[Druids Bidding 02.0] RenFaire Druids: Dunskey Castle Prequels

by Jane Stain

  “Aye, and so we shall have some.”

  The captain gestured for her to follow.

  But Peadar came and offered her his arm.

  She took it, but less happily than she would have before their wedding. Was this how marriage was for everyone?

  Company aside, it was hard to enjoy the omelets, scones, jam, tea, and fresh apples knowing that the Polynesian crew were having oatmeal and not liking it.

  And then there was the problem of the fork tines being excessively long and handmade, meaning sharp.

  Vange ate mostly with her tablespoon.

  No one mentioned her error, but she didn’t kid herself into thinking they hadn’t noticed.

  Oh well.

  They already thought she was a savage who needed to be locked up in a cabin, so...

  “The eggs are lovely. Do you keep chickens on board?”

  The captain seemed flattered.

  “Aye, we keep four. Just enough for three guests and myself.”

  “Of course.” Vange smiled at him sweetly and then turned to the Irish man. “And how did Peadar do at your trial by sword this morning?”

  Vange felt a gentle squeeze at her waist from where Peadar sat next to her. Yeah. Well, trusting him had gotten her locked into a cabin, so...

  “He will do, that he will. I am Tam, by the by, and it is pleased I am to make your acquaintance, Lady MacLean.”

  “Please call me Evangeline.”

  Because there’s no way I’ll remember to answer when called Lady MacLean.

  Again Peadar gently squeezed her waist.

  This time he kept right on squeezing.

  Almost like he was in a panic, himself.

  Good. He deserves to be upset after allowing the captain to lock me in our cabin.

  But her traitorous body was trying to be calmed by Peadar’s touch. Worse, it was still drawn to him, still wanted to scoot closer to him on the bench at the table.

  “Oh, and with your lord’s permission, I will call you Evangeline, then.”

  Tam smiled pleasantly at Peadar, waiting for his assent.

  “Aye now, being that you and I will be working close together, you may call my wife by her given name...”

  And here, Vange felt a still gentle but very firm squeeze on her waist.

  Oho. A warning, then. This ought to be good.

  “Howsoever, you may only do so in my presence.”

  Well, yeah. When else is Tam going to see me?

  But Peadar continued.

  “When I am away on the duties you assign to me, she will be Lady MacLean.”

  Vange dropped her teacup.

  It didn’t break, heavy pottery that it was, but it did land on her plate and spill tea all over what remained of her food.

  From the way the captain winced at that, she took it tea was very expensive in 1560.

  “Oh poor dear,” said the captain, “I see your meal is ruined.”

  From the way he was smiling at her, she surmised the captain knew exactly how badly her meal had just been ruined. He knew she had been taken by surprise about being left behind while Tam sent Peadar off to do his bidding.

  She must have shrunk in closer to her husband, because she felt his arm go around her.

  It felt nice. Safe.

  What have I done?

  Vange made a big show of turning to Peadar and smiling at him, the doting wife. “Oh, on second thought, Tam should always call me Lady MacLean.”

  Peadar smiled back at her, just as showy.

  “Well enough,” said the kilted captain, “let us send the love birds back to their nest. I do not want to see them croon at each other any longer.”

  “Sure and be gone, love birds.” Tam waved them away.

  Vange didn’t have to be told twice.

  Neither did Peadar.

  The two of them got up and skedaddled out of there before the captain could change his mind and stop them.

  Peadar kept his arm around her the whole time.

  Vange breathed a little easier once they were in their cabin with the door shut, but only a little.

  Vange grabbed Peadar and held him close.

  “That man is going to send you away from me?”

  Peadar’s arms went around her.

  “Aye, lass, and for that did I tell you I was sorry, as soon as I heard Saraid say I was to be a gallowglass in her grandson’s place.”

  “So a gallowglass is a soldier?”

  “Aye, a foreign soldier in Ireland, whose loyalty is only to his leader, nay a part of local politics.”

  “And Tam is your leader?”

  “Aye well, Shane O’Neill will be my leader, but Tam is my handler, you ken?”

  “Yeah. People have handlers in my time, too. So is Shane O’Neill Ireland’s king or something?”

  “His clan think him so, howsoever, the English and the other Irish clans favor others for that honor.”

  “We’re going to be in the thick of it, aren’t we?”

  “So sorry, lass.”

  She clung to him as her life line for a long while after that, and they soothed each other tenderly—and yet.

  Lying there in his arms, Vange felt resentment building up inside her. Yes, this was a different time in the history of mankind, when men were in charge and women just went with that. But she’d grown up with women’s liberation. She just couldn’t submit to being locked in her cabin. It had made her feel such rage.

  Rather than explode at her husband when the last straw landed on her back, Vange knew she had to vent her anger now, while both of them were calm, relaxed, and feeling affectionate.

  “Peadar?”

  “Aye, lass?”

  “I have something to say, and it will be difficult for me, so I need you to hear me out without interrupting, OK?”

  Peadar continued caressing Vange’s back.

  “Aye.”

  In a rush and barely stopping for breath, Vange said what was on her mind.

  “I understand why you locked me in the cabin. You wanted to make sure I was safe and that I didn’t try and stop your swordfight and get hurt in the process. I know you care what happens to me and that you were only looking out for me, doing what you thought was best for me, and all the stuff my parents used to say when they prevented me from doing something they thought was dangerous for me.”

  Vange couldn’t quite believe it.

  Peadar was still gently caressing her back.

  She shrugged and pushed to get the rest of what was on her mind out, before he stopped her.

  “But I’m an adult, Peadar, not a child. Let me decide what is best for me. I know it will be difficult in this backward time in history for you to do so, but I need you to treat me like an equal, at least in private.”

  Vange was amazed she’d gotten this much out without him butting in.

  He was quietly listening, eyes intent on her when she looked back at him.

  And he was making her back feel wonderful.

  Hm. Not the reaction she’d been expecting.

  Vange made herself keep talking until she got it all off her mind.

  “You can be the spokesman for us in public, and I want you to be the managing partner in our enterprise, but give me a say. Listen to my advice. Tell me what’s going on. That’s what is normal in my day and age. Husbands and wives work things out between them and come up with solutions together, even if his name is still the only one that appears on some documents because of antiquated ideas that still pervade our society even in the 21st Century.”

  She knew he wasn’t asleep, because now he was massaging her back.

  It felt great.

  “In short, if you ever lock me up again, as soon as I get away you will never see me again. OK, thanks for listening. Please answer me. Do you understand?”

  “Aye.”

  “Good.”

  “And just so you know, I did not know anyone had tried to lock you into this cabin until I found the captain there at the door, unlocking
it.”

  “Really?”

  “Aye.”

  “Then why were you so horrified when you saw me on deck?”

  “I thought you had left me to join the crew.”

  Vange laughed then, a deep hearty laugh that reached the bottom of her lungs.

  “That was my plan, actually, for about two seconds.”

  He turned his massage into something more.

  “Oh really? And what made you change it?”

  She sighed.

  “Honestly? The fact that all the druids who can get me home are back in the highlands, and you are my best ticket back there.”

  Peadar laughed then, a deep laugh that matched the one she’d had.

  She kissed him with a tender passion she hadn’t known existed before now.

  “But I’m very glad I didn’t join the crew.”

  They clung to each other for the rest of the voyage, taking their meals in their cabin and comforting one another.

  A week after the ship set sail, Vange and Peadar watched through their porthole as land approached, and then it was time to face other people again.

  Knock knock knock.

  The captain’s voice boomed through their cabin door.

  “Wake up, love birds. Time to fly away to your new home.”

  A second later, the door flew inward and he was there, smiling in delight at what he apparently thought he was going to see.

  “We’re ready,” Vange said, fully dressed, sober, tearless, and holding her chin up.

  Clinging to Peadar’s arm, Vange followed as her new husband was led off the ship and into one of a series of small boats that sat at the mouth of a river inside a huge bay.

  The ship had docked in a fishing village much like the one they had left on Mull. There were no signs, so she really had no clue where she was, but Vange wished she could leave these overexcited people they were with and take her chances in the village.

  But they had a firm hold on Peadar.

  Perhaps they realized what she was thinking.

  People were speaking excitedly in Gaelic all around her, and to Peadar.

  As some workmen in leine and little else rowed them upstream on the river, Peadar explained to her what he had learned.

  “We be headed to the town of Newry.”

  Peadar’s brow was wrinkled up, and he held her close.

  “I’m sorry, that doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  “It be dangerously near the fighting, you ken?”

  “Yes. Toj told me the English were at war with Ireland. Already.”

  Peadar gave her a haunted look.

  “Already? Do you mean to tell me this war is some-ought you do know about, even in your time?”

  She put a hand that she hoped was calming on his shoulder.

  “Yeah, in my time the English control a large portion of Ireland—and all of Scotland.”

  Peadar was quiet for a long time after that.

  They watched the land glide by their small boat.

  Finally, curiosity got the better of Vange, and she simply had to ask him questions.

  “So we’ll be staying in Newry?”

  “Ah, nay. We journey a day farther by horse then, to a castle the O’Neill keeps stocked against his enemies.”

  Rather than ride sidesaddle on her own and stretch her horsemanship skills to the breaking point, Vange elected to ride in the saddle with Peadar, which was fun and thrilling. The ride took all day, with several stops to rest and water the horses.

  Ireland was marvelous and scenic. Even in late August, everything was so green, and the journey went by way too quickly.

  All too soon, they approached what looked much more like a fort than a castle. There were no windows on the bottom floor. It was large and made of stone and looked quite insurmountable, but it was not surrounded by a moat, which greatly disappointed Vange.

  They rode their horses right inside, where they got off and handed the reigns to attendants, who took them inside a barn built right into the castle courtyard.

  She and Peadar were shown up to a room that was only slightly bigger than their cabin on the ship had been. They had one tall narrow window angled down and fit only for shooting arrows into anyone trying to storm the castle. Their bed stayed down all the time, and it was about the size of the twin bed in Vange’s room at her parents’ house. The trunk that had been in their cabin already sat beside their bed.

  And that was all they had, beside what was in his sporran and her pouches.

  “We are to make ourselves fresh for the evening meal, lass.”

  Being considered a lady had its privileges. Vange had not been asked to do one bit of work on the voyage, only to enjoy her new status as a married woman. Her clothes had been mysteriously taken away and returned clean. They had even returned smelling of sweet lilac and herbs.

  It seemed this would continue here at Shane O’Neill’s fortress.

  They went down to a hall on the ground floor and dined with the O’Neill himself, along with his wife and Tam – and no one else.

  Peadar, Tam, and Shane talked well into the evening while Shane’s wife Mary pointedly ignored Vange’s attempts at conversation.

  Peadar showed his sympathy through pats on Vange’s back.

  Even though she understood that he really couldn’t say anything bad about his boss’s wife, Vange was upset throughout the meal and the long chat over wine afterward.

  She pointedly ignored Tam’s smiles.

  Later on, after she and Peadar had been tenderly affectionate with each other, they talked.

  “What was Shane going on and on about?”

  “You will be cared for here, lass, when I do go off with the O’Neill as part of his protection.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad, so long as he mostly stays at home.”

  “Nay, but we shall be leaving on the morrow.”

  Vange clung to him then, and they stayed up quite late reassuring each other, but eventually she fell asleep.

  Vange’s dreams were often of Peadar. She knew that meant she was really gone over him, but she could live with that now. But when she didn’t dream about her husband, she dreamed about what she thought of as her ‘real life’ back in the modern world.

  Watching her favorite TV shows.

  Driving her car.

  Being able to find whatever she felt like eating.

  Feeling like her strongest worry was not being able to find the shoes that were on sale.

  Knowing all human knowledge was a click away on the Internet.

  Calling or texting her parents and Emily.

  And Vange never knew it was a dream when she had one of those. It always seemed like she was really back there in that easier, safer age.

  This age was interesting, but so tiring. And waking up was always so … disappointing.

  This first morning in the Irish castle, she was having one of those ‘real life’ dreams.

  And when she woke up she was not only in 1560, but also there alone.

  Peadar was gone.

  Vange used the chamber pot and then crawled back into bed, but she couldn’t make herself fall back asleep. Finally she gave up trying, got up, and dressed in one of the many fine Scottish plaid skirted outfits in the trunk, complete with the am breid on her head.

  Holding the door lest it open too far and allow people to see her, she peeked out into the dark hallway.

  And she was instantly sorry she hadn’t flung the door open.

  Tam was there.

  With a huge leer on his face.

  And he immediately tried to push his way into her room.

  She slammed the door as hard as she could and got ready to lean against it.

  But the door didn’t quite shut.

  Tam was stronger than her, and slowly he was opening the door again.

  With her heart pounding the adrenaline through her veins until she wished she had a clear path to run down, Vange screamed as loud as she could.

  “Eeeea
aaaaa.”

  Over and over she kept on screaming, praying that someone, anyone, would come see what the commotion was about.

  “Eeeaaaaa.”

  “Eeeaaaaa.”

  That had obviously not been the reaction Tam was expecting.

  He pushed his way into her room and stood there staring at her with his mouth just about watering, but wincing at her screams.

  His face looked annoyed rather than concerned, though. He rubbed his nose and looked out into the hallway, visibly calculating whether he should proceed as planned or abort his mission so as not to be discovered in a compromising position with a married woman.

  After what seemed like forever, a workman hurried into Vange’s room and asked Tam something in Gaelic.

  “A mouse. A mouse.” Vange squeaked.

  And then she took the opportunity to leave the room and rush down the stairs.

  Vange was hungry, and she figured everyone else was too. And she knew there was safety in numbers—so long as the company was mixed with men and women. So she decided to try and find the dining hall.

  Instead, a grey-haired old woman popped out of a door at the bottom of the stairs. She looked up when Tam’s voice came down.

  “Evangeline, lass.” he said. “Hold a seat for me. We shall break our fast together.”

  The old woman beckoned to Vange.

  “Quickly, lass. Come in.”

  Vange didn’t hesitate.

  She rushed through the door and discovered she had found the kitchen.

  A huge fireplace covered one wall, with wood piled up nearby. It was big enough to roast a deer, but at the moment kettles and pots hung from hooks over the fire, and pans sat on a grate that stood right in the fireplace, over coals set off to the side. An iron oven stood in the fire as well. It was empty, but the room smelled of freshly baked bread, along with all the smoke.

  There was a chair at the fireplace, where the old woman had probably been stirring the pots and shaking the pans.

  The room had three doors, and the rest of it was filled by a huge butcher block table with three young women around it, cutting and kneading and mixing. They wore kerchiefs similar to Vange’s, but she didn’t know if that meant they were married, or if they just wisely covered their hair while they did kitchen work.

  The old woman quietly shut the door.

  “Thank you so much,” Vange told her in a small shaky voice.