Nan never hesitated a moment. "I will, m'lady! I swear on Jesu's name."

"Then ye need have nothing further to fear. Now, how did ye get those awful bruises?"

The girl flushed scarlet, and her eyes went to Cavan FitzGerald, but she said nothing, and Aidan knew she was afraid.

"Has Master FitzGerald raped ye?" she asked in a low voice.

"Aye, m'lady. He threatened to kill the bairn if I would not yield to him."

"He will not touch ye again," said Aidan quietly, and then she walked back across the room to where Cavan FitzGerald stood speaking to her grandfather who yet sat in his place. She pierced the old man with such a fierce look that he immediately noticed her, and without meaning to acknowledged her. "If," said Aidan in a hard voice, "this miserable offspring of yer brother ever touches my daughter's wet nurse again, I'll cut his throat, I swear it!" She then looked scornfully at Cavan. "Oh, 'tis a brave gallant ye are, Cavan FitzGerald, selling helpless, innocent women into slavery, and forcing yerself upon a poor, frightened girl. Ye make me want to puke!" Then turning her back upon him she demanded of Rogan FitzGerald, "Where am I to sleep? 'Tis too late for me to set out again for the coast tonight."

"Would ye go before I've had the chance to offer ye my hospitality?" whined the old man.

"Aye, I would, if I had the light, but this d.a.m.ned twilight of yers is not good enough for strangers, and the path here is steep. I'd not endanger my child, my people, or my animals. The morning will be time enough, grandfather. I trust we will be safe in yer house this one night."

"There, girl, there is no need to he insulting," he complained.

"Swear on the name of the crucified Christ, and my mother's memory!" she said coldly to him.

"I swear," he snapped at her, and the look he gave her was a baleful one for her scorn was obvious.

"Where do I sleep then?" she demanded.

"Ye can go in with the wet nurse, and the child at the top of the tower. There's just the one room up there. Yer men can bed down in the stable."

"I've already two men in the stable minding the horses," she said. "Cluny and Harry will be outside my door to discourage any visitors."

"It's insulting ye are," Rogan FitzGerald grumbled. "As I remember yer mother was a sweet-natured and biddable la.s.s. Yer nothing like her in either yer manner, nor yer face. I see only English."

"Good!" she answered him with a quick smile, "but ye'd best beware of my Irish, grandfather. That's the part ye can't see, and my experience with the FitzGeralds had led me to be wary of them."

Rogan FitzGerald suddenly chuckled. He had decided that he liked this granddaughter of his. He was going to enjoy having her live here with him. She had his Ceara's spirit in her, and several of her mannerisms reminded him of his wife in her youth. "Come, and sit by me, Aidan St. Michael," he said. "Ye must be hungry after yer ride."

The tension began to ease in the hall now that the young woman and the old man seemed to have settled their differences. Aidan sat next to her grandfather, and signaled to Cluny and Harry to find themselves places which they did, their backs to the stone wall of the room. The rest of the family living in the tower house began to make their appearances now that the dinner hour was approaching. There was Rogan's eldest son, his heir, Eamon, and his wife, Moire, and their several noisy children. Rogan's other married sons lived in their own homes thanks to their wives. Father Barra, the priest, was there, a heavyset man with cold and dead-looking brown eyes, and a narrow mouth that bespoke cruelty. He had been a total puzzle to his mother, the long-dead Ceara, who had never understood that Barra's bitterness stemmed from not having been born first. The two eldest sons of Eamon and Moire were married, and also lived in the tower house. It was not a comfortable situation.

The meal was not a particularly appetizing one. There was mutton, somewhat stringy and tough; a sea ba.s.s that had suffered slightly from its trip inland, and was, Aidan decided, somewhat past its prime. The capon, however, was freshly killed, and roasted nicely. There were no vegetables other than a turnip that was obviously the last of the past autumn's harvest, but there was freshly baked bread, and sweet b.u.t.ter, and a sharp, hard cheese. Wine was a luxury that Rogan FitzGerald rarely wasted on his family, and certainly not on his retainers. Ale was the drink served.

Aidan concentrated upon the capon, the bread, b.u.t.ter, and cheese. When Cluny and Harry had finished eating she sent them to the stables with food for Mark and Jim for she knew if she didn't send her own people the two men with the horses would starve. Her grandfather's hospitality was hardly the gracious bounty that hers had been. When she finished eating, and her two men had returned she arose, and abruptly bidding the a.s.sembled FitzGeralds good night, she stamped up the staircase to the small room at the tower top, pa.s.sing as she went the other chambers for the other members of the family. Entering into the room she threw the bar across the door while outside Cluny and Harry prepared to stand watch.

Nan was already there with Valentina, and Aidan saw that the girl had tried to make the small stone chamber welcoming. There was but one narrow bed in the room with a trundle beneath it, but the coverlets were fluffed and neatly arranged, and there was a small fire in the little fireplace to help take the evening's chill off the room. Quietly Aidan sat down, and when Nan had finished nursing the baby she handed her to her new mistress. There had been little time earlier to ascertain that Valentina was all right. Now Aidan examined the child carefully, and satisfied that her daughter was in good health, she cuddled her close, and said, "Ye've been a brave girl, Nan, and ye've taken good care of Valentina. It is very possible that we will have to leave Ballycoille rather quickly. Can ye be ready on a moment's notice, and will ye not be frightened no matter what happens?"

"I'd follow ye into h.e.l.l, m'lady, to get out of here. I've never been more frightened in me life. Having me baby in a ditch in an alley in Cardiff weren't half as frightening as being in this place has been. I can barely understand these people, and Master Cavan is a mean one, he is."

"Aye," Aidan agreed with the girl, "and those are the kindest words I've ever heard to describe Cavan. Don't worry, my girl, I promised ye that I'd protect ye, and I will. We leave here tomorrow for the coast where I've a vessel waiting, and then it's back to England. Ye'll like Pearroc Royal. It's a good place."

"How can I thank ye, m'lady?" said Nan, her voice shaky, her eyes teary.

"How can I thank ye, Nan? Ye saved my baby's life with yer milk, and ye've a home at Pearroc Royal as long as ye want it, and a yearly wage to be paid each Michaelmas. I want more than one baby, and Valcntina's nursemaid won't be able to handle two babies. I need ye, la.s.s."

469.

Hern Small It had been a long day, and the two women were tired so they lay down to rest, Nan placing Valentina in her cradle, which old Rogan FitzGerald told her earlier had once housed Aidan's mother, Bevin. On the other side of the chamber door, Cluny and Harry diced to keep themselves amused while below in the hall Cavan FitzGerald fumed at having been temporarily thwarted in his plan to marry Aidan.

"There's time, nephew," soothed Rogan FitzGerald.

"Time? With her planning to leave tomorrow? She's changed, she has. I'm not so certain that I want to marry her now."

"But ye will," said Rogan harshly. "How else can we get our hands on her wealth? Don't fret, Cavan, my lad. There's a storm coming, and by morning the rain will be so heavy that 'twill be impossible for Aidan St. Michael to leave us; at least until the storm is over which I suspect will not be for at least two days. By then we'll have ye a married man, and ye'll bed the wench firmly. She's a high-strung filly, I'll grant ye, but they're the kind that breed the best foals. She but needs a firm hand on the bridle to tell her who her master is."

"We'll never get near her as long as her watchdogs are at her heels," said Cavan referring to Cluny and Harry Beal. "The smaller of the two is Conn O'Malley's personal servant."

"Then we will have to remove them," said Rogan FitzGerald.

"Let me kill them!"

"Cavan, my lad, yer too impetuous. There's no need to spill anyone's blood. They'll go to take food to their companions in the stable come morning; and when they do, we'll simply bar the tower door so they cannot reenter. Ye'd best get some rest, my lad, for we'll celebrate yer wedding on the morrow, and tomorrow night ye'll get no rest at all!" and he laughed loudly, and poked his nephew playfully.

By morning a particularly wet and windy storm was lashing the southwest section of Ireland making travel, as Rogan FitzGerald had predicted, virtually impossible. Awakening early Aidan had heard the rain, and arising she had gone to the narrow window to look out. Dismayed she gazed out at the rain which was falling in a steady, gray sheet.

"d.a.m.n!" she swore mildly, and then she hurried to the door and opened it saying as she did to Cluny and Harry Beal, "It's pouring. I don't think we can travel today, but take some food out to the stables to Mark and Jim and see what they think."

"If it were just us," said Cluny, "I think I'd want to get out of here as soon as I could, but with the bairn, and her wet nurse, m'lady, I think they will agree we must wait for better weather. We pa.s.sed no inn on the road here so there's nowhere else where we may shelter."

"Maybe it's not as bad as it looks," said Aidan hopefully.

"And maybe 'tis worse," chuckled Cluny teasingly. "Come on, Harry," he said. "I don't know about ye, lad, but I could use some food, and a tankard of ale right now. We'll not be too long, m'lady. Will ye be all right?"

She nodded. "I think my grandfather realizes now that I am not to be trifled with, but I will be interested to learn before I leave just why he wanted me here. Probably money. I suspect he could use some."

The two men disappeared off down the winding stone staircase, and Aidan reentered the room to discover that Nan and the baby were now awake. Taking a little bit of water she poured it into the basin, and washed her face. The water was cold, and Aidan thought of home, and how dear Mag always warmed the water before she put it in the basin. This was a whole new world, and one in which Aidan did not think she would enjoy living.

"Ye stay here," she ordered Nan. "Yer safe here. Bar the door, and I'll see the food is sent up to ye."

"If it pleases yer ladyship it would be better if I ran down now before the household is up. Valentina will want to eat shortly."

"Yer right," replied Aidan. "Go along now."

Nan slipped from the room, and Aidan sat down to study her daughter who was now playing with her toes. She was such a pretty baby with her violet eyes and her copper-colored hair. My daughter without a doubt, but that she's far lovelier than I've ever been. Who is her father? I wonder. Aidan looked hard at the baby who cooed and smiled back at her mother, bringing a smile to Aidan's own lips. I see nothing of Conn, nor Javid Khan, nor Murad in her, she thought. Perhaps it is better that way. Ye'll know but one father, my dearest little one, and that is my darling Conn. Reaching out she stroked Valentina's rose-petal cheek. "We're going home soon, my darling, if only the d.a.m.ned rain would stop!"

Nan came hurrying back into the chamber bearing a small loaf, a bowl of hot oat stirabout, and some ale. "Yer grandsire is already in the hall, m'lady, and he kindly asks that ye join him for morning prayer, an. then the meal."

Aidan brushed her skirt off, and taking a clean shirt from her saddle bags got dressed. Her long hair was unbraided, brushed out, and rebraided again. "Bar the door when I leave," said Aidan, "and don't open it to anyone but me whatever they tell ye. My men will be back shortly, and will be there to guard ye."

"Yes, m'lady," was the dutiful reply.

Aidan hurried from the room, and heard the thunk of the heavy wooden bar as Nan lowered it into place thus preventing entry into the tower room by an unwanted guest. Making her way downstairs she joined her grandfather and his family who had already a.s.sembled in the hall for morning prayer as the tower house had no chapel. Her uncle Barra conducted the service in his cold, hard voice, and afterward joined them at the high board for the meal which was the same as Nan's. Aidan thought longingly of thick slices of pink ham, and eggs poached in sweet marsala; of honey and crisp fruity wine. Then with a grin at herself she settled down to eating what she had. She spoke little having little to say to her relations.

When the meal was finished, and the servants had cleared the table, Rogan FitzGerald said, "Ye won't be leaving today, of course, but 'tis just as well as we have certain unfinished business, Aidan St. Michael."

"Unfinished business? Ah, yes. The business of why yer nephew kidnapped my daughter, and forced me to chase after her to Ireland. Aye, grandfather, I should be most interested to learn the reasoning behind it all. Say on."

Rogan FitzGerald allowed a small smile to nudge the corners of his mouth. She was proud, this granddaughter of his, but very soon she'd yield to proper authority, and then her manner would not be so haughty. "It is time ye were married," he began.

"Married?" She looked at the old man as if he had lost his mind, and she was not certain he had not. "Grandfather, I am married."

"Not properly," he answered her firmly. "Not in the Holy Mother Church."

"I was married by the queen's own chaplain!" said Aidan hotly.

"We do not recognize Henry Tudor's b.a.s.t.a.r.d daughter, nor her chaplain! Heretics all! Ye were born, baptized, and raised in the Holy Mother Church. That which ye call a marriage is not according to its laws. Ye have been living in sin, Aidan St. Michael, but then ye had no family to guide ye properly. Yer father's people are gone, and so it is my duty as yer mother's father to see ye decently wed."

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 ent.i.tled 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 embarra.s.sed she shrieked as her riding skirt was pulled down about her ankles baring her to the a.s.sembled 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, la.s.s. 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, la.s.s, and by G.o.d, ye'll obey me, or I'll kill ye and yer b.a.s.t.a.r.d sp.a.w.n!" He turned away from her, and she heard him say, "Fetch my leather tawse, and he 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 a.s.sured 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 sh.e.l.l-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 la.s.s," 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, la.s.s? 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d," 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 G.o.d 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, la.s.s, yer wrong. This b.a.s.t.a.r.d 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 b.a.s.t.a.r.d, 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 b.u.mbling 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 la.s.s 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."