Chapter Seven
Raine rushed toward Carice, but two men held him back. Dieu, she’d been so pale. He didn’t know why she’d fainted, but it was clear her illness hadn’t abated. Instead, she seemed to be getting worse.
“Let go of me,” he demanded. The primal need to protect her overrode all else.
He elbowed his way free of one guard, and then smashed the face of another.
He heard the crunch of bone and raised his arm to ward off a blow.
Two of the MacEgan brothers seized him, but he wrenched his way free.
Before he could reach Carice, Trahern hauled him back.
“Leave her be.” The Irishman spoke in the Norman tongue and tightened his grip on Raine’s forearm. “Our healer will look after her.”
Though he knew they were right, fury roared through him with the possessive need to guard Carice. He knew it was irrational, but he didn’t like seeing her in such a state.
The king intervened, stepping forward as he spoke the Norman tongue. “Lady Carice will be well enough in the care of our healer. But I have questions for you about your involvement with King Rory.” The sharp tone within the man’s voice held suspicion and an unspoken threat.
Raine fell silent, his attention fixed upon Carice as the healer took her away. He wasn’t surprised that the MacEgans didn’t trust him. They had good reasons not to.
A moment later, they switched into Irish, speaking quietly in front of him. He understood most of what they were saying but decided to keep that knowledge to himself. Though he could speak a few Irish words, his listening skills were far stronger.
Patrick turned to his brother Trahern and asked, “Why do you think the Normans are gathering at Tara? Henry is not visiting, and there is no reason for an army.”
Raine was careful to keep his expression fixed, making it seem as if he didn’t understand a single word. But their suspicions were raised by his very presence.
“He knows something,” Trahern remarked. Raine could feel the man’s searching gaze upon him. “But he’ll never tell us.” To the younger blond warrior, he asked, “What do you want to do, Connor?”
The young man’s face grew serious. “Question him further.”
The king seemed to agree. “We cannot allow the Normans to attack Tara. We’ve fought too hard for this peace.” He exchanged a look with his wife, who came forward and took his hand.
Raine continued to behave as if he understood none of their words. But he knew that more questioning could lead to imprisonment or worse, torture. The MacEgans had allies among both the Irish and the Normans, and they would do whatever was necessary to keep the High King alive.
Which put them at cross purposes. Rory ó Connor could not remain alive if Raine intended to gain his sisters’ freedom.
“Come,” Trahern spoke in the Norman language once more, leading him toward the back of the Hall. “My brothers and I want to speak with you in private.”
Raine said nothing, knowing that if he dared protest, it might reveal that he understood their language. “I came to see Lady Carice.”
“And so you will, when she is feeling better.”
All of his instincts flared up, for he knew not where they would bring him. If he broke free now, they would never let him near her. But if he agreed to go with them in private, the “questioning” might take a darker turn.
They had already taken her upstairs, and it was killing him not to follow her. Not only because he needed to take her with him to Tara, but also because she was unwell. He vowed to himself that after he had answered their questions, nothing would stop him from finding Carice.
The men led him to a smaller chamber in the very back of the donjon.
King Patrick faced him, while his brothers, Trahern and Connor, stood on either side of him.
“My wife was a Norman before she married me. I have kept my peace with them, but only for her sake. My loyalty lies with my kinsmen and with the kings who battle for the good of éireann.”
Raine straightened and faced the king openly. “Why am I here?”
Patrick took a step forward, meeting him eye to eye. “Because you slaughtered the High King’s men instead of giving Lady Carice back into their care.”
“She did not want to wed the High King. I defended her from becoming their captive.”
“A woman you’ve only known two days?” The king’s mouth tightened. “I believe you had another purpose in mind.”
Before Raine could counter the man’s prediction, Patrick continued. “According to Lady Carice, you intended to return to your army at Tara. I want to know why. Why are the Normans gathering around the High King?”
“I am a soldier, and I obey orders,” Raine answered. “I know not why they are traveling there.” He kept his voice quiet, as if he cared nothing about the Norman army.
“A lie,” Trahern said. “If you were obedient, you would have been with your commander instead of alone.”
“I was granted a short leave to bury the holy men who died in a fire,” he said.
Trahern exchanged a glance with his brothers. Connor seemed to read his distrust and came to stand behind Raine. It was a not-so-subtle reminder that he was surrounded by men who could easily kill him where he stood.
“Instead of returning to the Normans, you came back for the lady,” Trahern said. “Those are not the actions of a loyal soldier.”
Raine gave no response at all, knowing that silence was the best answer.
“You were planning to use her, weren’t you? Because then you would be close to the High King.” Trahern moved even closer, using his height as intimidation. “For what purpose?”
Raine pretended as if he’d heard nothing.
Over and over, they questioned him, but he let their words fall upon deaf ears.
Instead, he envisioned Carice’s beautiful face and the long brown hair that hung below her shoulders to her breasts.
He remembered her smile and the light blue eyes that held worry for him.
When they realized he would answer no further questions, Patrick switched into the Irish language. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”
Trahern gave a slight nod. “To King Rory, yes. Not to us or to Lady Carice.”
The king thought a moment. “We cannot let him stay within the castle. He might try to take the lady during the night.”
Which was exactly what Raine had planned. It took an effort not to reveal that he understood every word of their conversation. But these men were far too astute about his intentions.
“What do you want to do?” Connor asked.
The king only pointed toward the door. “Take him into custody.” His brothers seemed to understand Patrick’s orders, and they guided Raine back through the Great Chamber and outside. Connor kept his weapon unsheathed, and it was clear that they were treating him as a prisoner instead of a guest.
As they approached a smaller tower, Raine studied the number of MacEgan soldiers in the courtyard. There were at least two dozen men, half of them patrolling the inner bailey, and others stood at intervals at their posts along the top of the outer wall.
He could try to escape—and might even succeed if he moved quickly—but they would only believe him guilty. At the moment, he had simply refused to answer questions. Even if they imprisoned him, there was no cause for punishment.
At least, not yet.
They had guessed his intent to bring Carice to Tara, but they knew nothing about his role in killing the High King. If they did, they would slit his throat where he stood.
“Where are you taking me?” he demanded, as they guided him across the inner bailey. Their silence was an answer he should have anticipated, as a subtle retribution for his own refusal to speak.
When they reached the stone outbuilding, he didn’t miss the solid wooden door leading inside the guard tower. Raine halted his steps and stared at the men. “Is this how you treat all strangers who visit Laochre?”
“It’s how we treat Norman strangers,” Trahern countered. “At least, those who keep the truth from us.” He narrowed his gaze at Raine and said, “Unless you have answers you’d prefer to give now?”
“I have done nothing to threaten you,” he reminded them.
“No. But your army threatens the Ard-Righ.”
Raine stood before them and said, “We have only a small group of soldiers. And there is no threat in men traveling to Tara. What their reasons are, I know not.” He kept every trace of untruth from his expression, masking all emotion.
“If you answer our questions openly, there is no need to remain here for long.” Trahern nodded to his brother. “Connor, show him inside.”
The man pushed open a wooden door, but it was so dark, Raine could see nothing within the space.
There were no windows, no torches to light the interior.
Before his eyes could adjust, they guided him to stand at the back wall.
Iron manacles were shackled to his wrists, and Raine struggled against their grip as the pins were hammered into place.
Damn them all. He hadn’t expected it to come to this.
“There is no need to imprison me,” he accused. “I have done nothing wrong.”
A moment later, a torch flared, and they closed the door. Although he saw no weapons of torture, he didn’t delude himself into believing he was safe.
“Tell us the reason why the Norman army is gathered at Tara, and we will free you now,” Trahern offered.
“I have told you. I don’t know their purpose.
” Which was a lie, and all knew it. Raine realized he never should have come within the gates as a guest. It would have been far better to slip inside and steal Carice away before anyone knew what had happened.
The MacEgan men were far too shrewd, for they were the best-trained warriors in Ireland.
“What do you want to do?” Patrick asked in the Irish tongue.
“Leave him here overnight,” Trahern answered. “He may speak more, once he’s spent a few hours here.”
“And what if he is telling the truth?” The king crossed his arms. “What if he means no harm?”