Chapter Eight
“I thought you said we were going alone,” Emllyn said, looking at the escort around them. “Don’t you think an escort of this size will attract attention?”
The voyage into enemy territory had begun.
It was just past sunrise on a misty spring morning and they were still within sight of Black Castle as they moved south.
Wrapped up in the heavy brown cloak that had belonged to Devlin’s mother and seated behind him on a fat brown courser, Emllyn was referring to the other horses surrounding them.
For a mission that would depend upon secrecy and a tentative lie at best, they were starting out rather boldly about it.
There was a whole gang of escorts for allegedly escaped prisoners.
A knight who had been introduced to her as Sir Iver rode point on his shaggy white courser while to their right was another knight known as Sir Shain.
They were dressed in traditional Irish leintes, or long padded tunics, not armor as English knights would have been.
They had shown Emllyn complete indifference, to which she was grateful.
Big Irish knights frightened her. There were also several men on foot, blending in with the foggy landscape.
They were the eyes and ears of the escort party, protecting them from danger.
But most of all, there was a smelly old woman smoking an equally smelly pipe plodding along behind them.
Eefha had been waiting for them before dawn as they went to gather up their horses.
She never said a word about riding escort, or about her intentions; she had simply been waiting for them astride a small and worn-looking palfrey near the stables where the other horses were tethered.
Devlin didn’t say a word to the woman, as if her presence had been expected.
Even now, he was fairly dismissive of Emllyn’s concerns.
“They will ride with us only a short way,” he told her. “When we get within range of de Cleveley’s scouts, they will return to Black Castle.”
“But what of Eefha?” Emllyn wanted to know. “Will she turn back as well?”
Devlin glance over his shoulder at the old woman, muttering to herself as she plodded along on the palfrey.
“I am not sure,” he said. “She may choose to go with us. She will be a good set of eyes for us if she does. People often ignore a mad old woman, not realizing that she is indeed taking notice of what goes on around her.”
Emllyn looked over her shoulder at the old woman, too. “God’s Blood,” she muttered. “Even if she does hear something that will be of help, how is she going to tell you? Is she going to tell you a tale of a great battle and hope you understand what she means?”
Devlin fought off a grin. “That has been known to happen.”
Emllyn was cut off from replying when Devlin suddenly lifted his right arm, a heavily gloved appendage, and a falcon of magnificent breeding swooped in and landed on it.
Startled, Emllyn cowered behind him as the bird fluffed its features and stretched out its wings, settling in on Devlin’s arm.
He lifted a hand, still holding the reins of the horse, and stroked the bird on its chest with a big finger.
“Where did he come from?” Emllyn asked, eyeing the enormous talons that were cutting into Devlin’s leather glove.
Devlin smiled faintly at the bird. “From the gods,” he said affectionately. “Have you not yet met Neart?”
Emllyn thought a moment, a flash of a memory from the night she was captured popping into her head. She remembered a big, dark bird hanging over Devlin’s head the first time she ever saw him and now the animal’s presence was starting to make some sense.
“I think I may have noticed him on the night you and I were introduced,” she said somewhat wryly, watching the bird as its head swiveled around, searching for predators or prey. “Is he your pet?”
Devlin nodded. “Pet and protector,” he said. “He has been with me for many years. Much like Eefha is an unconventional protector, Neart is much the same. I raised him from a very young bird and he is quite attentive to me.”
Emllyn watched the bird as he ruffled his fathers and preened. “He is a beautiful creature,” she said. “Do you plan to bring him with us, then? I am not sure an escaped prisoner would have a falcon of this magnificence.”
Devlin’s focus was still on the bird. “You worry much,” he said. Then, he murmured swift words to the bird. “Neart, cuardach.”
He lifted his arm and the bird took off, sailing into the air like a great preying beast and disappearing into the mist. Emllyn was fixed on the spot where he had vanished, trying to see if she could spot him in the fog.
“Where is he going?” she asked.
Devlin glanced up at the heavy white mist surrounding them. “His eyes are far better than ours at seeking out danger,” he said. “If he sees something, he will call out to me.”
“Like what?”
“The enemy.”
“Patrols from de Cleveley?”
“Aye.”
“How far is their settlement from Black Castle?”
“Twenty miles,” he replied. “Tonight, our escort will turn back and on the morrow we shall see the English settlement by mid-day.”
“Is it possible that de Cleveley has sent patrols this far north?”
Devlin lifted a dark red eyebrow. “After Kildare’s defeat three days ago, anything is possible. News of my victory will travel fast and we must be vigilant.”
Emllyn fell silent after that, mostly because she wasn’t sure what more to say.
Three days ago she was on a ship foundering on the Irish coast; now, she was in the midst of a fog in enemy lands, heading for her brother’s allied encampment.
There was a sense of adventure to it all, of disbelief in the situation in general, but in truth all she could manage to feel was apprehension.
This was dangerous, and unfamiliar, ground.
But the course was set and there was no turning back. The party from Black Castle traveled into the mid-morning, avoiding the main road and plodding through fields and copses. Eventually, the mist lifted, revealing the brilliant green landscape of Wicklow.
As they moved inland from the coast, it became dotted with green hills and overgrown vales, and there were patches of heavily forested areas.
The grass was very thick and about knee-high on the horses, and they trudged silently through the growth as they made their way over hills and down into ravines.
It was long and slow going in the cold and brisk air, but Emllyn remained huddled up against Devlin’s back, covered by her borrowed cloak, and it wasn’t so bad.
As the morning passed into afternoon and they rounded a particularly tall hill and headed down to a vale with a swiftly running stream, Devlin called halt to their travel.
“We will stop here and water the horses,” he said. “Take what rest you can. We will not stop again until after dark.”
The two knights accompanying them climbed off their coursers and moved the animals to the water to drink.
Devlin also dismounted, glancing at their surroundings before turning to help Emllyn from the horse.
She was fast, however, and had slid down before he had the chance to assist her.
She was already looking around, evidently searching urgently for something.
“I have… business to attend to,” she said. “I need some privacy.”
He knew what she meant. Overhead, they could hear Neart screeching and Devlin let out a piercing whistle between his teeth, lifting his arm for the bird to zero in on. Only when he was sure the bird was heading in his direction did he turn to Emllyn.
“There is a copse of trees over to the east,” he pointed to a group of saplings sprouting from the side of a rocky hill. “Go there but no further.”
Emllyn looked at the rather sparse trees. “There is not much privacy there.”
“That is your only choice. Take care of your business and be done with it. We must continue on.”
Giving him an expression of extremely disapproval, she nonetheless dutifully trudged off in the direction of the trees.
Devlin’s gaze lingered on her as she moved, distracted only when the bird settled on his arm.
Still, his gaze returned to Emllyn as she slugged up the hill towards the trees.
Having ridden all morning with her pressed against his back, he was not hard pressed to admit he had liked it.
He felt oddly settled and content with her against him, like he’d never felt in his life.
Since he had met her, each hour of the day was bringing him feelings and thoughts he had never believed himself capable of.
Each minute was a new discovery and it had occurred to him sometime during the morning that he had ceased to view her as a prisoner and now viewed her as something else.
He wasn’t entirely sure what; a possession perhaps or something more, something companionable.
All he knew was that she didn’t seem like his prisoner any longer.
She was something else.
As Emllyn reached the group of trees and faded into them, he returned his attention to Neart.
The heavy bird on Devlin’s arm began to fuss and he began to dig around in his saddle bags for some jerky for the animal.
Neart ate rodents and other small creatures but he was particularly fond of jerky.
Just as Devlin laid his hands on a bit of food, the bird suddenly screeched and took off, launching itself into the sky and screaming as it usually did when danger was sighted.