A Love for All Time (85 page)

Aidan closed the window, and turned to Nan to explain her conversation to the girl. “It will take courage to do this,” she said, “but I will go last so ye need not be afraid.”

“But how can we transport the baby?” asked Nan.

“What if we tied two ropes about the cradle, and lowered her that way,” Aidan suggested.

Nan nodded. “The baby must go first, m’lady, for if, God forbid, we’re caught at it, one of us can hold them off while the other lowers the bairn safely.”

“I’ll need a weapon, and where are we going to get enough rope?” Aidan wondered.

“There is rope in the stables, m’lady. If yer man could bring it to the base of the tower just below our window we could make a length from the sheets upon the bed, and they could attach the rope to it for us to pull up!”

“Nan, yer a very clever girl!” Aidan praised the wet nurse. “Now where can I get a weapon?”

“I have one,” came the surprising reply.

“Ye do? Then why didn’t ye use it?”

“I was afeared, m’lady. I’m only a serving girl.” She moved across the small room, and feeling along the wall pulled a stone loose to reveal a deep recess in the tower wall. Reaching in Nan pulled forth a dagger with a good six-inch blade on it. It was silver, and the handle had been enameled over the silver in a Celtic design of black, and yellow, and red. She handed it to Aidan.

“Where did ye get this?” Aidan asked the girl.

“Lord Eamon was drunk one night, and fell asleep at the high board. I saw him there in the very early morning, and there before him on the table was the dagger. I stole it. I thought, perhaps, that I might use it against Master Cavan, but I had not the nerve. What will ye do with it?”

“Kill Cavan FitzGerald,” said Aidan quietly, and the young wet nurse sucked in her breath sharply, her eyes widening at Aidan’s bold words. “I have no choice,” Aidan continued. “They have schemed to marry me to him today, and there is no way in which I can escape it; but I’ll be damned if I’ll let him lie with me! We’ll escape tonight, Nan, after I’ve killed the bastard, and everyone is celebrating my grandfather’s apparent cleverness in forcing me to his will. I have an old score to settle with Cavan FitzGerald,” and then Aidan told the servant of everything that had happened since her father’s death almost three years ago. Nan goggled and gaped as Aidan unfolded her tale for never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined the things that Aidan now spoke of to her.

When she had finished her story she said to Nan, “Ye must learn for me which room is to be the bridal chamber, and then when they are feasting before the bedding, place the dagger beneath the pillows for me. Do not do it sooner lest someone else find it. Did not Eamon miss his blade, Nan?”

“Aye, and a great fuss he made about it, but his wife said he probably lost it as he was always losing everything. They did not consider for a moment that any servant would have taken it for the poor souls here are as frightened of their masters as I have been; and they certainly never considered that I took it.” She gave a little smile. “I wish I had been brave enough to stick it into him, and then, m’lady, ye’d not have all this trouble.”

Aidan smiled back, and she patted the girl’s hand in friendly fashion. She spoke coolly enough of killing Cavan FitzGerald, but it frightened her more than being forced to wed with her cousin. It was a terrible sin that she was contemplating, and yet she could think of no other way to escape him. She had no herbs with which to drug him into a deep sleep, and she knew that she would never, could never, yield herself bodily to him. The mere thought revolted her. She thought of the misery that Cavan FitzGerald had caused her and Conn. His cruel actions had been responsible for the loss of her first child, and her enslavement in Turkey, her brutal treatment at the hands of the Sultan Murad. Worst of all, however, was her own state, her inability to enjoy the passion that she had once shared with her darling Conn. Cavan FitzGerald’s death might not restore her to the innocent she once was, but he would never endanger her, or those about her again. He must be killed! She hardened herself to the harsh fact, and prayed that God would forgive her, but if he did not she accepted the responsibility of what she was going to do this night.

A cursory knock sounded upon the door, and before she might give permission for those without to enter, Bridget came in carrying the dark green velvet skirt which she had managed to restore to some semblance of order. “Get a fresh shirt on,” she said brusquely, “for they’re ready to begin in the hall. The old skinflint, yer grandsire, has even opened his wine cellar tonight to the entire household. For that rare treat, I thank ye.”

“Maybe I can get drunk,” said Aidan with a chuckle, “and rob the bastard of his wedding night.”

Bridget cackled, showing blackened and rotting teeth. “At least ’twill dull yer senses, lady, but ye’ll not rob Master Cavan of his prize, I’ll vow. I’ve never seen a bridegroom so eager to fuck his bride.”

“And where is the bridal chamber in this pile of moldering stones?” Aidan demanded haughtily.

“The old man is giving ye his own chamber!” she reported with a perverse pride. “ ’Tis just above the hall, and I’ve changed the sheets meself for ye. If that is all, lady, I’ll tell them yer coming.”

Aidan nodded. “Nan, in the saddlebag, a clean shirt.”

Bridget shuffled from the room, and Nan handed Aidan the clean shirt. A fragrant, dried sprig of lavender fell from the silk as it was unfolded, and bending Nan picked it up.

“I’ll put this on the pillow in the bridal chamber so ye’ll know that I’ve placed the dagger successfully, m’lady. Then I’ll see that little Mistress Valentina is well fed so’s she’ll sleep tight for her escape. She’s a predictable little ’un. If ye fill her belly good, there ain’t nothing that’ll wake her until morning when she’s hungry again. She’s a good baby, she is.”

Aidan smiled. “Remember to tell Cluny where the rope is,” she said as she put on the velvet skirt, and belted it with her own belt. The fresh scent of her shirt cheered her as she buttoned it to the neck, but then on second thought she undid the first three buttons. She could put Cavan well off his guard by offering him a good view of her charms. That, the wine she intended plying him with, and his own lecherous thoughts of the night to come would all serve to aid her in her plan to commit murder. She shivered briefly at her own thoughts, and with an encouraging smile at Nan she left the tower room, and walked down the winding staircase to the hall.

From the noise she could tell that the celebration was well under way. She stopped a moment, and steadied herself against the stone wall of the tower. Drawing several deep breaths she calmed her thumping heart, and shaking knees. Then she saw Conn’s ring upon her finger, and she drew it off lest they steal it from her, placing it in the safety of her skirt pocket. Then continuing the short distance left to the hall she entered the room.

“The bride! The bride!” screeched Eamon’s wife, a gaunt woman with a sly look about her. She hurried forward saying to Aidan, “Unbind yer hair, niece.”

“Why?” Aidan demanded. “I am no maid, and Cavan well knows it.”

Moire FitzGerald ignored her, and with bony, clumsy fingers undid the heavy braid of Aidan’s hair, and running her fingers through it fluffed the bride’s beautiful tresses into a more pleasing appearance. “There,” she said satisfied, “now ye almost look beautiful.”

Aidan laughed at her. “My wealth is beautiful, and it is that that this family seeks to possess and control. I could look like a frog, and Cavan would wed and bed me.”

To her surprise her aunt lowered her voice saying, “Guard yer tongue, girl! Ye know FitzGeralds aren’t afraid to beat their women, and most of them are mean bastards when in their cups.” Then taking her niece by the arm she led her over to the high board which had been converted into a temporary altar for the ceremony.

Aidan’s glance swept about the hall. It was not a big room, and it was filled now with family and servants. Most, she noted, were men; the only women being her aunt, Eamon’s two daughters-in-law, his half-grown daughter, Maeve, and two other older serving women. They’d all overindulged on wine, she decided, and the men were already on their way to being drunk. She wondered if the cold-eyed priest would allow himself the luxury of overindulging. Right now he was the only one in the entire hall with the exception of herself who could lay claim to being sober.

“Let us begin,” said Father Barra FitzGerald in a stony voice.

Aidan and Cavan were brought before him, and the ceremony began, but Aidan paid little heed to what was being said. It was the only way she could maintain her calm for if she seriously considered what was happening to her now she would have panicked entirely. They had placed her hand in Cavan’s at the beginning of the ceremony, and he squeezed her fingers cruelly when she was required to speak. Finally the rite concluded they were pronounced man and wife.

A cheer went up from the assembled FitzGeralds and their servants and grabbing at his bride Cavan glued his mouth to hers in a hard, wet kiss. Angrily Aidan pulled away from him, her hand flashing out to make contact with his cheek. Stunned his own hand reached up to finger his injured face, and a dull flush crept over his visage.

“The money, Cavan,” she hissed at him, “the money is what ye want!”

“Nay, bitch, I want it all!” he snarled back. “I want the wealth, aye, but I want ye also. I have from the moment I first laid my eyes on ye! Tonight I’ll take some of the fight out of ye, ye may be certain!” He touched his cheek again. “Ye’ll pay for this,
wife
.” Then clamping his hand cruelly about her wrist he dragged her up to the highboard where the servants had already cleared away the trappings of religion to replace them with a wedding banquet of sorts.

There was a side of beef that had been roasted over an open fire, and several capons that tonight had a sweetish sauce upon them, and several meat pies, rabbit, Aidan guessed, and wonder of wonders a bowl of little onions and lettuce that had been braised in wine. There was plenty of fresh bread, butter, and cheese, and of course, wine from Rogan FitzGerald’s carefully hoarded supply. There was no bridal cake for there had been no time to make one; and besides it was beyond the meager talents of the household women.

Aidan ate carefully, choosing beef and the vegetables and some bread. She also when no one was looking managed to slip a small loaf and some cheese into the pocket of her skirt, feeling Conn’s ring as she did so. It gave her courage for what was to come.

Cavan FitzGerald could barely keep his eyes off the woman he claimed as his wife. Her fine silk shirt was open three pearl buttons, and he had an excellent view of her magnificent tits. He didn’t dare to touch her again in public lest she attack him, and shame him before his relations once more. Soon she would be in his power, and then he intended availing himself of her wonderful body, and exercising his husband’s rights to the fullest. He wanted to know every bit of her for before he killed Conn O’Malley he would enjoy describing to Conn just how he had fucked Aidan, and how she had responded. He had no doubt of the response for he had been sending women into swooning fits with his lovemaking since he was barely thirteen. It was a very satisfying talent to possess.

Several hours passed, and Cavan realized that if he drank much more wine he would be unfit to consummate his marriage this night, and that was a pleasure he had long awaited. He had eaten everything that he could, and had listened contentedly to his cousin Eamon’s third son who was a bit of a bard, and now he was ready for his bed. Clamping a hard arm about Aidan he whispered in her ear, “Get ye to the bridal chamber, and prepare yerself for my coming. I’ll not be long, bitch, so do not dally!” Then leaning over to Eamon’s wife he said, “Get her ready, Moire. I’m not of a mind to wait any longer.”

With a scornful glance at him which he didn’t miss Aidan arose and walked from the hall and up the stairs, Moire and her two daughters-in-law and her daughter in her wake. When they reached Rogan’s chamber on the floor above she was relieved to see a sprig of lavender on the pillow as she entered the room.

“Well, lass, off with yer clothes,” said Moire FitzGerald briskly. “Yer no maid to be shy now.” She reached out, and undid the belt, and waistband that held the velvet skirt in place.

Aidan calmly stepped out of it, and undid her shirt as her aunt pulled down her petticoats. “Give me my nightrail,” she said as she sat down so they might pull her boots off.

Moire FitzGerald snatched up the nightrail that her daughter was holding out. “Ye’ll not need that, Aidan my girl! He’ll only tear it off ye, and’tis a pity to ruin a perfectly good garment. Into bed with ye now!”

The protest died on her lips. What did it matter? she thought. Better to get this over with, and let them go back to their drinking. She certainly had enough experience at this point to hold Cavan FitzGerald off long enough to slay him. Without a word she climbed into the large bed, but when her aunt reached out to fluff the pillows she stayed her hand saying, “Nay, aunt, I hear the men coming now. They’re fine as they are.”

“Yer right,” the woman replied, and then tossing Aidan’s clothing carelessly on a nearby chair, she herded the other three females from the room before Cavan could arrive to find them there.

Quickly Aidan felt beneath the pillow, and the blade of the dagger pricked her finger. “God’s nightshirt!” she swore softly, but the relief in her voice was evident. She sucked her finger to relieve the sting, and examining it was satisfied that there was no telltale blood to give Cavan cause for suspicion. She looked about the room. In the dim light from the fire, and the candle by the bed it appeared to be the best furnished chamber in the entire place which surprised her. Rogan didn’t seem a man to be involved with personal comforts, but perhaps the room had been the result of her late grandmother’s efforts.

Then she heard the sound of drunken laughter, and stamping in the passageway outside, and the door flew open to admit Cavan, and the other men of the family.