The Faithful Heart (30 page)

 

 

“Well, I could get this cart unharnessed a lot more quickly if you
would help!” Morgana snapped.

 

 

Ruairc came out of his daze. “I’m sorry, yes of course. I haven’t
had much sleep for the past few days, that’s all.”

 

 

“As if I have?” Morgana returned in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

 

“I’m on your side, remember?” Ruairc remarked as his emerald eyes
glittered dangerously.

 

 

Morgana paused in her work and touched Ruairc’s arm gently. “I’m
sorry. We’re both exhausted, and tempers are getting frayed. But I
have far too much to do without you asking me about my every move.”

 

 

“I just don’t like you going out of the castle on mysterious
errands, that’s all. You could be ambushed,” Ruairc reminded her.

 

 

“If your brothers haven’t moved against us yet, with Father being
dead and things in disarray, especially with the poisoned villagers,
then either they are not interested, or they are waiting for
something else. At any rate, I will carry on as usual, and I do have
my sword, you know.”

 

 

“Two years is a long time for it to be in the sheath,” Ruairc
disputed.

 

 

“Who says I didn’t practice?” Morgana teased.

 

 

“I can just picture it. Morgana the sword-bearing nun,” Ruairc
laughed, his tension dissipating as he ruffled Morgana’s auburn hair
affectionately and gave her a light peck on the cheek.

 

 

Then they returned to the castle together in a more companionable
mood.

 

 

Morgana ate with great relish the pigeon pie placed before her, and
took a great draught of the ale after her thirsty work cleaning out
old birds’ nests and years of accumulated dirt at her old castle.

 

 

“You look very grubby, Morgana. What have you been doing?” Mary
asked as she came in from the village.

 

 

“How are the patients?” Morgana asked immediately, ignoring the
woman’s probing question.

 

 

“They’re doing very well. It’s a shame about the children, of
course, but at least some of them recovered in the end.”

 

 

“But the death of all those innocents is still a heavy price to pay
for someone’s enmity against our family,” Morgana sighed.

 

 

“You did everything you could, Morgana, you and Ruairc, though we
have all treated him so badly,” Mary admitted grudgingly.  
“You've nothing to reproach yourself for. By the way, Father Doyle
would like to do the funeral masses tomorrow morning, before you go
back to Kilgarven.”

 

 

“Fine, but it will have to be early. Are you and Aofa getting all
packed up for your trip to Dublin?”

 

 

“She is, I’m sure. It looks as though she's taking everything she
owns with her. But are you sure you can spare me so soon? I mean,
there are still sick people to attend to, as well as all the other
household duties to be supervised,” Mary protested, obviously
reluctant to go.

 

 

“I know, Mary, but when my cousin Patrick comes back from Belleek,
he will be taking over the reins, and he did promise to bring back
some people to help in the house. It will be a much simpler
establishment to run without all of the excesses of Aofa and Fergus.
  Patrick is happy with a bit of bread and cheese or meat, and
we are all going to have to be a bit more frugal from now on. So you
go to Dublin and enjoy yourself with our cousins.” Morgana smiled,
and hoped she sounded convincing.

 

 

The other woman's brow knit. “All right, Morgana, I shall go because
you ask it of me, but once Aofa is safely there, I would like to
come back.”

 

 

“No, Mary, not for at least a fortnight. I would have you make sure
that Aofa doesn’t run wild and disgrace the family. And you shall
hold the purse strings, and tell my cousins not to lend her money
under any circumstances. We all saw what Aofa bought the last time
she had unrestricted access to the family funds,” Morgana said with
barely concealed rage.

 

 

Mary nodded slowly. With a last speculative look at Morgana and
Ruairc, she left them alone.

 

 

Morgana had the uneasy feeling that Mary was up to something, or
suspected her arrangements were not all they seemed.

 

 

To her surprise, Ruairc did not take her to task for where she had
been most of the day, nor what her plans were for the morrow. He
merely bowed and said he was returning to nurse the sick.

 

 

"I shall be there shortly."

 

 

"We shall talk then."

 

 

Morgana kept her word and went out to visit the ill cottagers.
Ruairc seemed to have worked a miracle with his aunt's medicines,
but that was all the more reason to sned him away, she determined,
as she walked through the rows of patients.

 

 

Her clan would either blame him, or see him as a threat.

 

 

"You've done very well, thank you."

 

 

"I'm glad Agatha and I were able to help," he said, staring at her.
"You know I am at your service, if ever you want to confide in me as
to what your plans are now."

 

 

She give a lift of her chin. "You know my plans. I am returning to
the convent tomorrow."

 

 

"I see. Well, in that case, there's nothing more to be said. All I
know is you gave your word one minute that all would be well between
us, and you decided to return to Agatha the next."

 

 

"I know what we said. But you were the one who counselled me to rely
on my cousins once they came back. They are back, so I can return
and still leave all my options open.'

 

 

He frowned. "Yet you've told me to go back to Dublin, to marry well.
So if I'm no longer to be one of your options, I would at least like
to know why. You owe me that much, morgana."

 

 

She heaved a ragged sigh."I have no reason to marry for dynastic
reasons any longer. I am not going to be
tanaist
after all."

 

 

Ruairc looked as though she had stabbed him. He clasped one hand to
his chest and shook his head. "I see. And the fact that I asked you
to come with me to Dublin, told you that I would be happy being
married to you even if you had not go a penny to your name, appears
to have escaped your notice amid all of your wise calculations, did
it?"

 

 

"No," she admitted. "But it's not fair to you. You've already lost
so much—"

 

 

"Now you want me to lose it all. To say farewell to you again so you
can be ordained?" He shook his head. "I won't do it."

 

 

"To say farewell because what we shared is in the past and can't be
recaptured. Father is gone now, and my cousins will be in charge.
You are a MacMahon. You have been a great friend to me, but there is
no place here any longer, as fiance or foster son. I'm sorry."

 

 

He shook his head. "Not nearly as sorry as I am, and you're going to
be, Morgana." He held up one hand as she opened her mouth to reply.
"Nay, fear not, madam, that wasnot a threat. I am simply saying that
few people in the world are ever so fortunate as to find the love
we've shared. To have lost once and then gotten it back was the
greatest gift I could have ever imagined. Not many people get a
second chance. For you to throw this away so lightly again, well…"
He rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand. "Well, Morgana, all I
can say is, I wish you well and happy, but above all, I pray you
don't rue this day. For if you make me leave now, I will not be
coming back."

 

 

She took a deep breath to steady herself. "It's for the best."

 

 

"Very well then, all that remains is to say farewell." He bowed
stiffly and glared at her. Then he lifted the milk jug, and moved
away down the row of patients.

 

 

She sighed heavily, and headed back to the castle and her work in
her stufy. She was sure that he would come to look in on her before
heading off to bed, but was half disappointed, and greatly relieved
when there was no sign of him, and she went to bed that night
unchallenged.

 

 

As she lay in bed playing the events of the day over in her mind,
she noted that she had seemingly escaped from any arguments with
either Ruairc or Mary, but she couldn't help wondering what new
strife the morrow would bring.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

 

Morgana rose early the next morning to check on the sick villagers,
and was satisfied with the progress they had made.

 

 

A grey fog hung thickly over the village, casting a damp gloom upon
the whole castle. Morgana shivered with foreboding, but decided that
the funeral and her departure for the convent were the only reasons
to be depressed.

 

 

Morgana went into the byre to milk the cows in the eerie silence,
and while she was outside, she slipped into the stables and
concealed her small bundle of clothes, and her habit, under some
straw.She would change out of her regular clothes once she returned
to Kilgarven and hoped Aunt Agatha wouldn’t be angry with her for
going back even though she didn’t intend to stay. She also hoped she
would forgive her for losing one of her simple white woollen gowns,
for though Morgana had searched high and low, one of her habits had
gone missing.

 

 

Morgana went to the baker’s hut, and saw that Michael was once again
back in business, producing white and coarse wholemeal bread for the
whole village.

 

 

“Keep the ovens going night and day, Michael. I have a feeling our
fortunes are about to change, and we need to feed everyone up, to
help the clan grow strong again.”

 

 

“I’d forgotten how much I missed baking.” Michael then promised he
would get more helpers in from both clans, and teach the young men
his trade.

 

 

“That’s a fine idea, thank you.” Morgana waved as she took her
leave.

 

 

Dressed in a black tunic and trunk hose, her hair fastened securely
into a plait which circled the back of her head, she was suitably
attired for the children’s funeral, though Ruairc frowned when he
saw she wasn’t wearing either of the black gowns he had presented as
gifts to her. He offered her his arm to walk to Killadeas, and
though all the eyes of the clan were focused upon him
disapprovingly, the Maguires had gone some way toward accepting him
after all of Ruairc’s efforts to help the sick and dying.

 

 

Lifting her chin, Morgana decided to take his arm, and the devil
with what anyone said.

 

 

Ruairc smiled down at her and her breath caught in her throat.

 

 

I can’t go through with this,
a panic-stricken voice
screamed inside Morgana’s head, as she clung on to Ruairc’s arm
fiercely and longed for one of his drugging kisses.

 

 

You must, you must,
the voice of reason repeated. Morgana
moved like one in a trance as she walked to and from the churchyard,
and then re-entered the castle for the funeral feast.

 

 

She forced herself to act normally, and went around the great hall
offering condolences and saying a quiet goodbye to her many friends
who were sorry to see her leaving for the convent.

 

 

Seeing her chance, Morgana crept away from the funeral group as soon
as she could decently manage, and slipped into the stables, where
her bundle was already waiting for her. She tied on her cloak,
saddled Darkie, and rode through the gates, where she waved to the
sentry and disappeared into the swirling fog.

 

 

But Ruairc had been keeping a close eye on Morgana, and already had
his mount saddled and waiting. He crept behind her as she went into
the stables, and then waited for a few moments after she left before
climbing up onto the back of his steed.  

 

 

Then Ruairc followed Morgana down the road, but the fog made her
nearly invisible, though he could hear the footfalls of her horse
clearly.

 

 

They rode thus for several miles, until Morgana grew certain she was
being followed, and stopped her horse in a clump of trees.  
Using all her strength she lashed her reins around and managed to
drag a fallen log onto the road, and as Ruairc dismounted to remove
the barrier, she crept out from behind a tree and put her sword to
his back.

 

 

“Turn around, slowly,” Morgana demanded, and then reprimanded
Ruairc. “Why on earth did you follow me? You could have been killed
just now!”

 

 

“Surely you could have guessed I would follow you, to make sure you
were safe, if not to talk to you, to try to get you to change your
mind,” Ruairc laughed bitterly.

 

 

“You were meant to be escorting Aofa and Mary! Now who will take
them?” Morgana chided.

 

 

“Matthew and some of the other villages are going to get supplies
with the money you left them, so they agreed to go all the way to
Dublin with the ladies, and see them safely to the Fitzhughs'
house,” Ruairc informed her.

 

 

Slightly mollified, Morgana put up her sword, and they both removed
the tree from the road.

 

 

“I was right, you are a sword-wielding nun,” Ruairc teased, hoping
to cheer her slightly.

 

 

“I don’t like this fog,” Morgana muttered. "An ill wind is blowing,
you mark my words."

 

 

“It’s all coming off the lough shore, so perhaps once we get a bit
further east, it will clear,” Ruairc said hopefully.