Part 35 (1/2)

”I swear by G.o.d in heaven, I did not order this.”

The man eyed him with hatred and disbelief.

”You must help us find who did.”

The villager's gaze s.h.i.+fted between Driscoll and Gaelan. ”We tried to follow, but they disappeared as quickly as they came,” the man said, obviously uncomfortable. ”'Twas as if they walked into the sky. Just”-he shrugged thin shoulders-”gone, my lord.”

It was clever, however they were escaping, he thought, and looked to the trees, remembering what Siobhan had said about being silent and quick. But where would they hide the mounts? Gaelan raked his fingers through his hair, then down over his face. Above him the sky bled to a deep purple with the coming sun. ”Driscoll. Arm the villagers. Spare whatever we can and leave a dozen guards here to protect.”

Driscoll translated and the man grew even more frightened, shaking his head.

Gaelan looked down at the ragged creature, seeing himself as a lad; distrusting, for the lord of the land had done naught to help them better their life. In fact, the lack of coin sent his mother to whoring. His gaze drifted beyond, to the woman standing in the doorway of the charred cottage, bravely fighting tears. Gaelan twisted to his saddle bags, digging in the bottom, then leaning out to the man. He pressed something into his hand, closing his fist around it. ”I swear you will be safe with my men,” he murmured, then turned his mount away.

The villager unfurled his fist and gaped at the silver cross gleaming in the faint firelight. And beneath it was a king's ransom in gold.

He was alone in his crime.

He dragged her through the narrow corridor, slipping once on the seepage pooling on the ground. PenDragon and his b.l.o.o.d.y d.a.m.ned moat, he thought. He wondered if she knew this pa.s.sage led beyond the grounds and into a stand of trees.

It was fortunate that O'Rourke had constructed the escape tunnel, though the fool didn't know a smattering of what it took to construct a decent fortification. Apparently neither did PenDragon, he smirked, ducking to accommodate the low ceiling. Or he would have found this tunnel by now. Mayhaps he had, or she'd told him, he considered, then mentally shrugged, pus.h.i.+ng at the sod and peat ceiling. The wood trap door gave, delivering a gust of cold air. He moved it aside, then climbed, the incline sharp and unused. He took several steps away and pulled the horse close, removing the feed sack from its nuzzle and the leafy branches used to disguise the creature in the trees. He turned back to the tunnel and dragged her by the arm through the opening in the earth, then squatted to lift her. The scent of blood made his stomach roil and he swallowed, lifting and throwing her body over the back of a horse. With measured steps, he walked the mount away from the castle. The guards were focused on the front, never expecting someone to leave the keep.

They found fresh horse tracks heading away from the Maguire's stronghold, Cloch Baintreach. Gaelan sent a small squad to follow it, then left another to watch over the Maguire, discreetly.

”Well, unless you call him out,” Raymond said as they gazed down at the fortress. ”Then you will never really know if he is there.”

”'Twould not matter. He, like you and I, could commission anyone to do our bidding.” Although the Maguire did not strike him as a coward. The man had already faced down Gaelan's legions with only a hundred warriors, and those poorly armed. Yet his castle appeared prepared for war. Even from this position, Gaelan could see the javelins lining the battlements.

”Without evidence you cannot take this to the king.”

”I do not want to take this to Henry.” By G.o.d, he would solve this himself before he called on the monarch for advice. ”His majesty bids that I gain the Maguire's fealty, immediately. Before the royal armies advance from Dublin to Armagh.”

”Great Scots.”

Gaelan removed his helm, cupping it over the pommel. He shoved his coif back and ruffled his hair. ”We have demons all around us.”

Driscoll was on his left, silent until now. ”I've a feeling Donegal is not the only land suffering.”

Gaelan sent him an arched look.

”O'Niell has sustained losses,” Raymond pointed out.

”Aye, but this could be those who did not want our lady to rule, ever.”

Gaelan scowled, waiting for a explanation.

”Most of Donegal was once O'Donnel land, taken by O'Rourke in his battle with Dermott. Everyone knew Tigheran warred more for Devorgilla's betrayal than for land and accepted Siobhan like a payment to punish.” Driscoll's gaze clouded and he looked at the reins curled around his hands, still regretting that he could not protect her well enough. ”She suffered much, my lord,” he said, then lifted his gaze. ”When Tigheran died, the chieftains weren't ready to usurp her with an uncle as powerful as Dermott. But there are still a few who would see a man in her place, preferably an O'Donnel.”

”There is a man ruling.”

”Forgive me, my lord, but you are not Irish.”

Gaelan's look said he was painfully aware of that.

”I do not think the first attacks before you arrived had aught to do with any of the trouble now. Oftimes the villagers get a belly full of drink, and talk brews rashness. People die and the culprits must live with the regret. And if it was not...” Driscoll shrugged, rubbing his clean-shaven face and missing his beard. ”Who's to say 'twas one clan or another?”

Gaelan stared out over the darkened land. ”Therein lies the difficulty. We must catch them, and for that we must remain he-” Abruptly he twisted in the saddle, narrowing his gaze in the direction of Donegal.

Raymond guided his mount closer. ”What is it?”

Gaelan still stared. ”I do not know.” O'Niell had been escorted off the land and the castle was a fortress now, but Gaelan could not shake the horrible feeling that Siobhan needed him. ”Something is wrong.” I can feel it.

Raked with a moment of indecision, Gaelan wheeled about, riding back toward the castle. Raymond trotted the line of troops, issuing orders and wondering if Gaelan had somehow adopted Rhiannon's ability to see the future.

At the edge of the county he halted his mount, twisting in the saddle to push her from the back of the horse. Her body hit the soft earth with a dull thud, flopping back and revealing her b.l.o.o.d.y face. A s.a.d.i.s.tic smile curved his lips. Her death was his freedom. He'd tried to be rid of Connal, but the little brat was too heavily protected.

He gazed down at her, her beautiful face swollen and spattered with dirt and drying blood. For an instant he felt remorse at the ruin of so lovely a woman, but she was too belligerent, too independent, not asking him for help, not wanting or needing it. He wheeled the mount around and rode off, leaving her withering body to the creatures and the elements.

Chapter 25.

Gaelan saw the soldiers riding hard toward him as he crested the rise. His heart slammed to his stomach and he jammed his spurs into Grayfalk's side. He pa.s.sed the troops at breakneck speed and as the gates swung open, he rode through the outer ward, ducking through the inner gate, continuing up the steps and into the hall. The clatter of hooves rang in the keep, scattering folk. He flung from the mount, glancing briefly at the people sobbing, and his chest ached with unbearable pain. He searched the gathering for his wife and when he found neither her nor Connal, he ran to the stairs, taking them three at a time. At the landing his pace slowed, his mouth going dry as burned wood. Gaelan shoved open the chamber door.

His focus snapped to the bed and he crossed the room, noticing the fractured mirror before he stopped beside the bed. The drapes were drawn.

He swallowed over and over, his hand trembling as he reached and flipped the curtain back. His features burned tight.

”Oh mother of G.o.d.”

She lay in a ma.s.s of sticky blood, her face carved from her bones. A deep gash opened her chest.

His big body trembled. Misery engulfed him. Gaelan clenched his fists, fighting the torment, the grief swimming through him like molten steel. He sank to his knees, tears searing his eyes. He thumped his thighs with his fists, pitiful choked sounds filling the chamber.

Oh G.o.d!

You take her when I just learned how to love her. Why? Why!

Rage and sorrow erupted and he flung his head back, his tortured howl shaking the stone walls of Donegal Castle.

At the horrible sound, the guards succ.u.mbed to Rhiannon's pleas, releasing her, and she overtook the stairs, das.h.i.+ng into the chamber, to the side of the bed. She froze, stunned. ”Merciful G.o.d.”

She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, turning her face away. Tears came, quick and burning with regret. Oh, Siobhan, forgive me.