Читать книгу Her Warrior Slave - Michelle Willingham - Страница 12

Iseult hardly spoke during the evening meal. She was still shaken by the slave’s sudden move. Her skin had blazed with unwanted heat when he’d cupped her cheek. It had been a warning, not an act of desire. So why had she found it difficult to breathe? Possibly it was just humiliation. She could have Kieran whipped for touching her, if she confessed it.

But she didn’t want to be the cause of another’s suffering. The slave hadn’t truly done any harm, only embarrassed her.

She reached out to her cup, but found it empty. She knew better than to ask Davin’s mother Neasa for more wine. Though Iseult was their guest at dinner, Neasa made no secret of her displeasure about the forthcoming marriage. A beautiful older woman, her shining black hair showed no signs of greying, and her figure was the size of a young girl’s, despite the three children she’d borne. She smiled up at her son, nodding for a slave to refill his cup.

Davin poured half of his drink into her empty one. Iseult sent him a grateful look. Leaning in, he whispered, ‘You look lovely this night.’

Her skin reddened, but she murmured, ‘Thank you.’ With her eyes, she sent him a silent plea: Let me leave. I want to go home.

But he didn’t seem to see it.

‘Will you hunt on the morrow, Davin?’Neasa inquired.

‘I will, yes. I intend to take several of the men with me. I’m wanting a fine feast for my future wife.’He sent Iseult a proud smile, and she nodded in acknowledgement. The thought of their wedding brought a wave of nervousness. She supposed every bride felt that way.

‘Much can happen before Bealtaine,’ his mother argued. ‘There is no need to be married so soon.’

Iseult drained her cup, her hand tightening over the stem. If Neasa had her way, they’d not be married at all. It hurt to think that nothing she did was good enough. Never did the woman cease reminding Iseult that she was the daughter of a blacksmith and therefore unworthy to wed Davin.

‘It has been longer than I’d like,’ Davin replied. ‘Perhaps I’ll wed her at sundown tomorrow.’ He wrapped his hand around Iseult’s braid in a teasing gesture. Iseult answered his smile, but inwardly, she was wary. The last time she’d considered a marriage, it had ended in humiliation. It was hard to let herself trust a man again.

Her skin chilled at the memory of waiting alone with the priest, for a lover who never arrived. She’d been pregnant with his child, and he’d known it. So had everyone else.

Shame filled her, remembering the way her friends and family had stared at her. Murtagh had joined a monastery, rather than wed her. And didn’t that offer plenty of gossip for long winter nights, along with his babe swelling at her waist?

Neasa hadn’t forgotten about it; that much was clear. She believed Iseult was unworthy of wedding a nobleman. Yet Davin had offered for her, treating her as though she were a princess, instead of a commoner. The man loved her, though she did not understand why.

‘Davin, you will be chieftain one day soon,’ Neasa reminded him. ‘There are many responsibilities. Iseult has much to learn before she can be a proper wife.’

‘I will be leader only if I am chosen by the people,’ he corrected. Though he kept his tone even, Iseult saw the longing upon his face. He wanted to lead the tribe, and all knew there was no other choice but him.

Davin’s father Alastar interrupted at that moment. ‘Neasa, there’s no need to speak of me as if I’m dead. I am chieftain and will be for some time.’Alastar rose and stretched. ‘Come, Davin. I would hear your plans for Bealtaine.’

Iseult eyed the doorway with longing, but she hadn’t been invited to go with the men. Silently, she helped Neasa clear the plates away.

‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ she asked, when she’d finished.

‘Yes.’ Neasa set down the clay jug of mead and regarded her. ‘You could refuse to wed my son, but I know you won’t do it.You’re too eager to wed a man of his rank.’

Iseult’s temper flared. The woman made her sound greedy, as though she were wedding Davin for his gold. ‘Davin is a good man. I intend to give him my respect and care.’ She bit her lip to keep from saying more.

‘He deserves a woman who understands how to be chaste. You’ve borne a child.’

‘A child who was stolen from me,’ Iseult argued. ‘You, at least, have your son standing before you. I know not whether mine lives or is dead.’

The wrenching pain strangled her heart, and tears swam in her eyes. Davin’s quiet presence had been a balm to her bleeding soul when she’d lost her son Aidan. He had comforted her in her grief, treating her with such tenderness, such love.

‘You understand a mother’s love for her child,’Neasa said, though her voice was a sharp blade. ‘And you know that I want what is best for him.’ She wiped her hands upon a drying cloth and added, ‘You could not possibly understand what it means to lead our people.’

Neasa was wrong. Though she might not be one of them, never did she fear the responsibilities that would become hers. Her only thoughts were to take care of Davin and to build a home with him.

‘I may not be a chieftain’s daughter,’ she acknowledged, ‘but I will do what is necessary to make Davin happy.’

Neasa shook her head. ‘It’s not enough.’

Iseult had endured her fill of the woman’s criticism. She walked quietly to the door and opened it. ‘It will have to be.’

She stepped outside into the cool darkness. Neither Davin nor Alastar was nearby, and she suspected they’d gone for a walk. Though courtesy dictated that she say goodnight to her betrothed, she continued walking towards Muirne’s hut.

What was she going to do when she was expected to live with Davin’s family? They would have to build a hut of their own, else she’d go mad. His mother would do everything in her power to undermine their marriage.

Iseult walked faster, releasing her anger with each step. Sometimes she wished Davin were not the chieftain’s son. She wanted a simple life, one where they could live in peace. Perhaps with children surrounding them. And Aidan, safely home again.

Above her, the moon hid behind clouds, and Iseult walked past Muirne’s hut, needing a quiet moment alone. She passed the gates of the ringfort, until she could no longer see the flicker of torches.

Sinking down into the damp spring grass, she calmed herself. The fertile scent of the land granted her peace.

‘You shouldn’t be out here alone,’ a voice said. She turned towards the sound and saw Kieran. He drew nearer, his profile shadowed by the light behind him. His black hair fell against his face, and he crossed his arms. Rough and wild, the locks cut against his cheeks, badly in need of taming. Though he said nothing, he kept watching her.

Iseult pulled her knees against her chest, suddenly uneasy. Not a guard was in sight, and outside the ringfort, no one would see them.

‘I wanted to be alone. And I’m fine, as you can see.’

Again, he remained silent. His arrogance reminded her that this man knew not the meaning of humility or servitude. Unlike Davin’s other slaves, he did not hide back in the shadows, nor keep his face averted.

Uncomfortable, she rose to her feet. ‘You aren’t going to leave, are you?’

‘No.’

‘Are you planning to try another escape?’It wouldn’t surprise her if he did. She wanted to see him go, to be rid of this anxious feeling that happened each time she was near him.

‘Not yet.’ He was biding his time, feigning obedience. Couldn’t Davin see this man for who he truly was?

Kieran continued walking towards her, moving as though he owned this land. As if he owned her.

It made her anger rise higher. If she wanted to take a walk, then she’d do it. She needed no escort.

Rising to her feet, she walked further until she was near the forest. It was as far as she dared travel.

Kieran shadowed her, keeping a slight distance back. But she knew that no matter how far she went, he would follow. His head turned as if watching the surrounding areas for danger.

But the only danger she felt was from him.

‘I don’t need a guard.’

‘Yes, you do.’ His voice resonated in the stillness, deep and commanding.

‘It’s not your responsibility to watch over me.’

Against the backlight of the torches, his silhouette merged with the darkness. Though his skin still held the sharp lines of hunger, she could not deny the strength in him. And beyond his unreadable expression lay such emptiness, it almost mirrored her own.

‘Perhaps not.’ His gaze lingered upon her face, as though he were trying to forge it into his memory.

The need to move away from him was so strong, she circled around, walking back to the ringfort. The hair on the back of her neck rose up in full awareness of Kieran. Though she didn’t turn to see him, she sensed his presence.

Once they were back inside the safety of the palisade, she glanced around. Before him, she felt exposed, as though he could look into her soul and see the vulnerability there.

‘Goodnight.’ Kieran turned abruptly to leave, and yet Iseult couldn’t bring herself to open the door. Her heartbeat hammered within her chest, and her skin warmed. Though there was no reason to be afraid of him, she couldn’t help but feel something. Slave or not, he intimidated her.

And Davin expected her to spend time alone with this man each day? She couldn’t do it.

Only a few days more, logic reminded her. It would not take that long to finish the carving. And when it was done, she would not see him again.

Davin Ó Falvey woke at dawn, staring at the empty space beside him in the bed. His chamber within his father’s house boasted of wealth. Only the softest fabrics covered his bed, and polished tortoiseshell shields decorated the walls. He had everything a man could want: gold, fine clothing, and the promise of becoming chieftain. And yet it was nothing without Iseult to share it.

He loved her deeply and could think of no greater joy than waking beside her. Never had he seen a more beautiful or perfect woman. Though his mother argued about her lack of social status, none of that mattered. In a few more weeks, Iseult would belong to him.

He pulled on clothes suitable for hunting and chose a bow and arrows. He wanted to provide for her, to show her how very much he cared. And perhaps one day she would return his love.

Oh, he knew she didn’t feel the same way for him. Not yet. God help him, every time he thought of the man she’d lain with, he wanted to gut Murtagh Ó Neill for touching her. And for breaking her heart.

Outside, he ordered a horse brought to him. When a servant returned with his gelding Lir, Davin stopped to study the slave’s face. Unlike Kieran, this slave kept to himself, his head lowered in subservience. He couldn’t even remember the slave’s name.

Not so with Kieran Ó Brannon. Fierce and selfconfident, Kieran bore his wounds with the carelessness of a warrior.

What sort of man was he? Davin had lived among servants and slaves for so long, he hardly noticed them. But Kieran Ó Brannon brought attention to himself in a manner that made him hardly fit to be a slave. It made Davin even more curious about the man’s past.

Kieran’s carving skills were startling, a master’s work. He far surpassed Seamus’s creations. How had a man with such talent come to be a slave? He couldn’t understand it.

He stopped in front of Seamus’s hut and peered inside. Kieran sat upon a bench, tapping a chisel with a wooden mallet. He remained fully focused upon the task, and it wasn’t until Davin blocked the sunlight that he looked up.

‘I haven’t finished yet.’

‘I realise that. I’d like to see what you’ve done.’

Kieran set aside his chisel with reluctance. Davin stepped closer and set his bow down, taking the carving in his hands. The face of his beloved had started to emerge from the wood. Iseult’s haunted eyes, the long hair that caressed the curve of her cheek…all of it was there. Except her smile.

Davin handed the wood back. ‘It’s a fine piece of work.’ Stepping to the side, he let the light back into the hut. ‘My men are hunting this morning. I want you to join us.’

‘I must finish this,’ Kieran argued. He picked up a bowl of melted animal fat and a leather cloth. With experienced motions, he rubbed the fat into the wood, bringing out the natural grains. It would prevent the carving from cracking.

‘It wasn’t a request.’ Davin picked up his bow. ‘I’ll supply you with weapons. Meet us at the gate in an hour.’

Davin didn’t care whether his slave wanted to go or not. He had his suspicions about the man’s origins, and he hoped to get those answers this day.

Iseult rode hard to the east, leaning into the wind. After a bit of coaxing, her friend Niamh had agreed to accompany her. The two had known each other only since the past winter, and Niamh had become a close confidant. Though Niamh bemoaned her brown hair and grey eyes, claiming that no man would ever find her beautiful, Iseult secretly thought her friend had a nice smile. She also had a sense of adventure and a tendency to get into trouble, rather like herself.

‘Are we nearly there?’ Niamh asked, slowing the pace to let her horse drink from the river. The silvery ribbon cut a path eastwards, glittering against the meadows. ‘We’ve been gone for hours. If I have to sit on this horse for another hour, my bottom will fall off.’

Mine, too, Iseult thought, but she didn’t say so. ‘If Hagen was right, it should be at the end of the river’s curve.’

‘Or if he’s wrong, we’ve come all this way for nothing.’

Iseult shrugged. ‘One more hour. And if we don’t find the rath, we’ll try again another day.’

Niamh gritted her teeth. ‘Give me a moment, won’t you? I haven’t any feeling left in my backside.’ She winced and patted her posterior. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t bring Davin with you instead of me.’ The young woman grimaced at the mention of his name. It didn’t surprise Iseult, since she knew her friend couldn’t stand Davin. Niamh made every effort to avoid him, claiming that he was far too arrogant for her tastes.

‘He had other responsibilities,’ Iseult responded.

‘More important than your child?’ Niamh scowled at the idea. ‘I’d like to know how hunting deer would be more important.’

Iseult shielded her eyes against the sun, straining to see the ringfort. ‘I didn’t tell him where we went.’

Niamh looked appalled at her confession. ‘Why not?’

Because Davin had already given up. He no longer believed in her quest. ‘Because he didn’t want me leaving Lismanagh. He is worried about the Lochlannachs,’ she added. That sounded convincing enough, didn’t it?

‘And so am I.’ Niamh shivered, eyeing the horizon. With a grudging shrug, she offered, ‘I think Davin was right. The Norsemen are fearsome, so I’ve heard.’

‘I’ve never seen one, so I wouldn’t know.’ But the memory of Kieran flashed through her mind. Raw and wild, he unnerved her, stripping away her sense of security. She wanted nothing to do with him, particularly a man so unpredictable.

‘Iseult?’ Niamh eyed her as though she’d been speaking and had received no answer.

She shook off the disorientation. ‘I’m fine.’ Forcing a smile, she added, ‘I’m glad not to travel alone. Thank you for coming with me.’

‘My father would have my head if I’d told him what I was doing. We should have brought the men with us.’

‘And who would have come?’ Iseult couldn’t think of a single man who might have acted as their protector. ‘They think I’ve gone mad.’

Niamh shrugged. ‘You’re right, I suppose. But we must return before sundown. Else Davin will send out every able-bodied man in the tribe after you.’ She opened a clay flask of mead and drank, handing it to Iseult.

‘It won’t be much further.’ Iseult drank and shielded her eyes, studying the landscape. ‘Look atop the hill. I think I can see the rath.’

‘Have you ever visited the Flannigan tribe?’ Niamh asked. ‘I’ve heard that they have nearly a hundred men and women. Several clans joined together, from what I gather, which makes them quite powerful.’

She hadn’t known. But it increased the possibility of learning more about Aidan. ‘No. But I’ve tried everywhere else. I have to go inland.’ Thus far, today’s journey was the longest she’d ever taken.

Though it was dangerous, she kept the vision of Aidan’s face within her memory. Her son’s serious blue eyes had always absorbed his surroundings. On the rare occasion of his laughter, Iseult had smothered him with kisses. The last time she’d seen him, he had not yet begun to walk. His tiny fingers had clung to hers while he struggled to march his bare feet.

I’ll find you, she promised. Somehow. If it meant travelling to the ends of the earth, she had no other choice. She only wished Davin shared in her determination. To him, Aidan was a lost babe. To her, the child was a missing piece of her heart. She could never be whole until she knew what had happened to him.

Niamh pressed a hand to Iseult’s shoulder. ‘And if you don’t find him? What will you do?’

‘I don’t know. Travel further, I suppose.’ She took another drink, not wanting to think about giving up.

They rode side by side, and with each mile, Iseult’s skin chilled. Her doubts taunted her: You won’t find him. He’s dead.

When they reached the gates, Iseult’s hands began shaking. Dread welled up inside her as she steeled herself for more disappointment. Two fierce-looking men stood at the entrance, spears in their hands. They regarded her with suspicion.

‘We wish to speak with your chieftain,’ she began, her voice revealing her fear. ‘I am Iseult MacFergus, and this is my friend Niamh.’

‘Brian Flannigan is our king, not a chieftain,’ the shorter guard corrected. ‘Is he expecting you?’

Iseult shook her head. ‘No. But I’ve some questions to ask him about my son.’

The man shrugged. ‘I’ll see if he will grant you an audience.’ Iseult waited beside Niamh, her nerves growing more ragged with each moment.

This was not a wise decision. She was grasping at sand, the granules of hope slipping from her fingertips. There was no means of visiting every tribe in Ireland, and even then she might not find Aidan. After today, she would have to alter her strategy. Never would she find her son this way, with desperate searches.

After endlessly long minutes, the guard returned. ‘Come.’ He beckoned, and they followed the guard to a large dwelling at the opposite end of the ringfort. Built of wood, and twice the size of Davin’s home, she understood what Niamh had meant about the tribe’s power.

Inside, several groups of men gathered. Iseult hung back beside Niamh, fully aware of the men watching them. Her skin rose up with goose flesh, and she wished she had not endangered her friend. Now she understood why Davin had not wanted her to travel alone. These men could harm her, and there was nothing she could do.

Too late to let her fears strangle her now. Iseult lifted her face, trying to look braver than she felt.

She waited for a time until at last the king ordered them to come forward. Iseult knelt before him and explained about Aidan’s disappearance.

‘I have been searching for him over the past year. I would know if anyone from your tribe has seen a young boy, about two years of age, who was not born to your people.’

The king considered her story. ‘Why did your husband not come with you?’

‘I have no husband. But I did not come alone,’ she added. When the king’s gaze turned shrewd, she drew closer to Niamh as if to gain support.

King Brian conferred with some of his advisers, then shook his head. ‘We have many foster-children, but their families are known to us. If your son was stolen, it is likely he was taken into slavery. If he is still alive, that is. You might wish to ask the traders.’

With a nod, he dismissed them.

Though Niamh took her hand, Iseult barely felt the contact as they walked out. She knew of many children sold into slavery, but most were born of the fudir.

Not once had she visited a slave auction. The idea of hearing the children separated from their mothers, people’s lives given over into servitude, bothered her intensely. Though Davin had never treated his slaves with anything but kindness, she’d rather have no servants at all.

‘Let’s go home,’ Niamh urged, leading her to their horses. Iseult mounted, though she was hardly aware of them leaving. Another failed chance. And now, the possibility of her son being a slave. He might be a world apart from her now, for she’d heard that the trade ships, particularly Norse longboats, often sold Irish slaves across the sea.

A light rain fell over them, but Iseult hardly noticed. Kieran had been to the slave markets. He’d travelled across Éireann. Would he have any answers for her?

Her mind flashed to the moment when his hand had touched her hair. Kieran had warned her to stay away from him, and not once had he spoken about his past.

Why would she ever think he would help her? He was a stranger, and she didn’t want to confide in him or expose herself in that way. He was the sort of man to take advantage of weakness.

But there was nothing else to be done. He was the only man with possible answers.

She had no choice but to ask for Kieran’s help.