Mumbles rose among the O’Neill and Liannon men.
“Kaireen, nor any other Liannon, or the Lochlann Bram, harmed our laird. My brother was killed by his son.”
Angry shouts drowned the sounds of robins flying overhead. Kaireen stood red faced.
Elva pointed with her staff. “Feoras and his mother are the guilty ones. He has the blood of Bearach’s son upon him. And even now he seeks to kill his other rival.”
Everyone gasped, seeing Feoras’ sword facing his brother’s back. The tip pushed through the chain mail. Bearach twisted away and raised his sword to his brother’s.
Bram struggled to move, to reach his sword that lay at his feet. But as he lifted his head, he saw his leg twisted at an angle. He wriggled, groping for the hilt. His muscles convulsed from the burning pain ripping through his leg. He clenched his jaw, fearing to breathe until the pain subsided. He heard someone shouting.
“Do not move!” Feoras jerked his arm toward Elva. “Witch. She blinds you to the truth. Poisons your thoughts against us.”
Kaireen took a step forward, but Rhiannon grasped her arm.
“Feoras,” Rhiannon clamored as though ensuring everyone heard her. “This one holds your sword by her witchcraft to kill my son, Bearach.” She jerked Kaireen toward him.
As if planned, Feoras’s wild eyes darted to her. His sword shook. He eased back, lowering the sword. “Aye, Mother.” He stalked to Kaireen, and yanked her forward by her hair.
She cried out, raking her fingernails across his hand. But he dragged her forward to Elva and Bram.
Bram roared. She was in danger.
The throng pressed in closer. But Bram could not move. He could not help her. While he lay helpless, she may die before his eyes.
Feoras smiled down at him. The smile elongated his nose, causing his face to resemble a gargoyle’s.
Elva stood at Bram’s feet. She sidestepped and then brought her staff down on Feoras’ head.
He stumbled back, releasing Kaireen. Needing no encouragement, she rushed to Bram’s side as he laid on the ground, unable to console her.
Tears fell on his face as she kissed him. Elva kicked his sword and the hilt rested next to his side. His fingers dug in the dirt, but his fingertips brushed Kaireen’s robes. Where was his blasted sword?
She sobbed her words. He could make no sense of them. “Kaireen, hand me my sword.”
“No, Bram,” Elva seethed. “This is not for you to do.”
At her words, confusion rang through his mind. Damn her, while she played, Feoras stood, his sword in hand.
“You will die for that witch,” Feoras snarled. “I will kill your apprentice first.” His wild eyes watched as Kaireen paid him no heed, but stared at Bram.
Bram knew the look. It was the look of a madman with murder caressing his mind.
“I cannot move.” He swallowed. “Take my sword,” he said to Kaireen.
“I-I cannot.” She looked to Elva.
“I am forbidden to draw blood.” Elva took a step back.
Feoras hit Elva with his sword hilt across the face. She fell back, her head struck Bram’s twisted leg and he cried out.
“You see?” Feoras waved his arm to the throng. “He is her familiar, I saw him dead. Now he lives.”
The crowd yelled in agreement.
“I must slice off his head and maim her power.” He raised his sword back with both hands. The blade came swiftly.
Bram saw Kaireen move from the corner of his eye.
His mouth screamed no, but he knew she could not hear him. She must not sacrifice her life for his. He wanted to knock her off balance and save her.
But the unseen force he touched earlier rushed him again, pressing his body to the ground. He could not lift his head. Wind whistled in his ears.
He saw Kaireen’s face, her chin set in a stubborn lift. Her green eyes narrowed.
Feoras brought the sword down. Blood splattered across his face.
No, dear Odin, not my sweet Kaireen!
Bram thought. She was part of his soul.
Suddenly, the force left him. The pressing on his chest eased. He lifted himself on his elbows, grunted from the soreness.
At his side Kaireen kneeled, his sword in her hand and her dagger plunged into Feoras’ stomach.
Rhiannon shrieked, running toward Kaireen. Her hands held her purple skirts. Wisps of her grey hair loosened from her bun.
Instead of softening her gaunt face, the strands gave the impression of Caoranch, the mother of demons. “I will kill you!”
Kaireen pulled the sword back and Feoras slumped to the ground. She pointed the blade at Rhiannon using both hands.
“Stop. Or you meet Feoras in death.”
Bram grinned, noticing she wore a friar’s brown robes cinched at the waist with a piece of rope. He wondered how long her penitence would last for these sins.
Damn his broken body. He should have protected her, not the other way around.
“You cannot harm me.” Rhiannon stared at Kaireen.
“All the Liannon and I imagine the O’Neill’s who remember you will attest to your bullying. I believe what Elva, sister of Laird O’Neill, has spoken to be true.” She kept her eyes on Rhiannon, but addressed the crowd. “I follow the will of you, our clansmen. What say you?”
“They need a leader to tell them what to do, not a simple girl,” Rhiannon smirked.
“I agree, as leader,” Bearach stepped forward, “with Kaireen. I see my father’s eyes in Elva, speaks the truth. Enough blood has been shed today. We all paid dearly, I—my son.” His voice cracked, but he continued. “What shall be done with this traitor?”
Shouts rang through the crowd. “Burn her. Kill her. Throw her in the pit.”
“To kill her will lessen her deeds.” Bearach nodded. “Tie her. We take her back home.”
Angry murmurs rose from the O’Neill clan. Bearach folded his arms. “I am laird now. We throw her in the pit for her memory to keep her company. I want her to suffer every day until she dies for what she has done.” He shook his head as she cursed, passing him. “Perhaps God will give her mercy, for I cannot.”
Kaireen trembled with memories from the battle. It had taken all of her strength to lift Bram’s sword. She had hoped to deflect the blow.
Thoughts of Feoras harming Bram made the sword feel light in her hands. Somehow she knew she must keep the sword up, blocking his. Then she saw her dagger glint in the sun beside Bram. Not thinking, she let one hand off the sword, snatched her dagger and thrust it into his stomach. Relieved, and the sword heavy once more, she dropped it. Feoras stood in shock for a moment, his sword arm still raised as he gazed down at the dagger sticking out of him.
After the O’Neill’s had taken Rhiannon, she bent over Bram. He was alive. And she cared not how.
He held her to his chest and she heard his heartbeat. Such a wondrous sound, and she wished to lay there, listening to the rhythm forever.
Tears flooded through her, soaking through his chain mail to his saffron tunic.
“Weep not.” His hand stroked her back. “Our wedding is tomorrow.”
Laughter blurted with her sobs. “No, I will not marry you still.”
His frown tore into her laughter and she ceased. “I am sorry you feel that way, I will leave at dawn.”
“No.” The corners of her mouth twitched into a smile. “We will not marry until you are healed. You promised me a glorious wedding night. And I will not have my husband lazy, and slumbering all the time from his wounds.”
“Truly?” he asked and her heart soared. “You will be my wife?” She heard the hope in his voice.
She looked into his blue eyes. Clear like the autumn sky above them. His face darkened in the sun and splattered with blood.
“Aye,” she answered. “I love you forever and even that will not be long enough.”
His hug knocked the air from her, but she wrapped her arms carefully around his chest, and then planted kisses on his face and lips.
“Wait.” He held her hands. “I have, as your faith says, a confession.”
Fear tried to choke her, but she swallowed it back down. Whatever he said, it would not change her love for him, not after all they had been through.
“I made your mother a promise.” He touched her lips when she opened her mouth to protest. “Let me finish. I came to the keep weeks before you saw me. I was to be arranged in marriage to Rebecca, daughter of one of your father’s noblemen for my alliance. I had tasted a glimmer of love before and prayed to the gods to find it again. So I dressed as a peasant and observed her and others. However, it was you that crept under my skin. I saw not only your feisty temper, but your compassion. I knew there was no other for me. I bargained with your father for you, and had to promise more men to come with me to protect your family and lands.” He caressed her cheek. “And I would have paid anything.”
She leaned into his hand. “But what of my mother? What promise do you speak of?”
He ran a hand through his golden hair. “After our agreement, I told your mother I loved you. She made me vow not to tell you unless you spoke the words first. It tore me up every time I saw you. It would have been easier to have promised to bring back a tooth from Jörmungandr, the Midgard Serpent instead.”
“I would not have believed you if you told me sooner. My mother was right.” She kissed him until she heard a shuffling behind her.
“Good to see you again.” The red giant shifted his feet. “Found this one in the stables underneath the hay.”
Bram translated what the giant said so Kaireen would understand his words as well.
Megan sucked her thumb, her other hand around his neck as she stared at him.
“How did you get here so soon?” Bram squinted at him. “You must have arrived yestereve at the holding?”
His cheeks colored. “We arrived this morn’ ready to work until your lass came calling.”
“They helped sway the battle.”
“Aye,” the giant said. “Get well, brother. Your men will not be happy with cleaning for long.” He winked.
“Brother?” Kaireen glanced back at Bram.
“Younger brother,” Bram grunted. “And late as always for the surprise.”
“Surprise?” She frowned. What mysteries did Bram hold?
His finger stroked her cheek and she longed to lean into his gesture. He loved her. And she, God help her, loved him.
“I arranged for them to sail along the coast and ready our keep for the wedding night. Lochlanns,” he said the name with a peculiar lilt as though tasting the word and finding it foul, “would be too noticeable racing across the countryside. So I asked them to stay at the holding until the wedding.”
“What will you pay me to keep our mouths shut from our brothers?” The giant loomed above them.
“How many brothers do you have?”
Bram smiled tapping his chin with a finger. “Well, our oldest brother lives in Norway, he inherited all the land from our father. Erick still raids…”
“How many?” She poked his shoulder.
He chuckled, pulling her into his embrace. “I hope us to have as many sons.”
She struggled against him. Until he answered her, she would not cease. Did the man think her daft to forget the question while he held her?
Well, she was in love, but she was not daft yet.
“Nine.”
She gasped and he kissed her. Nine sons? She doubted she would live long enough to birth so many children.
Especially if they grew as large as Bram’s brother.
As if hearing her thoughts, the giant laughed and sauntered away. Megan giggled with him.
Winter fell upon the east coast of Ireland. Four months Kaireen waited for Bram to mend so they would both be able to dance at their wedding, and more. When Kaireen admitted her love, she did not think it would increase, yet her love blossomed more each day. It was as if once the small seed took root, it grew like a forest of ancient yew trees.
After the battle, Elva set his broken bones with oak planks and ropes. Kaireen helped hold the boards in place.
Her handmaid had him bite on leather straps. She yanked his leg back, pulling the bones straight, she said.
Sweat beaded across Bram’s brow and his glare bore into Elva, but she minded not. Guards held his arms. Afterwards, when they took the leather from his mouth, his teeth clenched.
“I would like to show you the blood eagle sometime.”
Elva tsked. “Do you want to hobble for the rest of life, or suffer a little pain now?”
“A little pain?” He cringed. “I hate to see what you deem more.”
Kaireen lay on her bed remembering. Bram’s wounds and bones had taken months to heal. In Elva’s care, he healed quicker than she expected. Last week Elva took the splints off, and Bram walked with the aid of his oak staff.
Snow covered the land. Winter trees were stripped bare. Kaireen snuggled deeper under the covers. Closed her eyes, and thought of Bram’s kiss goodnight and his sweet promises of their wedding night.
Bram. She bolted upright.
Today was the day-her wedding day! She jumped out of bed, gasping when her feet met the cold stone floor. She hobbled sideways as she put on her slippers.
Fire burned in the hearth, bringing forth the aroma of cinnamon. She crept to the fire, gazing at the flames.
“For your wedding day,” Elva said. “The cinnamon is for prosperity, protection and passion. I thought it would go well with your earlier wedding gift of the bath. Come now. Your groom has waited too long for you.”
She nodded, following Elva to the bathing chambers. Her handmaid carried a basket filled with ribbons, combs, hazel twigs, and soap. In her other hand, a new linen shift and her wedding dress. The crimson gown with the square neckline would make her skin appear smooth as cream.
• • •
She sank into the steamy water. Months ago she hated thinking that she would wed. Now, she had waited so long it could not happen fast enough. Her heart felt as if a dozen horses were running wild and faster with each passing moment.
After bathing and cleaning her teeth, she allowed Elva to dry, and then dress her.
The damask gown fit her curves and she loved the folds that swept to the floor.
Elva wove red ribbons lined with pearls into her hair.
Then Kaireen dabbed her neck and wrists with rose oil. She donned her pile-weave cloak.