“Listen to me,” he said, mouth damaged, one eye swollen shut. “I have a way we can all be satisfied, but it will take an effort from both of us. I know where I can get my hands on the money.”
King Dagda looked at him in doubt. “Then why did you not say this from the beginning?” he said. “Why tell me stories of your son’s untimely death and blame a dead man for your troubles?”
Ciaran didn’t want to say what he was thinking. He had genuinely been hoping that King Dagda might give him a reprieve with Benedict’s death, but the Scottish pirate had no intention of doing so. “You never gave me the chance,” he said. “All you wanted to do was beat me. How am I to speak when you knock my teeth out?”
King Dagda went over to him and pinched Ciaran’s face between his thumb and forefinger, forcing him to look up and open his mouth so he could see the damage caused by his men. He clucked his tongue sadly.
“The lads have knocked you around a bit,” he agreed. “But you could have stopped them. All you had to tell me was that you have a way to get me my money.”
Ciaran wasn’t going to argue the fact that when King Dagda’s men were in full swing, it would have taken more than words to stop their assault. “I do have a way,” Ciaran said firmly. “I told you about my daughter, the one who serves at Aphrodite’s Feast.”
King Dagda sat down on a chair opposite him. “I remember.”
Ciaran leaned toward the man as if he was about to relay a great secret. “What I did not tell you is that she handles the ledgers,” he said. “She has access to the money at Aphrodite’s Feast.”
That bit of information had King Dagda’s interest. “She is a treasurer?”
Ciaran nodded eagerly. “She knows where it all is,” he said. “If I can get to her, I can convince her to part with some of it. But I will need your help to accomplish this.”
King Dagda frowned. “What do you want me to do?” he said. “I have been to The Feast, you know. There’s a young woman there who reminds me of my wife when she was young, only she’s sweeter and prettier than my Joanne. I want tokeepattending The Feast, if you understand my meaning. Attacking it will ensure that I will never return again.”
“Nay, not attack it,” Ciaran said, shaking his head. He was trying desperately to come up with a plan on the spot, anything to keep them from beating him again. Thinking fast on his feet had never been a strong suit, but he had to try. “I… I need a distraction to pull The Guardians away from The Feast. Can you do that? Create a fire or roust the town. Something that will have them leaving their posts. I just need the chance to get in and get out without being seen.”
King Dagda considered the request. He looked at his men, who really didn’t have much input into his decision, but he wanted to see what they thought. He could tell by the looks on their faces.
What he saw wasn’t exactly positive.
“If this is another delay, Ciaran, I’m afraid it will not end well,” he said.
Ciaran shook his head quickly. “It is no delay, I assure you,” he said. “My daughter really does manage the accounts. She hasaccess to the money, I swear it. But you must help me by getting The Guardians away.”
“Why?”
“Because if I am to take the money, don’t you think they will stop me?”
He had a point. King Dagda looked at his men again, one of whom shrugged. No one seemed to have an opinion one way or the other, so King Dagda sighed heavily with indecision.
“I’m not sure what I can do,” he said. “If I take my ships up the river to get their attention, they could trap me. That would put me and my lads in danger.”
Ciaran was very nearly pleading with the man. “Then what about at the mouth of the river?” he said. “It’s well known that there’s an outpost there, a castle. What if you were to harass the castle? That would bring the men from Bristol.”
King Dagda grunted, shaking his head. “I know that castle,” he said. “Portbury. There are soldiers out there. There would be no reason for The Guardians to come and help.”
“There would be ifyousent a missive from the castle, asking for their assistance,” Ciaran said. “Send a missive to The Feast begging for help. Once the Guardians arrive, you can flee out to sea. That will give me time to get into The Feast, get the money, and get out.”
That was a viable plan, or at least viable enough. King Dagda really did want his money, and a dead Ciaran wouldn’t give him any, so he was trying to put the fear of God into the man enough so that he would pay his debt. Given he had very little, it seemed that stealing from The Feast might be the only chance for King Dagda to really get his money. But he still wasn’t completely satisfied.
“If I do this,” he said pointedly, “then I’ll need more money than simply what you owe me.”
Ciaran furrowed his brow, thinking the man was going to try to trick him somehow. “What do you mean?” he said. “We agreed on how much I owe you. Do you think to change that now?”
King Dagda shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “But if you are to steal from their coffers, you’ll have the opportunity to take more than your share. In addition to what you owe me, I want half of everything else you can get your hands on.”
Ciaran didn’t like that in the least. “But—!”
King Dagda cut him off. “Iam the one risking my ship and my lads by attacking a castle,” he said. “Imust be compensated or I’ll not do it.”
Ciaran was stuck. King Dagda was a greedy man, but he didn’t get where he was in life without being a little greedy. A little conniving. In that respect, he and Ciaran were cut from the same cloth, only Ciaran’s cloth was a little more frayed. He knew he had no choice at this point.
