Chapter Twenty-Seven
Broccan felt his brows crush together in confusion. Nothing the man said made any sense.
“You’d best start from the beginning, then,” Cormac told the king.
“I don’t know enough to tell a story,” Aodh chuckled. “But I do know enough to be of aid to you in finding these men. Malachy and Cahill are allies, yes. They are good friends these days. But many lesser kings live within their great kingdoms, and perhaps some of them are not so friendly.”
“So you’re saying that the king of Tethba is ignoring the truce between Connachta and Midhe?” Broccan asked, his frustration only growing at Aodh’s roundabout explanations.
“I don’t rightly know what he believes he’s doing,” Aodh replied sharply. “I only know what I’ve observed. He dresses his men in my colors and raids into Connachta from the forests of his kingdom. They hide there, with their hostages.”
“And you expect us to believe he’s not allied with you?” Broccan drawled.
Aodh shrugged. “I expect nothing. Believe what you want. But if you want to find these men, I’d get to Tethba sooner rather than later.”
Broccan didn’t like the urgency to his voice, the thread of genuine concern he detected. He knew more than what he’d said. “What aren’t you telling us?”
“My scouts saw men from Tethba selling hostages to the Finn Gall as slaves.”
Tense silence engulfed the tent. Broccan felt the concern and surprise of the men surrounding him. His own mouth fell open. That was treachery. If he were caught, the king of Tethba’s life would be forfeit.
“That’s quite an accusation.” Illadan frowned.
“As I said, believe me or not. But know that it is not in my best interest to share this with you. While I am not allied with Tethba, the king’s mischief has been making my own raiding much easier by distracting a good many of Cahill’s men.”
“Let me get this straight,” Diarmid sat forward. “The king of Tethba, a liegeman sworn to Malachy and thereby allied with Cahill, is pretending to be you, raiding into Cahill’s kingdom, and taking his people hostage to sell as slaves to the Ostmen?”
Aodh nodded once. “That’s what it looks like, aye.”
“That’s a huge risk to take just for gold,” Illadan said.
Cormac turned a sour look toward their leader. “Some men’s greed takes no measure of risk.”
“Listen,” Aodh declared, standing. “Stay the night as my guests. You’ve been traveling three days and it’s another two to Tethba. Get some rest, discuss your plan, leave in the morn. You have my oath you’ll be safe while in Binn Ghulbain.”
“How often does he sell the hostages?” Cormac asked. “The men were captured at least two months ago.”
“I couldn’t say for certain. My men have only witnessed two or three exchanges in the past six months, and he had many hostages when they met.”
“The Ostmen wouldn’t meet with him too regularly,” Finn, who himself was part Ostman, added. “It’s risky, selling hostages in the same kingdom in which they were captured and under Cahill’s nose. It could bring an attack on their settlement.”
Dallan nodded in agreement. “They would only meet when it was worth their while.”
Illadan looked to Aodh. “When did your men last see an exchange?”
“Right around the time the men you seek were captured, I should think. About two months ago. Either they just missed it or they were sold right away.”
Groans and grumbles sounded from around the table.
None of them wanted to deal with the Ostmen, the raiders from the north who’d taken over many settlements along the coasts of éire.
But Broccan wasn’t about to let Emer’s brothers live a life of slavery in one of the Ostman settlements.
No, he’d follow their trail until they were found, even if it meant begging Brian for longer to search.
Turning, he saw the same look of determination on Conan’s face across from him. Even if the others returned to Cenn Cora, Broccan knew Conan would continue the hunt with him.
The men took Aodh up on his offer of hospitality for the night.
He was right—the sun had set while they treated with him and a night of rest would do them good before riding two days into battle.
Aodh offered them space in his own tent, a gesture of respect and a guarantee of safety, for they could just as easily turn on him as he could them.
That he was willing to take such a risk proved his goodwill.
Broccan made himself comfortable on a wolf pelt near the back of Aodh’s tent.
Emer would be beside herself if she knew that what was meant to be a negotiation had led to a dangerous rescue mission.
Blessedly, she wouldn’t find out until they were all safely returned to Ath Luain.
His one consolation was that she, at least, was safely tucked away in Teague’s rath.