Branded By Etain (12 page)

“Is Étaín well?”

Surprised by the barked question and the king’s hostile expression, Brand stumbled, righted himself, and tucked one thumb under his sword belt. Determined to jolt Mac Eiccnigh out of his passivity in the face of the imminent invasion, Brand stated, his tone rougher than normal, “Aye. She spoke to me of Eachan and the babes he murdered. She cried a little.”

Hand to his chest, Mac Eiccnigh mac Dalagh collapsed into his chair. “My daughter shed a tear?”

“Or two. Aye.”

“She has ne’er spoken to me of her ordeal. I only know what I gathered from Eachan’s men. Oft I have wished I had held my temper and not had every single one of Eachan’s warriors killed. The summer I brought Étaín home, I despaired of ever hearing her speak again or seeing her smile. ’Twas a full year before she uttered a word, and longer until she laughed out loud.”

Brand had not considered how Eachan’s torture would have affected a young, innocent girl. He could not picture Étaín sad and unsmiling. His fury dissipated and he sought to reassure his wife’s father. “I would ne’er harm her, my liege.”

“My given name is Monroe. Sit.” The monarch waved at the seat opposite him. “Irvin departs on the evening tide. He claims to have sent a skiff to scout the storm and declares that ’tis over and now safe for him to leave.”

Brand adjusted his sword and sat. “Why would Irvin lie about this?”

“The storm still rages.”

The man had a way of irritating Brand by being coy with his declarations. Repressing a sigh, Brand asked, “How know you this?”

“I assume you have heard Diarf the Devil ravaged Caul Cairlinne many winters past and that he killed my second wife and all of our babes.”

Brand fought the urge to knead his neck in an attempt to ease the spiraling irritation bunching his muscles. What had the events of nigh on a score years past have to do with Irvin departing, a storm, and a deliberate falsehood? “Aye.”

“My third wife was the daughter of King Egogabal of the Tuatha dé Danann and one of his mortal consorts. Knowing Diarf had murdered my family and ravaged the settlement, King Egogabal cast a spell of protection o’er Caul Cairlinne before he agreed to our union. None can invade the holding. The storm will rage until Gunnar the Godless and Fagan the Fire-eater retreat or their ships sink.”

Brand’s jaw sagged. The monarch had lost his wits.

“I can see your thoughts writ upon your face.” Mac Eiccnigh chuckled. “You believe naught I have said. Did you not wonder why I was not interested in your plans to improve our defenses? Or why, since Diarf the Devil, none has e’er taken or pillaged Caul Cairlinne?”

Both he and Nikolas had discussed the latter topic the day before. Brand considered the king’s explanations for long moments before replying, “I am not wont to believe in your ancient fairy myths. But I have witnessed magik with mine own eyes and would not disdain what you say. Howbeit, I see no reason not to continue with my plans to triple our defenses. ’Twould only be beneficial.”

“I have no objection. After all, when your first son is born I will hand o’er the crown to you. ’Twill be a great relief. I am weary of the weight of my duties.”

Today, the king’s responsibilities showed on his face. The grooves bracketing his mouth appeared deeper, and his normal ruddy complexion had taken on a gray cast.

Then the significance of Mac Eiccnigh’s declaration hit him. “You would give the crown to me freely?”

•●•

Étaín, accompanied by Gavin, hurried down the stairs.

Anxious to have the listing of the keep’s stores completed quickly so she could slip away to visit Margie, and ask the barrage of questions whirling around in her head, Étaín strangled a groan when Irvin hailed her.

“Cousin, how fare you this fine day?” Irvin’s wide smile never reached his ice-blue eyes and always made her uneasy.

Gavin growled, “Why is
he
in the kitchen?”

She made a hasty curtsey after hopping off the last step. “I am well, cousin, though surprised to see you here. Da said you departed on the morn tide.”

A muscle under Irvin’s eye twitched. “A sudden gale forced our return. We had to toss our cargo and needs replenish our food and drink before we attempt the crossing. ”

Irvin offered Étaín his arm.

Loath to touch him, but knowing ’twould be insulting to refuse, she rested her hand as lightly as possible on his forearm. “Lady Hilde has agreed to let us have a cask of the wine your father favors.”

Étaín frowned. Hilde had no fondness for Irvin and did not take any care to disguise her dislike of the man. “Do you leave on the evening tide, then?”

“Nay. We will stay the night. You have lost your special glow, cousin.” Irvin halted abruptly and tipped her chin with his finger. “Know you, you have taken a Viking to your bed? Think you, your father will approve of this union once he learns of this?”

She flinched and stepped behind a stone table, all too conscious of the eyes trained on her and Irvin. “’Twas Da who insisted on a full marriage with a priest.”

How she yearned to shout at him. That he dared question her choice of Brand annoyed her greatly.

“I have had my men spying on Lord Brand and his brother. The talk in the taverns is that he came to invade Caul Cairlinne, not to wed the king’s eldest daughter. Believe you this, truthsayer?” Irvin’s stare pinned Étaín.

“Mayhap you should direct your query to Lord Brand.” Gavin moved to stand behind Étaín. “Princess, Lady Hilde signals for you.”

Scanning the room until she sighted Hilde jangling the keys to the keep in the far corner of the cavernous room, Étaín muffled a relieved sigh. “Pray excuse me, cousin. ’Tis much to be done, and I needs meet with Hilde.”

“Ah, I see her and also need to speak with her. Come, cousin, let us walk to her.” Again, Irvin offered his arm.

Étaín spread her lips in what she hoped passed for a smile. ’Twas the smile Eachan had forced upon her on threat of another babe dying.

Knowing ’twas best to get this over and done with, she swiped her damp palms on her skirts and stepped around the table, but flinched when Irvin tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

He smelled of brine and leather.

“I had thought to court you, cousin. A match ’tween us would unite two kingdoms. ’Twould be a formidable alliance.”

Dread, icy and damp, crept across Étaín’s nape. “We are cousins. The church would ne’er consent to our union.”

“Nay. I am but a step cousin. I have spoken with the bishop on this matter and he assures me ’twould not be opposed by the church. Since you are now wed, I must turn my attentions to Alana.”

Étaín gasped. “Da would n’er countenance your suit. She is too young.”

“Alana should have been fostered these many winters past. She would be well served by my mother’s training.”

The idea horrified Étaín. While Alana had not suffered the trauma Étaín had, she had more magik in her and was not coping well with her emerging powers.

They neared Hilde.

Étaín tugged her arm from Irvin’s grasp, forced her lips to curve, and dipped a quick curtsey before turning to address Hilde. “Lord Irvin tells me we are to supply him with a cask of wine. Gavin, pray assist Lord Irvin in bringing a cask up from the cellars. I will see you at the evening meal, cousin. Come Hilde, I have a craving for that wonderful poached salmon you make. The fishermen await us.”

Étaín did not hesitate for a single breath. She captured Hilde’s hand, dragged her forward, and marched across the landing between the kitchens and the stone platform that served as the docks for the local fishing boats. Near a half-dozen skiffs were tied up to sturdy wooden posts.

“Did you really wish to barter with the fish peddlers? E’en I do not do so, and I am in charge of the kitchens,” Hilde whispered.

“Nay, but I could stand Irvin’s presence not a moment longer. Let us take the stairs yonder to the drying rooms.”

“Why do you continue with this counting of our stores? I was cert by now either you or your da would tell the Viking we can no be invaded.” Hilde yanked open the door to the tower where the drying rooms were located.

The two women greeted the boys stoking the glowing coals that fed consistent heat into the drying rooms. They climbed the narrow, steep stairs.

“Brand meets with Da as we speak. I believe Da will tell him the all of it this day.”

“All?” Hilde asked.

“Aye. All. I told him myself about my time under Eachan’s rule. Mayhap I should have spoken of it afore, for ’twas as if saying it aloud washed away the evil of it.” That she could now even form the words amazed her.

Hilde had been through a terrible loss too, and the two women had oft found comfort by simply being alone together. Neither female discussed their ordeals in detail, but their common sorrow and grief had formed a resolute bond.

“When you have your own babe, ′twill ease the remnants of your grief. This past fortnight I have thought of naught but having another child. Would that I could plant the seed myself, for I do not want another husband.”

“′Tis wondrous that you wish to have another babe. Mayhap you will find a man like my Brand. I wish for you naught but happiness.” Étaín impulsively reached out and hugged the other woman.

Hilde wrapped her arms around Étaín and squeezed. She sniffed, drew back, and swiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. “We are two women who do not cry, and here we are blubbering like babes.”

“Aye.” Étaín grinned. “Brand told me to cry, to let out the tears that I’ve damned inside.”

“Methinks he has the right of it. I had not shed a tear since Heremon and Seamus died. Then this past Sabbath, on my walk to church I spied a late butterflying sipping nectar from a daisy. All I could see was Seamus toddling after the insect and trying to catch it with his cupped hands. ’Twas truly like a damn bursting. I could not stop bawling.”

“Oh, Hilde. I am sorrowed that you have to endure such pain.” Étaín stroked the other woman’s arm.

Hilde shook her head. “Nay. I refuse to stand here and talk of this. ’Tis better we concentrate on the lists. We counted the sacks of barley, root vegetables, fruits, and the stores of salted beef, pork, and fish. That plus the barley from the harvest will see us to mid-winter.”

Étaín gave a nod of satisfaction. “My husband will be pleased to learn this.”

“His brother, Lord Nikolas, and his captain, Thorkell, are most annoying. He pesters me with question after question. How are the gates to the kitchen docks lowered? Who guards the gate at night? What time on a morn do the first peddler boats arrive?” Hilde fiddled with the keys hanging from her gold chain link gyrdel, and the clanking resonated around the circular stairwell, and spiraled up the tower.

“I have not spoken to Lord Nikolas at any length.” A situation she intended to remedy that very eve. Brand held much affection for his brother.

“Hmpfh. Warriors are all the same. They grunt and complain and devour food. Do you wish to examine the wine casks? They are already counted, as are those of ale and mead.”

“Nay. I itch to discover how Da and Brand are faring with each other.” Étaín tucked a few errant locks back into her long braid.

The two women wound their way back to the kitchens to find Cedilla frantically searching for Étaín’s youngest sisters.

“Have you checked the stable? The tabby cat had a litter of kittens last eve.” Hilde asked.

“Nay. I will go there at once.” Cedilla waddled out of the room.

“Where is Gavin?” Étaín wondered why her guard had not followed her to the tower.

“He went to the cellars with Lord Irvin.” The answer came from one of the young lads attending to a haunch of venison on a spit.

A frowning Hilde caught Étaín’s gaze. “’Tis taking two men an age of time to select a meager cask of wine and haul it up here.”

“Agreed. I will go down and check on Gavin and Irvin.” Étaín picked up her skirts and ran-walked to the stone staircase leading to the cellars. She took the steps two at a time and then skipped down the shadowed corridor that snaked through the bowels of the castle. ’Twas always chilly below ground and she shivered when a glacial draft peppered goose bumps on the back of her neck.