Chapter Twelve
The duke of Glenkirk and his son-in-law rode into Mallow Court. Dismounting, they entered the house to be greeted by Lady Jane.
“How dare you enter this house after what your filthy Papist brethren did to my husband!” she screeched at her stepson.
The duke put a warning hand on Kieran, and said, “We have only just learned of the troubles in Lisnaskea last night, and came as quickly as we could to see if Sir Shane was all right, madame.”
“He lies abed, barely alive,” she snapped. “His whore tried to murder him, but William managed to save his father.”
“Indeed,” the duke remarked. “We should like to see Sir Shane, madame. You will understand that Kieran is deeply concerned for his father. We had heard a very different story of the happenings in Lisnaskea.”
“My husband is too ill to be disturbed,” Jane Devers said loftily. “Come back another time, my lord.”
James Leslie looked about him. There was no one else in the hall, and he knew the Devers household had no men-at-arms. “Madame, as I have told you, ‘tis another tale I have heard. We will see Sir Shane now, so that I may ascertain he is indeed alive. How dare you refuse my request! You will either take us to him, or I shall have my clansmen search the house until he is found,” the duke told her half-angrily.
Jane Devers wanted nothing more than to send the two men before her packing, but the duke was a man of authority.
She dared not, even if William had said his father was not to be disturbed.
She had not seen her husband since their son had brought him home, and William held the key to Shane’s bedchamber.
“My son has locked his father in for his own safety,” she told the duke.
“I do not have the key to his room, my lord, and William is not here right now.”
“Show me where Sir Shane is confined,” the duke commanded her. “We will break the door down, madame. Such treatment of your husband is outrageous, and I am astounded that you would have allowed such a thing. You are mistress here, are you not?”
Flushed with irritation Jane Devers led the way to her husband’s bedchamber.
She was surprised that her stepson had been so silent in all of this.
William had warned her that he would come tearing into Mallow Court with some wild tale, yet Kieran had said nothing.
Still, his silence and his angry eyes made her more than aware of his fury.
She stopped before her husband’s rooms. “He is in there,” she said.
Without a word Kieran Devers put his shoulder to the door, and after a minute or more, it sprang open.
He and the duke hurried into the room. There they found Sir Shane Devers, bound hand and foot, a gag tied about his mouth, upon his bed.
Swiftly they loosed the gag and his bonds, and helped him to sit up.
There was a nasty bruise upon his temple, and a small crusting of blood at the back of his head.
“Da!” Kieran embraced his parent.
“He killed Molly!” Sir Shane said “He told me himself, the young devil. And my lasses too, God curse him!”
“We know,” Kieran replied grimly. “Biddy hid herself, and afterward came to Erne Rock to tell us, Da.”
“He tried to kill me too,” Sir Shane declared, “and he might have done so had you not come to seek me out, my lord. I thank you.”
“What are you saying?” Jane Devers quavered. “How can you accuse our boy of such a terrible act as patricide?”
“Your son, madame,” Sir Shane said coldly, “coldly murdered the woman I love, along with our two daughters, his half-sisters. He attacked me, and then when he found I had not died so he might blame my death upon the hapless Catholics of Lisnaskea, he brought me home, trussed up like a Christmas goose, and told me quite plainly he intended killing me so he might have his inheritance sooner than later. He is a viper, your son, and I will drive him from my home as soon as I can.”
“You have been injured, dearest,” Jane Devers said, reaching out to touch the bruise on her husband’s temple. “You have surely misunderstood our William. He would never harm you, Shane.”
He pulled away from her hand. “Madame, I am not so injured that I could not understand your son when he boasted of how he had shot Molly Fitzgerald and our two daughters. Maeve was seventeen, and our wee Aine just fourteen, madame. They were to go with Kieran and his wife to England, and then the New World next year. We knew they had no future in Ulster. What harm did any of them ever do to William that he would murder them with such icy disdain? Innocent lasses, madame! I rue the day I ever wed you, and brought you into my house, Jane! I regret the son I fathered on your passionless body. He is a monster!”
“He is not!” she defended her son. “If he killed that woman he did it to protect my honor. That you would take a mistress was bad enough, but a Catholic mistress? And those two brats you fathered on her brought me nothing but shame, flaunting themselves about the village. I was pitied for your follies, and had it not been for the kindness of the Reverend Mr. Dundas, I should have been a laughingstock in Lisnaskea. Now poor James is dead along with his wife and children thanks to your bloody murdering Papists!”
“It was Dundas who encouraged the mayhem last night, and at your bidding using your son as a cat’s paw, I have not a doubt,” Kieran Devers said.
“Willy is not that clever, madame, but he is certainly vicious enough given the proper encouragement. I imagine both you and his wife fostered his baser nature. What in the name of God did you hope to gain by your mischief?”
“I will have no Catholics in the vicinity tainting my children,” William Devers said, suddenly entering the room. “My wife is with child, and it was past time these Papists were driven from our lands.” His cold blue gaze swept them all. “Ah, Da, I see you are up now.”
“You’re no son of mine,” Shane Devers replied angrily. “I want you gone from this house today!”
“What?” William mocked. “You would send me from my birthplace? And what of my little wife, ripening with your first grandchild, Da?”
“Take her with you, and this bitch who bore you as well,” Shane Devers said furiously, his color now high with his choler.
“I’ll not have the man who shot my Molly and our girls in this house even one more night!
” Shane Devers then hit his son a mighty blow that staggered him, and sent him to the floor.
Surprised, William struggled to his feet, aided by his mother.
“I only shot your whore and her eldest brat,” he said cruelly.
“The other one, the littlest, I had on her back. How she struggled and screamed when I savaged her maidenhead. I meant to give her to my men to enjoy as well, but then came the word the church was afire with poor old Dundas in it. I cut her throat. I wonder if she was as lusty a fuck as her mother, your whore?” He smiled at his father.
Shane Devers stared hard at his younger son. “You raped your half-sister?” he said, horrified. “Aine was but a child.”
“She had nice little tits,” William replied. “Besides, I count her no kin of mine, Da. Surely your whore could not be certain which of her lovers fathered her children.” He smiled again.
Shane Devers heard the mighty thundering of his heart in his ears.
His temples throbbed fiercely. The world was red before his eyes, and then he felt a violent sharp pain slam inside of his head.
With a cry he fell to the floor. He knew he was dying.
His eyes desperately sought his eldest son.
His breath was coming in shallow, short pants.
He struggled to speak a final time. “Forgive me, Kieran,” he rasped, and then he died with his last heroic effort.
There was a long silence, and then William Devers said, “Well, that is that, is it not? Get out of my house, Kieran, and do not come back ever again. Be warned. I have taken care of the Catholics in Lisnaskea. I shall come to Maguire’s Ford next.”
James Leslie caught the young man by his shirt front.
“Ye be warned, William Devers, put one foot, ye or yer minions, on land belonging to my wife, and ye’ll be driven off wi nae mercy.
I canna prevent ye from causing trouble here, but ye’ll cause nae difficulties in Maguire’s Ford.
Trust me, laddie, ye dinna want Jemmie Leslie for yer enemy.
I hae only just hae word from my cousin, King Charles, that he hae approved the transfer of the properties belonging to my wife to my two sons, Adam and Duncan Leslie.
Yer a fool if ye think ye can rob my lads of their lands.
I’d happily use that as an excuse to kill ye for what ye did to Mistress Fitzgerald, her lasses, and yer own da.
Yer responsible for the death of Shane Devers, Sir William.
Try to place the blame on anyone else, and I’ll see the world knows the truth.
For yer brother’s sake, for the sake of the Deverses’ good name, I’ll say nought for now.
I will nae hold yer family responsible for the actions of one villain, for the Deverses hae always been an honorable family.
Do ye understand me, Sir William?” He loosed his grip on his antagonist’s shirtfront, pushing him away with a sound of disgust.
William Devers’s cold eyes surveyed the duke, half-afraid.
His glance flicked swiftly to his elder half-brother, but Kieran’s face was grief-stricken with their father’s death.
He knelt by the body, tears streaming down his handsome face, his hand tenderly protective on his father’s head.
Let him mourn the old man, William thought.
He’s gone, and good riddance. I am now master of Mallow Court.
The knowledge sent a frisson of pleasure down his spine, but then Kieran looked up at him.
His gaze was filled with both anger and pity.
“Don’t look at me like that!” William almost screamed.