Lady of Conquest (37 page)

“Sometimes I think Nimbus knows more than the rest of us put together,” she said softly.

“And what would Nimbus say about Eoghan Mogh? What would you say about him?”

Gelina rested her head on her knees. “He was kind to me. He seemed to sense how miserable I was. I suppose he used me to further his cause. He needed me because I knew the fortress and because I knew you.” She glanced up to find Conn gazing into the fire.

“Go on,” he commanded.

“He is brilliant. His wit is very dry, and you are never quite sure if he is laughing with yon or at you. He is persuasive and charming when the need arises. He was fair to me. In some ways he reminded me of you.”

His glare told her she had said the wrong thing. She scooted around until she was next to him and touched his hand. He jerked away as if her touch burned him. She sank back in disappointment.

“I thought my mother was such a good woman. I wonder how many times she looked at me and saw that other blue-eyed baby she had deserted,” he said.

“She had no choice, Conn. Don’t you see? Ulad would have beaten her again, killing her or her unborn child. If she had taken Eoghan when she fled, Ulad would have followed. There could have been no peace, no happiness. Both you and Feidlimid would have ended up dead, or Ulad would have. She protected those she loved with every resource she had. An evil woman could not have begot such a son as yourself.”

“Do you mean a man of such pure motives?” he asked mockingly, one eyebrow raised.

She bowed her head, unable to face his sarcasm. “Could what he said be true?”

“What?” he asked gruffly.

She pushed a stray curl from her eyes. “Could you have children out there somewhere?”

He shrugged. “It’s possible. Does it trouble you?” They sat shoulder to shoulder now, neither looking at the other.

“I just never pictured you rutting about the countryside.”

His voice revealed no small measure of indignation. “Is that what I’ve been doing to you? ‘Rutting’ about you?”

Gelina suppressed an insane desire to giggle and held her tongue.

“Perhaps I should send you away,” he stated flatly.

This drew a stricken look from her. “Are you so eager to be shed of me? Must that always be your answer?”

“Eoghan is probably right.” His voice exploded into emotion, startling her with its vehemence. “I’ll just hurt you. Think what I did to you once. I’ll carry the image of your torn, bleeding body to my grave, but who is to say that I won’t do it again?” His eyes narrowed. “Who is to say that if I wanted you now and you resisted, that I would not ravish you again? Can you say I wouldn’t? Can I?”

She stared at him as he grabbed her arms, tense fingers digging into tender flesh. She fought the urge to pull away. His eyes burned with an eerie sapphire heat.

“What are you trying to prove, Conn?” she asked softly.

Without a word he shoved her down, pinning her to the ground with the weight of his body. His lips closed on hers in savage demand, only to find her lips parting beneath his, her tongue meeting his with no challenge but tenderness.

He pulled back, his voice hoarse. “If my mother looked to my father the way you look to me, I can never blame him for what he did.”

“Then I can never blame you,” she said, trying to steady her breathing. “I can only blame you if you deny what is between us.”

“I cannot deny it. There is only one thing I can do.” He smoothed the tangled hair away from her face with tender fingers.

“What is that?” she asked fearfully.

“Our children will not be bastards, Gelina.”

His lips parted against hers, smothering her sharp gasp. Her arms locked around his neck as the fire blazed in their small shelter.

Greedy black eyes devoured them from the darkness.

Gelina flew through the chamber with Nimbus in pursuit, her short curls tied up in rags. Capturing a handful of her linen skirt, Nimbus found himself lifted off the ground by Mer-Nod, who rose from the parchment he was studying to halt their gleeful chase. Ignoring Nimbus’s curses and futile struggles, Mer-Nod caught Gelina by the elbow.

“Is this any way for a future bride of the Ard-Righ to behave?” he chided.

Lowering her head with a penitent pout, she replied, “I beg pardon, Mer-Nod.”

He loosed them at the same time, sending Nimbus to the floor in a sputtering heap. The jester opened his mouth, only to find Gelina’s hand clapped over it. Smiling politely, she backed them out of the room without losing her grip on Nimbus. Mer-Nod frowned as the running steps resumed, followed by a laughing squeal.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he settled himself once more before the parchment. A map of Erin lay before him, its lines as familiar to him as the lines on his palm. A new line lay across this parchment, a bold line drawn in Conn’s own hand. Mer-Nod shook his head and ran his finger over the line that separated Erin from coast to coast.

Eoghan Mogh had walked out of the fortress a free man. A handful of the men who had been held in captivity with him had followed, shielding their eyes from the bright fall sunlight. He had held in his hand a treaty signed by his brother. The horses they had been given carried them south, Eoghan’s proud shoulders the last sight Mer-Nod had seen as they disappeared over the plains.

Mer-Nod shook his head once more as he remembered Conn’s words before an unfettered Eoghan Mogh and the same tribunal that had heard Moira’s confession.

“If you want the south, Eoghan, it is yours. There is no land for grazing. There are no fields for raising crops. If you can make a kingdom there, do so. In return you must sign this treaty guaranteeing that those who inhabit that area will be protected, that you will make no further strikes over the boundary of your territory, and that you will meet here with me once a year to discuss our agreement.”

Conn’s words had elicited shocked gasps and protests from the men who listened. Mer-Nod had scribbled violently, trying to capture every nuance of his words even as his own mind reeled from the shock. Only Eoghan Mogh had remained impassive, sitting quietly before reaching for the parchment that Conn held out to him. Their eyes had met for a moment, not in fondness but with a certain grudging respect that Mer-Nod could have written volumes about if he could only have recorded it.

With a command to the guards to provide Eoghan and his men with safe passage, Conn had strode out of the room, leaving behind a storm of controversy.

Gelina’s laughter floated through the door, pulling Mer-Nod back to the present and his most pressing concern. As Conn’s decision was announced, two distinct divisions of opinion developed. There were many who supported his decision, trusting his judgment and rejoicing in the announced wedding to the lovely Gelina, whom they had seen grow from a skinny ragamuffin into a stunning young woman. But dissenters sprang from the crowd, both within the ranks of the Fianna and among the others.

Word had spread of Eoghan Mogh’s whispered words to Gelina in the meadow. Mer-Nod had listened impatiently to every possible accusation in the last few days. The girl was a witch, a banshee. She had forced Conn to free the evil Eoghan. She had been sent to the fortress from the beginning to arrange this perversion. She had not been stolen but had run to Eoghan, her lover. Those who dared to question Conn’s decisions were few, but their accusations were ugly enough to instigate several fistfights as Gelina’s honor was defamed and defended.

Mer-Nod was to soothe the people even if it meant confirming the dark rumors of Conn’s parentage that had began to float in ever-widening circles from the fortress. He knew with certainty that the wedding would help to quiet the vicious tales. Guests had been arriving for days. A week of merriment and feasting had been ordered by Conn with no grandeur to be spared. With the people well fed and full of ale, they would surely accept both Conn’s decision and his new bride with open arms. Mer-Nod smiled at the prospect, his spirits lightened.

* * *

“Who are they?” Gelina asked as they studied the odd assortment who passed through the courtyard. She perched on the wooden gate, her long legs dangling.

Nimbus replied, “They’re traveling acrobats, jesters, cooks, musicians, and they are all here for your entertainment, Gelina.”

“Look! There’s one like you!” She pointed to a dwarf dressed in garish purple pantaloons and a pointed yellow cap.

He shot her a venomous look. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in that garb.”

She ignored him, eyes wide as she watched the steady stream of brilliant costumes, golden instruments, and laughing strangers parade around the side of the fortress. She hooked her ankles around the wooden post and swung the gate back and forth.

Thumping Nimbus on the head, she teased, “How are you going to compete with all of that talent?”

“No challenge. I’ve still got me noose trick. I’ve yet to see it duplicated.”

“What are you going to do? Swing from the rafters as I exchange vows with Conn? That will add a nice touch to the oaths.”

“Indeed. Before ye ever enter the room I shall announce that any fellow who planned to marry the most beautiful girl in the world follow me example, for she is taken. Then I will step off the platform and stun the watching masses, who will include yer impatient bride-groom.”

“ ‘Tis the silliest thing I ever heard. I’ve yet to see any unmarried men threaten to take their lives over me,” she scoffed.

“Sean is quite heartbroken. I think he rather hoped Conn was saving ye for him.”

“Nonsense. Sean looked quite jolly at dinner last night slobbering in the bosom of that serving girl.”

“Well, if I had room for a heart in me joke of a body, I’ve no doubt it would be shattered.” Nimbus’s hearty laugh did not reach his eyes.

Gelina looked away; the gate lost its momentum and creaked to a halt. She jumped to the ground, smoothing her skirts. She bent and touched her lips to Nimbus’s dry cheek. “I’ll leave ye to welcome the guests,” she said, deliberately mimicking his brogue. “I’ve got to unwind these curls before me hair falls out.”

Nimbus called after her, “Don’t forget. No talking to Conn. If Moira finds out I quit following ye around, she’ll make mincemeat of me.”

He leaned against a bale of hay as she was swallowed by the main door, his smile fading. His jaws were beginning to ache from the effort it took to sustain it. The sunshine that fell on his shoulders did little to warm him. He surveyed the courtyard through bleak eyes.

“Good day, stranger. You look as if you could use some cheer.” A bearded stranger held out a flask as he leaned against the bale beside Nimbus.

Nimbus studied the man’s laughing dark eyes for a moment before accepting the flask and drinking deeply. “More than you know.”

“Could you direct me to where the servers are sleeping? I’ve traveled far and would like to rest before the feast.” The man took the flask back and drank from it, wiping the sweat from his brow with his other arm. “Is it always this hot here in the spring?”

“It varies,” Nimbus answered shortly. “Where do ye hail from?”

“The coast.”

“Erin is surrounded by coast.”

“I’ve traveled much in the past few years.” The man pointed toward the door. “Was that the king’s bride I’ve heard so much about?”

“That is her.” Nimbus again took the flask from the man’s outstretched hand, hoping the ale would numb him.

“She is beautiful,” the stranger said, shaking his head. “Our king is a lucky man.”

“Sometimes I fear he does not realize how lucky,” Nimbus said bitterly, the ale loosening his tongue.

To his surprise, the man chuckled. “I couldn’t help overhearing the declaration you’re planning to make at the king’s wedding. ‘Tis a touching tribute indeed.”

Nimbus scowled, but his voice softened all the same. “ ‘Tis nothing but a silly jest. Only a fool would end his life simply because the woman he loves will never love him.” No longer in the mood to trade confidences with strangers, Nimbus pushed away from the bale and started for the fortress.

He missed the stranger’s slow grin and the cold, speculative look in his dark eyes as he lifted the flask in a mocking toast. “Aye, my little friend. Only a fool, indeed.”

“
‘Tis
barbaric. ’Tis torture,” Conn said passionately as he stared into the garden beneath his window.

“ ‘Tis tradition,” Sean answered, unable to hide his grin. He joined Conn at the window.

Below them Nimbus and Gelina practiced a double juggling routine that sent Gelina into gales of laughter as three of the golden balls came down in quick succession, rapping Nimbus’s head.

Conn smiled in spite of himself. “I have not been with her in a week. I see her each night, but I cannot dance with her or speak to her or . . .”

“. . . or touch her,” Sean finished, aware of the king’s restless prowling through the sleeping fortress each night. “You are to be married tomorrow. You can talk to her for thirty years. I wager you’ll not be able to still her tongue even if you desire to.”

“I may not be around for thirty years,” he said cynically.

“You certainly followed the Fiannic oath in choosing a wife. She came to you with no dowry and only the clothes on her back.”