“Most of the men are sleeping,” Patrick said. “There’s a broken section of the palisade wall we didn’t finish repairing. Connor can go inside first and find out what they’ve done to Ruarc.”
He turned to Ewan. “Stay outside the gates where no one can see you. If we do not return within a few hours, bring Sir Anselm.”
Ewan grimaced. “I want to go with you.” A hint of sulking tinged his demeanor. Nothing bothered the boy more than being left behind.
Patrick touched his younger brother’s shoulder. “There is a greater need for you here, lad. Be our eyes and our ears. If aught goes wrong, you’re our only hope.”
The sense of responsibility silenced Ewan’s protests. He lowered his shoulders. “I suppose.”
“Good.” Patrick clapped him on the back. At his signal, Connor moved into his position near the broken section of the palisade. Patrick motioned for his brothers to keep silent. The Ó Phelans had posted only a few guards near the gates. His own people were strangely absent. The skin on the back of his neck rose up with warning. Though they had come here to rescue Ruarc, he sensed that there were greater dangers to his own folk.
He should have brought the Norman army, storming the defenses and ridding them of the enemy tribe. But he didn’t want to risk killing his own men in the fray. It was too dangerous.
Connor disappeared inside the ringfort. Though Patrick trusted his brother implicitly, he disliked sending him into harm’s way. Bevan moved in beside him. “I’ve an idea, Patrick,” he whispered. “If Trahern and I go through the souterrain passage, we can distract the others while you and Connor take Ruarc out. They won’t miss him.”
“You’d be taken captive,” Patrick argued. “I won’t allow it.”
His brother shot him a wary look. “Do you believe Trahern and I to be that incompetent? We can hold off the Ó Phelans long enough for you to get out.”
Although it was a sound plan, he hesitated. “After I get him out, we will join in and help you.”
“Let us find out what Connor has learned. Then we’ll decide.”
They waited in the darkness for long moments until a shadowy figure emerged from the wall. Connor found them, keeping his voice at a faint whisper. “He’s being held inside the donjon. He’s bound and they’ve stripped him of his clothes. Donal Ó Phelan and some of the others are taunting him.
“Is he hurt?”
Connor shrugged. “I could not tell what they’ve done to him.”
“How difficult will it be to get him out?” Bevan asked.
“Very. But it can be done, if we have a distraction.”
Patrick explained Bevan’s idea, and Connor agreed. “We haven’t much time. Dawn will break soon.”
With silent understanding, the brothers took their positions. And Patrick prayed that they would escape this without harm.
Chapter Twenty
Isabeldidn’tknowwhymen refused help from women, but she wasn’t about to wait around for Patrick to come back.
He’d gone alone with his brothers. Only four men and a young boy against an entire enemy tribe. The Irish folk at Laochre numbered hardly more than three score. Even so, there were not enough people to win this battle.
Was he trying to die? She had thought that after he turned down the chieftain’s suggested alliance a second time, there might be a grain of hope for their own marriage. But even now, with the kingship lost and his people under attack, he did not confide in her. She didn’t know what he meant to do, and it bothered her that he’d shut her out so completely.
The glittering blackness of the sea stretched before her, with only a small patch of moonlight to illuminate it. Isabel picked up a rock and hurled it toward the water. Though it struck the beach instead, it made her feel better to do something rather than stare out at the mainland.
“Isabel.” A woman’s voice broke through her reverie. She looked toward the source and saw Annle and Sosanna standing behind her.
Her heart ached, though her eyes remained dry. “Yes?”
“Did the men go after Ruarc?” Annle asked.
Isabel nodded. “They’re going to save his life and bring him back.”
Sosanna’s shoulders relaxed, and in the faint light, Isabel saw the wetness of tears on the woman’s face. She was not carrying her babe, and Isabel guessed the child was sleeping.
“Sir Anselm spoke with us about the Ó Phelan tribe,” Annle admitted. “He told us that the Ó Phelans took control of Laochre.”
