“Your daughter will be humiliated.”
“She might,” Connor admitted. “But she’ll keep her virtue.”
As he stalked toward the young men, Honora hid her smile. All around her, she smelled the yeasty scent of fresh bread. The blacksmith’s hammer rang out amid the sounds of girls giggling and the lowing of cattle being gathered together. Though it was only the day before Midsummer’s Eve, she could already feel the rising excitement.
Children practiced against one another in foot races while she heard the sound of steel upon steel in a nearby training field. Just ahead, she saw several targets set up, while four women practiced archery. While two of them were fairly skilled, the other two kept aiming too low, their arrows embedding in the ground.
With their hair braided back, wearing only the tight-sleevedléineunderdresses, the women had more freedom of movement. But when Honora watched them make the same mistakes, over and over again, she couldn’t stop herself from approaching a red-haired woman who was slightly younger than herself.
“Forgive me,” she said, knowing they would not understand her. The red-haired woman stopped, her expression confused. Honora pointed to the bow and asked, “May I try?”
The woman exchanged a glance at her friends, but nodded. Honora picked up the weapon, feeling the wood, testing the bow string. It was a good bow, and she fitted an arrow, aiming it toward the target. She ripped at the bowstring, sending the arrow directly into the center of the target.
The woman beamed at her, and started chattering at her in Irish. Honora gestured for the woman to take the bow back again, and she adjusted the woman’s aim, slightly higher than where she had intended to shoot.
“You have to allow for the arrow to fall when you shoot,” she explained, feeling ridiculous for speaking to them in a language they didn’t understand. But then Connor returned and translated her words. The woman tried again and this time, her arrow struck the straw target. Her smile beamed, and Connor said, “I think you’ve made a friend with Noreen. She wants you to show the others. They are competing against the Ó Phelan tribe in archery later on. If you could help them win, they would be in your debt.”
Honora ventured a smile toward the women, nodding. The woman named Noreen took Honora’s hand and introduced her to the others. Before long, Honora was showing each woman how to shoot properly. She took pride in watching them succeed. For this, was something she knew well enough, even if she was not an adequate mistress of the household.
An hour later, the women bid her farewell, and Honora crossed over to watch the sword fighting. One of the older men wore the armor of a Norman knight. He ran the men through sparring exercises she’d seen hundreds of times at her father’s castle.
Entranced, she watched them, wishing she could join them. Like a violent dance, they slashed their swords, dodging blows and parrying thrusts. Her hand rested on the broken dagger hilt she’d tucked beneath the overdress while a fierce longing rose up within her.
When they stopped to rest, King Patrick approached her. Honora tried to curtsy, but he waved a dismissive hand. “Was there something you needed? Or did you merely wish to watch?”
Actually, she’d wanted to participate. But first, she needed a sword of her own.
“I would like to watch the fighters.” Inwardly, she hoped to choose the men who could join her in the fight for Ceredys. Though she had nothing to offer them here, she could promise them silver and jewels if they defeated John.
The king led her toward the training field. “The men compete to be named the strongest. I suspect that will be Ewan.”
“He’s changed a great deal since his fostering.” Honora walked alongside the king toward the donjon. “In many ways.”
She stared up at the tall castle with its stone walls, wincing a little when they passed beneath the murder hole. As a girl, she’d never liked the sense of being watched. Sure enough, she caught a glimpse of young Liam before he thought better of throwing the mud cake he held in his grimy hands.
“Are you going to wed my brother?” King Patrick asked. There was a note of disapproval in his voice.
Honora stopped walking, startled at his confrontation. “He hasn’t asked.” And though it broke her heart to think of it, she wasn’t certain she could say yes, if he did. She didn’t want to wed a man who was constantly in search of riches, falsely believing it was what she wanted. “And I must first protect my own people. Ewan knows this.”
Patrick pointed toward the practice field. “Sir Anselm, the Norman knight you saw training my men, can help you to address the men. I cannot promise that any of them will join in your fight, but you can ask. When you are ready to leave, we will provide you safe passage.”
Honora finally looked up at the stony gray eyes of the king, grateful for his assistance. Although there was no guarantee she’d find any men to help, it was the first time she’d seen any hint of assistance. “Thank you.”
She tried to curtsy, but he stopped her, shaking his head. “I’ve seen the way Ewan watches you. And all of us want only his happiness.” Like an overprotective brother, he made his feelings clear.
“I would never do anything to hurt him.”
The king studied her, as though reaching inside to determine her worth. “Then we understand each other.”
ThemorningofMidsummer’sEve cast a mystical veil over the MacEgan tribe. Flowers hung everywhere, and not a single hearth burned. All had been extinguished in preparation for the fires that night.
When Ewan reached Laochre, the air was buzzing with excitement. He saw his brother Bevan arriving with his wife Genevieve. She leaned heavily upon her husband, her stomach rounded with pregnancy.
“You’re looking well, Genevieve,” Ewan remarked, giving her a kiss of welcome.
“I feel like you should be herding me, along with the other cows,” she teased. Ewan embraced her warmly, and her gaze turned shrewd. He didn’t know what Bevan had told her, but she was studying him as though she didn’t like what she’d heard. “I didn’t realize you chose Honora over her sister. My father told me many stories about her. Where is she?”
“I haven’t seen her since yesterday,” he admitted.
