Chapter Forty-One
Courting Disaster
Neave, August 23-24, 1565, Ulster, Ireland
After a time, my backached, calves cramped, and poor Fionna rolled her eyes, half-mad with my frantic pace. The rain slowed to a drizzle when I came to a halt by a creek. In haste, I made water and was about to get up in the saddle when men’s voices reached me from some distance downstream.
I grabbed Fionna’s mouth.
“...as good place to camp as any,” a voice was saying, raspy and tired. “We’re but a league from Tyrone and in time to churn butter and cut silage.”
“Praise the Lord all my kin dwell in Fermanagh, for naught but doom awaits Tyrone now,” said another.
I stared into the night, digging my fingernails into my palms until it hurt.
“Aye.” A younger voice agreed, low. “Lady Neave is the cause of this doom—a sure end to the O’Neal. My cousin—the kitchen lass—says he sits in his study and drinks himself daft all day, awaiting her return. And when he ventures out, swaying and mumbling to himself, he sees his beloved in every wench he meets. But as it’s not her—how could it be?—he sends each one away without bedding.”
I clamped a hand over my mouth as the man with kin in Fermanagh pitched in. “They say he sent his one whore away, withal. Couldn’t stand the color of her hair—spitting image of Lady Neave’s, they say, gold like the sun.”
Shaking with mute sobs, I buried my face in Fionna’s mane.
The raspy voice cursed. “I’d not pine after my wife if she went with my foe. I’d put the treacherous bitch out of my mind and find myself another—and a better one, withal!”
The man with kin in Fermanagh chuckled. “Aye, but your wife is no Lady Neave, Eoin. I wager you’d be glad to get that ugly sow of yours off your hands.”
There was some rustling and laughter, followed by Eoin’s profuse cursing. “And what’s so exceptional about this highborn lass? Is she not a woman like any other with a pair of...” Laugher again. “And a fat arse and a warm connie?”
The younger man gave a low whistle. “I’d caught but a glimpse of her riding her white mare on my way to Eden-Duff-Carrick when I was but a lad. I tell you straight, she’s not like any woman you’ll meet, and no wonder the O’Neal had gone mad with grief. It’s not every day a man loses a goddess to his mortal foe.” He cleared his throat. “But all is not lost. My cousin swore me to secrecy...” His voice faded into the night, advancing and diminishing in the cool air. “... any day now, to abduct Lady Neave...he’d ride the road least traveled to Tyrconnell...storm the castle at sunup...two hundred piked men...and to take no prisoners...could be on his way now sure as we sit here.”
Cold all over, I threw my dripping hood back on and made to mount Fionna when she gave a deafening whinny.
“Who goes here—” Fast as lighting, the men appeared before me with blades in hands, their sodden faces agape with bewilderment.
Very slowly, I brought my left leg to the stirrup and pushed it down.
The older man, Eoin, followed my movements with contemplative eyes. “What is it you’re doing here at this late hour, lass?”
Fionna raised her head and made to rear.
“Hush—” I grasped her mane with a shaking hand, lifted my right foot off the ground—
Eoin was swift for a man of middle years, for in a beat, he stood beside me holding my mare’s reins. “I’ve a daughter—a young lass such as yourself.” His raspy voice grew thick with warning. “If ever she took a fancy to skulk about the wood at night, she’d get a thrashing she wouldn’t soon forget.”
I willed my galloping thoughts to quiet and fixed him with an icy glare. See that you don’t come to regret threatening one who wasn’t broken by those far more wicked than you.
Without ceremony, he gripped my arm, his hand unyielding as an iron brace. My heart thumped and raced in my chest, as he walked me downstream. His two men followed closely behind, Fionna trapped between them.
There was a small tent pitched beneath a great oak; three mules stood tethered to the back side of its immense trunk. The younger man led Fionna toward it, a tether in his hand.
I hugged myself, shivering all over. Every bone in my body smarted from heavy riding; every fingerbreadth of my head throbbed and ached. I could either throw myself on their unlikely mercy or bide my time and make escape. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. How many traps was I to flee as my penance?
Eoin pointed to the dry patch underneath the lush green canopy. “Now sit and tell us what trouble you find yourself in, lass.”
I dug my fingernails into my palms and said nothing. I did not sit.
The man with kin in Fermanagh shook his head. “We mean you no harm. What is it?” He stared me up and down. “Some misuse mayhap?”
Behind the oak, Fionna bared her teeth and gave a loud snort of protest as the younger man fumbled with her bounds.
He slapped her hard across the face and looked up. “D’you have words, lass? Mayhap she’s mute.”
A tremor ran through my poor mare’s stunned body. She’d never known rough treatment in all her life.
Vision flickering at the edges, I tightened my fists and stepped toward the oak. Should I reveal myself and threaten them with flogging or worse?
The older man contemplated me for a long moment, then reached into the tent and tossed me a blanket. “The hour grows late. Mute or no, you’ll be spending the night here, safe and sound in our honest company.”
“Who d’you think you are to order me about and mistreat my mount!” Trembling, I went to Fionna and grabbed her tether.
None of the three stirred, but their knot was unknown to me, and I fumbled with it to no avail, unwilling to reveal my scian’s hiding place.
“Ah, so she talks.” The Fermanagh man eyed me with new interest. “And with a lady’s voice despite the russet.”
Fionna’s abuser’s brow furrowed in deep thought as he studied her. He was younger than he sounded, no more than eighteen or nineteen.
Eoin emitted a derisive sigh. “Riding in darkness with naught but moonlight to guide your way. D’you wish to meet your end with wild beasts feasting on you? Or mayhap with an unsavory band, who’d have their sport with you first?”
I turned. “Or with the three of you?”
The men exchanged indecipherable glances.
I ignored them. I could yet reach Benburb before sunrise. Breath quickening, I tore at the knot but only managed to tighten it.
“Or have your fine mare break her leg and find yourself stranded in these desolate parts?” said the young butcher.
Eoin placed his hands upon his hips. “You’d better have a sound reason for being here. I wager your kin will be none too pleased to discover your misadventures!”
“I’m not answerable to you,” I spat. There was a simple slipknot at Fionna’s muzzle, tight and dripping wet, but easy enough to untie. “Your concern is misplaced.” I pulled on the tether. It didn’t budge. “I’ll be on my way now.”
The old man gave another long sigh with a shrug. “The lass seems set on courting disaster. Tie her to the tree good and well, Declan, lest she gets it in her head to ride to her death whilst we rest.”
I sank my trembling fingers into the drenched rope, yanked at the stubborn knot. It scraped my skin raw, but I scarcely felt it through the roaring in my ears.
Declan rubbed the back of his neck and walked round the oak. A tang of rank sweat mixed with wet cattle wafted over me as he bounced on his heels.
I swallowed, forcing myself to keep at my task. One knot undone. One more to go. I tugged on the rope, and it gave way. Swiftly, I pulled the halter off Fiona’s head and clutched her mane.
Without a word, Declan took the halter from me and dropped it over Fionna’s head.
Before I could make a sound, he grabbed me like I was a spring lamb.
I tried to kick him, to wrench free as he dragged me to the other side of the tree. But he had twice my strength, so it wasn’t long before I found myself sitting with my back pressed against the hard oak and my wrists bound and tethered to its trunk behind me.
“Eoin has it right—it’s for your own good, lass.” The dullard tucked in the blanket round me. “You’re lucky to have come upon us, honest men, and all but one wed.”
Eoin stood a distance behind, watching with calculating eyes.
I met his gaze, my voice low and menacing, “There are those who would punish you most severely for detaining me here.”
The man scoffed. “I wager they’d thank us for keeping you safe, mayhap even reward us. We’ll sort your affairs at dawn, mistress.”