Celtic Storms (18 page)

Darcy leaned over and whispered in her ear. “He looks just like Da doesn’t he?” she asked.

Dumbfounded, Darina replied. “Patrick looks nothing like Da, what are you talking about?”

Darcy nodded towards the other side of the table. “No – him,” she replied pointing at Braeden.

***

Father MacArtrey had finally dozed off when the sound of heavy footsteps and clanking metal above announced a visitor was heading down to the dungeons. Cordal clinched his chains about him and skittered towards the darkest corner he could reach. The rain had been stopped for nearly a day. Although there remained no standing water; the odor of urine and mildew permeated the air.

Easal’s second in command, Rufus, stomped down the wooden stairway and raised a lantern overhead to examine the chamber. He turned his nose at the stench and squelched a retch as bile rose in his throat.

“Where is the priest?” he shouted overhead to no one in particular, holding his nose. Father MacArtrey cringed.
This is it. They are going to gut me.

He kicked the wall with his boot and shouted again, “Where is the bloody priest?”

Chains rattled and prisoners scurried as close to the safety of darkness as they could; yet no answer could be heard. “I’ll ask one more time and then I’ll get after ye - each one of ye – one at a time until I have that priest.”

“I am he,” the priest said and stretched to as far as he could stand, still attached to the chains that bound him to the stone wall. “Please don’t hurt anyone a’cause o’me.”

Rufus raised the lantern and shown it in the face of Father MacArtrey. It was a lined, scarred and tired - aged face indeed. No doubt he had seen too much in his years and would see much more.

“Have ye come to kill me?” he asked.

Rufus shook his head in answer and replied, “Nay. I haven’t come to kill ye mon. Mayhap ye should pray for death though. I’m sure ye will seek it after Odetta gets through wit ye.”

O’Malley Territory

Thankfully the storms had stopped. The sun had peeked out of the clouds and was creating a fog of steam the closer she came to the peeks. Although she was damp - Kyra was not completely soaked through. Her boots were covered in mud, her chain was heavy upon her tunic and truis and her helmet was making her neck ache. Soon she would be done with her duties and be able to bathe and dress for the ceremony at sun down.

She instructed the guards to leave the bridges down and the gates at ready to receive the soldiers from MacCahan territory. Atilde was busy readying the dome tents for their keep and the kitchens in the inn were just as busy as the castle to ensure enough food for all the guests.

Riann kept pace with her and sometimes led the way, flying high, back and forth between the men and Kyra’s steed. She brought the O’Malley banner with her and could visibly make out the MacCahan banner as she approached the riders.

Atop a large black horse sat who she assumed was Payton, the Laird’s brother. Long black hair trailed behind him and he wore a breast plate, cloak and a tartan was draped about his waist. The smooth muscles of his thighs gripped the horse flesh as he rode. He resembled a Roman guard
or god
? She couldn’t be sure. Tall and lean with rippled muscles vibrating with the horse’s canter. He mesmerized her with his form. Blue eyes stared at her from beneath the banner and she felt her heart jump.

She gulped to suppress a sigh as she neared the travelers. They slowed to a halt in an effort to converse and the front three riders met her midway. Payton first, then what appeared to be his second and third in charge.

“MacCahan?” she asked in the gruffest voice she could muster.

“Aye,” he nodded. “I am Payton MacCahan and this is Joducus,” he said pointing to the blonde on his right. “This is Vitus,” he announced pointing to a burly looking red headed man sitting atop the knurliest horse she had ever seen.

“Shall we go?” she asked hoping they would require no information of her.

“Nay,” responded Payton casually.

“Nay?” she asked, lowering her voice.

“Nay, we wish to bathe before passing the walls. Might there be a river or stream close by? My men require little else.”

She nodded her head in understanding and rose to point northwest towards the Gelyi River. “If ye turn towards the forest there and travel northwest but for a few moments, ye will encounter the river.”

“Good,” he said. “I’ve no wish to witness my brother’s union smelling like a hound,” he chuckled. “And, Joducus won’t be happy ‘til Vitus is properly bathed,” he said as he smacked Vitus’s right arm with his left.

“I’ll stand guard here,” she offered. “And bring ye when ye be done.”

“Nay. Ye will take us, let us be off now,” he insisted and turned his horse.

By the goddess what am I going to do now? I can’t bathe with the men!

When they finally approached the river, she signaled with her hands for the men to dismount and tie their horses. She remained atop her steed and fiddled with her chain walking her horse back towards the tree line nervously.

“A might strange lad there Payton, wouldn’t ye say?” asked Joducus.

“A little more than a might strange,” answered Vitus as he hung his tartan on a branch and tip toed into the chilly slow-flowing river.

“I see Patrick in this,” said Payton.

“What do you mean,” asked Joducus.

“Look – they’ve sent a wee boy dressed as a soldier to meet us. He’s plying us with his folly.”

“No doubt he has some mischief to engage in – that’s why he remains behind,” interjected Vitus already halfway submerged in the river.

She turned towards the river at the wrong moment. Her eyes – still hidden under her helmet - met bare flesh; as an untold number of stark naked MacCahan warriors traipsed to the river bed and began their assault on the water. Splashing, laughter and loud conversation interrupted her mind when she realized she stared in amazement.

“Payton, he seems almost uncomfortable to be here.”

“Aye - he does,” replied Payton fully clothed and still grooming his horse. “I fear he is up to no good. Why don’t you go get him and throw him in?” Payton asked Joducus with an evil grin on his face.

“I think I will,” he laughed and discarded his shirt and boots as he strode towards her wearing only his tartan.

Kyra froze in fear.
Saint Brigit – what is he doing?

“Might I be of some assistance?” she asked lowering her voice as far as she could.

“Why, yes ye can. Yes ye can,” Joducus replied and pulled her off the horse. “Join us – won’t you?” he said and proceeded to drag her across the ground towards the river. Her heavy muddy boots became entangled with wet ground and she tripped; falling roughly in the mud.

She was now completely covered in it and her chain mail stuck to her tunic and truis. She could barely see two feet in front of her – the mud had caught in her helmet. Laughter could be heard coming from the river; and her assailant had doubled over in delight, pointing at her.

I’ll just have to get up and wash my face and helmet off at the riverside and mayhap they will leave me be?

She rose slowly from the ground. She looked a sight. Her hands grasped great balls of earth and she did her best to clear her vision. She staggered towards the river and knelt to bend down when she heard heavy footsteps gaining ground towards her.

Please no!

It was too late, with one mighty push of his foot on her backside; Payton had sent her diving into the freezing cold river; chain mail, helmet and all.

Shouts erupted and gurgled laughter could be heard from under the water. She struggled to breathe but couldn’t as her chain mail and helmet were weighing her down. She had no choice but to remove her helmet and chain mail while still under the water. She watched as they traveled slowly to the surface and down the moving river.

“Where is he?” asked Payton growing concerned when she hadn’t surfaced yet. “I dinnae know,” replied Vitus in shock.

“Find him!” screamed Payton. “Me brathair will have me head if I’ve killed his wee soldier!”

Soon all the men were diving under water searching for her and flaying their arms about wildly. Payton dived head first into the river to where she had entered. When his hand felt her tunic he grabbed her by the hair and half pulled her to shore. She struggled against him and cursed.
He thinks I’m drowning.

When they both collapsed on the muddy ground, he rolled her over to inspect her and gasped audibly. “‘Tis a lass,” he shouted in astonishment.

Joducus left the river, quickly draped himself with his tartan and tore across the ground to where she laid soaking wet and muddy.

“What is the meaning of this?” a stern voice demanded. Payton turned to see Ruarc riding towards the water’s edge. He had no doubt seen everything.

He stepped down from his horse and drew his sword as a warning. “What are you doing to my daughter?” he demanded.

Payton stood, raised his palms and surveyed the scene. Kyra lay on the shore of the river, soaking wet and muddy and panting for breathe. Nearly fifty naked men surrounded them, all having bathed in the river and Payton and Joducus stood over her.

“Ruarc,” he replied. “Good to see ye, again.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Ruarc instructed and circled towards Payton with his weapon pointed at him. “What are you about?”

“I’m fine father,” Kyra mumbled. “’Twas an accident.” She rose on her elbows to rub the back of her head and held her hand out for Joducus to help her up.

“Ye don’t look fine, Kyra,” he replied.

“We had no idea she was a lass,” responded Vitus now fully clothed.

“Silence,” Ruarc commanded. “You,” he said tipping his head to Payton, “explain yourself.”

“We thought she was a wee soldier sent by my brother to play us,” said Payton. “I dinnae know she was a lass, and would not have behaved thus if I had.”

“Yet ye would have no problem treating any O’Malley soldier, youth or otherwise, thus?” asked Ruarc, openly offended.

“I ken what you’re saying, my lord,” Payton replied dejectedly. “And I beg your pardon and that of your lovely daughter,” he added as he bowed towards Kyra and took her hand to kiss it. She didn’t know whether to blush or punch him.

By now, all the MacCahan men had managed to re-dress and mount their horses awaiting instructions to leave.

“We’ll discuss this further with the Laird,” Ruarc stated matter-of-factly and turned to assist Kyra with her horse. “Now – let us be off.”

Burke Territory

“Dunk him in the well water. I’ll speak with him after he’s had a bath. And you!” Odetta shouted, “Bring him some food and ale.” Easal grabbed the priest about the neck and drug him outside to the back of the monastery, throwing him into the water tank.

“Use this,” he said as he tossed him some lilac soap and a washing cloth. Naelyn is fetching a monk’s robe for you. It’s not what you’re accustomed to, but it will do for now; at least until your clothes have dried.”

“What is going on?” asked Father MacArtrey. “Why wash me if she intends to kill me?”

Easal let loose a guttural laugh and walked towards him. “She has nay intention of killing ye yet, my fine sir,” he said and pushed his head back down under the water.

“Odetta has plans for you.”

“Plans? For me?”

“Aye - there is the matter of the sacrifice ye ruined; and the scrolls.”

Rufus walked past them towards the external entry to the dungeons carrying a young boy who appeared to have been unconscious either by a blow to the head or an elixir – he couldn’t be sure.

“There he is Father, the new sacrifice. You get to try that again tonight at Samhain.”

“Samhain - ‘Tis pagan witchcraft, I shan’t do any such thing. You may kill me now.”

“Aye. I’d like to, but Odetta insists we need ye.”

***

Darina had taken a small nap at the request of her Aunt Atilde. Minea now insisted that she walk about the grounds since the weather was nice and hadn’t been for a while. “T’will calm ye nerves, my lady,” she insisted.

She strode down to the third floor landing and out the balcony doors that overlooked the armory and practice fields. The sun was clear in the afternoon sky and there was no rain in sight. She could still smell the fuchsia flowers that were hung in the private banqueting hall and yearned for a bit of the elderberry wine.
Just a little bit.

She leaned over the wall and picked a sprig of Algerian ivy off the stone surface. She twisted it and placed it behind her right ear before licking her lips in remembrance of the wine.

Her sister, Daenal, had made some of her delightful pastries and had taken them up to the banquet room for the reception. She would have skinned her alive had she known Darina scurried out of the hall with a plate full of them; hoping not to be seen.

“I th-thought you m-might like some of th-this,” came Patrick’s voice from behind her. She turned to face him and he handed her a silver goblet the contents of which smelled like elderberry wine.

“Thank you very much,” she responded and took a small sip.

“W-we’ve only a f-few hours now,” he reflected out loud and took a sip from his own goblet as he looked over the grounds and towards the sea.

“Aye,” she said and nodded in response. “I see they’ve moved all yer belongings to the chamber.”

“And y-yo-your’s as well,” he said, setting his wine down on the stool near the railing.

“I saw,” she said solemnly, turning away.

“What t-tr-troubles you, D-Darina?”

“’Tis naught - no need to even speak of it.”

He moved forward and wrapped his arms around her placing one on each side of her on the railing. She could feel his breath on the back of her neck and heat rose in her stomach. With his left hand he carefully moved her hair behind her and over her left shoulder.

“Tell me wh-wha-what it is, and mayhap I c-can f-fix it,” he whispered into her ear sending chills down her spine and causing her to shake.