The four Fianna warriors rode on horseback. Cormac and Illadan took the lead, Finn rode beside the carriages, and Diarmid watched the back. Sláine and Catrin shared one of the small carriages. Their lady’s maids rode in the other. The carriage drivers managed the reins in determined silence, no doubt as anxious as Cormac to be through this weather.
Though Cormac didn’t relish the thought of returning to Dyflin and the acerbic Astrid, he preferred it to traveling in a winter storm. Snow fell rarely, but the rain that poured from the heavens at every opportunity held enough chill to compensate. The journey should take but two days at a leisurely pace, even with the carriages. On their own, the Fianna could make the journey in a single day. But as the first drops of rain portended the coming onslaught, Cormac worried the journey would be as long as it was miserable.
With naught else to occupy his thoughts, they turned toward the arrival at Dyflin. Sitric’s meddlesome sister would no doubt tear into him the moment they arrived. Cormac had never met a more discontented person, man or woman. She seemed intent on harassing him at every opportunity, though she got on just fine with his brothers and Finn. What quality he held that she so disdained he couldn’t begin to guess. All he knew was that tothe best of his ability, he needed to avoid Astrid. She had a way of making him lose his patience—the thing in which he took the greatest pride.
The first day’s journey, an affair that lasted all of six hours, went better than expected. Aye, it was slow going between the rain and wind and meager daylight hours this time of the year. But compared with that night it was downright pleasant.
The wind picked up first, just as they settled into camp for the night. It whipped the horses’ manes and shook the leaves above them in a fit of wintry rage. Cormac, Diarmid, Illadan, and Finn slept side by side for warmth, wrapped in their cloaks and blankets. The women bedded down in their carriages, doing their best to keep the cold at bay.
Hours later, Cormacwoke to shouting. He shot up from his blankets, wiping the sleep from his eyes and searching for the source of the commotion.
It didn’t take long to find it.
Though darkness yet devoured the land, moonlight illuminated the two carriages. Only one of them stood upright.
Diarmid and Illadan already tore through the debris of the front carriage, which lay on its side. How the first had toppled in the gales wasn’t as much a mystery as how the second still stood.
Beside Cormac, Finn jumped to his feet and together they hurried to help.
“Sláine!” Cormac called, his heart pounding. “Sláine are you in there?”
Sláine was as a sister to him, having grown up in the same household. Indeed, he knew her better than he did his own sister.
“Sláine!” Diarmid echoed, his voice frantic.
The door to the second carriage opened.
“It’s alright.” Sláine stepped out, followed by Catrin and their maids. “We were so cold we went to their carriage in the night.”
Cormac exhaled sharply, relief washing over him like the ceaseless rain. Thank the Lord the women were safe. The drivers had slept near the horses to keep them calm through the stormy night, so no one had been injured.
“Can we fix it?” Cormac asked Ailill, one of the men.
Ailill grimaced, shaking his head. “Not without tools and new wood.”
“Can the horse handle the extra passengers?” Cormac would hate for the maids to ride in the frigid rain.
“Normally, aye,” Ailill answered. “But with the roads the way they are, it may be too much weight.”
“Let’s try it. Ladies, make yourselves comfortable in there. It’s going to be tight.” He turned next to Ailill. “Get the horses ready. It’s time to keep moving.” Finally, he looked toward Diarmid and Finn. “Let’s see about retrieving their trunks and moving this off the road.”
He thought that convincing Sitric to marry Sláine would be the hardest part of the mission. As of now, it appeared getting her there in the first place may prove the greater challenge.
Chapter Three
“They’re here!” Theshout rang up from the guards posted at the gates of their holding, drawing Astrid reluctantly out into the rain.
It had been raining for four days now. Day or night, it made no difference, and the deluge showed no signs of stopping.
Pulling her ermine-lined cloak over her head, she stepped out of her brother’s hall far enough to be within shouting range of the guards. “How long?” she yelled.
“Under an hour!” he called back.
Retreating to the warm hall—one of two in their holding—Astrid ordered hot baths drawn for their guests. She may not want anything to do with Brian or his Fianna or his parade of brides, but as one of the ladies of this house it fell to her to host them properly.
Unfortunately.
Astrid had just returned from relaying the news of their companions’ return to the Fianna who had remained in Dyflin when the travelers arrived. Looking quite a bit worse for wear.
