The Falcon's Bride (21 page)

“There was nothing to ‘think through,’ James,” she said haughtily. “He—
both of us
—would be dead now if we hadn’t come through that corridor. That is simply the way of it.”

James was about to speak again, when a hollow pounding racket and loud shouts echoing through the musty old halls from below pulled them all up short.

“Come down out of there, whoever ya are!” a gruff voice bellowed. “You’re trespassin’! I’ve a loaded musket at the ready. You’ve got till I count ta five!
One . . . !
”

“Oh, James!” Thea cried.

Drumcondra lunged toward the door, but James arrested him with a quick hand. “You cannot go!” he said. “Stay out of sight. I will handle this. Thea, put on that cloak and come with me. Say nothing. Let me do the talking. Now you’ll see the folly of this bumblebroth you’ve boiled us in, by God!”

“
Two
. . . ,” thundered the voice from below.

Steering Thea along the corridor, James called out, “There is no need for arms, good sir. It is only two wayfarers who have taken shelter from the weather. I, and my sister. Speak up, that I may follow your voice to oblige you. . . .”

“
Three
. . . ,” came the reply.

“Oh, James!” Thea said.

He squeezed her arm in an unequivocal gesture that demanded her silence. “We are coming, man!” he hollered. “Please, you are frightening my sister!”

“
Four
. . . ,” the voice thundered.

“We can’t let him find Ros!” Thea hissed.

“Be still!” James replied in a low mutter. “It is one man alone, from what I can gather. If needs must I can take him down and subdue him. Sink me! My bristles are set up high enough by all this to do it, by God! As near as I can tell, he’s in the great hall. Hurry!”

“
Five!
You were warned,” the man said.

They had reached the lower landing, Thea clinging to her brother for dear life, her heart hammering in her ears as they pulled up short before a short stocky elder gentleman in buckskins and tweed, leveling an antiquated blunderbuss at them.

“And here we are, sir,” said James, winded. “James Wadsworth
Barrington, and my sister, Theodosia Barrington, at your service, sir.”

“Englishers!” the man spat out in disgust. “I might have known.”

“That, we cannot help, sir,” said James. “For the trespass, we are greatly sorry. Exhaustion necessitated it, I fear. We’ve come . . . a long way, and we’ve harmed naught but a broken chair to use for kindling.”

“Ya could have burnt the place down, ya bloody fools! Can’t ya see all that’s holdin’ it up is the drifted snow?
Englishers
!” He lowered the gun, but his cold hard stare did not bode well. “I’m goin’ ta bring it down meself come spring, or put it up for auction and let the next fool of an owner have the pleasure—damned nuisance—landmark or no! But wait now, only the two o’ ya, ya say? There’s two horses, but three sets o’ tracks out there. Somebody come in here over that bridge afoot—big fella, too, by the look o’ them boot tracks.” The blunderbuss shot up and took aim again. Thea gave a whimper in spite of herself looking down the ominous barrel.

“I cannot speak for who else may have trespassed here recently,” said James, clearly begging answers from the air. “There’s no one here now but us. We’ve just come from the coast on our way to Cashel Cosgrove some miles west, for the Christmastide feast and my sister’s betrothal celebration. She is to marry Nigel Cosgrove there in a fortnight. There is nothing untoward afoot here. We’re quite alone . . . you can see for yourself, sir.”

“Hmmm,” the old man said, considering.

“You know who we are. Might I inquire as to who you are, sir?” James braved, “That I might pay my compliments properly?”

“Squire Michael Fitzmorris, though I don’t know how that’ll serve ya. I own this slag heap, more’s the pity.
You’ve got ta go. ’Tisn’t safe, and that’s a fact. Don’t want no ’tastrophes on me conscience.”

“Oh, and we shall,” said James, “Just as soon as the storm subsides.”

“What storm might that be?” the squire said, with a start. “There ain’t a cloud in the sky.”

It was clear that James was still not sure which side of the corridor he was on, and Thea squeezed his arm. “Uh . . . we weathered a nasty one coming up from the coast,” he recovered. “It quite wore us to a raveling. We were that glad for a place to rest for a bit before we continue on our way. We still have a long ride ahead of us. If you will allow, my poor sister is in delicate health. By your leave, we will rest awhile, and be on our way in the morning.”

“Aye, well, see that ya are,” said the squire, taking Thea’s measure. “And no more fires!”

“No—none,” said James. “You have my word. Do you live close by, Squire Fitzmorris? We saw neither soul nor dwelling coming on, or we might have knocked upon your door.”

“Far enough ta weary an old man takin’ him out on such a bitter night,” he returned, “but close enough ta see the smoke belchin’ outta that chimney. Ya wouldn’t have passed my door comin’ on from the quay, though—too far south.”

“Ah!” James erupted. “That explains it, then.”

“Well, I’ll be takin’ me leave,” the squire said, “but I’ll be back in the mornin’, and you’d best be gone when I get here. Remember, I can see smoke risin’—no fires.” He stomped off then, and Thea distinctly heard the word “Englishers,” escape him as he went.

Once James was certain he had left in earnest, he steered Thea back up to the second floor chamber, but Drumcondra was nowhere in sight.

“Oh, James!” she cried. “Where could he have got to?”

“Hah!” James said. “He’s able to fend on his own, I
imagine, a man like that. Perhaps he’s gone back where he came from. Good riddance, I’ll be bound.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” the warrior said, striding back into the chamber, his falcon perched on his studded leather gauntlet. He held the bird up in salute. “I thought I’d even the odds,” he explained.

“Keep that damned vulture away from me, sir!” James charged, shoving Thea behind him.

“Isor will not harm you, Barrington . . . unless I decree it. Who was that I just saw leaving from the battlements? One of the guards?”

“No,” said James. “It was the present owner of this wreck of a folly, though not for long to hear him tell. He means to sell come spring.”

“
I
am the owner of Falcon’s Lair,” Drumcondra said, thumping his chest.

“Yes, well—no more, my lord.”

“And I do not take kindly to being ordered about in my own keep!” the warrior went on with raised voice. “Least of all by a . . . a . . .”

“An architect,” James concluded for him. “Well, you’d best get used to it, because you have no authority here now, and unless you swallow that pride and allow me to assist, you shan’t survive a sennight as you are. Collect your things, both of you. We go now—before that fellow changes his mind and sets the guards on us.”

“Go where?” Thea cried. “Now who hasn’t thought this thing through?”

“The only place we can go till I unwind this coil,” James returned. “Where this nightmare all began. Newgrange.”

Chapter Sixteen

“That needs tending,” James said, pointing a rigid finger toward Drumcondra’s wound. They were seated inside the passage tomb on pallets made of the fur rugs they had carried from Falcon’s Lair. Among their other loot were candles, the tinderbox, and what combustible materials they could tie onto their saddles such as mightn’t be missed, should Squire Michael Fitzmorris suddenly take inventory. These consisted of chair legs and shelf boards, and discarded ledgers and tomes strewn about the place. They were even able to find bits of coal, evidently left behind by other wayfarers in the past.

The smaller stone basin in the central chamber would serve as a brazier, since it stood under the roof box where the smoke could escape. It would be used sparingly, and only at night. Though the surrounding land was barren for miles, rising smoke could be seen from a great distance in daylight. The only issue upon which they all agreed was that this had to be a temporary arrangement. In 1811, the
tomb was no longer a sealed hilly mound rising from the land; it had an opening now, and though it wasn’t likely to attract the curious in such weather, one couldn’t be too careful.

“He is right, my lord, you have fever,” Thea said. “There is a surgeon—he visited Nigel when the falcon gouged out his eye.”

“Well, we certainly cannot have him here,” said James. He had begun to pace. “There’s nothing for it,” he said. “We shall all have to go back to Cashel Cosgrove.”

Drumcondra stiffened as though he’d been struck at the mention of the castle, and James stopped midpace, and faced him. Thea held her breath. These two men she loved so were destined to clash, and James had clearly reached the end of his tether.

“What?” her brother said, addressing the warrior. “It may have been your stronghold once, but it is a Cosgrove holding now, and there is nothing to be done about it.”

“I think, my lord,” Thea interrupted, “trying to make sense of all this, that somehow we were destined to be together, that you had to lose your castle to Cian Cosgrove, and that he had to destroy Falcon’s Lair as well. Elsewise, how would we ever have met? I would never have come here where your mother could find me if it weren’t to wed Nigel Cosgrove and give credence to the love slave legend. I would never have been able to prevent you being part of . . . what occurred at Falcon’s Lair.”

“Yes, well, we do not need you waxing philosophical on us here now, Thea,” James said. “That hardly signifies.”

“Oh, but I think it does, James,” Thea said. “And what’s more, I believe there’s a reason for it—something we are destined to do, my husband and I, that we must do together. We have only to discover what that reason is to prove it to that logical mind of yours.”

“You will have to come back to the castle with me, of course,” James went on as though he hadn’t heard. “Then I shall—”

“She stays with me,” Drumcondra said.

“I am not about to leave her here to take pneumonia with you in this . . . this tomb. You would have to be mad to imagine it, sir.”

“You will see ‘mad’ if you attempt to take her back to the Cosgrove, Barrington.”

“Be reasonable, man!” James cried. “Our father will have arrived from England to attend the wedding by now. It will, of course, have to be postponed. Believe me, if we do not return, he will raise an army to comb every wood and thicket hereabout, and this will be the first place he looks.”

“There will be no ‘wedding,’ ” Drumcondra said. “She is already married to me. How will you explain that, Barrington?”

“You cannot mean to continue this . . . this charade?” James said, incredulous. “A Gypsy wedding? Such heathen rituals are not recognized by civilized gentility. Surely you know that?”

“They are for life,” Drumcondra enunciated, his whole body delivering the words, “And they have been since time out of mind. Gypsy vows are more binding than any of your pompous rituals.” He had struggled to his feet and reached for Thea. She went into his arms. “They are enough for us. You would rather see your sister shackled to a brute she does not love, who has abused her, than wed to her soul mate—one who has defied time and place to have her—one who would lay down his life for her? You are a fool, Barrington.”

James’s posture collapsed. “What do you expect me to do?” he asked, defeat in the sound.

“Get me into my castle!” Ros replied.

Thea’s eyes flashed toward him. “To do what?”

“Just do it,” Drumcondra said, his shuttered eyes riveted to her brother.

James threw wild arms into the air. “Oh, I see!” he said, with not a little drama. “I am to just march you into the castle as you are—Thea in whatever that scandalous frock is, and
you
in your natural state, sir, decked out for seventeenth-century battle. You look like refugees fresh from treading the boards in Drury Lane, the pair of you. How will you excuse him, Thea? What explanation will you give to Nigel for even returning if you mean to stay with your Gypsy lover? You leave the countess’s hospitality—her son’s bride-to-be, mind—and return nearly a month later wed to Attila the Hun here, expecting her
and
your betrothed to simply accept the pair of you with open arms because the rest of your family is camped there? Madness!”

“He needs the surgeon, James,” Thea reminded him. “You said so yourself. Can we not contrive some fabrication to address that, and meanwhile give me time to talk to Father?”

“You think Father is going to sanction your marriage to
him
, when he is salivating over expected gains from an alliance with the Cosgroves? You dream.”

“Just get me inside the castle,” Drumcondra insisted. “Give me a chance to establish myself in your time. I have a plan for us, but it cannot be set into motion until I have done so.”

“You mean . . . pretend that Thea and Nigel are still to be wed?” James said.

Drumcondra nodded. “Only until I can execute my plan.”

“The wedding is certain to be rescheduled to take place
as soon as possible—certainly no more than a fortnight from now, more likely as soon as a sennight. Nigel was champing at the bit.”

“It will be time enough.”

“And who will you pretend to be, then, in the meanwhile?”

“Whomever you wish, so long as Thea and I are not separated. A wedding guest, a minstrel come to perform at the wedding banquet, her rescuer—however you will. Just get me inside those walls.”

“You mean to lay siege to that castle!” James cried, his voice raised with discovery.

“Not . . . exactly.”

From the shadowy recesses of the corner, the falcon clucked, drawing James’s eyes. “What of the bird?” he asked. “Take that creature anywhere near Cashel Cosgrove and it won’t live to see another sunrise. The gamekeeper has been ordered to shoot it on sight. No hawk is safe in this valley now.”

“Isor is well able to fend for himself,” said Drumcondra.

James shook his head. “You say you have a plan? You need to tell it. I shan’t go one more step until I know what folly you are hatching that will put my sister in jeopardy, sir.”