Riona (25 page)

Indebted for covering his reckless insistence on keeping the sword, Kieran followed Marcus to the rear of the wagon as the crowd disbursed. Riona couldn’t hear exactly what was said, but they grasped arms in a manly fashion. As they broke away, however, Marcus rushed up and planted a kiss on Kieran’s cheek. Before the shocked Gleannmara could react, the jongleur bounded away.

“Try that again, you trip-toed nettlewit, and yon sword will spin
you
on it’s tip!”

Why Marcus delighted in plucking Gleannmara’s temper was beyond Riona. But then, gleemen were known for walking on the edge of life with neither home, nor family, nor country for protection. Face
mottled with embarrassment and indignation, Kieran turned to where Aidan and his men chortled with glee.

“I’d speak to these merry people about entertaining us at the Lion’s Tooth, but I must be off,” Aidan said. “Bring them tonight, Gleannmara.” The Dalraidi king turned and nodded to Riona. “Now about that horse.”

Gray Macha was of such magnificent proportion that not even his color diminished the regard of Kieran’s company. Finella warned the stable hand that the dye wasn’t likely to wash out, but the man left with high hopes.

Once the company from Scotia Minor departed and Kieran left to fetch the newly washed leines, Riona and the children gathered around the campfire to partake of the hot, creamy porridge Finella prepared. Fynn, who’d watched the entire scene from a bird’s-eye view in a nearby tree, joined them, fingering his siblings’ new cloaks in admiration.

“I been thinkin’,” he said, helping himself to a cup of the hot meal. “If Dallan’ll have me, I could make my way with the people. I made a handful of coin last night doin’ this and that.”

“Aye, you could, Fynn, but what of us? We need you.” Riona was certain it never occurred to Kieran when he purchased the expensive brats for the twins that the older boy would feel slighted. He dealt with warriors, not children.

“Not if you marry Gleannmara.”

“I’m here to help Kieran, Fynn, not to marry him.”

“He’d never take us anyway. Leastwise not me.” Fynn scraped the spoon on the wooden rim of his bowl. I don’t even like him.”

“I do.” Liex chewed his thoughtfully. “Sometimes,” he qualified. “Like when he buys me something and isn’t mad.”

“He just bought you something because he’s stuck with us and wouldn’t have you look like a ragged gleeman’s whelp in front of his high and mighty friends.”

“Don’t you think that’s harsh, lad?” Finella came around from the other side of the wagon, leaving Dallan and Marcus to chat with a few of the onlookers from the earlier performance. “To hear you talk, you
think less of our kind than Kieran does.”

“That’s not true!” the boy declared hotly. “Maithar always said it wasn’t the clothes that made the man.”

“Your mother was right,” Riona agreed. “It’s what’s in a man’s heart that counts. That makes everyone here as good as a king or queen.”

“So you’re not going to marry him?”

The plea in Fynn’s dark eyes was enough to wring her heart wrong side out. So why was she hesitating? She had no intention—

“I should think that the three of you would be plotting to convince the lady to marry him,” Finella exclaimed. “He’s a bit high-handed and stubborn at times, but I’m a good judge of character, and Gleannmara is a decent man for all this faults.”

“I don’t care how good he is, he doesn’t want us.”

“Then make him want you, Fynn me boy.”

The elder lad sat up and eyed her warily. “Why?”

Finella leaned forward on her elbows. “Because you and these babes would have a real home, with kin to stand by you.” She grimaced, thinking a moment before speaking again in a secretive tone. “I’m going to tell you somethin’, lad. My father is lord of a tuath in Connaught. I ran away with Dallan, and, I’m tellin’ no lie, I’ve loved every moment of this life with him and Marcus. But someday, our dream is to raise our babes on land of our own, maybe to own a hostelry.” She waved, taking in their surroundings. “This is no life for children. I’ve lived both and I know.”

“Have you ever thought of going home?” Riona asked gently.

Finella blinked away the wet haze that gathered in her eyes. “ ’Tis too late. Maithar died, and father lost the land in a feud, so I’ve heard.”

Riona’s mind raced neck to neck with her heart. “I have land in Dromin. It’s near a river ford between two major sliges. If you and Dallan—”

Finella shook her head. “Don’t be getting my hopes up, milady. You’ve not made your own nest yet.” She straightened suddenly, staring past Riona.

Turning, Riona saw a man pushing a small cart toward them.

“Excuse me, good people, but I’m looking for a traveling troupe of a man by the name o’ Dallan.”

Finella rose and put her hands on her hips, eyeing the wares displayed in the vehicle. “Well, you’ve found them, sirrah. But we’ve no need for dry goods.”

The vendor scowled. Taking off his knit hat, he scratched his shaggy head as though to clear his obvious confusion. “But the lord of Gleannmara gave me a sum for a young man’s brat and sent me here for his lady or the young master himself to pick out the cloth.”

Astonished, Riona turned to Fynn, who returned her look with one just as blank.

Finella took charge with her usual aplomb and slapped a hand on Fynn’s shoulder. “Then bring the cart over, man, for here’s the young master himself.”

T
he size of a small village and built for hospitality, the Lion’s Tooth was well prepared, with both private and public accommodations for the inundation of guests. Spread over a great expanse on the well-tended green near the fairgrounds, it brimmed with the comings and goings of its wealthy guests and their retinues at the great hall and its sundry private lodges, including the extra cottars erected on its perimeter for the unusual influx of people brought in by the synod.

Servants scurried to and fro with platters of food from the massive kitchen. Boys tended additional cook fires outside, over which entire sides of venison, beef, and pork roasted. One was protected from rain by a thatched dome, where a massive mechanical spit turned at least thirty wild fowl at once, all under the watchful eyes of the cook staff.

Inside the great hall, skins and kegs of ale were distributed by serving wenches along the low tables and benches, where trencher after trencher of food continued to come in full and leave empty. Dogs growled, establishing their dominion under the tabletops for the sake of the stray cat that braved to enter, while laughter and lively conversation engaged all around.

In a new brat of variegated cloth that boasted all the colors of autumn and a bronze clasp, Fynn walked in among the bruden’s revelers, strutting like a prince, his wonder-filled siblings flanking him. This was the kind of scene they may have viewed from the outside while their parents performed in a raised balcony above the floor level, but never from amid the audience itself. Riona doubted they’d even eaten at a table until coming to the abbey.

The heat of so many bodies and the lingering warmth of the late spring day was enough to rob one of breath, she thought as she looked among the revelers for Kieran. Thankfully, she’d been settled with the children in a small, private lodge assigned to the king of Gleannmara’s
company. They were to join her foster brother in the main hall for their meal.

Across the expanse of the hall, she spied Finella playing her harp. The clear strains of her voice and the notes of the instrument were a contrast to the raucous gaiety of the guests. Just before entering, Riona had seen Dallan and Marcus strolling through the adjoining courtyard, but they’d been too intent on earning coin to notice her.

Feeling decidedly dowdy in her good dress, which was the least worn of her two garments, Riona surreptitiously watched the ladies seemingly float about in their finery. Her limited wardrobe was all she’d needed in the past months she’d spent at Kilmare, although a lady of her station was entitled to at least three times that in size by law. But that was the Brehon Law, not God’s, she reminded herself humbly. How easy it was to be distracted by earthly wants rather than needs outside the abbey.

A fair brought out the child in everyone, and she was no different from the children, who’d found a company of merchants vacating a table and were waving her over. At the same moment, she heard Kieran call out to her above the din.

“Riona!”

Seated among a group of richly bedecked peers and not the least self-conscious of his plain travel attire, the lord of Gleannmara rose and left on the table behind him the golden bracelet he wore about his forearm to reserve his place for his return. Shoving his brat behind him so that it hung more in capelike adornment of his leine than for unneeded warmth, he wove his way toward her. A comely red-haired serving maid braved the fierce but fading blue paint on his face and intercepted him. She filled the cup he carried to the brim, offering him even more with her seductive smile.

He took the flirtation in polite stride, but the fleeting glance he cast in Riona’s direction betrayed his awkwardness. It secretly pleased her, even though she intended to assure him he owed her no allegiance other than that of a friend. As such she’d risked much to come to Drumceatt to help him clear his name. Riona would count on his friendship and protection in enabling her to provide a home for the
children. To ask more, even though he’d graciously given it in providing the little ones with costly brats fit for noble fosterage, was unthinkable. God’s direction was to take only what was needed that there might be enough for others.

“The bruden’s master is pleased with Dallan’s people, though should an honored bard decide to entertain of his own accord, the opportunity for such an honor would not go untaken,” Kieran stipulated.

“I’m certain our gleemen are grateful for yours and Aidan’s help in placing them with this generous audience.” Indeed, the performers would make more here, where mostly scholars of music and poetry frequented, than from their usual lot of entertaining the merchant class and peasantry.

“I pay my debts,” her foster brother reminded her. “And I am beholden to them. Two days ago, I wondered that I’d live to see this.”

“Finella has a gift with herbs,” Riona agreed, “but do not overexert yourself.” She traced the faint lines of strain about his eyes with her fingers. “You look weary.”

Would that she looked as fine. In a similar state, she could well imagine her haggard appearance. God surely favored men in strain and aging, perhaps because they didn’t have enough sense to take care of themselves. With children and men to watch over, women often didn’t have the choice.

“Wait,” she called out, upon seeing the children tear into the platter of succulent ribs that a boy about Fynn’s age placed before them. “We have much to give thanks for,” she chided softly.

Drawing back greasy fingers in obedience, they licked them as they bowed their heads. The small spot in the big room grew painfully silent as each one waited for the other to ask the blessing. Leila giggled, which set Liex off. Fynn, reveling in the role of young master, gave both siblings a lofty scowl instead of his usual cuff on the head.

Her little family
. Pride mingled with delight tugged at the corners of Riona’s lips as she bowed her head. “Heavenly Father, Your benevolence overwhelms us. You bring us safe and sound to this place, place a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, food in our bellies, and
nourish our souls with Your boundless love. May all this be proclaimed in your glory. Amen.”

“Amen,” Liex and Fynn chimed in.

Leila bobbed her head, then looked up and grinned at Kieran.

Hastily, Riona added. “And we thank You, Lord, for Kieran’s healing and for
his
protection and generosity.”

“I was beginning to wonder if I’d get credit for any of our blessings,” her foster brother remarked dourly. “It comes fast enough when something goes awry.”

Riona gave him an understanding smile. “Aye, I’m sure God feels the same way all too often.”

Instead of a quick retort, Kieran pondered her words a moment but was distracted by the mad scramble for food beside him. “Here, here,” he warned. “No one is going to take it away until you’ve had your fill. Now take a flat of bread and put what you want to eat upon it. Don’t eat from the charger.”

As if to start over, Leila offered him a large roasted rib with one small bite nibbled from its middle, then primly pulled a round of bread from the stack next to the meat platter.

“You eat it,” he chuckled. “I’ve had my fill. Fynn, my lad, keep an eye on our charges. I’ll be with Aidan’s company for a while and will meet you all at the lodging later.”

If Fynn swelled any more with himself, he’d burst, Riona thought.

“Not much later,” she reminded Kieran.

“Aye,
maithar
dearest.” With a mocking bow, he danced backward like Marcus and headed to the place held by his armband.

“Hah! He called you
mother,”
Liex chortled with glee.

“When I’m grown,” Fynn observed, ignoring his sibling’s outburst, “I’ll bet I have the ladies trailing after me like Gleannmara does.” Envy burned in his dark eyes as he watched yet another serving maid try to fill the lord’s already brimming cup.

“Why? Women are a nuisance,” Liex objected with all the authority of his six years. “They pinch and give wet kisses.
Most
of them,” he added, remembering Riona’s presence. “Mothers’ kisses are okay.”

Riona laughed out loud. “I am much relieved, sir.” Leaning over,
she kissed the ruddy-cheeked lad atop the head.

The ribs were rubbed in herbs and basted in a tasty vinaigrette, so good that Riona ate more than she was accustomed to. Wild greens and parsnips, venison pastries, and puddings of every description were enough to make even her eyes widen with wonder.

“Let’s not forget the alms baskets,” she said at the end of the meal, feeling guilty for eating so much. Liex, who was about to toss the rest of his trencher of bread under the table to the mongrel that had already been overcome with tasty bones, dutifully put the remainder in the basket set aside for the poor. There was one at every table. Periodically, the servants replaced them when they were filled. The food would be carried out and distributed to the needy.