Aidan shook her head impatiently. This was totally ridiculous, but if it would make the old man happy, if this is what it had all been about, then when Conn arrived they would be married by a priest of the Holy Mother Church. “Very well, Rogan FitzGerald, when my husband arrives we will be remarried before ye by a priest of the Holy Mother Church. Will ye then be satisfied?”
“I do not fancy Conn O’Malley as a grandson,” said Rogan quietly.
“The choice is not yers to make,” she answered him.
“Ahh, granddaughter Aidan, but it is. I am yer eldest living male relation, and as such I am legally entitled to choose yer husband. I choose my nephew, Cavan FitzGerald.”
“What?”
She was astounded. She had been willing to go along with his foolishness because he was an old man, and she was bound to accept his hospitality; but for all her Irish mother, Aidan St. Michael was an Englishwoman, and to her mind her marriage to Conn O’Malley was a valid and a binding one. Her eyes blazed a strange golden light through the storm gray, and she said in a firm voice, “I am married to Conn O’Malley in the eyes of England’s church, and England’s queen. I would not marry Cavan FitzGerald if it were possible. ’Tis absolutely immoral for ye even to suggest it! Yer age is addling yer wits, Rogan FitzGerald!” She arose to leave the table.
Rogan FitzGerald’s own eyes blazed back at his granddaughter, and his talonlike fingers closed about her arm, cruelly bruising the tender white skin. Then he stood, and even in his old age he towered over the tall young woman who dared to defy him. “Ye will do as I say, Aidan St. Michael!” he thundered at her. Then he released her arm, and his hand flashed out to make firm contact with her cheek. “Ye will marry Cavan FitzGerald this very day, and ye will remember that I warned ye last night about yer manners.” He slapped her hard, two blows in quick succession that stunned her.
Furious now Aidan continued to oppose her grandfather. How dare he strike her!
“Never!”
Her eyes quickly swept the hall for Cluny and Harry Beal, and he saw it, and guessed at what she sought.
“The tower door is locked, and yer men without, Aidan St. Michael. There is no one left to protect ye. Ye will do as I tell ye!” The old man was working himself into one of his rages, and all who knew him saw it coming, but Aidan was unaware of how hard a man her grandfather actually was. Looking toward Cavan and his son Eamon, Rogan commanded, “Put her across the table!”
Uncomprehending Aidan was shocked to find herself caught by her arms, and dragged forward to be bent forward across the high board by Cavan and her uncle Eamon. When Cavan reached around her to unfasten her belt, and unloosen her waistband, she struggled futilely. Outraged and embarrassed she shrieked as her riding skirt was pulled down about her ankles baring her to the assembled company. “What are ye doing?” she screamed angrily. “How dare ye treat me so!”
“I warned ye,” snarled the voice of her grandfather in her ear. “I warned ye if ye did not mind yer manners that ye’d get a beating, lass. I’ll not have ye defying me before my entire household, Aidan. ’Tis I, Rogan FitzGerald, who am the master here at Ballycoille. ’Tis I who make the laws that this family must abide by. Yer a part of this family, lass, and by God, ye’ll obey me, or I’ll kill ye and yer bastard spawn!” He turned away from her, and she heard him say, “Fetch my leather tawse, and be quick about it, lad, or ye’ll be tasting its sting, too!”
Aidan’s heart began to thunder within her chest, but she was not so much afraid for herself as she was for Valentina. She had not believed, indeed everyone had assured her that the FitzGeralds would not harm her child. Were they right, or would that wicked old man she called her grandfather seriously threaten her daughter?
Cavan, his grip upon her arm still tight, leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Do ye know what a tawse is, sweet coz? ’Tis a leather strap some three inches in width which has been cut into thongs. Ye’ve never felt its bite, I’ll wager, but the old man is a master at wielding it.” He blew softly into her ear, and as she shuddered with distaste he ran his tongue around the shell-like hollow of the ear, then continued low. “Yer bottom is plumper than I would have guessed, sweet coz, and shortly it will ache with yer grandsire’s tender discipline. I think, perhaps I shall have a tawse made for my own use. Regular beatings are good for a woman.”
“If ye ever lay a hand on me, Cavan,” she hissed at him, “ye’d best not ever turn yer back on me, for I’ll kill ye given the chance.”
He laughed low. “We’ll see how brave ye are after a good whipping, sweet coz, for here is yer first taste.”
Before she might reply Aidan heard a faint swish of air, and then as the many thongs of the leather made contact with her skin she cried out surprised. Although it was the custom of parents in her age to physically punish their children and men to beat their wives, she had never been subject to such abuse by either her father or Conn. The tawse did not hurt her so much as it stung her, not just in one spot, but over a wide area of her flesh as the narrow fingers of the leather spread themselves out and bit into her tender skin. She gritted her teeth as the second blow came to be followed with rhythmic regularity by several others, and she realized that her grandfather despite his great age was not only used to such exercise, but skilled in it as well. As blow followed blow, and he seemed not to tire of the punishment; as her flesh began to ache and burn uncomfortably with his brutal ministrations; she was finally unable to continue to swallow back her cries, and she screamed. To her shock her admission of pain seemed to inspire him to further cruelty, and the blows came faster, and harder.
“Ye’ll obey me lass,” she heard his voice thundering over her shrieks of pain. “Ye’ll accept my choice of a husband!”
Then slowly the blows stopped, her garments were yanked over her red and smarting body, and she was spun around to face the old man. His face was flushed, and perspiring with his exertions. His white hair was tumbled. “Ye’ll marry Cavan FitzGerald, Aidan! Do ye understand me, lass? This small beating was just a taste of what ye’ll get if ye continue to disobey me.”
“There is no way ye can make me commit bigamy with
that creature
,” snapped Aidan angrily. She impatiently wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Do ye think I am afraid that ye have locked yer tower door, and keep my men without? Yer tower door will not keep out my husband when he arrives! He will batter down this crumbling structure of a tower about yer ears, Rogan FitzGerald, and then what will ye and yer brood do?”
The old man flushed angrily at her brave and defiant words, but he was not yet beaten, or deterred in his purpose. “Ye’ll do as I say, Aidan St. Michael, or yer bastard get by Conn O’ Malley will suffer the consequences.”
“Are ye an eagle, Rogan FitzGerald, that ye can get into my tower-top room? The door is barred, and Nan will not open it for anyone but me.”
“Break the door in,” the old man snarled, and his son, his grandsons, and Cavan rushed to do his will.
She could hear the pounding of the ancient battering ram they used. Hear it beating and beating and beating against the old oak door at the top of the tower, and then she heard the splintering of the wood, and a scream from poor, hapless Nan as the men gained entry. Aidan sighed. She would have sworn that the door could hold, but it had probably given way at a weak point, and there was no help for it now. She couldn’t believe, however, that her grandfather meant to harm her daughter, his own great-grandchild. It was a notion soon to be disabused as the men entered the hall with Nan and Valentina who was howling in fright.
Rogan FitzGeraid reached out and took the child into the curve of an arm. Then reaching down he drew forth his dirk, and laid it against the infant’s stomach, and the old man’s cold blue eyes looked directly into the now frightened ones of his granddaughter. A tiny movement of the knife, and a minuscule pearl of bright red blood shone against the silver dagger’s tip. Valentina whimpered, and Nan gasped in terror.
“Ye old bastard,” Aidan hissed at Rogan FitzGerald. “She is yer own flesh and blood. She’s my child! An innocent!”
The old man smiled coldly. “Ye know the price of her safety, Aidan St. Michael.”
“Old man, yer totally mad! Ye have no right of control over me. I am a free-born Englishwoman; a loyal and true subject to her majesty. I am a married woman in the sight of God and the laws of my country!”
“Ye will obey me, daughter of my favorite child. Ye will obey me, or the bairn will suffer.”
“Kill Valentina, Rogan FitzGerald,” said Aidan boldly, “and ye have no further hold on me. I do not believe ye would do that.”
“Nay, lass, yer wrong. This bastard brat is but another mouth to feed, and food is hard to come by now. Yer child is of no more use to me for I have ye now within my power. I’d as lief toss her from the windows, or into the fire for fuel. If I let her live ’twill be because I loved yer mother, and yer yer mother’s daughter, and ye will do my bidding as yer sweet and obedient mother did my bidding. Whether ye will or no ye’ll marry Cavan FitzGerald, but whether the brat lives is up to ye. I trust that ye fully understand me, Aidan St. Michael. Do ye?”
Aidan looked at her baby’s frightened little face, and knew she could not let Valentina be harmed any further. The old man had to be mad, but she had no doubt now that he meant every word he said. Slowly she nodded her head in agreement, but she was not beaten by any means. The whole situation was terrifying, but she could see no way out. When Conn came it would be a different matter. For now, however, she had no other choice open to her. She made one last effort to dissuade him. “ ’Tis bigamy yer having me commit, Rogan FitzGerald. No English court will ever uphold a marriage between Cavan and myself when I’m already married to Conn.”
“Yer not going back to England,” Rogan FitzGerald said, “but if it will ease yer delicate female sensibilities, Aidan, my girl, Conn O’Malley will soon be dead for when he comes to fetch ye, and his little bastard, we’ll kill him! As for yer alleged marriage by that fraudulent cleric who serves the usurper now sitting upon England’s throne, ’tis not valid in the eyes of the true church as my son Father Barra will attest.”
“And my dear uncle will undoubtedly marry us in the
true
faith once the banns are posted,” said Aidan sarcastically. At least Conn would get here before she was forced into this travesty. She had no fears for his safety from this bumbling crew of fools for he would have a large contingent of retainers to overcome the FitzGeralds and their motley servants.
“The wedding will take place today, granddaughter,” said Rogan FitzGerald with a smug smile. “The banns were posted in their proper order several weeks ago. I’d like to see ye in decent women’s clothing for yer nuptials, however.”
“What a pity then that I have only these clothes,” she replied feeling rather pleased to annoy him, small victory though it might be.
“I’m sure,” he said, “that we can find something for ye to wear, Aidan St. Michael, that will be more suitable.”
He sent the slatternly woman servant she had seen yesterday off to rummage in the trunks that had once belonged to her aunt Sorcha, for he explained, “She was a big lass like ye.” Bridget, the servant, returned shortly with a dark green velvet skirt.
“ ’Twas the only thing that weren’t mildewed or eaten by the moths, me lord.” She held it up against Aidan. “ ’Tis long enough, and with a clean shirt, and her belt, and some flowers, she’ll make a nice enough bride.”
“Cavan, my lad, escort yer bride-to-be to her room,” Rogan FitzGerald ordered his nephew. “When yer clothes are ready,” he told Aidan, “the wedding will begin.”
“Keep that animal away from me,” said Aidan icily. “I’ll get to my chamber without his help. Force him on me now, and I’ll be tempted to shove him down yer fine staircase.”
“I can see,” said Cavan attempting to show some hold over her, “that yer ripe for another beating, Aidan, and I’d not be averse to seeing that ye get one.”
Aidan snorted softly. “Ye’ve a short memory, Cavan. Remember that I’ve warned ye not to touch me, or I’ll kill ye, and I will. Perhaps ye can have me held down, and beaten as did my grandfather; but sooner or later ye’ll have to be alone with me, and then . . .” She let the words trail off meaningfully as he laughed weakly; but his laughter had a hollow sound to it, and he did not meet her cold gaze. Aidan took Valentina from her grandfather’s arms, and with a sharp, “Come, Nan,” she stamped up the stairs to her tower, the wet nurse scuttling quickly behind her.
It was the old bar locks, she discovered, that had given way, and so it was possible to close the door of the chamber which she did. Going to the window she looked out. The rain was still pouring down, harder, if possible, than it had before. The day was very gray, and the weather showed no signs of letting up. Then a movement by the stables caught her eye, and she flung the tower window open, and called down over the rising wind, “Cluny! Up here, man!”
Cluny, the rain drenching him thoroughly, hurried over to the base of the tower. “M’lady, they’ve locked the door against us!”
“I know,” she called back. “They say my marriage to Conn isn’t a valid one, and they are forcing me into marriage with Cavan FitzGerald! They plan to kill Conn when he arrives, and keep me from returning home. Send young Jim back along the road to seek for my lord.”
Cluny nodded. “Ye’ve got to escape, m’lady.”
“There’s no way out but the tower door, Cluny.”
“If ye had some kind of rope,” came the reply, “ye could come out the window, and down the side of the tower. ”
“ ’Tis possible! Good for ye, Cluny! One of ye stay by the tower at all times, and either I, or young Nan will communicate with ye. I’d best go back now lest they hear us.”
“Not to worry, m’lady. They won’t hear anything in this storm. In case ye can’t get back to us, try tonight. We’ll be waiting for ye whenever yer able.” He slipped back into the shadows of the stables.