Lady of Conquest (23 page)

To Conn, summer had always meant long forays into Erin’s countryside with the Fianna. It had meant nights of song and poetry under a starry sky as they feasted on meat cooked on hot coals over open pits. It had meant warring when necessary and long drills when there was no one left to fight. It had meant the camaraderie of men who shared a dream. Now the summer meant riding and searching, nothing more. The days were endless and the nights longer.

He halted the chestnut stallion on top of a hill as the blackness of night soundlessly replaced the purple of twilight. Sliding to the ground, he pulled out a bag filled with stale rations and sat on a flat rock, staring into the night. He ate methodically, thankful that he was too tired to taste the cold meat.

He studied the stars that hung over the vast land, marveling at his loneliness. He had never felt the sting of the empty night as he did now. The brightest star only reminded him of laughing emerald eyes that shone more brilliantly than any star.

The cruel words he had said to her echoed through his mind, bitterly erasing another memory of sweet parted lips and gossamer curls. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the soft strand of auburn hair that had hit him like a kick in the gut when he had found it discarded on the floor of her chamber surrounded by others like it. He held it between his fingers, feeling very close to her. It was almost as if he could reach out his hand and touch the warmth of hers in the cool night. He knew with certainty that she was alive.

“Where are you?” he murmured hoarsely.

The night gave him no answer, mocking him with its silence. He stood, calling her name to hear it float over the hills, returning to him a faint echo. Mounting a horse, he wondered if he was taking leave of his senses. He spurred the stallion toward the fortress as if the demons of hell pursued him. The wind drew his hair back with its force. He rode faster and faster, driving the stallion into the endless night. The wind dried the tears on his face before he even felt them.

The fortress lacked the bustle of winter on this hazy summer night. With the soldiers dispatched to all corners of Erin and the herdsmen camped in the
buaile
with their beasts, only a few stragglers remained at the fortress. No fire blazed in the great hall. A warm breeze blew through the open doors.

Mer-Nod and Nimbus sat in the courtyard, the jester perched on a bale of hay while Mer-Nod reclined comfortably in his poet’s chair, which he had had carried outside in a fit of self-importance. They watched each other warily, neither speaking. The sun had disappeared an hour ago on this slow night, and they both awaited Conn’s return, knowing there was no guarantee that he would return that night or the next. They started nervously at the sound of hoof beats in the distance, only to relax in disappointment as Sean Ó Finn pounded into the courtyard and leapt from his horse.

“Has Conn returned?” he asked them breathlessly.

“Would we be sitting out here if he had?” Nimbus retorted.

Mer-Nod shot him a cold look and said, “We would be much more comfortable sitting out here if some of us would retire.”

Nimbus poked his tongue out at him, and Sean threw up his hands in exasperation. “You two sit here babbling like children while I bring important information to Conn.”

“Ye have news?” Nimbus sat bolt upright.

Sean shrugged. “That is for Conn to decide.” He pulled a piece of hay from the bale Nimbus sat on and tucked it in the corner of his mouth, struggling to appear casual.

“I suppose you would rather not divulge this information until Conn arrives,” Mer-Nod said.

“Ye won’t have to wait much longer, for here he comes.” Nimbus’s voice was barely a whisper, and they all looked up to see Conn walk his horse into the courtyard, head bowed in utter defeat. He raised his hand in a lackluster salute.

Sean and Mer-Nod exchanged a glance, and it was Mer-Nod who spoke, breaking the tense silence. “Conn, Ó Finn desires an audience with you. He has something of importance to impart.”

“You found her. She’s dead, isn’t she?” Conn slipped off the horse and tossed the reins over a post without even raising his head.

“N-no, Conn. Can we step inside?” Sean said.

The two men started inside with Nimbus fast on their heels. Mer-Nod reached out a long arm and jerked him back by the collar, ignoring the vicious kick aimed at his shin.

Conn led Sean to the study and closed the door. He leaned on the table and faced him. “What is it?” His hooded eyes were unreadable.

Sean cleared his throat, wondering at the wisdom of his words. “There have been new raids in the south.”

Conn snorted. “That isn’t news. Eoghan Mogh seems more tempted to stretch his muscles in the warm summer air.”

“They are plundering the villages, demanding booty. They attack in the dead of night, catching us unaware.” Sean struggled for words.

“You think I do not know this? I am still king, even though I have been otherwise occupied in the past few weeks.”

Sean saw no trace of anger in Conn’s face, only weariness.

“I was not insinuating that you were uninformed, Conn. The reports I have received from the southern provinces indicate that the same band is responsible for all of these raids. A man in a long black cloak has been seen on several occasions. He seems to be their leader.” Sean paced across the room, pausing to gaze out of the open window.

“That is still not news. ‘Tis probably one of Eoghan Mogh’s cronies. If you’ve something to say, Sean, spit it out. I long for a soft bed and strong ale.”

Sean turned to face him. “There is a woman.” Conn froze, his eyes daring him to continue. “They say she is almost as tall as a man and fights like one.” Sean’s eyes shone with something akin to admiration. “She scouts for them and wields a mighty sword with her hair shining the color of blood in the moonlight. Some say her features are familiar. Others say they are obscured in the darkness of the night. She is becoming quite a legend.”

Conn stroked his beard. “When was she first spotted?”

“Two, maybe three weeks ago. I would not have brought the matter to your attention, but I’ve been to the weaponry room. I know the sword is gone.”

“You’ve done well to tell me this.” He turned away from Sean and murmured, “So it has come to this.” His shoulders began to shake.

Sean moved to him and stretched out a tentative hand, placing it on his shoulder. “Sire, perhaps I am mistaken. Do not grieve yourself so.”

Conn turned around, tears streaming down his cheeks. Sean took a step backward, thinking that perhaps his king had taken leave of his senses, the shock too much for him to bear. Conn stretched out his hand and struggled for words but was unable to manage anything but a quick intake of breath before new waves of laughter convulsed his body, doubling him over.

Sean nervously snickered, unsure of his mirth but thinking it might do him well to join the king in his hysterics. Soon he found himself guffawing. Conn lay across the table, clutching his sides, and Sean stumbled across the room to lean on the wall. Taking deep breaths, they both gained control only to meet each other’s eyes and dissolve into fresh roars of laughter.

Mer-Nod and Nimbus crouched outside the door listening mystified to the muffled cacophony. Nimbus had to smile. He hadn’t heard Conn laugh for a long time. The door was jerked open, sending them both tumbling into the room. Mer-Nod stood, straightening his mantle with wounded dignity. Conn leaned against the table, arms crossed and chuckling.

His voice booming through the room, Conn said, “It hasn’t taken our little girl long to show her true colors. Close the door, Nimbus. Conn of the Hundred Battles has returned, ready for war. We’ve plans to make.”

Every muscle screamed in protest as she fell back upon the hay, a low moan escaping through clenched teeth. She sighed and closed her eyes, letting her arms fall beside her weary body. Her nose twitched at the sweet smell of the new-mown hay. Her weary hand would not lift to scratch it. Taking slow, deep breaths, she felt the tension float from her body and rise above the roof of the low-slung barn. Today would be a good day. The exhaustion would blanket her, protecting her from the piercing pain that threatened to discover her even in rest. Her sleep would be dreamless. When she awakened in the evening, there would be time, perhaps even a few minutes, when the pain could not find her. The afternoon sunshine would fall across her face through the loft window and the cleansing air would burn her lungs. There would be time before she remembered why she hurt.

* * *

Eoghan Mogh studied his well-trimmed nails with interest. “Your sister is not a happy woman, you know?”

“Of course she is happy. We are together again. ‘Tis what matters to her,” Rodney said defensively, plucking an apple from the bowl on the table.

“No. ‘Tis what matters to you. There is a difference,” Eoghan replied.

Rodney snapped a bite out of the apple and chewed ferociously. “That bastard has bewitched her. She’s doing her job, isn’t she?”

“I can hardly complain about her scouting abilities. I would hate to meet her on a moonless night myself.”

Grinning, Rodney said, “I trained her, you know. I told you long ago that she would be an asset to us.”

“That is still not the issue. She is not happy. I would even say that the girl is miserable.” Eoghan enunciated each word precisely as if explaining the metrics of poetry to a child. “Talk to her. See if you can make her happy.”

“I could always make her laugh when she was a little girl.” Rodney’s eyes focused beyond the walls of the simple hut, a gentle sadness haunting them. “Perhaps we’ve pushed her too hard too fast. A week of drills and three weeks of raids might be too much. You didn’t see her at Tara. She was a real lady.”

Eoghan turned away from his hungry look, refusing to meddle in an affair that was not his concern. “I want her ready for the fortress in a month. We work our way north. The closer we get to him, the harder it will be for her. She must be prepared.”

“A month is not very long,” Rodney said, doubt in his voice.

“It will have to be long enough. ‘Tis all we have.”

“I shall make her happy.” Rodney strode out the door, tossing the apple core to Eoghan with a cocky grin.

He walked to the barn where Gelina slept, whistling a jaunty tune. The loft was empty, the hay still warm where her body had nestled. He swung down from the loft and started for the stream where she bathed each afternoon.

He stepped furtively through the woods until he came to the small clearing where the stream giggled over the flat rocks. Gelina sat on the bank, her breeches pushed up past her knees, feet dangling in the water. Rodney slid down a tree to a sitting position before he spoke.

“This reminds me of the time we picnicked in the forest outside the cavern.”

Gelina looked back at him, startled. “I remember it well. You told me to eat the eyeballs in my fish. Said they were good for me. Picnics seem to be my specialty,” she said dryly.

He rose and went to sit beside her with legs crossed. “I am so happy you are here with me.”

“And I am happy that you are alive.” She smiled a genuine smile, something he’d seen few of since she’d joined him that morning, riding the stallion as if pursued by a nightmare.

“You really thought I was dead all that time?” he asked.

She picked up a stone and tossed it into the stream, her face devoid of emotion. “ ‘Tis what I was told.”

“Conn told you that, didn’t he?”

She shrugged and tossed another stone where the water ran deep, skipping it across the surface and shattering the reflection of the afternoon sun.

“He’s posted a reward for your return—a thousand gold pieces,” Rodney said softly. When no reply came, he continued, “The rumors fly over Erin. Some say he wants you because he cares for you. Others say he wants you because you took something that belonged to him and he wants it back. Some say he wants to kill you.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes but remained mute. “Some say he wants you for another reason entirely.”

She met his eyes briefly before slamming a stone that missed the water and bounced violently off the opposite bank.

Rodney sighed. “I guess the rumors were laid to rest yesterday when the reward was changed.”

“Changed to what?”

“Five thousand gold pieces for your return. Dead or alive.”

The trees spun in front of Gelina’s eyes, although she made no motion to indicate the sudden whirling of the world. The eyes she raised to Rodney were as dark as night. He struggled not to flinch under their steady gaze.

“What did you say?”

“I am sorry, Princess, but you had to know. We must kill him before he kills you. Once Eoghan Mogh is on the throne, we shall be rich and favored. We shall have our rightful places back. The name of Ó Monaghan will stand forever as a name of honor.” He spoke quickly, afraid to stop the torrent of words. “Why, we’ll be—”

“Dead or alive?” Her voice cut through him, the words crashing like icicles to the ground.

Nodding, he reached out a hand to her as she stood, almost losing her balance on the muddy bank.

“Curse him!” she said hoarsely.