The Darkland (27 page)

When Mara saw the look
on Lily’s face, it began to occur to her that she was the only other woman at
the table and surely Lionel would not be speaking of his own daughter. 
Impoverished.
Her suitor, a knight
.  All of these clues began to go off in her mind like
lightning hits and the paint brush clattered to the table.

“What… what’s this you
say?” she looked at the man with horror. “Surely… surely you do not mean
me
?”

Lionel nodded patiently.
“I do,” he said, almost apologetically. “Edmund de Cleveley, your guardian and
the man entrusted to look out for your welfare, as offered you in marriage to
me and I have accepted.”

Mara just stared at
him.  “That is not possible,” she said flatly. “It is not true.”

“It is. I have the
missive from Edmund to prove it. I will be happy to show you.”

Mara was coming to
realize that this wasn’t some kind of horrid joke. The room began to sway. “But
Edmund is my sister’s husband and…”

“And your legal
guardian,” Lionel cut her off, though not unkindly.  He could see that she was
building up to an explosion and he hastened to calm her. “Lady Mara, do you not
understand what an honor you have been given? You shall be Baroness Wyresdale.
You will be respected and loved by all. You will wield power and money such as
you have never dreamed. All I ask of you is a son to carry on the le Vay name. 
It is a great honor, my lady, to be the mother of a legacy.”

Mara’s mouth popped open
and she stood up, knocking over her chair.  When Lionel reached out to keep her
from falling, she flailed away from him and ended up on one knee.  The look in
her eyes was wild.

“Never,” she hissed. “I
will never marry you. I am to marry Kirk!”

Lily stood up, putting
herself between her father and Mara. “Mara, please,” she begged for calm as she
turned to her father. “Father, you will leave now. Please get out of here.”

Lionel stood his ground.
“I will not,” he said. “I am not trying to be unkind, but you must understand
that there is no choice in all of this.  The sooner Lady Mara understands her
destiny, the better for us all. I am truly sorry if I have upset her, but the facts
cannot be changed. She will be my wife.”

“No!” Mara screamed. “I
will not marry you! ‘Tis Kirk I love and Kirk I shall marry!”

“Mara, love,” Lily
rushed at her, trying to calm her down. “Please do not….”

Mara ripped free of
sweet Lily’s grasp, hurling herself towards the lancet window.  Before anyone
could stop her, she leapt up into the window sill.

“I shall throw myself to
the ground if you intend to go through with this… this
outrage
,” she
cried. The tears were beginning to come now, fast and furious. “Edmund had no
right to make such a contract. Kirk will be my husband, do you hear? I will not
marry you.”

Lionel could see that
she was beyond rational. “Lady Mara, please calm yourself,” he pleaded. “I
understand your feelings for Kirk. I like Kirk a great deal. But in marriage,
feelings do not come in to play.  You must understand that this is for the
best.”

“The best?” Mara
shrieked. “The best for you but not for me. You cannot force me to do this!”

“I am afraid you have no
choice.”

“I will marry Kirk!”

“You will not. I am
sorry, but you will not.”

“Then I will have no
husband at all!”

Lily threw herself at
Mara, grabbing her around the body and trying to pull her out of the
windowsill.  Lionel rushed to the pair, pulling them both out of the window,
but Mara was like a wild animal. She screamed and fought and scratched as Lily
tried to calm her and Lionel tried to talk reason to her. But she ended up
sobbing, and Lily was sobbing, and Lionel had a mess on his hands.  He tried to
calm them both but neither one of them wanted anything to do with him.  They
huddled together on the floor and wept.

Defeated, disappointed,
Lionel moved away from them and settled in a corner, watching them from the
shadows. Mara’s reaction wasn’t surprising; he’d seen the way Mara and Kirk had
looked at each other. But he was still convinced it was infatuation and still
convinced that Mara would eventually see the advantages of a marriage to him.
At least, that was the hope.

Spencer was upset with
him. Lily was upset with him. Mara was shattered. Lionel could only imagine how
Kirk was going to react but by the time he was informed, they would be married
and there would be nothing he could do about it.

Yet, somehow he didn’t
see Kirk Connaught simply fading away. It was just a feeling he had.  He began
to wonder what would kill him first; Kirk or the disease.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Kirk could smell Ireland
before he ever saw the coast. The green, lush lands and softly rolling hills.
When the three de Cleveley ships docked with their load of one thousand men,
horses, wagons and supplies, Kirk found himself frantic to reach Wicklow. But
it was a three hour march by his calculations and the army set forth at a
strong pace.

Niles and Albert had
charge of the advance party, sent ahead of the main army to determine the state
of the Castle. Kirk and Corwin remained with the column, Corwin still terribly
ill from his day-and-night trip across the Irish Sea. The sway of his charger
only seemed to worsen his condition and Kirk ignored the man as he wretched
bile over miles of rocky road.

Retching and burping
that continued until they reached Wicklow. Niles and Albert met the army a mile
out, indicating that a sizable rebel force was occupying the estate. Bringing
his men to arms, Kirk lowered his visor and, with rage feeding his
determination, spread his ranks into a sweeping pattern that marched on Wicklow
like a plague of locusts.

The battle had been ugly
from the start. The Irish rebels were prepared for the approach of the de
Cleveley army and put up a hellish fight. Kirk lost Sir Albert in the first few
hours of fighting, and Niles died in his arms just after midnight of the
following day. A far too costly war, in Kirk's opinion. And it only grew worse.

When dawn broke the next
day, Kirk threw caution to the wind and sent a suicide force of men into the
keep, literally burning the place free of invaders. He lost a good deal of
seasoned men, mostly de Cleveley troops, but was rewarded with a full retreat
of the enemy by noon. Licking their wounds, the rebels skulked into the
surrounding countryside as Kirk raised the gray and yellow de Cleveley standard
over the keep he had been born in.

His father's impaled
body had been the first sight greeting him upon entering the large, and now
devastated, inner bailey. Ryan Connaught had been strung up by his wrists,
spread between two large poles as an object of inspiration for the Irish
insurgents. Kirk had promptly vomited at the sight and then ordered his father
cut down. He himself carried the man to a resting place against the inner wall,
tears falling on the corpse as he brushed away the flies and maggots.

But he had no time to
spare his grief or his rage. Corwin located his two brothers, dirty and beaten,
shackled in the moldering vault. But they were alive and unharmed for the most
part, greeting Kirk with kisses and tears. The eldest Connaught learned that
his mother had been taken by the rebels, her whereabouts unknown. A short
search of the surrounding area had discovered the woman murdered, and Kirk's
rage developed into full-blow madness.

The second night after
nearly two days of continuous fighting, Kirk, Steven and Drew found themselves on
the battlements as six hundred English troops patrolled the grounds and Castle
perimeter. To gaze at the three men would have been to notice identical characteristics,
an expression here or a gesture there. Whereas Kirk and Drew had similar
coloring and features, Steven was fair, his blue eyes and blond hair in direct
contrast to his brothers' dark countenance.

The Irish eve was
amazingly mild, the smell of rain in the distance. Kirk was weary, but his
murderous emotions kept him from seeking his pallet. With his mother and father
killed, his thoughts lingered solely on those of revenge.

And his brothers were
aware of the fact. But they were also aware that unless Kirk intended to kill
every peasant in the county of Wicklow, he would never find the culprits.

"Why do not you
sleep, Kirk?" Steven asked his brother quietly. "Drewie and I have
the watch. You have been awake for days, lad, and it shows."

Kirk grinned in spite of
himself, rubbing his stubbled face. "So I am not my beauteous self, am
I?"

Drew shook his head.
"Christ, you're an ugly man. No wonder you have never married."

A dull twinkle came to
Kirk's eye. "A few months will see that changed, lads."

Both Steven and Drew
turned to him with surprise. "Is that so?" Steven snorted.
"God's Blood, I pity the woman. How much did you pay her, Kirk?"

Kirk chuckled.
"There's not enough money in the world to buy this woman. She's
priceless."

His brothers grinned.
"Priceless? Do tell, lad." Drew was snickering.

Kirk sighed heavily,
leaning against the parapet as he gazed into the clear night sky. "She's a
beautiful lass. Silken dark hair and the brightest blue eyes I have ever seen.
Her name is Mara and if you so much as sneeze in her direction, she'll put her
fist through your nose before you can blink."

Drew raised his
eyebrows. "A fighting wench, eh?"

Kirk grinned. "Not
when handled correctly."

His brothers let up a
collective "oh", a knowing sound that suggested they understood their
brother completely.

"You have bedded
her, then," Steven said.

Kirk crossed his thick
arms. "It wasn't like that, Steven. I am in love with the girl."

"And she loves
you?"

"She does."

"Foolish
wench."

The brothers shared a
laugh. Kirk sobered, watching the great bonfires in the distance as the dead
were burned. Their parents' burial was slated for the morning, in the graveyard
where Connaught ancestors had been interred for centuries. Still, Kirk was
having a difficult time coming to terms with what had happened. Even thoughts
of Mara seemed unable to distract him.

"You cannot do
anything for them, Kirk." Steven's voice was soft.

Kirk turned to his
brother, his crippled right hand a painful reminder of the once-great knight.
"What do you speak of?"

"Mother and
father," Steven clarified. "You cannot do anything for them. Those
who killed them are long gone, or dead themselves. We shall never know exactly
who did it."

Kirk hardened. "We
will if I interrogate every rebel in the land, or burn every village. Someone
will tell me."

"You will destroy
everything if you do this," Drew said. "The actual number of rebels
are few. But through threats and intimidation, they coerced the loyal peasants
to aid their cause. You cannot destroy everyone simply to capture a few."

Kirk's jaw ticked.
"How can you say that?" he demanded. "You saw what they did to
father, to mother. How can you be so willing to stand ignorant while murderers
roam free?"

"I told you
why," Drew returned, with more force. "What do you plan to do,
completely obliterate the county, punishing everyone for the crimes of a select
few?"

Kirk cocked an eyebrow.
"When we came upon Wicklow two days ago, I would say that more than a
select few occupied the castle. I'd say hundreds."

Drew shook his head.
"Untrained peasants forced to comply with the few trained rebels in their
midst. The men who captured Steven and I were hardly more than children. And
the only reason we were captured was because of their sheer number."

"What about the men
who killed father? Or beat mother to death? Were they children, too?"

"Hard to the core,
Kirk. And we shall never, ever find them. They are too clever. And too
intimidating."

Kirk sighed with
frustration, wrinkling his nose to the pungent smell of the burning dead.
"I simply cannot abide by all of this," he said after a moment.
"I return home to find my parents killed, the home of my birth all but
destroyed. Can you not see the basis for my rage, lads?"

"Of course we
do," Drew said softly. "But we also know there is nothing you can do
about it. We will rebuild and we will strengthen our ranks with more soldiers.
Then we will meet with the village chieftains and see if there isn't some peace
we can come to. There is nothing more we can do than that."

"I disagree."

"What would your
Mara say to your need for revenge, Kirk?"

It was Steven, always
the voice of calm. Kirk looked at his younger brother with frustration when he
realized what he was driving at.  Pursing his lips, he turned away.

"Most likely the
same as you," he grunted. "But Mara is not a soldier. It is right for
women to believe in peace and harmony. Without them, the world would know
little."

"Do you want to
return to her soon, Kirk?" Steven's tone was pointed, soft. "Or do
you want to spend the next year searching for men whose identities will never be
revealed? The peasants respect the English, Kirk, but they fear the rebels
more. Have you been away so long that you have forgotten that?"

Kirk did not like what
he was hearing, mostly because it was the truth. Feeling frustrated and
impotent, he merely shook his head.

"Nay," his
voice was hoarse. "I haven't forgotten. But with all of the might I
command, I should think I could do more to bring these men to justice."

To the north, the sound
of distant thunder could be heard, dying away just as Kirk's determination for
vengeance was. His brothers were correct and he realized he would have to
resign himself to the fact. But the knowledge that vengeance would be useless
did nothing to ease his anger.

"I so wanted Mara
to meet father," he said after a moment, feeling his fatigue as the night
deepened. "She's such an exquisite creature. I wanted him to see the woman
I had chosen to pass along the Connaught lineage."

"A spirited woman
who throws her fists around?" Steven laughed when Kirk pretended to punch
him. "I think I like her already."

"You will fall in
love with her, as I have," he said. "But you cannot have her. I have
already had to fight off one bastard and I swear I kill the next man who looks
at her."

Steven and Drew, aware
that they had deterred their big brother's taste for vengeance, gladly delved
into the subject of Lady Mara once again. It was good to see Kirk smile and
they realized that his mood was the direct result of Mara's name. Any mention
of her sent him grinning like a fool.

Corwin mounted the
ladder to the battlements, approaching the brothers as they conversed and
snickered. Smiling wearily, he fixed on Kirk.

"The scouts have
returned from the surrounding area, Kirk," he said. "The trees are
clear of rebels. In fact, they seemed to have disappeared altogether."

Kirk lifted an eyebrow.
"But they have not, of course," he said. "Make sure the sentry
posts are tripled, Corwin. And I want mounted guards outside the walls,
patrolling in foursomes."

Corwin nodded, eager to
carry out the orders and get to bed. He, too, was exceedingly weary.

"Corwin." Kirk
stopped the man before he could dismount the wall. "You have met the
illustrious Mara. Tell my brothers of her, as they seem to have difficultly
believing that one woman can be so perfect."

Corwin glanced to the
expectant brothers, his stomach twisting with renewed nausea. But not because
of the travel or the battle he had recently fought. It was because he knew
something Kirk did not, something that was tearing him apart. The longer he
gazed into Kirk's smiling face, the more powerful the urge became to drop to
his knees and confess everything. But for fear of Valdine, he remained silent.
For her, he had always remained silent.

"She is... well,
she is certainly beautiful," he offered weakly. "But ask Kirk about
the scars on his cheek if he thinks she is so perfect."

He was out of the
conversation as Steven and Drew turned to their brother, demanding to know of
the parallel wounds. Corwin slid off the wall, hating himself for his
disloyalty to Kirk. Moving to complete his assigned duties, he tried to forget
what he knew about Micheline's situation, or Mara's future. But, God help him,
he simply couldn't. And the feeling was growing stronger by the moment.

 ***

Spencer stood stoically
in Edmund’s small solar, watching the thin young lord pace about the room with
glee. Spencer, however, could not reciprocate the emotions he was witnessing and
with very good reason.

"So he has agreed
to my marriage proposal?" Edmund repeated the knight's missive. "How
marvelous!"

Spencer could hardly
agree. For seven days he had lived with bitterness such as he had never known.
And Mara, poor Mara, was beyond devastated. She was lifeless.

"Aye, my
lord," he replied stiffly. "He has asked me to thank you for sending
the lady to him."

Edmund laughed joyously,
shaking his hands in the air. "Thank God!" he crowed. Then, he looked
to Spencer with sudden suspicion. "He kept the proposal from Kirk, did he
not? I asked that he not tell him."

Spencer could literally
taste his disgust. "As far as I know, he did not. He told no one at all
and I must say we were quite surprised by the news." He eyed the delighted
baron, wishing he could simply run him through and be done with it. The man had
no idea the number of people affected by his treachery. "Lord le Vay has
already sent for the priest from Crosby. The man should be arriving within the
next day and I have been asked to escort Lady Micheline De Cleveley to attend
her sister's wedding."