The Faithful Heart (39 page)

 

“Ruairc always was the luckiest of the three of us,” Morgana heard
Brendan sigh as he worked.

 

 

Then he brought a basin of water and pressed a cool compress to her
aching jaw. He stroked the cloth down over her neck to the tops of
her breasts, where the shirt parted. Morgana tried not to jump as
she wondered desperately what she should do. When he got too close
for comfort, she let a small groan out of her, and opened her eyes,
appearing to squint blearily.

 

 

“Morgana, are you awake? Morgana?” Brendan called to her softly.

 

 

She groaned again and tried to sit up.

 

 

Her cry of pain was genuine as Morgana’s whole world spun dizzily.
She fell back onto the pillow clutching her skull with one hand, and
Brendan’s arm with the other.

 

 

“Good God, my head!” she cried, desperately trying to focus her
eyes.

 

 

“It’s me, Morgana, Brendan MacMahon. Do you know where you are, or
what’s happened to you?”

 

 

“Brendan? Thank God. Where are you, I can’t see you,” Morgana
moaned, her words a mixture of lies and truth, for though she
certainly remembered where she was, her vision was no more than a
grey fog.

 

 

“You’ve hit your head out hunting, that’s all. I’m going to bring
you back to Carrickdoo and look after you there,” Brendan said in
evident worry, as she stared at him unseeingly.

 

 

He called to some of the men to fetch his horse and a cart.

 

 

“I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble, really. If you could
just escort me safely back to Lisleavan, I’m sure my father will
look after me,” Morgana said cleverly.

 

 

Brendan paused for a second and then cleared his throat. “Your
father, sister and Ruairc are all away down in Dublin. They would
never forgive me if I were to let anything happen to you,” he lied.

 

 

“Don’t even mention Ruairc to me, not after what he’s done! No, if
you won’t bring me back to Lisleavan, then take me to the convent at
Kilgarven. I’m meant to be entering my novitiate there any day now,
though I can’t remember exactly when,” Morgana said.

 

 

Brendan touched her forehead with his hand and checked her for any
signs of fever. He waved a finger in front of Morgana’s face, and
saw that the unusual violet eyes, the colour of rare amethysts,
didn’t register anything.

 

 

“Don’t be silly, you’re welcome to stay as my guest at Carrickdoo,
and I won’t take no for an answer. Come, my dear, put your arms
around my neck, and I’ll take you back there,” Brendan insisted, as
he wrapped his arms around her waist and began to lift her.

 

 

Morgana’s ploys having thus far failed, she knew she had little
choice but to comply. If Brendan and Dermot were convinced she had
lost her memory, then it was only a matter of time before she would
find a way to escape and warn Lisleavan of the MacMahons’ plans.

 

 

As for her loss of vision, Morgana had heard of people who lost
their sight temporarily after a blow to the head. She had felt his
hand waft air across her face as he had waved it back and forth, but
it had been nothing more than a dim gray image.

 

 

She was worried about her relative helplessness at the hands of the
MacMahon brothers, but she was not unduly concerned. She see well
enough to get away is she had to.

 

 

But Morgana began to make up her mind that this was really for the
best. She could use her enforced time at Carrickdoo to learn more
about Dermot and Brendan’s plans, and perhaps even win Brendan over.
  

 

 

Brendan was twenty-two to her eighteen, six years younger than
Ruairc, and easily manipulated if Dermot’s treatment of him were
anything to judge by. Morgana recalled that Ruairc had often
expressed his worries about how his younger brother had been led
astray by Dermot and the O’Reillys over the years that he had been
fostered at Magnus’ household in Cavan. Was it possible the young
man still had a shred of decency left in him somewhere, even if he
had participated in Conor’s death?

 

 

Morgana looped her arms around Brendan’s neck, and tried not to
shrink from his touch as she felt him clutch her body to his
possessively.

 

 

“No need to be so tense, I won’t drop you,” Brendan whispered softly
against her silken auburn hair.

 

 

“It’s very frightening not being able to see,” Morgana replied
quickly, as he carried her along the corridor.

 

 

“What on earth do you think you’re doing!” Dermot bellowed.

 

 

Brendan carried her outside to the waiting cart. “Wait here a
moment.”

 

 

Morgana closed her eyes and feigned sleep, while she strained to
hear their conversation in the convent gateway.

 

 

The gist of Brendan’s argument was that Morgana’s memory of the past
two years since Conor’s death seemed to have disappeared, and that
she was blind. Therefore, it made no sense to keep her in the
convent when the Spanish soldiers were going to arrive at any moment
in the next week or two.

 

 

“Plus, we need to keep her out of Aofa’s way. Who's to say she
wouldn’t poison Morgana, or the whole lot of us come to that, if it
suited her purposes!” Brendan argued with evident concern.

 

 

Dermot grunted and gave in. “There is sense in what you say, but I
warn you, little brother, if you let her escape, or try to take
advantage of her, you will pay dearly for it!”

 

 

The argument at an end for the moment, Morgana felt the cart weighed
down for a brief second, and then Brendan slid back to sit beside
her, and then gave orders for the vehicle to drive off.

 

 

Morgana pretended to doze for most of the journey, while she
wondered what the others would make of this turn of affairs when
they found out. Morgana hoped the men left behind in the woods had
seen her, and were following along at a discreet distance.

 

 

In some ways Morgana also prayed to be rescued, but she knew she
could learn much about the brothers’ plans just by just keeping her
ears open. Her vision wasn’t completely gone, merely very fuzzy.
Morgana could see the countryside when the sun peeped out of the
clouds. Perhaps she could find papers and correspondence to
incriminate the MacMahons, in case her own family were accused of
plotting with the Spanish, she thought hopefully. But above all,
Morgana knew she simply had to resign herself to waiting patiently
while events took their course.

 

 

 

Back at Lisleavan, Ruairc bellowed, “What do you mean, she was taken
captive! How on earth could you have been so stupid as to let her
go!”

 

 

Finn was glad he had gone against Morgana’s orders and kept Ruairc
locked up in the dungeon, for he was sure Ruairc would have ripped
him limb from limb had he been free.

 

 

“They went up to the convent to help bury the dead, but Morgana was
suspicious, and so Owen and Fintan went on ahead to see who was
using the convent now that the nuns were dead. They both swear it
was Aofa who answered the door to them, gave them a drink of water,
and sent them on their way as quickly as she could without arousing
any undue suspicion.

 

 

“So Morgana decided to go in, pretending that she was returning to
the convent. She was in there for about an hour, and then they
brought her out, laid her in a cart, and brought her to Carrickdoo,”
Finn explained.

 

 

“What do you mean, laid her in a cart?” Ruairc barked.

 

 

“Well, Fintan stayed behind to keep an eye on things, and he said
that when she came out, Morgana had a bandage around her head, and
had to be carried by a tall, dark-haired man.”

 

 

“Black hair or brown?” Ruairc demanded.

 

 

Finn frowned. “Brown, I’m fairly sure he said dark brown hair, and
thin.”

 

 

“My brother Brendan, I would guess,” Ruairc muttered, taking some
small comfort from the fact that Dermot hadn’t killed her outright
or had her at his mercy. “Go on. Tell me about Morgana.”

 

 

“That’s it really, there was a bandage around her head, and her face
was all bruised and swollen, Fintan said,” Finn concluded.

 

 

“By God, when I get my hands on them....” Ruairc growled.

 

 

“Ruairc, calm yourself. You might be able to turn this situation to
our advantage if you just calm down. Now think for a minute! Did
Aofa know you were going to the convent with Morgana?” Finn
demanded.

 

 

“No, I was meant to take her down to Dublin myself, but I lied and
said I was going to go visit the O’Donnells one more time, and then
return to Dublin myself in a few days,” Ruairc replied more calmly.

 

 

“So for all they know, then, since Aofa’s disappearance, you have
been in Dublin, not here?” Finn asked.

 

 

“That’s right.”

 

 

Finn hesitated, wishing Morgana were there to advise him. He arrived
at his decision, and at last he spoke reluctantly. “There are two
other things you should know first, Ruairc, before you get any more
deeply involved in this.”

 

 

“And they are?” Ruairc queried worriedly.

 

 

“The first is that Morgana has discovered the reason for the
dissolution of the monasteries and the killing of the nuns, as well
as the presence of all that treasure, and those gowns. That
ammunition you claim you saw coming down the mountain pass is being
loaded into the three religious houses in preparation for the
landing of a Spanish invasion force, probably at Kesh, maybe even at
Lisleavan itself.”

 

 

Ruairc slumped down the wall until he was sitting again, and held
his head in his hands. “Dear God, what have those madmen done!”

 

 

“Morgana is convinced that their ultimate goal is to set Princess
Mary on the throne, hence the gowns and treasure from her uncle the
Emperor. I needn’t tell you what will happen if they invade here.
Either way, the Maguires will be dragged into whether we like it or
not,” Finn stated in a grim tone.

 

 

“Sweet Jesus, I can't believe even Dermot and Brendan would be so
lost to prudence and decency as to allow a foreign force to invade
their own homeland,” Ruairc moaned.

 

 

“And because the Spanish soldiers are arriving on Irish-built
Maguire ships, we will be attainted of treason if they fail.”

 

 

“And if we fight we will be cut to pieces!” Ruairc returned bitterly
as he looked at Finn.

 

 

“We're trying to consider all possible alternatives at the moment,
Ruairc, but perhaps one of them might be for you to act as an
intermediary, to help us bargain, and agree to terms with your
brothers,” Finn suggested in a tentative tone.

 

 

“And why on earth should I parley with those traitors and
murderers?”

 

 

“Because your employer the Earl of Kildare’s son, Silken Thomas, has
started a bloody rebellion in Dublin,” Finn informed Ruairc.

 

 

“Are you sure?” Ruairc exclaimed as he rose to his feet and clung to
the bars of the cell.

 

 

“We’ve had a message from the O’Neill, warning us that the Pale is
in an uproar. His old ally’s fortunes are in decline. He has warned
us that we and other Gaelic clans should resist the temptation to
capitalise on the turmoil, since it might mean serious reprisals on
the part of the English should they take desperate measures to put
down the rebellion,” Finn informed him.

 

 

“With the Spanish invasion and Kildare rebellion occurring
simultaneously, and with you having been up here in Maguire
territory, it might look very bad for our
sept
if the
English start looking for someone to blame. They might even attaint
us of treason to get hold of our lands,” Finn spelt out the
implications for Ruairc fully.

 

 

Ruairc sighed. “Regardless of whether the Spanish succeed, we will
have dozens of dead on our hands. The Maguire clan won’t be able to
recover from this.”

 

 

“That’s why we want to know if you're willing to go over to
Carrickdoo to see Morgana, see if she is all right, and discuss
terms with your brothers.”

 

 

“There must be another way. I feel like a traitor to all I have ever
loved or believed in by not trying to get revenge for Conor’s and
Morgan’s deaths. My brothers and Aofa were responsible, of that I am
certain. How can I go to them cap in hand and ask for Morgana back,
when I know this to be true?”

 

 

“I'm not saying we won’t fight, Ruairc. I'm simply pointing out that
we need to buy time. That's why she went into the convent in the
first place, don’t you see? She wanted to gain more time for us to
prepare for the invasion. If they have Morgana, they will never
guess we are getting ready for them. The O’Donnell men and Tiarnach
O’Connor are on their way here now to discuss strategyu, and
determine whether we should repulse them on the coast, or let them
into the lough and then try to trap them.”

 

 

“Right, you’re the sea captains, so I shall leave that for you to
decide. What do you want me to do now?”

 

 

“We can’t have you going in straight away, or they might get
suspicious. We will just have to wait a few days, and then you can
go to Carrickdoo, claim that you have just arrived back from the
O’Donnells home, and act as if you know nothing of all this. Then we
shall see.”