Erinsong (11 page)

Halfway across the courtyard she met
Moira.

“Where’s Keefe—I mean
Jorand?” her sister wanted
to know. “Da is
calling for him and I’ve looked everywhere.”

“He’s over there.” Brenna
pointed in the direction
of the rock wall.
“Though I can’t imagine what a body would want with the likes of
him,” she added sourly.

“I can.” Moira’s voice was as soft as newly
churned butter.

“Fine then.” A new feeling she couldn’t
identify swirled in her gut and made her insides jump. “He’s all
yours, sister. Take him with me blessing.”

As she stormed toward the
keep, Brenna finally found a name for the sinking sensation inside
her. It
was fear. Fear that Moira would
take her at her word.

And take her Northman.

The noise of laughter and roughhousing
greeted her when Brenna opened the heavy oak door. Between the
glaring torchlight and the swirl of colors on the tightly packed
guests of the Donegal, she could scarcely keep her eyes open.

She hung her
brat
on the peg by the
door and slid
along the curving outer wall
till she came to an arrow
loop, a narrow
cross-shaped opening in the stone. In
case
of attack, a defender could loose shafts in
virtu
ally any direction with very little
risk to himself from
an arrow loop. There
was a narrow ledge before the slit wide enough for her to perch
upon. She tucked
her knees to her chin and
her nose to the opening for
fresh
air.

Each time the keep door swung open, she
looked over, expecting to see Jorand and her sister. Each time, her
heart sank deeper with disappointment.

Was Moira in the Northman’s arms in the
moonlight now?

Why should I
care?
She balled the hem
of her skirt in her fists. Brenna
kept her
gaze cast to the
floor lest anyone see her
struggle to stay calm. A pair
of scuffed
shoes appeared in her line of sight. She
looked up to see who was wearing them.

“Come, Brenna, give us a
song,” Connor McNaught
demanded with a
drunken slur in his voice.

“I don’t feel inclined to
sing,” she said, wishing he’d
go
away.

“Then I’ll have to do it
meself.” Connor clambered
up on one of the
stout tables and bellowed out a rib
ald
song about the coronation of the king of the clan Conaill, a
festive and crude ritual ending in the pub
lic copulation between the king and a white mare. It was an
ancient custom and, as far as Brenna knew,
still in practice. The crowd roared with laughter, but
Brenna feared she might be ill.

Her gaze slid to the door against her
volition. What was keeping her sister and the Northman?

“Ah, daughter!” Brian Ui
Niall’s voice rang out over the hall as he lifted her harp. “ ‘Tis
some time
since we heard ye and this fine
wee instrument. Give
us a song,
then.”

Brenna’s lips tightened
into a line. She’d never felt
less like
singing in her life, but she couldn’t refuse a direct request from
her father, much less her king. She elbowed her way to Brian Ui
Niall’s side and took the harp from him. After tuning the cat-gut
strings, she settled the instrument on her knee and waited for
silence to fill the hall.

It had been a long time since she played her
harp and her fingers were hesitant at first. But after a few
feathery strokes, her hands remembered their business and released
a delicate melody into the smoky air. Then Brenna began to
sing.

O’er the lonely hills I wander,

O’er cloud-wraithed mountain, by surging
sea.

O whither have ye roamed, my dear one?

O will ye ne’er return to me?

As she started the last
refrain, a slight stir in the air
told her
the keep door had opened. She looked up
from the harp to see Jorand and her sister tumble in,
all smiles, Moira’s fluty laugh and Jorand’s
rumbling
chuckle floating toward her. The
sound pierced her heart like an arrow.

The Northman was head and
shoulders taller than the other men in her father’s keep, so it was
no trou
ble to meet his gaze over the
crowd. His smile faded
as she continued to
sing, but his eyes held the same
fire that
had burned in their depths moments be
fore
he kissed her.

Brenna’s voice caught in
her throat, but she some
how managed to
finish the song.

I sought my love in glens and dells

Where fairies haunt the darkling trees.

O whither have ye roamed, my dear one?

O will ye ne’er return to me?

When the last wisp of sound faded, the guests
erupted in loud clapping and stomping till the floor of the keep
trembled. Brian Ui Niall kissed Brenna on the cheek and silenced
the crowd with upraised arms.

“
‘
Tis good to know my little songbird
hasn’t forgotten how to warble,” he said. “But pleasant as her
songs are, that’s not why I called all Donegal to the keep. We’re
here tonight to honor a stranger among us. Jorand, me lad, come up
here.”

The guests parted to make way for the big
Northman.

When Jorand reached the
king, Brian Ui Niall slapped both his hands on Jorand’s shoulders
and
bid him to stand beside him and face
the throng.

“In times past, I’ve hated
your kind, Northman.
They’ve been a
scourge from the sea, the cause of end
less woe to the people of Erin. I came to believe the raiders
from Lothland were more beast than man.”

The gathering nodded its assent.

“Since ye washed up on our
shores, I’ve altered me
thinking on that
point somewhat. Now I’m after believing there’s good and evil in
all sorts of folk,” the king said as he turned to Jorand. “Ye are
one of the good ones.”

The Northman studied the
floor, as if embarrassed
by her father’s
praise.

“For the way ye saved me daughter Moira, I’m
deeply in your debt.”

Brenna’s heart lurched as Jorand looked over
the heads of the gathered Irishmen toward Moira, who was leaning
against the oak door.

“I’m glad I was there to help,” Jorand said
simply.

“So am I, lad,” the king said. “And that’s
why I’m after joining my house to ye. Here before these witnesses,
I’m offering ye me daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Jorand seemed struck dumb as he continued to
gaze at Moira. Brenna thought she might be sick on the spot.

“What say ye?” Brian demanded.

“The king does me honor but—”

“Good! ‘Tis settled then.
I’m pleased to announce the betrothal of me daughter to the
Northman, Jo
rand,” the king said. “We’ll
finalize the details of the
agreement in
private,” he said softly, then bellowed out, “Father Michael, we’ll
be havin’ a wedding!”

Then, inexplicably, the king turned and took
Brenna’s hand. He led her to the Northman and placed her icy palm
in Jorand’s warm one. Then Brian held their joined hands aloft.

The crowd was silent for
the space of a half dozen
heartbeats, but
then roused itself to offer a chorus of
well-wishes and half-hearted cheers.

“God’s grace on the pair of
ye!” The king’s blessing
echoed off the
stone walls. “And may your joining
bring
peace and an end to the ravages of Northmen on the people of
Donegal.”

So that was her father’s
thinking. A Norse son-in-law might exempt them from future raids.
Peace meant crops sown in season and full bellies
all winter. Safety from Norse raiders was a
sentiment
the clan could endorse
enthusiastically and the cheers
were
louder and more heartfelt this time.

Brenna hoped their marriage
would bring peace to
someone. Since she
suspected her betrothed preferred
her
sister, the union wasn’t likely to bring much peace to
her.

“Da, I cannot believe ye
would make this match with
out so much as
a by-your-leave from me!” Brenna’s
pent-up
outrage nearly exploded when the last guests
straggled out of the keep in the wee hours of the
morning.

“Or me,” Moira said coolly.

“Be easy, daughters,” Brian
Ui Niall said, raising
his hands to
silence them. “Moira, get ye to your bed
this instant. Ye are not to trouble yourself further
on this matter, and that’s me final
word.”

Moira huffed her
disappointment, but the king’s
dark scowl
sent her stomping off to the ladder. A mo
ment later, from the uppermost story, Brenna heard
the door to their small room slam with
vehemence.

Brian Ui Niall sighed. “Brenna, ye must trust
me. ‘Tis only your welfare I’m thinking of.”

“Me welfare!” Her brows
shot up. “To wed a stranger we know next to nothing of. How
can
that possibly be conducive to me
welfare?”

“
He’s hardly a stranger, Brenna. We may not know
much of his past, but I’m thinking Jorand’s shown
us
something of his true mettle in the
short time he’s
been with us.” The king
tossed a glance at the North
man who sat,
stony as the keep itself, by the smoldering peat fire. “Ye must
admit we owe him for the way
he saved your
sister.”

“But it doesn’t mean ye owe him me!”

“Ye know as well as I that
I cannot offer him Moira.
It flies against
all custom to marry off the younger be
fore the elder is made a bride. If ye’re not for the Church,
ye need a husband, daughter.” The king raked a hand through his
dark hair. “Brenna, me
heart, there’s the
other matter to consider.”

Brenna felt herself blanch.
How could her father
broach that thorny
subject now? “Surely ye don’t still
blame
me for—”

“No, daughter,” Brian cut
her off quickly. “I only
meant, as king, I
have to weigh other things as well.”

“Such as?”

“Domhnall of the clan Ulaid
has heard of our Moira’s
beauty. He’s
asked for your sister for Fearghus, his
remaining son,” Brian said. “After all that’s passed between
our two clans, I cannot deny him.”

Her father’s words hit
Brenna like stones tossed on a grave mound. When Brenna’s brother
was accidentally killed, Brian Ui Niall had forced Domhnall
to
sacrifice the life of his first born to
keep peace between their clans. Now he could scarcely deny
the
Ulaid a bride of his choosing for his
remaining heir.
In a way, the request
evened the score. Domhnall was
depriving
the Donegal of his cherished daughter. Brian couldn’t gainsay his
neighbor. To do so would mean open war, and, given the opportunity,
Brian Ui
Niall was a man for
peace.

Brenna had no more choice in the matter than
her father. “Aye, Da, I understand.”

“Ye must needs wed,
daughter,” Brian said simply. “
Connor
McNaught pressed me for ye—”

“I’d sooner marry a toad.”

The king grinned. “I thought as much. That’s
why I offered ye to the Northman.”

“And does the toad have any say in the
matter?” Jorand asked dryly. He leaned back, massive arms crossed
over his chest.

“No slight was intended,
boy-o. Ye’ve missed
me meaning,” the king
said hastily.

“No, I think I understand
your situation pretty
well. You have a
daughter you can’t place in the mar
riage
market for some unnamed reason, and I’m available. If I accept,
you’ve gained an ally against further raids from my countrymen,
married off Brenna, and freed up Moira to seal the peace with your
neighbor,” Jorand said, his level gaze piercing
Brenna to the bone. “If I insult you by declining, Brenna
will end up
marrying a man she detests
even more than me and you’ll have given your people one more reason
to hate my kind. I think that about tallies it up, doesn’t it, or
have I missed something?”

Blood drained from Brenna’s
head. Her vi
sion swam uncertainly. It was
one thing for her to
protest this match in
private. For Jorand to refuse her now after
he’d accepted her in public would disgrace her beyond
bearing.

Brian narrowed his eyes at the Northman.
“Does this mean ye’ll not have me daughter?”

“Now you’ve missed my
meaning,” Jorand said. “I just want everything clear and in the
open. You
said we’d agree to terms in
private. So be it. Here are
my terms. Once
Brenna and I are wed, I’m free to go
wherever and whenever I choose.”