Chapter Seventeen
The following morn, Diarmid joined the other Fianna to make another circuit around the outskirts of Dyflin. The town lay nestled between two rivers and the sea, with streams and rivulets reaching like spidery fingers through what little land connected it to the rest of éire. The rich, earthy scent of peat permeated the heavy air, the fresh sea breeze the only respite as they ran.
Diarmid pushed himself harder than he had in weeks. He ran through the discomfort, his legs straining, his lungs burning. Every third or fourth step his foot sank into a puddle, sometimes up to his ankle, sometimes up to his knee. Mayhap if he ran far enough or hard enough, he could outrun his maddening lust. No matter how many times he told himself he could not bed Cara, certain parts of his body continued to disagree. Because, all bets aside, she was marrying Sitric.
“Bog running should’ve been one of the trials,” Conan grumbled as he lost his footing beside Diarmid.
“It certainly tests my patience,” Dallan panted.
“I’m going to find a bog near Cenn Cora so we can continue once we return,” Illadan shouted from the front of the group, somehow not winded.
A murmur of opposition rose up, cut short when they ran through a swarm of midges and no one felt that protesting was worth inhaling one of the wee beasties. A light mist, teasing at rain, descended over the bay as the Fianna ran through the streets of Dyflin and up the hill to Sitric’s holding.
Diarmid, along with the rest of the Fianna, headed to his room to get a change of clothes to carry to the river, crossing paths with the ladies just before reaching the guest hall. When his eyes caught Cara’s, the same damned feeling rose inside him.
Apparently punishing his rebellious body hadn’t fixed the problem. Perhaps he needed to slake his lust a different way.
He hurried down to the freshwater river south of the settlement with his friends, his brothers as he now thought of them, careful to avoid Cara. Though only he and Conan and Cormac shared parents, he had a bond forged in blood with the rest of the men all the same.
The frigid water, which should have chilled him to his bones so late into the autumn, felt clean as freshly fallen snow as it washed the muck and moss from his tired body.
“Alright,” Illadan called, waving the men over to him near the center of the shallow river, “we need to have a decision for Sitric tonight.”
“I say we go with him,” Conan declared. “He’s right. Brian wants to raid into the north, and would see it as a favor by Sitric.”
“Brian hasn’t approved our involvement there,” Dallan cautioned. “If we’re recognized and he’s already managed to open negotiations, we could destroy any chance at a peaceful resolution.”
“What if he retaliates and raids Dyflin?” Finn asked. “Would Sitric then expect Brian to send reinforcements?”
“That old bastard can’t get his arse onto a horse anymore and everyone knows it,” Diarmid said of the King of Ulaid.
“Even if he can,” Cormac remarked evenly, “it would be Sitric’s problem, as this is his undertaking. He’s simply requesting our support.”
“And, by extension, Brian’s,” Dallan added.
Broccan, Illadan, and Cormac exchanged glances. Coming to some sort of silent agreement, Broccan, leader of Brian’s armies, stepped forward. “When Sitric visited last, Brian asked him to raid into the north by sea.”
“Then why are we even discussing it?” Conan didn’t try to hide his exasperation.
Cormac shot him a look of disapproval. “Because Brian ordered Sitric, not the Fianna. We didn’t want to make such a decision without everyone’s involvement, for if we decide wrong, then we risk Brian’s censure. All of us.”
“And what would you do?” Diarmid asked his eldest brother.
“I would join him,” Cormac replied. “It would strengthen a tenuous alliance, perhaps even increasing our chances of getting him to agree to the marriage, and it would serve Brian’s purposes as we understand them at present. Even if we discover later that he has, by some odd stroke of luck, changed his relationship with Ulaid, he would understand why we made that choice.”
“And,” Illadan added with a sly smile, “we didn’t want to appear overeager. Sitric is our friend, and right now he is our ally, but we don’t want him to mistake us as serving him in any capacity.”
The men discussed the finer points of their decision to accompany Sitric on his raid, dressing and starting the walk back into town. Cormac grabbed Diarmid’s arm, the pair of them falling to the back of the group until a good distance separated them from the other Fianna.
“How are things going with the princess?” Cormac asked.
“Fine.” Diarmid looked to his brother, trying to gauge whether Cormac sensed his half-truth.
“You’ve been quieter than usual today,” Cormac observed lightly.
“Everyone has quiet days,” Diarmid hedged.
Cormac looked at him, his expression—as usual—gave nothing of his thoughts away. Diarmid always thought Cormac was wasted as a warrior. He could have been a druid, scholar, brehon, or king with his even temper and sharp mind. “Cara is as beautiful as the rumors say,” he said, watching Diarmid carefully as he spoke. “I imagine that, once she warms to someone, she could be quite likeable.”
“I’m not going to bed the princess,” Diarmid growled at his brother.
“I didn’t say you would.” Cormac glanced at the Fianna, who were now nearly out of sight over the crest of a small hill. “I merely meant that any sane man could easily grow frustrated in such a situation.”
“How is it,” Diarmid grumbled, “that you always know what everyone else is thinking, without hardly even speaking with them?”
“I observe,” Cormac replied. “You’d be amazed how much there is to be seen if you actually look for it.”
“Well, wise, watchful brother, do you have any suggestion for what I ought to do?”
“Were I you, I would consider losing the wager and finding a willing serving maid.”
Diarmid’s mouth fell open. “You, who gives me nothing but criticism over my leisure activities, are suggesting I recklessly take a woman to bed?”
Cormac smiled at him. “I am suggesting that perhaps now is not the best time for the wager. Your situation is akin to a man who, drinking too often and too deeply, has agreed not to drink. Only for his friends to deliver him an entire barrel of the finest ale. Few men could resist such temptation.”
Diarmid considered lying to his brother outright, telling him how wrong he was, that Diarmid had no desire for Cara whatsoever. But, for the first time he could recall, Cormac was offering him advice without judgment, genuinely trying to be helpful and understanding. They may not have had the best relationship in the past, but Diarmid saw an opportunity for the future.
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” Diarmid said at last.
Cormac put a hand on his shoulder as they walked. “We need you. Whatever you’re doing is working. for a little while longer, and if you really need to, we can figure out another way after that. And in the meantime, find yourself a pretty maid. I will personally pay your debt to those two, as I feel partially responsible for you losing the wager.”
Diarmid raised an eyebrow. “Partially?”
Cormac laughed. “And I’ll take you out for a drink.”
He could manage a few more meetings with Cara. It meant a great deal to his brother, who was counting on Diarmid, recruiting him for something meaningful for the first time in his life. He couldn’t let Cormac down.