Niall, Lachlann, Aldred and Thomasina had arrived just as the beheading was about to commence. They had walked toward the gathering of townsmen. Thomasina could make out a well-dressed man on a horse in the center. The local lord. She’d pressed in between a tiny, gray-haired woman and a man with a large, ugly lump on the side of his neck. A huge man was shoved to his knees, barely able to keep from falling. The broad shoulders. The long hair down his back. Her heart began to race.
Her jaw dropped. Her gasp cut off by Lachlann’s hand covering her mouth. He’d lifted her clear off the ground to carry her in the opposite direction. She’d twisted against his hold and did her best to kick him anywhere she could make contact. Her fighting instinct surprised her but not him. He’d been ready. Niall and Aldred had stayed behind. All she knew was she had to save Sean. Lachlann carried her deep into the woods where they’d left their horses and refused to release her.
The sobbing started immediately, from deep inside. Some well of emotion began to spew and she couldn’t control it. Lachlann turned to cradle her in his arms.
“Shhh.”
“Nae. Nae, they canna kill him.”
“Wait. Wait and see what Niall finds out.”
“He’ll be dead. We’re too late.”
“Shh, now. I dunna believe ye found the man just to have him ripped away from ye.”
“Ye’re wrong. He’s dead.”
Niall and Aldred burst through the trees and dropped in an exhausted heap at her feet. Niall shook his head.
“Nae—” He gasped for air. “He’s not dead.”
Lachlann released his hold and she threw herself at Niall, grabbing at his tunic. “Tell me! Is he safe?”
“I dunna… something about Peter.”
Lachlann’s face screwed up in confusion. “Brighit’s Peter?”
Niall took a few deep gulps of air. “Nae. Yea! They were going to kill him but he mentioned Peter of Normandy… he said they were south of York.”
Lachlann’s eyes widened. “Then they are the same. How does he ken them?”
All eyes turned to Thomasina. She shrugged. “He didna tell me much of himself.”
Niall blew a steady breath. “Let me think. He said Peter was kinsman to their clan.” He turned to Thomasina. “He is from Eire?”
“Yea. That’s where he was going when I took my horse back.”
They stared at her. They didn’t ask the obvious, she decided not to elaborate, and they turned to each other.
“Brighit was from Eire.” Lachlann’s eyebrows rose with his speculation. “And we did think the men with her might have abducted her.”
Aldred scratched the whiskers on his chin. “Something wasna right there, that’s true enough.”
“Yea, then we found her with Peter and they were under attack.” Niall laughed. “I dunna ken what that was about.”
“But ye and Aldred brought the little man and his friends to the coast for Peter, did ye not?” Lachlann’s tone held his disbelief. “Did they say nothing?”
“We were not listening to their blathering. We were glad to be rid of him,” Niall said.
“Ye had the better end of the trade with that little fox hugging ye the whole way to Tanshelf.” Aldred’s wide eyes and raised brows accused Lachlann right back.
Lachlann grinned. “Aye, she was a fair lass with her auburn hair and huge, brown eyes. And her bre—”
Thomasina glared at him. “So what of the man named Peter? Sean said he knew him?”
“So he must be from Brighit’s clan in Eire. Mayhap he was here for her?”
Thomasina’s heart lurched at the idea of Sean coming all this way for some woman named Brighit.
“He said Peter would vouch for him. They sent messengers to York so he is safe for the time being.”
Sean sat with his legs secured by a heavy chain threaded through a solid iron hook driven into the ground. He’d spent the first hour trying to pull the thing out the ground. Then half the night using the chain itself as a lever. He’d yanked up with a steady force until his arms could no longer handle the heavy weight. The thing hadn’t moved.
He lifted one leg as far as he could without causing the other to move. It was quite an ingenuous device. He had several yards of chain if he kept one foot close to the post but if he pulled it through, he could shuffle around it.
The ground was hard and cold. His limbs were cramping up. He had been smelling meat roasting for an hour now. His stomach continued to growl. He scooted back and leaned his shoulder against the tree stump behind him. It was going to be a long day.
A bat flew out from the trees to his left. He leaned forward and waited. A small dark figure emerged from the forest. It seemed to drift toward him, shifting in the darkness. He rubbed his tired eyes.
“Leave me. I’ve nothing more to tell ye.” Sean leaned back again.
“Nothing to say to me?”
Ivan.
Outrage washed over him. Sean jumped to his feet, wincing as pain shot through every part of his battered body. He turned to the man who was just now visible. “Ye dare show yer face?”
Ivan stopped just shy of Sean being able to reach him.
“Why not?” Ivan opened his upturned hands. “You are a man. I am a man. We have much in common.”
“We have nothing in common. Ye’re the worst kind of man. Ye’re a scoundrel, not even a man.”
“Why? Because I turned you in?”
“Yea, we call that bearing false witness where I come from.” Sean was surprised at his own unexpected outburst. He wasn’t the best Christian but apparently he listened to something the village priest said.
“’Tis where I come from as well.” Ivan tipped his head. “I just believe the ends may justify the means.”
“Ye’ll burn in hell.” Sean faced straight ahead.
Ivan shook his head with deliberation before he spoke. “I’m not certain you understand the tight spot you’re in here.”
He paused as if waiting to see if Sean would respond. He did not.
“No messengers have been sent to York. There will be no word from Peter of Normandy.”
Sean turned toward him at that. The enormity of the situation sunk into his tired brain. The Normans wanted him dead.
“The soldiers believe they have their man. And I, naturally, reassured them when they came to question me yet again.”
Sean’s sense of his surroundings intensified. The smell of the dung heap. The moss growing along the well. The ocean waves in the distance. He ground his teeth together to keep from responding. The fear coiling in his belly would surely be heard in his voice.
“Nothing to say? Well,” Ivan reached beneath his cloak and withdrew a heavy metal object, “I have something to say.”
The key to Sean’s leg iron. Ivan held it up in front of him like a carrot before a stubborn mule. Sean still refused to speak. If he didn’t speak, Ivan could only guess how he’d be feeling. Sean felt angry enough to rip the man’s head from his body with his two bare hands.
“I understand you may have… acted hastily when confronted by all that bloodshed.”
Sean shifted. Ivan smiled.
“Come now, even a warrior can have too much. Yes? And that sweet little morsel you held in your arms? Mmm, a piece of that would be worth getting away for.”
Rage swept like a fire through his chest and Sean lunged at the man. Ivan stepped back, his eyes widening in fear. He snorted then laughed when he realized he was beyond Sean’s grasp.
“Now. Now. That’s no way to behave. And me with the key to your freedom? Should I just leave you here?”
Sean’s lungs were ready to bust. If no one was going to come to save him, he would need to save himself. It hadn’t set well with him to be chained like this. Waiting.
“What do ye want?” Sean asked.
“Ah, now, you see? We can speak as men.”
Sean’s jaw ached from keeping his mouth shut. He gave the slightest nod.
“I knew you would see reason.” Ivan sat on the ground, just beyond Sean’s reach. He glanced up at him. A questioning expression.
Sean acquiesced and sat back down.
Ivan smiled again. The greasy smile of someone who was going to sell you something you didn’t want, at a price you couldn’t pay. “Good. Now, as I see it, you have every reason to want to agree to any bargain that can save your neck. Would I be correct?”
Sean nodded again.
“Well, let me explain my bargain.” The smile dropped from the little man’s face. “You will side with my Lord Godwin against these Normans and kill as many as need be.”
“Godwin?”
“Yes.” Ivan rolled his eyes as if Sean were the biggest idiot he’d ever come upon. “He is the rightful king. He is the only living male heir to the House of Godwin and nephew to King Harold who was overthrown by William.”
“I thought all Godwins were killed in battle. How did he survive the fighting?”
Ivan shifted, averting his eyes. Ah, a touchy subject.
This time Sean was the one who smiled. “Or should I be asking how did he avoid fighting?”
“Lord Leofrid does not need your condescension.” Ivan’s tone was thick with contempt. “He was not in the country when the attack happened.”
Many of the Godwins had been exiled to Eire over the years. Other clans welcomed them in. Perhaps family. For generations, the MacNaughton had always stayed clear of the power struggles going on across the water. Whether Danes, Gaels, or Saxons, they weren’t worth the trouble.
“It was more than an attack, Ivan. It was an ongoing battle. For months.”
“Yes but his father, Tostig, was quickly overrun both by his own brother and then the relentless Normans. They had no chance.”
“So how is it different now? The Normans are the ones who have all the power.”
Ivan smiled, his fat tongue gliding over his lips before he spoke. “Because now Leofrid has the backing of the MacLochlainn.”
“Of Inishowen? That’s quite a ways to go to get support for a cause over here.”
“There are others. Across Eire. But MacLochlainn has the thirst for power. The guts for the venture. They enjoy the fighting. Norman blood will spill until it runs like a river through the streets. Leofrid will be crowned king and their alliance—the Saxons and the Eire—will be too powerful for anyone to stop us.”
Ivan paused to catch his breath, his shoulders rising and falling with each gulp of air. He wiped the spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand.
Sean remained unmoved by Ivan’s impassioned speech. He couldn’t care less. What he did know was that he would get that key away from the man. He leaned forward as if moved by his words.
“An Eire man? Yea, that would be something to see.”
“Aye.” Ivan’s eyes widened. “You would have a place beside King Leofrid of England as one of his most trusted allies—if you help us. Why shouldn’t more men from our fair isle be in powerful positions here as well?”
“I can think of no reason. And he has no doubt he can do this? This Leofrid? He is powerful enough now? Ten years later?”
Ivan hesitated. His eyes narrowing. Sean felt certain Ivan assessed whether the insult was intended or if he should overlook the comment.
“Yes. He is finally ready.”
Sean stood, walking toward the man with an outstretched hand. His foot butted against the stake. His other leg stretched out the length of the chain. The insult was intentional. “I am behind him then. Together we will certainly win.”
Ivan stood as well. “I knew you would join us when you understood our purpose.”
This man was an idiot. “Of course. How could I not?”
Ivan moved in close and squatted down to insert the key into the solid lock securing the band at Sean’s ankle. Sean glanced the way Ivan had come but saw no one. He smiled then reached down to wrap the chain around Ivan’s neck. The man struggled against him, his small hands grabbing at the thick links held in Sean’s iron grip as he tightened his hold. The gurgling sounds eventually stopped. Sean unwrapped the fetter and shoved the lifeless body away, retrieving the key from beneath Ivan. He wiggled it into the lock—
“Ye should probably stop there.”
“Someone’s coming.”
Thomasina jumped at Niall’s quiet voice beside her. She’d been transfixed by witnessing Sean’s strength. His body fairly rippled with the powerful grip he’d had of the man, the chains manipulated as if they had weighed nothing. She took a slow, steadying breath. Without another word, Aldred and Lachlann jumped out from their hiding place to grab the body of the dead man and pull him into the woods. They dropped it beside her. His eyes, open and unseeing, bulged grotesquely. He stank. She clasped her hand over her nose and mouth and shifted to the side.
Sean’s initial expression of confusion and defense had quickly changed to relief when Lachlann and Aldred disappeared back into the woods, hiding the evidence of what had transpired. He resumed his seat back on the ground, the key safely hidden and the chains and irons still attached.
A Norman soldier came from between the two huts with a bucket of water. He turned toward Sean without even glancing their way. When he offered him the wooden ladle, Sean tipped his head in thanks then drank with loud slurping noises. Upon further inspection, Thomasina noticed the area around his mouth appeared mottled and one of his eyes looked swollen shut. She turned to ask Niall about it but he quickly held his finger to his mouth for her to keep silent.
“How long until the messenger returns from York?” Sean asked, his mouth moved awkwardly and his words sounded garbled.
The soldier shrugged then dropped a crust of bread beside him. “Best eat. Keep your strength up.”
Sean shoved the nourishment to his mouth. If he’d been tortured as badly as it looked, even the bread would be difficult for him to eat. She’d not thought of needing to care for him. She’d only thought of getting him back.
The four stayed hidden until the soldier returned to the main road. Lachlann was the first at Sean’s side. He took the key and started working it into the lock. Aldred stood watch behind him for anyone else. Niall offered his own water skin to Sean who drank again. The bread in his hand was barely touched but soaked with blood where he’d had it to his mouth.
“Oh, Sean,” Thomasina’s voice broke. She tore off a tiny piece of bread, dropped some of the water on it and brought to his blistering lips.
He closed his eye and accepted the nourishment into his mouth then drank again.
“Ye’re free.” Lachlann patted his leg, helped him to stand, then wrapped an arm around his body to take his weight as Niall led the way back into the woods.
They paused over the body they’d hidden for Sean.
“My thanks for that.” Sean shook his head then glanced between the other two men. “How long were ye here?”
“Long enough to hear his taunting,” Niall spoke, his tone solemn. “They’ve sent no one to verify yer story.”
“It appears not,” Sean said. “The lying bastard.”
“Oh, we ken Ivan,” Lachlann said. “He deserved to die… many times over.”
“After he’d been soundly beaten,” Aldred smirked.
Niall looked back toward the now empty chains. “We’d best move quickly.”
“Let us dump his body into the ocean!” Aldred said it as if he’d thought of a great game they could play. “The bastard’s body will be tossed up against the rocks as it deserves.”
Niall smiled back. “Yea. The beating he missed.”
“Stay here.” Lachlann settled Sean down then patted his leg in an affectionate gesture. Thomasina almost laughed at Sean’s shocked expression at the display. “We’ll be back anon.”
Niall took the legs. Lachlann the arms. Aldred went ahead to see that the path was clear. They traveled through the cover of the forest then were out of sight.
Thomasina became aware of the suddenly awkward situation. Sean’s eyes were closed. He seemed to be asleep. She reached toward the nasty looking swelling on the side of his head. His hand darted out to grab her wrist before she touched him.
“’Tis worse than it looks.” He still didn’t open his eyes.
She smirked. “How can ye ken that?”
“Yer concerned for me and ye need not be.” His voice was flat.
Thomasina turned her gaze to her hand. He released it immediately. She turned back but his eyes remained closed.
“How are ye doing that?”
“I’ve been able to ken yer thoughts since we met.”
She wasn’t certain if his tone warmed or if it was her imagination but her heart raced at the statement. “What do ye mean ‘ken my thoughts’?”
Sean started to take a deep breath but stopped, his grimace indicating the amount of pain he was in.
“Just sit still.”
She pulled the bread from where she’d tucked it inside her tunic.
His eye flew open. “I do not want it.”
She frowned. “But ye need yer nourishment to keep up yer strength.”
He closed his eyes. “I told ye. Ye need not be concerned.”
The three reappeared, minus one body, without a sound.
“Are ye able to travel Sean?” Lachlan questioned.
Sean stood with a wince that forced Thomasina to reach toward him. He turned on her. “Dunna even think about touching me.”
Lachlann reached around his back and took Sean’s weight again. He offered Thomasina a reassuring smile. “He meant he’s too heavy for ye to help.”
“Come with me and get the horses ready.” Niall took her hand, Aldred following behind. She didn’t feel right leaving Lachlann to deal with Sean and his broken body but her brother gave her no choice. He weaved his way through the trees to the horses.
“He is in a lot of pain.” She stated the obvious. “Who beat him so mercilessly?”
Niall mounted his horse. “He’ll tell us when he’s ready.”
He leaned down to bring her up behind him. Aldred mounted his horse but didn’t follow.
“Where is he going?” Thomasina asked.
“To see to the sheep.”
Niall and Thomasina traveled silently behind the buildings of the village, Lachlann’s horse in tow. Lachlann helped Sean onto the horse.
“I must find Tadhg’s knife,” Sean said.
Lachlann and Niall exchanged glances but shook their heads. “He is not right in the mind.”
“Tadhg is his kinsman. The knife was held until Daisy was returned.”
“Roana.” Sean’s weakened voice could barely be heard.
She looked at him, longing for a glimpse of that exasperated expression. Nothing.
“Yes, Roana. Sean needs to get the knife back. We need to find it.”
“The blacksmith’s,” Sean said.
Thomasina nibbled the inside of her lip. “Yea. We will find it.”
“And Daisy.” Sean sounded ready to pass out. He lurched to the side but Lachlann was there to hold him up.
“We need to get moving. When the soldiers find him gone, they’ll come looking for him.”
“Nae! He must have the knife!” Thomasina used her most demanding tone.
Niall searched her face but only nodded. “Take him up the hill. Tommy and I will catch up.”
Lachlann managed to mount his horse. He wrapped Sean’s arms around him and Thomasina would have laughed at the comical expression they both had if not for the seriousness of them getting caught. With a sure hold of Sean’s clasped hands, Lachlann kicked the horse into a trot. They didn’t have time to take an easy gait for Sean’s comfort.
Niall and Thomasina ducked into the blacksmith’s hut with the sunlight just making its presence known.
“So what does this knife look like?” Niall put his hands to his hips and glanced around the clutter.
Thomasina’s stomach dropped. “I dunna ken.”
Her brother’s piercing gaze said it all. How could she have not asked Sean about the knife? She swept her hair out of her face. “’Tis a knife. How many knives can there be?” She spied the coffer and went to it. “It has to be here.”
Thomasina picked up Sean’s shield that leaned against the side. His brat and sack were all there.
“These are Sean’s as well.”
“I will put them round back.”
Niall returned and they both knelt in front of the chest, poking around helmets, avoiding sharp blades, then started again. Top to bottom. Side to side.
“Damn. I see no knives.”
Niall sat on the floor, leaning his back against the chest. “’Tis of such great importance?”
“Aye. ’Tis to him! That I ken for certain—he had to get the knife back.” Irritation teased at her like a bug that wouldn’t leave. “I did have my horse back after our loving father gave her away, but I had to wait until Sean retrieved his precious knife before he would part with her.”
Niall frowned. “So Sean had Daisy?”
Thomasina glanced at her brother’s expression and wished she’d just kept her mouth shut about the whole thing. “It matters little now.”
A sudden alertness lit his eyes and he turned toward her. “So this man ye barely ken had yer horse?”
“This is immensely frustrating.”
“And look who we found here!”
Niall and Thomasina turned as one to see the man staggering toward them. Their father. They stood, Niall taking her by the hand as if to give her support.
“Been looking for ye, son. Ye been off kissing the arse of my brother again?”
His slurred speech gave no doubt of his condition.
“Father. And why would ye be looking for me except ye’re in need of my help?”
The smaller man shook his head and eyed his children. A critical assessment that ended with a scornful expression. “Ye two. Ye’ll be the death of me.”
Talking could be heard as people were approaching. Thomasina thought she recognized the voice of the blacksmith. She wished to be anywhere but here and squeezed Niall’s hand. He returned the gesture without looking toward her but nodded his head.
When they were children and the slightest wrong thing could set their father off, they learned to communicate without words. If the hand was squeezed and the other person understood, they’d squeeze back. She swallowed down the fear threatening to overtake her. Niall was here now. He would take care of this.
The blacksmith entered talking with another man. Thomasina reeled back at the sight of the gray-haired man with the ruddy complexion. Angus O’Reilly. When he looked at her, a smile of pleasure spread across his face. He stepped quickly toward her with an outstretched hand. Niall moved in front of her, cutting him off and stopping him from getting too close.
“What are ye about, boy? Step aside for Angus. He’s betrothed to our little Thomasina.”
Thomasina struggled to take a breath. Fear spread through her like a wildfire out of control.
“I’m not certain ye’re remembering correctly,” Niall’s voice faltered.
The sounds around them became muffled.
Their father stomped toward them. He stood nose to chest with Niall, an angry scowl across his face. “Do ye think I’m daft? I ken who my daughter’s betrothed to.”
Angus stayed where he was as did his smile. “Hello, Tommy.”
She shook her head. Niall squeezed her hand but didn’t budge. An anchor in her maelstrom.
“So the lad is the bride you went to retrieve?” The blacksmith narrowed his eyes at her. “Aye, Angus, I have your horse and apparently your bride. Let me go get Roana.”
Angus jerked his head toward the man. “Roana?”
Thomasina’s heart skipped a beat. A muffled shout of alarm sounded in the distance.
“Nae. The horse is named Daisy.” Angus turned back to her. “Tommy’s horse.”
She couldn’t speak. Niall squeezed her hand again. She couldn’t respond.
The blacksmith glanced at the man and shrugged. He continued out toward the back.
“She will be yers again when we’re wed. How have ye been, Tommy? I’ve been searching for ye.”
“Father!” Thomasina’s voice sounded hoarse. “What are ye about?”
She looked him up and down, searching for the sack of coins that Sean had thrown at him. His bloodshot eyes revealed nothing. Not that he was lying. Not that he had seen her just the day before. Not that he knew anything other than what he was saying.
“I’ve married my precious daughter off to a good man.” He stepped closer to Angus, wrapping an arm around the taller man’s shoulder. “He’ll treat ye right.”
A few soldiers passed by outside. “The Norman slayer has escaped.”
She squeezed Niall’s hand again. He dropped his head.
The blacksmith stopped in the road at the front of his shop. “Fed and watered and good as new.”
Angus turned to the horse and reached inside his pocket. Thomasina watched in horror as he pulled out the sack of coins that Sean had given to her father. He opened it, took out a coin, and passed to the blacksmith with a smile. “I thank ye.”
“Did Father give ye the coins, then?” Thomasina kept her voice quiet. Fear was turning to rage.
“Aye. Quite a dowry ye come with.” Angus shot her a quick smile.
“That’s quite a feat considering—” Thomasina started.
“She no longer comes with a dowry.” Niall faced the man and spoke in a strong voice. “My father was ostracized from our clan. He lost everything.”
Angus’ eyes narrowed. “What are ye saying?”
“Those are the coins to pay off my father’s debt to ye.”
“To hell with ye, boy! That’s her dowry. Just as I said.” Their father’s brows slashed down in anger, his fist curling at his side. “Dunna be telling lies about us.”
When their father moved to grab Thomasina’s arm, Niall shoved him away.
“Ye’re not touching her.” He faced Angus’ angry expression. “Nor are ye. She’s betrothed to another.”
“There’s been no such agreement.” Their father, barely able to keep from falling at his son’s push, puffed his chest out and turned to the other man. “The boy’s daft.”
“’Tis a done deed,” Niall said.
Silence fell over them like a blanket. Thomasina held her breath feeling as if she were facing a pack of wolves. One false move and they’d be jumping on her, ripping her apart. She glanced between the two of them and waited. More shouting outside. Her father scrunched up his face, looking to be rummaging through his sodden brain to pick up any trace of the event actually happening. A long few minutes passed before he finally spoke.
“Ye’ve given up yer innocence then?”
“’Tis rightfully due her husband and no one else.” Niall intercepted her having to answer. His avoidance of the question caused Thomasina’s heart to soar. “Ye dunna debate the truth of that, do ye, father?”
Angus’ face darkened with his fury. He stepped closer to Niall and when he would have grabbed at Thomasina, her brother stopped his hand short. He gripped the older man’s wrist. His lips disappeared into a tight, thin line.
“Dunna be touching what’s not yers.” Niall’s expression curled in a scornful scowl.
The man didn’t speak at first. He looked to be measuring Niall’s mettle. As if he could see inside his soul and learn if he was telling the truth. Thomasina prayed with all her might that he could not.
Angus glanced where Niall’s hand held his arm. He ripped it from Niall’s grip. Despite his advanced years, this man was quite strong. If he ever took hold of her in anger, there was no telling how she would survive.
“If ye’re lying to me, boy, I’ll find out. And I’ll have her myself—once and for all.”
Angus turned to Thomasina, leering at every inch of her most intimately before smiling. A wide smile that spoke of his long held desire to take her.
Her stomach clenched.
He turned back to Niall. “And I’ll slice yer throat just for the hell of it.”
The man snorted and turned toward their father. “Ye’ve not paid enough. Not nearly enough.”
He stomped toward Daisy. The blacksmith backed away, allowing the other man to mount unassisted. Without a backward glance, Angus rode away.
Their father scratched his head. “Guess that’s done with.”
Niall was beside himself with anger. “What are ye playing at? Ye’d give him Thomasina? He’s a defiler of women and children.”
Their father’s eyes seemed to focus on Niall. Intently. An expression Thomasina hadn’t seen on him for quite some time. He stepped closer and tipped his head before he spoke. “Were ye lying?”
Nae!” Niall answered without hesitation, his tone adamant.
Their father’s eyes held his. She couldn’t be certain but he looked as if he’d noticed something in Niall’s tone. Niall had sounded a bit too… forceful. Thomasina swallowed. For the smallest second, she feared he was about to call Angus back and tell him it was all a lie. Then their father stepped back, his hands dropping to his sides.
Niall kneeled down and picked up something from the ground. He took Thomasina’s hand and led her out to his horse around back. Their father watched but said nothing.
Once mounted, they headed away from the village, following the narrow path that led to the top of the rise where the cave was. Neither spoke.