couldn’t be…

  “Nay. I do not come with one accusation. I come with three! The murder of Harrold mac Conrach, nephew of the late King Elim and one of the Caledonii’s best warriors. The murder of Paulene Mac Conrach, my wife. And the attempted murder of myself, Gregory Mac Conrach, also nephew to King Elim and brother of Harrold.”

  Voices began to murmur loudly all around. Clarice could hear the deep growling coming from Jeoffrey as he pulled her close, pushing her back against his chest. Fear unlike anything she had ever known consumed her. Gregory was alive? How had he survived that blow to the head? And now he had brought an army!

  “Who do you accuse of these crimes?” King Ailbert whispered, but Clarice knew he was not calm. She could see fury burning behind their king’s blue eyes. He obviously did not take kindly to strange men bringing armies to his hillfort and threatening his people.

  “I accuse Clarice Mac Conrach! She is a sorceress! She uses her beauty to capture her men and lure them to her! Then, she kills them and uses their blood as offerings to the gods of the Otherworld!”

  Her entire body went cold. She wanted to scream at him and shout that he was a liar, but nothing would come out. She just stood there motionless, feeling her body go numb and her head grow dizzy as if she might swoon. This could not be happening.

  “You are a liar and a fool, Gregory!” Jeoffrey was shouting over her shoulder as he pulled her behind him, using his body as a shield. “You killed Harrold and Paulene! You wanted Clarice for yourself…you always have! Even when we were all in Ériu! You wanted her then and you want her now. You cannot have her!” Jeoffrey was shouting so loudly, she covered her ears and cowered in fear.

  “Aye! I have always wanted her! Because she put her spell on me! She marked me! Her spell drove me mad with lust for her! I lost my mind and stole her away! But then her spell began to fade and I tried to fight her…” Gregory’s voice started to shake, as if he was reliving a horrific moment of his life. He pointed at Clarice and shouted, “When your spell wore off and I tried to fight, you tried to kill me! You cracked me over the head with my own sword, leaving my blood to flow upon the earth as sacrifice to Arawn, the god of death!”

  The crowd gasped at his words and several people surrounding Clarice took steps back, fear showing in their eyes. They could not possibly believe his lies. But by the wails from the women and the men scowling in her direction, they most assuredly did believe Gregory.

  “This is absurd! You stole her because you wanted her for yourself! I came upon you forcing yourself on her, you cursed bastard!” Jeoffrey roared, taking a step closer to Gregory. A large warrior from Caledonii stepped forward with his hand on the hilt of his sword, warning Jeoffrey to stay away from Gregory. “It was I who cracked you over the head with my own sword!”

  Now that Jeoffrey had stepped forward and the crowd had pushed further into the walls, Clarice could clearly see Gregory for the first time. He looked thinner and weaker than he had before. She wondered how he survived but decided he looked in terrible pain, as if his recovery was not complete. His brown trousers hung slack on his huge legs and his tunic also seemed to fit looser than before. He was still one of the largest men she had ever seen, but he looked sickly. Mayhap that only added to the pitiful story he was suddenly acting out for her tribe. Gregory always had been good at playacting. For years he had fooled her and Harrold into believing he was a faithful husband and loyal brother. But now she saw him clearly for who he really was: a murdering madman.

  “Our king demands retribution for the loss of his people. He commands you hand over the sorceress, or we shall burn your village down and take her anyway,” Gregory shouted unnecessarily into the otherwise silent room. “A Brehon has already been called in to see to her trial.”

  “Give her over!” One voice shouted from the crowd.

  “Aye! We will not die to save the sorceress!”

  “Let her pay for her crimes!” another lusty voice shouted and the crowd began to chant along. “Let her pay! Let her pay!”

  Jeoffrey gripped her tightly, painfully, and bellowed a cry that seemed to shake the very floor beneath their feet. “Nay! She is nay murderer! You shall not take her!”

  A man stepped forward and tried to grab Clarice from his strong grip and she felt her arm being pulled behind her back making her cry out in pain. Jeoffrey roared and unsheathed his sword, holding it at the neck of the warrior who had dared to grab at her. Cold fear trickled down her spine. She would suffer as a sla
ve for crimes she had not committed and in the process, her unborn child would suffer with her, or mayhap die. Wee Jeoffrey would never see her again. She had only just started to enjoy life and love with Jeoffrey.

  Panic, pure and petrifying, consumed her mind until all she could do was cry and shake and beg. “Please! I have done nothing! He is lying! Do not take me and my child!” she wailed and clutched her womb, feeling as if she may collapse at any moment.

  “Silence!” The room went completely still as their king demanded to speak. “If all that you say is true, then indeed the lass deserves to pay the punishment for her crimes.”

  “Nay!” Jeoffrey shouted and pulled at her again. The other warrior still gripped her arm tightly and between the two men, her body began to sear desperately with pain. The seams of her dress began to rip in the back and she cried out again.

  The king held up a finger and continued. “However, I will not hand over the lass without your oath that she will be allowed a fair trial.”

  “They will never give her one, my king!” Jeoffrey hollered and she heard the panic in his voice. “They will take her away and punish her for crimes she did not commit!”

  “Lad,” King Ailbert replied solemnly with a shake of his head. “I cannot allow my people to be killed or my village to burn. I must hand her over.”

  “She is one of your people! She has been loyal! Clarice is with child!” Jeoffrey’s hand gripped her arm so hard she could feel his fingers digging into her flesh and knew he would leave bruises, but that was the least of her concerns in the moment. He was growing desperate, shouting out every possibly argument he could think of, but she knew it was of no use. She had to go or innocents would die.

  “Let me go, Jeoffrey,” she whispered and looked up to his fear-filled dark eyes. Horror stared back at her as his jaw went slack and he shook his head.

  “Nay I will never let them take you, Clarice! They will have to kill me first!”

  “Och, Jeoffrey!” she shouted loudly enough for everyone to hear. “They will kill you and many other innocents in this room if you do not relinquish me!” Her words choked her as they were said, but she knew it was the truth. She could never live with herself if others died because of her.

  “Jeoffrey speaks true,” King Ailbert said to the room. “I will not simply hand over a breeding woman who is under my protection without certainty that she will get a fair trial. This is why I agree to allow you to take her under the condition that she be escorted by a score of my own guards.”

  Gregory snorted and shook his head in shock. “What? Nay! Our king will not house a score of your warriors during a trial!” The confidence in his plan clearly began to slip away as his voice wavered and he looked behind him at his other men. He most certainly had expected to convince everyone thoroughly of her guilt and walk away with only her as his prize.

  “Now you listen here man!” The king roared and plowed through the room as every man and woman backed up to allow him through. He was a man of middling years with a long black beard and matching hair streaked with gray. His shoulders were piled with furs. His slim gold circlet flickered in the light of the few remaining tallow candles and Clarice noticed she was holding her breath.

  “This is my tuath! If you thought I was going to allow you to walk in here and bend to your will, you were mistaken. You want a war? You will have one. You have a score of men? I have five score!”

  “Nay, six score.” Clarice whipped her head around to follow the voice and saw Eoin now standing in the crowd, his sandy blonde hair glowing in the light of the hearth behind him. “My men will fight beside you.” Warmth blossomed in Clarice’s heart. Eoin was a good man and she knew he was declaring a silent peace with Jeoffrey with his words.

  King Ailbert nodded at Eoin and looked back at Gregory, who frowned and scanned the room in confusion. “Now, be smart lads. You are outnumbered. I will hand over the lass because it is the law of the land that any man or woman accused of murder be tried…but by the gods, I will make sure she is, indeed, tried. You will allow a score of warriors to travel with her, or none of you shall make it back to Calendonii.”

  The command in their king’s voice brooked no argument and he heard none. After a moment of silence, another warrior from Caledonii spoke. “Tis a fair offer,” he announced and looked at his fellow warriors. “We are not savages. Our king only wants justice for the loss of his people.”

  “Aye, and if she is guilty, he will receive that justice. If…” he stressed. “But I believe you will find her character to be flawless and her word to be true.” He cocked his head and raised a brow at her, showing her that, even though he must give her up, he felt confident she was innocent. Innocent or not, she would become Gregory’s slave if they believed her guilty. There was no chance she could ever pay the fines the Brehon would demand of her, not even with Jeoffrey’s help. She felt as if she would lose her stomach, but steeled herself. She needed to stay strong for her family.

  “I am coming with her,” Jeoffrey growled. “And nay man will touch her or he dies…slowly and painfully.” He shot Gregory a look of warning and Clarice clearly saw the man go white in the face.

  “We shall come, as well,” Eoin said and stepped forward, Brennain and Flynn at his side.

  “And I,” Alastar said.

  Though fear clutched at her like a vise, to know she had the support and protection of these strong, brave warriors made her feel slightly more at ease.

  Daring to sneak a glance in Gregory’s direction, she shrank back against Jeoffrey when she saw the looking of burning hatred and the need for revenge glittering in his cruel gaze. Aye, she would need the help of all these men to keep her safe from Gregory, but even these men may not save her from the cruel fate that awaited.

  Chapter 14

  He should have killed Gregory when he had the chance. Honor had prevented him from finishing off an already unconscious man…that and the fact that Clarice was much too shocked and innocent to have witnessed such an act without further traumatizing her. But now, because of his cursed honor and need to protect Clarice’s innocence, Jeoffrey had inadvertently placed Clarice in mortal danger. His fist clenched tightly to the reins of his horse, but not as tightly as his stomach was clenched. Twice already he had to swallow the bile rising in his throat.

  His other hand rested strongly on Clarice’s hip as his arm held her tightly against his body while they rode. That had been a hard battle to win, but Jeoffrey had threatened to kill them all if they did not allow his own wife to ride in the safety of his arms toward her trial in Caledonii. King Ailbert had promised to gather character witnesses for Clarice and have them swiftly transported to testify on her behalf. Even though Jeoffrey was not confident that a few kind words from her people would convince the Brehon of her innocence, it certainly could not hurt.

  Methods of escape continued to dance in his head. There was a score of warriors from Caledonii, but so was there a score of warriors from Miathi. Mayhap they could fight these men and flee to the coast with the warriors from Ériu. They could jump on the ship and have Clarice out of Alba before anyone noticed. Many more thoughts crossed his mind, but they all led to one inevitable consequence: war. If they attacked these men, more would come for revenge. He could not bring that down on their people. If he and Clarice fled, he would not even be there to help them fight the war he caused. Nay, honor would not allow that. Furthermore, many of the warriors from Ériu were still back at Miathi and they would need to go back to retrieve them before heading to the coast. How could they go back and explain to their king that they had helped Clarice escape the justice he had commanded? Aye, the king believed her to be innocent, but he had ordered the trial to proceed if only to prevent war and follow the laws of justice. Would not fleeing her trial appear to show her guilt?

  Nay, there was simply no way. With every beat of his horse's hooves against the dry earth, his heart sank further into his chest. He was delivering his wife to potential slavery to a cruel man and saw
no way out of it without causing the deaths of many others. He would let the trial happen, for he had no choice. But if it took a turn for the worst, he vowed to forsake all others and save his wife in any way possible. It was unfathomable to be the cause of more death, but so was the thought of his breeding wife being turned over into the hands of a murdering bastard.

  That thought made his entire body shake with foreboding chills. “Jeoffrey…I am so frightened,” Clarice whispered as she rested her head against his chest.

  “I will let nay harm come to you, mo chroí.”

  She shook her head and turned her body to look up at him. The dirty streaks on her face caused by the tracks of her tears were worse than a punch to the gut. “You cannot promise such a thing. Even I know there is nay way out of this.”

  “I do so promise. And nay matter how many men I must kill to save you, I vow I will if the moment comes.”

  She shook her head again, but Jeoffrey cut off her argument. “Nay. You cannot command me in this, wife. I will not allow you any harm. I will not lose you.”

  He knew she wanted to say more but instead, she nodded in acceptance of his words and silently turned around once more, watching as the dawn approached from behind the hills up ahead. They had already been traveling for several hours without rest. He had no control over the pace, for it was the warriors of Caledonii who led the pack. Several looks of sympathy shown on those warriors throughout the journey and it gave Jeoffrey hope. These men did not seem convinced of her guilt, nor did they seem to care for Gregory. Unfortunately, they were following their king’s orders and Jeoffrey knew all too well that a warrior’s personal thoughts played no part in his actions, if commanded by his leader.