Chapter Eight #3
Both Shain and Iver were riding to his right; the question was directed at them. They were a bit dirty from the muddy battle but none the worse for wear. Shain was the first to reply.
“Nay,” he said. “They were Irish; no English mixed among them, which is usual for de Cleveley. Plus, their weapons were crude and de Cleveley’s men are always well armed. They were also wearing O’Byrne tartan. Didn’t you notice?”
Devlin thought on that information. His heart sank at the thought of his hated enemy, the clann O’Byrne, a large faction that lived to the north of Black Castle and were the traditional enemy of de Bermingham and their allies, the O’Connor.
Devlin hadn’t had any trouble from them lately but they were always lurking, waiting to strike. They envied what de Bermingham had.
Devlin fought off a sense of frustration; he had enough trouble with the English. He didn’t need the O’Byrnes resuming their raids on top of everything.
“Truthfully, I was so busy trying to assist the lady that I did not have time to notice everything,” he admitted. “How many did we kill?”
No one said anything about the fact that Devlin had just called Emllyn the “lady” rather than the “prisoner”, or the fact that he had taken her out of the battle and not returned.
He had chosen to stay with her, all extremely unusual actions for the usually hands-on commander.
If they were confused by it, they kept silent. They focused on his question instead.
“I counted eleven,” Iver said. “They had at least thirty or more men. When they retreated, they left the dead.”
Devlin glanced over his shoulder at the battle site that was now in the distance. “They will be back for them,” he muttered. “We must make sure we are well away by nightfall. I do not wish to remain awake all night waiting for retaliation from O’Byrne.”
Shain glanced over his shoulder, scanning the landscape for more threats. “Do you think they followed us out of Black Castle?”
“It is possible,” Devlin said. “Those bastards are never far off from us. ’Tis better we get clear of this and settle down for the night.”
Everyone seemed to agree on that point and the pace for the group picked up as they moved through a wide brook and into a field full of blooming flowers.
Overhead, the overcast sky was beginning to darken and they could smell rain, which would make for unpleasant travel.
As Shain and Iver spread out to more vigilantly scan the area, Devlin’s attention turned to Emllyn.
She was unusually quiet and rather limp. He gave Neart a soft command and sent the bird up again to scout the area before looking over his shoulder and trying to get a look at Emllyn.
“Does the wound pain you?” he asked.
He heard her sigh heavily. “A little,” she said. She sounded groggy. “Whatever Eefha gave me to drink has made me very sleepy. Will it be long before we stop for the night?”
Devlin looked up to the sky, noting that it was growing increasingly dark and that fat, angry black clouds were now blowing in off of the sea.
“A few hours,” he said.
She sighed again and he could feel her leaning heavily on his back. “I look forward to it.”
Devlin went a few more feet before abruptly bringing the horse to a halt.
He dismounted so swiftly that Emllyn nearly fell off because she had been resting against him.
But she steadied herself and watched him curiously as he moved her forward in the saddle so that she was nearly sitting on the horse’s neck, and then mounted the animal again, only this time he was sitting behind her.
He didn’t say a word as he shifted her to a more comfortable position in such a way that she was leaning back against him and her left leg was propped up on the horse’s withers.
Wrapping his mother’s old cloak tightly around her, he pulled her back against his chest and cradled her with his right arm. Then he spurred the horse forward.
“You may sleep now,” he told her. “I will steady you so that you will not fall.”
He said it emotionlessly but the truth was he went through some trouble to move her around, and him around, so she could be more comfortable. Emllyn was grateful that he had made the effort to ease her.
“I am rather tired,” she admitted. “What did Eefha give me?”
Devlin moved her so that she was cradled in his right arm, held against his chest to keep her steady. He glanced at her pale, weary face.
“Poison,” he said.
Emllyn’s eyebrows shot up. “She did what?”
He broke down into snorts, grinning at her reaction. “A jest,” he assured her although her expression remained fearful. “I promise it was not poison. Mayhap it was a potion that will make you sympathetic to the Irish.”
Emllyn sighed with relief to realize he was only teasing. It was rather devilish and his attempt at humor surprised her. She hadn’t seen it in him up until now. But there was nothing humorous about the subject matter of the latter part of his statement.
“What makes you think I am not?” she asked. “I am coming to understand what it is to be held as a slave, robbed of freedom. I believe that qualifies me to understand the oppression you have suffered.”
Devlin’s humor vanished as he looked down at her, knowing there was unhappy accusation in her tone.
He wasn’t willing to be reprimanded by her.
“The difference is that you did something foolish to end up as you have,” he said.
“My people have done nothing. We were quite happy ruling our island until the Normans came.”
Emllyn looked away. She didn’t want to engage him in another conversation of his repressed people so she let the statement fade.
She let him get in the last word, at least this time.
I am being compliant, she reminded herself.
Compliance would get her everywhere, she knew.
Amidst thoughts of submission and her reward once they were finished with this foolish mission, her eyelids grew droopy again and she faded off into a heavy sleep.
In her dreams, a man was there but this time it wasn’t Trevor.
He had red hair and a red beard, and he used his hands and mouth in ways that made her quiver.
Devlin felt her tremble in her sleep, watching as she twitched and sighed. He tried not to watch her because her subtle movements were arousing him, so he spent most of his time pretending to find interest elsewhere. But his gaze always moved back to Emllyn.
He watched her sleep for the rest of the afternoon.