Chapter Eleven
“He’s doing it simply to spite me.”
“But why should he want to spite you?”
“Because he has an eye for her, Dermot. Are you blind?”
Carr and Dermot were on the wall of Wrexham Castle, looking southwest. There was an expanse of green fields and, in the distance, blue mountains that disappeared into the clouds.
A wind was blowing in from the west, snapping the crimson shield and scarlet lion standards overhead.
They had the watch together, and, inevitably, the subject of Carr’s daughter had come up.
It was not a happy subject.
“She has nowhere else to go, Carr,” Dermot said. “I do not think he’s keeping her here to spite you. He’s keeping her here because he simply cannot turn her out into the cold.”
Carr knew that, theoretically, but these days, everything was starting to take on a personal connotation for him.
Everything Tristan said, or Addax said, or anyone else said, when it came to his daughter, was personal to him, no matter what it was, and the fact that Tristan had made Andromeda his chatelaine infuriated Carr to his very core.
And he was determined to do something about it.
“I’ve made friends with English knights over the years,” he said.
“Serving the Marshal has given me more English friends than I need. I thought I would send word to a couple of them to see if they need a companion for their wives or daughters. Mayhap they need a nurse to take care of the children. There are two of them in particular I will send word to—Sir Beckett Ashlington and Sir Augustus Magnesson. One is a Saxon and one is a Northman, so they’re inclined to be more sympathetic to a non-English lass.
Augustus alone had eight children the last I heard, so surely he’d appreciate someone to tend them. ”
Dermot knew the two knights he spoke of, men who had once served William Marshal. “It would not be a terrible thing to find her employment in a good house.”
“That is my thinking, also.”
“But I think I may have a better idea.”
“What is that?”
Dermot had been waiting for this moment. Ever since the night Andromeda arrived and he sent word to his brethren in Ireland, he’d been thinking the same thing:
Gavan mac Lochlainn.
Dermot knew about the attempts to marry the Lochlainn lad to Andromeda.
He’d known that for years because it was something that had been going on for years.
His communication with the Aingil Lochlainn was semi-regular, through his mother for all of these years, so no one was ever the wiser.
In fact, it had been Dermot who told them about King John’s plan to marry Andromeda to a lord of his choosing, which had spurred his Irish brethren into pushing their suit with young Gavan.
If he could get Carr’s agreement on it, then as her father, that could very well supersede William Marshal’s directive when it came to the church.
No doubt, the church would side with the blood father of a woman and not some powerful English lord when it came to marriage, especially in Ireland.
This was what the Aingil Lochlainn had wanted all along.
Dermot was going to give it to them on a silver platter.
“Your daughter needs a husband,” he said after a moment. “It seems to me that it is the most logical solution to the problem. Find her a husband and she will be his burden and no longer yours.”
Carr leaned against the parapet. “I have thought of that,” he said. “But I was told, long ago, that it was not my responsibility to find her a husband.”
Dermot looked at him strangely. “You are her father,” he said. “Of course it is your responsibility.”
Carr shook his head. “My marriage to her mother was arranged by our families,” he said.
“Henry Curthose came to Ireland during the time of my father, about the time I was born, and because of my royal blood, I was watched by the English, even as a child. But my father was wise and pledged me to mac Ragnaill’s granddaughter, something that displeased the English.
When we married, it displeased them more because if we had a son, he would have a very strong claim to the throne of Dublin.
When Brigid became with child, all eyes were upon her, and when she delivered a daughter, the English stepped in to take control.
John had just become king, I went to serve William Marshal, Brigid was sent back to her family, and our daughter was sent to be raised in an English household.
I was told that John would select a suitable English husband for Andie. ”
Dermot knew most of this but pretended he hadn’t heard it before. “Did he?”
“Nay,” Carr said. “Not before he died. I am assuming Pembroke will select a husband for her, since he has been involved in the situation.”
“Is that what you want?” Dermot asked. “Pembroke taking control of your own flesh and blood?”
Carr looked at him. “He is my liege.”
“And he’s essentially cut off your ballocks,” Dermot said in surprisingly strong language for a man who was usually quite meek. “Andie is your daughter. You have every right to select a husband for her. An Irish husband.”
Carr furrowed his brow curiously. “How?” he said. “I’ve not lived in Ireland for fifteen years. I do not know of any eligible men for her.”
Dermot grinned. “But I do, lad,” he said, clapping Carr on the arm.
“This is what I think—since de Royans has been keeping Andie here, working her to the bone and making her supervise the servants, I suspect he’s not sent word to the Marshal about her presence.
Why would he do that and risk having the Marshal send her away? ”
Carr cocked his head in thought. “True,” he said. “He does seem to make her want to work.”
Dermot clapped him on the arm. “So I send word to my mother,” he said.
“I’ve got a cousin of marriageable age. A bright lad with money.
She’d make a fine Irish wife for him, and her bloodlines remain Irish.
Your bloodlines remain Irish and not sasanach.
She’ll be married, and the Marshal will never be the wiser.
Hell, if he doesn’t know she’s here, he’s probably forgotten about her altogether.
Don’t you think he has more important things to worry about? ”
Carr liked the idea very much. “Pembroke rules England like God rules the universe,” he said. “He’ll not care about a lone Irish lass who doesn’t mean anything to anyone.”
“My thoughts precisely.”
“Do you think your cousin will marry her?”
Dermot nodded. “Probably,” he said. “If he won’t, there are a dozen other lads that will. Let me send Andie back to Ireland to stay with my mother. She’ll keep her safe until a husband can be found.”
“Do you think your mother would be willing?”
“I think she will,” Dermot said. “She never had any daughters. She always wanted a lass around.”
For the first time since Andromeda’s arrival, Carr was feeling some hope. “Then send word to her immediately,” he said. “If she’s willing, I’ll send Andie back to Ireland to stay.”
Dermot had the missive heading for his mother before the night was out.