Riona (15 page)

Riona gathered the distraught young woman to her. “We do, Siony, and we’ll get Naal back for you … and the other children.” She turned to Kieran. “Won’t we, milord?”

Kieran stood up and made a grand sweep of a bow before her. “To be sure, milady. Yon Bran and I shall ride in and slay a score of Maille’s soldiers, rescue the children, stop for a cup of ale, and then hie to Drumceatt on the morning.” He ran his fingers through his hair and pivoted away with a growl. “The mighty Cuchulain himself wouldn’t try such a feat. And even if we succeed, what the devil are we going to do, dragging a wench fit to burst with child and another gaggle of half-grown orphans?”

Bran wagged his head, staring at Siony as though she’d brought the entire weight of the world down upon his shoulders. “I say we steal the little beggars and run.”

T
he hour was past vespers, yet a song filled the air as the travelers approached the gate to the monastery. It was not a chant, but a single voice as sweet and pure as the first bird song of morning.

“Listen!” Riona seized Kieran’s arm as they waited for Siony to enter the gates of the churchyard with Liex and Leila. Fynn would have no part of staying behind. With no possible way to escape with the freed orphans in tow, it was decided to leave the children to the sanctuary of the monastery. Siony would alert the brothers to be ready to receive both the rescued and the rescuers, provided their plan worked.

Father in heaven, it had to work. That had been Riona’s prayer again and again since its conception, and now an answer came, almost from the heavens themselves.

Kieran cocked his head beside her. “What?”

Was it a lone pilgrim at the well just inside? Emotion surged in Riona’s voice. “That song … it’s …” The words raised the hairs on her arms, not with dread, but with wonder. It was as if God himself called out to her. Dared she trust her ears?

Behold, I am the Lord, the God of all flesh; is anything too hard for Me?

Their plight was no worse than that of saints past, their task no more formidable. Conviction filled her. “We’re doing the right thing, Kieran. And we’ll succeed.”

“Because a priest is singing?”

“It’s
what
he’s singing, dolt,” Bran snapped with impatience. “You would do well not to mock it. Words chosen wisely are easier to digest later.”

“I don’t doubt that your God can do anything. The question is
will
He?” Kieran patted the hilt of his sword.
“This
I can rely on, so spare me your flights of spiritual fancy.”

Riona cringed at the bitterness in his words. Her foster brother was
a good man, but thick-witted as a mule. “Aye, He will, and He’ll even use a fool with a sword to accomplish His work.”

The brewy by the hurdle ford was quiet when they reached it. From the main hall, smoke drifted up in shadowy wisps against a clear night sky from its three hearth fires. The scent breathed an invitation to the warmth and comfort within.

Two guards were left on duty while their comrades sought the comfort of the lodgings. Occasionally the two meandered from their posts by the bridge to the stables and back in an effort to remain alert. As if to assure them that all was well beneath the thatched roof of the open barn, an occasional whicker of contentment broke the sleepy hush.

Riona gave Fynn’s shoulder a squeeze as the lad left the cover of the hedgerow that formed the northern wall of the brewy enclosure. Quiet as a mouse, and just as quick, the lad scooted toward the barn as the guards made their return trek toward the bridge. She didn’t realize she’d held her breath until he reached the cover and disappeared within.

Inhaling deeply, she turned and edged her way around through the thick growth of scrub tree and briars to where Kieran and Bran waited. If they were discovered, the gleeman’s son was to scatter the horses before the soldiers could assemble for a chase. She raised her hand to signal that Fynn was in place when a cord of briar caught her ankle and sent her sprawling into the undergrowth. Hurriedly, she tore away from its clutch, ignoring the petty slashes the mother bush made at her cheeks, and jumped to her feet. She waved, assuring the men who started toward her that she was fine.

Now it was her turn. She made straight for the kitchen end of the lodge and emerged from its shadow in a casual walk toward the building that Siony said held the children. Although no one could be seen guarding it, there might be someone inside who could sound a warning. Her heart beating three times to each step, Riona approached the door of the wattle-walled confine. Made of plank, it had a slide bolt with a dowel run through so that the wooden bar could be moved from inside or out.

She tapped lightly on the door and leaned her ear against it. There was a rustling from within, followed by a woman’s voice.

“Whaddya be wantin’ this hour o’ the night?”

Riona instantly recognized the whining quality of the voice: Mebh.

“The cook’s bankin’ the fires and wants to know if them mites’d want some o’ the bread scraps afore the dogs have their pick.”

The bolt slid back from the keeper with a dull thud. Riona tugged the hood of her cloak further over her face. The chances Mebh would recognize her were unlikely, but she took no chance. The door opened just a crack, and Mebh’s round face appeared, her uncombed hair, ratty with straw, framing her scowl.

“Got any gravy left?”

“I think so. If there is, I’ll bring it.” Riona rose on tiptoe, looking over the woman’s shoulder. “And what about them?”

“Sleepin’, the lot of ’em. Better we feed ’em good in the mornin’, cause they’ll be heavin’ their bellies out through their gab once’t shipboard.” Mebh snorted. “An’ bring me some ale.” She smacked her lips together. “I’ll wager ole Taddy Tooth’s not half as dry as me and sleepin’ in twice the comfort.”

Riona’s mind raced. Taddy Tooth. It sounded like a pet name. Perhaps there was a way to get rid of Mebh without knocking her lights out, as Kieran had suggested.

“Aye, as long as that redheaded wench keeps his cup filled and warms his lap.”

The door flew wide open, and Mebh filled it with her swelling rage. “What’s
that
ye say?”

“I only meant …” Riona stumbled back a step. Mebh looked bigger than she had in the abbot’s quarters, and was nearly twice Riona’s width. “It’s like a man to take his pleasure and leave his woman to make do as she can.”

The angry woman strong-armed her aside. “Shut the door and stay here till I come back, wench. I’ll fetch me own vittles and drink.”

Like a thundercloud on a blast of wind, Mebh marched toward the hall. Riona waited just long enough for her to disappear through the kitchen entrance before rushing in to wake the children.

“Naal? Naal, are you in here? I need your help,” she whispered urgently.

“Here,” came a sleepy voice from a corner.

“Siony sent me. Help me wake the others. We must hurry away before we’re caught.”

Riona counted seven children in all by the time she and the boy had roused them. They were bewildered at first but came to full alert on realizing that rescue was at hand.

Kieran appeared at the door. “What the devil possessed her? She moved too quick for me to take her.”

“She’ll give us all the distraction we need inside,” Riona assured him. “Now, everyone hold hands and follow me. We’re going to run to the church nearby, and we can’t stop for anything. Understand?”

A childlike chorus of whispers carried affirmation. Taking a child by the hand, Riona paused by the open door as a shout erupted from inside the lodging. It was followed by the crash of furniture and more shouts of outrage. The two guards who’d been walking toward the stables doubled back in a run toward the hall to see the nature of the commotion. As soon as they were out of sight, Riona led the little ones out into the rear yard, straight for the hedgerow.

From the corner of her eye, she spied Kieran draw his sword but dared not stop. What was he doing? They’d agreed it was too risky to lure Tadgh out, that they’d leave the children at the monastery and move on to Drumceatt to seek a fair hearing. On reaching the trees, Riona looked back but saw no sign of Gleannmara’s lord.

“Where did he go?” she asked Bran as he ushered the little ones toward the road leading to the holy well.

“Around the front of the hall. A plague on his stubborn hide.” Her cousin swore under his breath. “Keep on with the children and stop for nothing. I’ll signal the lad.”

Riona nodded reluctantly. It was all going so smoothly … Mebh was making enough of an uproar to give them a window of time to escape. So help her, she’d kill Kieran herself—if someone didn’t beat her to the task.

“Naal, take the lead. It’s not a long way, children. Just keep running.”

Riona brought up the rear of the small troop, stopping here and
there to pick up some of the younger ones when they stumbled. She half expected them to cry, but even the youngest—a little girl she guessed to be about five years old—seemed to sense the need for silence as well as swiftness.

The third time the girl stumbled, Riona picked her up. Her own legs ached from the intensity of the run. She could imagine how the child’s must feel. Perhaps the mile to the monastery was too much. Perhaps …

“Naal!”

At the outcry in the distance, Riona lifted her face and stared ahead in disbelief. There on the narrow road ahead, was a small cart drawn by the dun pony Bran had procured. A man in a robe rushed toward them, along with Siony. Half dragging, half pushing, they managed to get the seven children into the cart. Riona pulled herself up last and held on to the wickerwork sides as it jolted away.

“We’re off to the shore,” Siony told her breathlessly. “Maille’s soldiers will not honor sanctuary, but the brothers know of a ship bound for Wicklow on the tide. They’ll take us and the children to safety.”

“But what about the men?” Riona cast a look over her shoulder, hoping she’d see Kieran, Bran, and Fynn riding through the narrow opening between the hedgerow surrounding the brewy. Nothing.

A commotion in the cart drew Riona’s attention to a small, blond head bobbing through the menagerie. A second followed. In a moment, Liex and Leila were clinging to her, hugging her again and again.

“It’s going to be all right, milady,” Liex assured her. “Seargal is with them.”

Riona kissed first the lad atop his head and then Leila. As she drew away, Leila smiled up at her, her eyes bright as the stars overhead. How Riona loved them! As for Seargal, more than ever she wanted to believe in the little girl’s invisible friend.

The brothers’ coracle, no more than a wicker frame with hides stretched over it, served to take the first half of the children with Siony and her brother toward the moored trade ship belonging to a cousin of the local bishop. They had been dining together when Siony arrived and informed them of their plight.

Riona paced the shingled shore, continually searching the rise of
forest to the west for any sign of the men, while the remaining orphans huddled under a blanket one of the priests provided. From Wicklow they could make their way to safety at Dromin. It wasn’t the answer to all their problems, of course, for Wicklow was a far cry from the high king and a fair hearing for Kieran, but at least the little ones would be safe. As for Kieran …

Riona shuddered, recalling his contempt.
Father, please spare him
.

“The tide’s favoring you, milady,” the captain remarked, drawing Riona from her quiet plea. “The prayers of the righteous have made it linger longer than I expected, but we must soon be away.”

Before Riona could reply, she thought she caught movement among the shadows of the trees beyond the beachhead. Staring as if sheer will might produce Kieran and his company, she held her reply on the tip of her tongue. Whether the result of her will or a far more powerful one, a horse and rider broke free of the forest’s cloak, followed by another. The steeds made short work of the distance, and before long, Gray Macha’s hooves scattered clods of moss and sand on the shore as Kieran pulled the reins up short.

Riona rushed up to him and leaped into his arms. “Thank God you’re safe! I’d begun to think the worst.”

Kieran held her suspended, her toes brushing the damp earth, before lowering her with a reluctant sigh. “We rode to the church first. The brothers sent us here.”

Bran swung a long leg over his horse’s head and dismounted, while Fynn slid off the back. The lad rushed over to Riona, his voice filled with excitement.

“You should have seen it, milady!” He pointed at Kieran. “He was running in and amongst the soldiers shouting, ‘There they go! No, there!’ until they were running into each other. For all they knew he was one of their own, what with that tunic.”

“Half their horses are on their way to Kilmare, and the other half will take the rest of the night to find them in the woods,” Bran chimed in, face flushed with the excitement.

“An’ Silver Tooth is swearin’ and cursin’ at all of them till he runs up on Gleannmara’s sword.”

Riona spun at Kieran, incredulous. “We agreed that taking Tadgh was too risky.”

Kieran shrugged. “He ran right to me.”

Weakness spiraled through her belly. “And you killed him?”

“Not exactly.” Kieran sucked in his cheeks to check the smile pulling at his mouth. “ ’Twas his decision to swim in the river.”

“I never seen a man his size run so fast.” Fynn laughed. “An’ milord here swattin’ at ’is heels, with fat Mebh after him with a hay fork.” The lad’s estimation of Kieran had definitely escalated. He looked at the warrior as if the sun rode on one broad shoulder and the moon on the other. “The last we saw ’im, he was headed for sea.”

Riona’s lips thinned to a bloodless line. She’d escaped alone into the night with small children, her heart lodged in her throat with fear that they’d all wind up at Maille’s mercy. She’d paced and fretted, worrying that the men had not been as lucky as she to get away unscathed. And all the while, they’d risked capture to make a great adventure out of the affair, having fun with the slaver and Maille’s henchmen. It was more than her frazzled nerves would bear.