No, if she could not travel in a wagon, she would walk. It wasn’t that far to Carrickmeath—less than a day’s journey on foot. She could only pray that no one had discovered her disappearance yet.
She was so tired, her feet were numb. She’d been walking since the middle of last night in order to get past her mother’s guards. Her hair was sodden from the earlier rain, hanging across her shoulders against her blue woolen gown. Weariness cloaked her, but she could not stop this journey. Her mother would send men to bring her back, and she had to put as much distance as possible between them. Once she reached the safety of Brodie Faoilin’s ringfort, she could stop.
After another hour of walking, she spied a fortress in the distance. It was a wooden structure atop a hillside with a deep trench surrounding it. Sharpened stakes were set at even intervals all around it with a wicker fence to keep out invaders.
Thank goodness. She would beg hospitality with the Faoilin tribe for this night and gain their protection, if possible. But when she drew nearer, she spied two dozen soldiers approaching the fortress, their commanders on horseback. They were riding toward the gates with spears clenched in their fists, and it was clear that they had not come for an amicable visit. One carried the High King’s banner, and they looked as if they were waiting for the right moment to attack.
Why would the High King’s men wage a battle here? Were they here to lay siege upon the fortress? Or had the Faoilin chieftain betrayed the High King? Whatever the reason, Taryn was not about to intrude—at least, not until she knew why they were here.
She slowed her pace and exchanged a look with her escort. “I think we should wait before approaching the ringfort.”
“I agree, my lady.”
Taryn motioned for Pól to follow her into a grove of trees. The wind whipped at her cloak, freezing her skin. Even worse, the rain started up once more, mixed with ice. She hurried toward the oaks, taking shelter beneath a large tree. She had no idea what to do now or how long she should wait. The last thingshe wanted was to sleep out in the open. At night, it would begin snowing, and the ground would harden into ice. It was dangerous to sleep in the midst of such treacherous weather.
“What should we do?” she asked Pól.
The older man rested his hand upon his sword, shrugging. “We’ll have to wait until they’ve left. Or at least until they’ve gone inside.”
Taryn despised waiting. She much preferred to take action and hope for a good outcome. Yet she knew better than to act on impulse and endanger their lives. The wooden gates remained closed, and four men stood within a guard tower overlooking the entrance. For a time, the High King’s soldiers remained in front of the gates, and she could not tell what was happening. Eyeing the men, she wondered how they would respond if she approached.
“We cannot wait all night,” she mused aloud. “We have to find out why they’re here.”
Her guard shrugged. “Whatever the reason, I would not be asking them, my lady. I can build a fire and a shelter for you in the meantime.”
The older man had insisted upon accompanying her to Tara, and she was grateful for his loyalty. But he wasn’t the strongest escort, and she questioned his ability to defend her. He could wield a sword, but his hands suffered aches and pains during damp weather. Pól was nothing like Brodie Faoilin’s men, who were among the strongest fighters in Éireann, second only to the MacEgans.
Taryn exhaled, her breath forming clouds in the air. Somehow, she needed to ally herself with Carice Faoilin. The High King’s bride was her safest means of getting close to Tara.
She started pacing, worried about why these soldiers were here. Would they allow her to approach the fortress? Likely if theFaoilin tribe kept their gates closed, then there was a reason for it.
“Do you want me to move in closer to learn more about why they’ve come?” Pól asked. “As long as I leave my weapons with you, no one would suspect me.”
It was a dangerous risk, but one they needed to take. They had to get inside the fortress and seek shelter for the night.
“Yes, you should go,” she ordered the guard. “Return when you know what’s happening.”
Pól bowed in agreement before he walked toward the main road. Then he adjusted his gait to add a slight limp, making it seem that he was a harmless old man.
With every moment she was alone, Taryn’s apprehensions increased. What if Pól didn’t return? She couldn’t remain here alone. Yet if she approached the High King’s men, they might harm her. She knew she wasn’t beautiful, but as a woman, there was still a strong risk. Then, too, if she appealed to Lady Carice, there was still the chance that the young woman would refuse to let her join her ladies—even if Taryn confessed her reasons. The more she dwelled upon her rash decision, the more unlikely it seemed that she would succeed.
You cannot give up, she told herself. No one else would save her father.
And so, she continued to wait. Pól had given her a dagger, which she had secured at her waist. She had no idea what to do with his sword, for she could hardly lift the heavy weapon. In the end, it seemed best to prop it up against a tree.
After nearly an hour, the men still had not entered the fortress. Something was very, very wrong. Minutes crept onward, and when Pól did not return, Taryn couldn’t stand the waiting any longer. She simplyhadto know what was happening.
This is dangerous and foolish, she told herself. But what choice did she have? She was alone, with no shelter for theapproaching night. She could die at the hands of these men, or she could freeze to death.
They might not kill her, she supposed, as she began walking toward the fortress. They had no true reason to take her life. It was a small consolation.
The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle, and she kept her head and scarred face covered with a woolenbrat. No matter how she tried to square her shoulders and walk with confidence, like the lady she was, she couldn’t stop her teeth from chattering or her hands from trembling.
Within moments, one of the soldiers spied her. Word began to spread, and it wasn’t long before all two dozen men were staring at her. Taryn adjusted her head covering, searching for a glimpse of Pól. But he was nowhere to be found, and she realized that he had likely hidden himself.
“Were you going somewhere?” one of the commanders asked. He wore an iron helm, and a sword rested at his left side. Trying not to show her alarm, she averted her gaze. She never had time to answer before another man emerged from the fortress.
He strode forward, his gaze narrowed upon the soldiers. And the moment she glimpsed his face, her pulse quickened.
