Chapter 9
IT WAS EARLY.
They’d had time to rest the night before and Kylin had awakened early to speak with his father and Eamon. And, of course, it was early when they were ready to leave.
Which made him hesitate. There was one thing that he wanted to do: speak with the man who had been injured in the battle at the shore—and been spared because of Eamon’s mercy.
He stopped because they had been almost out the door on their way to the stables.
“Father, Rí Eamon, I’m sorry, but I would like to speak to the man who has told us about this plan.”
Sigurd and Eamon looked at one another and nodded.
It was good to see that the two men seemed to be of one thought on most things.
Especially this pretense that he and Deidre were to wed.
He wasn’t sure it was going to solve any of the problems they might have with the leaders who had longed for an alliance—or a chance at Eamon’s lands—through a marriage to his daughter.
They might be all the more resentful. After all, who was he? The son of a man who had thrown himself on Eamon’s mercy.
To some, still an enemy himself.
I was born on this land! he reminded himself. To an Irish mother. And his father had proven his strength and his loyalty time and time again.
He left Eamon’s walled compound and headed along the path to the thatched-roof dwelling where the injured still recovered.
He knew that Eamon had seen to it that men were tended by the healers and midwives together; it was a way to encourage peace between peoples.
On his way he waved to villagers, young men and women passing with wares, sheep, goats, chickens and more. The people had been warned that danger might be close, but they lived there always knowing that raiders might come from the sea.
They knew that they had to live their lives: grow crops and raise farm animals, create tools . . . exist.
But to do it all vigilantly, now more so than ever.
He greeted everyone with friendship. They knew that his father’s warriors would always join with Eamon’s to protect them. And yet they all knew as well that most of the leaders in the country honored the ard-rí, Declan, and that his power could be great when forces became overwhelming.
A young woman was at the door when he arrived at the cottage. Her name was Colleen and he and she had always been friends; her father was one of his father’s men, a foreigner here, while her mother had been in the household of Eamon’s wife when she had lived.
“Kylin!” She greeted him with a warm smile and an embrace.
“We’ve worried, all of us knowing that .
. . well, of course, Aidan is a wonderful man and an incredible guard and warrior, truly the heir any man might desire.
But we’ve all known that you and Deidre were on a mission to warn others that a massive danger might well exist and, naturally, we feared for you. We are grateful you are home!”
“I’m afraid we’re off again, Colleen. And you must remember, when Aidan calls the alarm, it is time to get behind the wall.”
“Aye,” she said quietly. She swept out an arm, indicating the room.
“Many have been healed to a point where they might leave. Aidan ordered that more cottages such as this be crafted and . . . he is an amazing man. Of those who survived the raid, there are nine among the captured. Three are still lying flat. But six men are working and working hard. I know their language, of course, as you do and they all seem to be very good men. They followed their leaders loyally, but they didn’t want to die.
And they knew that they would be left to die, to be butchered cruelly, perhaps, and they are all grateful.
I’ve talked to my father so many times and there are so many where our fathers were born who are simply trying to survive.
These men told me that there are many who have no decent land and all they want to do is find a place to live, a place to survive, to raise their children!
There will be more, Kylin, more . . . settlements? ”
“I’m sure there will be,” Kylin said. He heard a movement and turned.
Deidre had come behind him. Naturally, she had heard Colleen’s description of the men and events in their absence.
He couldn’t tell from her expression what she was feeling, but she greeted Colleen warmly and said, “I didn’t mean to intrude. I thought I’d like to be with you when we questioned the man who has been telling your father about events to come.”
“Of course!” Colleen murmured. “That is Eric over there, on the last pallet. He has begun to stand, each day a few seconds more. But it will be a while before he can walk again and because of the seriousness of the great gash in his calf, we change his poultices and bandages daily.”
“I’ll start,” Kylin murmured, heading over to the pallet where the man lay. He knew that Deidre followed close behind.
The injured man seemed typical of many of his father’s people. In health, he would have been tall and broad shouldered, a big man with a flowing blond beard and long blond hair. His eyes were as blue as the morning sky; his face was ruddy.
“I’m Kylin, son of Sigurd,” Kylin told the man. “We’re grateful for the information you have given us.”
“I’m Eric, son of Agnar,” the man said. “I fight with myself daily. I did not want to come on such a raid—I disagreed with the plan to rob churches, kidnap women and children . . . slay every man. There are those who go out seeking land with no man upon it, eager for space, and those who come to rob and pillage, but in my village . . .” He broke off, shaking his head.
“I have never encountered anyone like Rí Eamon. He had the great strength to show kindness.”
Kylin knew that Deidre stood just behind him.
“This is Eamon’s daughter, Deidre,” he said.
“Eric,” Deidre said quietly, nodding and smiling in acknowledgment. “You have been a good man, helping us in turn.” She suddenly frowned. “And you’re speaking our language very well! I had thought that I’d be struggling to understand yours.”
“I’m afraid that many of the servants in my home village have been kidnapped from these shores, Briton, and the lands of the Picts and the Scotia,” he said. “A young woman who cared for me when I was a child came from here. She taught me well.”
Deidre smiled and nodded again.
“You told my father that Swen Jorgensen will have an ally among the leaders of the Irish,” Kylin said.
“That was his promise to us as we set sail. We were to be the first ground invasion, but that did not go as Swen had planned, most obviously,” Eric added dryly.
“But there were other contingencies in place.” He inhaled.
“We were not told much. We were to take the land by the shore here and go out into the valley and hills and hold tight. Our leader had come here before, trading on the tip of the little peninsula, then slipping down the river with just a few of his men to enter the heart of the country and meet with someone who would welcome him and his power to seize all the land.”
“But you don’t know who he was to meet?” Kylin asked.
The man shook his head. “I swear before all the gods, if I knew, I would tell you. What I do know is that Swen is putting together a great horde of warriors with a slew of longboats, and he will come ashore. I believe he will suspect that someone else has knowledge of his plans and thus gather a great mass of warriors to meet him here. He planned to have enough forces to take down any number of those who might come against him and I believe . . .” He looked away nervously.
“You were supposed to have taken my father’s compound, aye?” Deidre asked softly.
“We failed. But I don’t think that in the end, the taking of the compound was any kind of an end goal. He seeks something greater,” Eric said.
“Tara,” Deidre said softly.
“I have heard of it. An ancient burial ground. A sacred site. One honored by all the Irish. With Tara in his hands, Swen would rule the country,” Eric said.
“Declan is considered ard-rí, ‘high king,’” Deidre said. “But each county and some of our larger villages have their own rís, or ‘kings,’ who rule—”
“Swen wants it all!” Eric said quietly. He looked at Deidre. “Swen . . . Had I been one of you on the ground, Swen would have taken a sword and made an end of it. You have given me my life, and I swear, I would do anything to honor the man who granted me this life!” He looked at Kylin. “Thank you.”
“No, thank her and Eamon,” Kylin said. “I have learned mercy from them myself.”
“But you learned,” Eric murmured. “I am still so amazed at the beauty of mercy. And I am thankful!”
“We’re going to have you all moved behind the wall,” Kylin told him.
“They are preparing weaponry to defend against an attack and any attempted siege. Because of you, people will be safe and trust me, within those walls, we will prevail. But as you said, he wants to go to Tara. We will help lead him there. Now, care for yourself.”
He rose and stood by Deidre.
“Thank you, Eric,” she told him. “Be well.”
She led the way out, pausing to thank Colleen for all that she was doing.
Colleen caught Kylin’s arm as he followed Deidre.
“Eamon’s daughter is beloved, you know. Guard her, Kylin. Of course, I know you. You would give your life for any of us, but—”
“We will do fine. She’s an exceptional warrior,” Kylin assured her.
“There’s rumor that your fathers are discussing a liaison between you and Deidre.”
“There will always be rumors,” Kylin said.
“And those who don’t like what they hear,” Colleen reminded him. “Be careful, Kylin, for Deidre, for you.”
“Always,” he soothed. “We are leaving again to make certain arrangements with the ard-rí. But Eamon and Aidan will be making sure that while life goes on here as usual, preparations are made behind the walls where everyone can reside when the hordes arrive. Pay great heed to all that is said!”
She smiled sweetly at him. “I’m not a warrior. I’m your basic coward, dear friend. Trust me, I will be behind the walls.”