Chapter 10
I’M NOT SURE I understand,” Cillian said. “These men will attack the shore, but you want to lead them here—to attack my people, so very close to the seat of the ard-rí?”
Deidre inhaled deeply, glancing at Kylin, who gave her a subtle nod before she attempted her explanation again.
“Never, sire, to your people, to your earthworks, but rather to the great hill with the ancient burial passages beneath. And it’s not a matter of sacrificing your people for ours—they will not breach my father’s walls.
His stronghold is amazing, especially when he is forewarned, when our people are within, and the walls have been strengthened with all manner of defenses.
But that doesn’t even matter. As we told you before, the enemy’s intent is to take down Ard-rí Declan and anyone standing by his side.
Sigurd, my father and my brother, Aidan, will repel the invaders.
When they do, the invaders will start upon the next county or village—whether we prepare a defense or not. ”
“This way, Rí Cillian,” Kylin said, “we are the ones controlling the battle. And when we have control of the great hill and the passages, we will be able to both surprise and outflank the enemy.” He began to draw imaginary lines on the floor.
“Warriors here, sire, ready to arise. To the west, a contingent, and to the east, a contingent. They are cut off from their longboats and caught between our forces.”
“Except that we don’t know as yet which of our leaders might be playing their games with the invaders!
” Cillian shook his head, angered by the very concept of a man turning against his own people.
“In my father’s day, I once traveled to the land of the Northmen.
So many were kind and welcoming, seeking trade, seeking friendship.
But, also, I know of this jarl, Swen Jorgensen.
Survivors of one of his brutal attacks against the Britons made it to our shores once.
He cares not if he massacres infants or men.
There is something not quite human about the man.
It’s as if he lives with demons where a man’s soul should be. ”
“Aye, sire,” Deidre said softly. “But he is coming. And our best way to maintain all that we hold dear and sacred is to place our final battle upon the hill. And while he may not be human—” she paused, looking over at Kylin again “—we believe that we have the help of the ancients, perhaps the souls of the ancients, perhaps the angels of St. Patrick. We have goodness in our hearts against such barbarity. Sire, we do need your help, your blessing. This is how the Jarl can be defeated!”
Cillian looked at her and slowly nodded.
“You are your father’s daughter,” he said. He looked over at Kylin. “There are rumors that you two plan to unite your villages.”
“Well, sire, our village is already an extension of Eamon’s lands, but we will truly unite all who live among us.
Indeed, the rumors are true, Rí Cillian.
Something that was agreed when we were recently home, as we sought counsel with our fathers and Aidan, when we agreed that we must come here, sire, because your agreement with this tactic has been deemed the most necessary.
Our fathers would never make such a move without your agreement. ”
“Many a man will be most unhappy,” Cillian muttered.
“And, as for the agreement, naturally, your fathers will defend their lands and there are few as able as the men of your combined forces. But agreement seems a given—since with or without your help, they will come here. So, I do like to think of myself as an intelligent man and therefore, of course, you have my complete agreement on what is to be done. Now, we’ll eat and sleep.
And come the morning, we’ll go to Declan together. ”
“Thank you, sire!” Deidre said.
“And you know, of course, where you will bide for the night,” Cillian said. “But first, food will be served in my hall, and you must be hungry.”
Kylin nodded his thanks, laughing softly. “Sire, you are most generous. One thing is that with you, we never go hungry.”
“The beauty of the richness of our land,” Cillian said proudly. “Now, you will accompany me, please.”
Deidre glanced at Kylin. He smiled at her and nodded, reaching for her hand.
“I am surprised,” Cillian said as they headed from his council chamber to his great hall. “Word has been that you intended to be your brother’s right-hand advisor one day, that you chose to be independent.”
Deidre smiled. “Ah, sire. This was not so much arranged for us as it was our decision. You see, sire, I needed to be part of our land, part of defending our land. I needed my words and my advice to be heard. I don’t seek to insult anyone, sire, but many a man wishes to have a wife who is . . .”
“Ah, like children. Seen but not heard,” Cillian said.
He paused outside the banqueting hall. “That is why I never remarried, lass. I seek a companion who will be with me in all things, a warrioress such as yourself. And she is out there, somewhere, I know. You have my greatest respect, and though not needed, my most sincere blessing.”
Deidre looked at him in surprise. She’d never imagined that Cillian would seek something more than someone to grace his court with beauty and bear his children.
He was a widower now, but from all that she knew, he had loved his wife.
She was gone now. And yet she had always admired the man, so it shouldn’t have been such a surprise.
She and Kylin managed to thank him in unison.
They headed into the banqueting hall.
“Deidre!”
She turned to see that her friend Sloane, a young woman of Cillian’s court with whom she’d stayed several times when she’d visited with her father through the years, was standing next to her. She was a beautiful girl with dark hair and light amber eyes and she smiled, curious to meet Kylin.
Deidre introduced them and then felt ridiculously awkward again as Sloane excitedly congratulated them.
Deidre and Kylin shared a glance. It seemed they had to travel the countryside to bring important messages to the right places, but this news had spread like wildfire.
Before they could talk long, Cillian summoned Kylin to follow him to speak with one of his men and Deidre was left along with Sloane.
“Wonderful, you’ve made a decision at last,” Sloane gushed. “Oh, and I do understand, aye. What a strikingly handsome fellow!”
Deidre looked over at Kylin where he was speaking with others. She’d always known that he cut a striking figure, tall, exceptionally well-muscled yet lean, with broad shoulders. His features were like a statue chiseled by the ancients, handsome and sharply angled.
His handsome appearance was just something she had acknowledged, but not cared much about when she had been busy feeling indignant about him because of the circumstances of his birth.
She had now heard so many times how wonderful many of the “enemy” were—as a child whose mother had been brutally killed in a raid, it had just been hard to accept.
“Deidre?”
“Oh, sorry! I . . . um . . . aye! He’s a lovely man. Intelligent—”
“And fierce,” Sloane said.
Deidre grinned. “Almost as fierce as I am,” she agreed, causing Sloane to laugh. “And what of you? What’s going on in your life?”
“My father has passed,” Sloane said.
“I’m so sorry—”
“Ah, it’s all right. He was very old, you know.
He was very old when he married my mother.
But they loved one another. My mother tells me that they lived a beautiful life—well, you know, except those times we fell under attack.
Then again, most attacks fell against the shore.
He was truly a good man, a great and loyal warrior for Cillian, and then, oh!
As he aged, he worked with monks, he learned to be a scribe, and he wrote down wonderful stories for us, some true, some legend, and some, well, we’ll never know which group they fall into.
He was in my mother’s arms, and he was at peace when he passed.
I know that he rests with the angels—he was a good man. ”
“I’m so certain that he rests with the angels, too,” Deidre said softly.
“And with your mother,” Sloane said.
“She loved stories, too. Perhaps they sit on soft clouds somewhere, watching over those who they have left behind, regaling one another with their stories,” Deidre said.
Sloane grinned and nodded. “And, well, I’m a bit nervous.” She looked around, trying to assure herself that no one else could hear them. “There’s a rumor regarding me and Angus. My father was a cousin to Cillian, you know.”
“Oh, well, he wishes an alliance somewhere and you are among the nobility in Cillian’s house,” Deidre said, trying to smile.
“No, no, no,” Sloane said, shaking her head. “I don’t believe Cillian will force me and you know yourself . . . Angus is horrible! He wants his word to be law, always, he would use me, abuse me and still seek others. I . . . I despise the man!”
Deidre understood completely. She had to admit, she hadn’t actually despised Angus, but she had always seen the tremendous stretch of his ego, the way he treated those beneath him.
And, thankfully, her father had seen it, too.
If he hadn’t, it wouldn’t have mattered.
Because he had always treated her as equal, despite her being a girl.
“I don’t think you need to be afraid,” Deidre whispered. “I think even other men see him as—”
“A brutal man convinced that he should be the ard-rí?” Sloane asked.
Angus!
Someone is going to betray the ard-rí. Is it Angus? Does his personality show the truth of his intentions? Or, once again, are we creating a monster out of a man because we dislike him so very much?
“I don’t think you need to worry. From all that I know about Rí Cillian, he would never force you into anything,” Deidre told her.
Sloane smiled. “There is someone else I believe may have done some hinting about me to Cillian.”
“Oh?”