Devlin could sense a mild rebuke in the statement and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want his own men burying the English and would not be chided for it. Before he could speak, however, the third commander at the table spoke.
“What of the woman we captured?” Frederick ?g Branach made it sound like a simple question, but it was not simple in the least. Frederick was a bloodthirsty bastard, known as thetrodaí fola, or Blood Warrior, who had a particular hatred for the English. He had been the one who had captured Emllyn the night before and brought her to Devlin, and he had taken the greatest delight in her fear and humiliation. “What do you intend to do with her?”
Devlin was steady as he faced the man. Last night when Emllyn had been brought to him as a prize, his attitude towards her was as it should have been– she was the spoils of war and nothing more. However, after coming to know her a little, that opinion was in danger of changing. As much as he pretended that it wasn’t the truth, he knew deep down that the situation was increasingly unstable. He hoped the confusion didn’t reflect in his eyes.
“What would you have me do with her?” he asked.
Frederick cocked a dark eyebrow, his broad features stained with hatred. “You’ve already done plenty to her, so I’ve heard,” he said, a lascivious gleam in his eye. “I approve.”
“I do not care if you approve or not,” Devlin said. He wouldn’t warm to the man’s bloodlust. “Answer my question– what would you have me do with her?”
Frederick shrugged his big shoulders and reached for a cup of stale ale with dirty, blood-stained hands. “I suppose you could give her to the rest of us when you’ve had your fill of her,” he said, taking a long swallow of the bitter brew. “Or you could ransom her. Did you find out who she is?”
Devlin nodded, slowly reaching for his own cup of ale. “I did,” he said, putting the cup to his lips. “You will never believe it.”
That peaked their interest. “Who?” Shain demanded.
Devlin deliberately made them wait as he downed the contents of the cup. He set it down against the rough-hewn table.
“The Earl of Kildare’s sister,” he announced. “Evidently, she stowed away on one of the vessels to follow a lover. Her brother does not know we have her, as he does not know she stowed away. At least, that is what she told me. She is a foolish lass, that one. Foolish and young.”
His commanders were holding various expressions of delight and surprise at the news. Iver even laughed softly.
“Kildare’s sister,” he repeated, incredulous. “Are you sure of this? She could be lying.”
Devlin shrugged casually. “She is as fine and untouched as any woman I have ever seen,” he said. “Now she belongs to me and I am not entirely sure I want to give her up or ransom her. I will tell you what I told her– that I shall breed a host of bastard Irish sons from her, lads who will grow up and rebel against their English brethren. Mayhap I will simply keep her as a concubine and nothing more and use the woman as a personal victoryagainst Kildare. ’Twould be humiliating for the man if his sister was the personal whore of his most hated enemy.”
Even Frederick was pleased at Devlin’s statement. “Grand,” he agreed. “Then our victory last night will have implications long into the future. Think on the bastards you could breed with the wench; fine stock, to be sure.”
Devlin agreed and went to pour himself a second cup of alcohol; it was a brew that was produced locally of barley and rye, very strong and heavy in flavor. It was easy to get drunk off of it as he had many a time. He sipped the drink as he fed the falcon another piece of old mutton.
“Indeed,” he said, eyeing the men who were like brothers to him. They had all seen much life and death together, bonded by the plague of war that enveloped their land. “But I will make this clear– Kildare’s sister is my prisoner and my prize. She will be untouched and unmolested by anyone. If I hear that someone has moved against her, my retribution shall be swift and deadly. Do you comprehend?”
Two out of the three men nodded seriously, but no one else seemed to be willing to agree. They seemed perplexed. But Devlin had stated his rules and didn’t wish to discuss them, mostly because the little English witch had him puzzled as to what, exactly, he felt about her and her presence. He didn’t want to have to explain that confusion to anyone else. Therefore, he hoped to move past the subject quickly.
“That is all I have to say about it,” he said quietly. “Now, tell me of my own wounded. How many and what is the current state of my army?”
He’d hoped to shift the subject easily but Frederick wasn’t so keen to let it go. He waved off Iver when the man started to speak on the status of the Irish rebels. “She is not just your personal prize, something to be hoarded and kept,” he insisted. “Although I respect your plans to use her to breed fine sons, nowthat we know who she is, surely the terms of her captivity have changed. She belongs to us all, Dev. She is a symbol of Kildare, the man responsible for all we hate and all we have lost.”
Devlin cocked a dark red eyebrow at him. “I told you that she will not be touched by anyone but me,” he repeated, feeling the tension rise. “I meant it.”
Frederick didn’t like the response. He slammed his cup down and ale splashed from it, spotting the old wooden table. “Did you know I lost my brother last night?” he said angrily, bracing his arms on the table as he nearly yelled at his liege. When Devlin looked rather startled, Frederick simply nodded his head. “Henry was killed by the English. I found him floating in the surf early this morning. That… thatwenchyou have been taking to sport is responsible for it! Is there nothing else you plan to do to make her pay?”
Devlin could see he was going to have trouble with Frederick. He remained cool as his commander postured furiously. “I am sorry to hear about Henry,” he said softly. “He was a good warrior.”
“Sorrow does not bring him back!”
“Nay, it does not, but I am sorry nonetheless.”
Frederick wasn’t satisfied. He pointed to the ceiling above, to the floor that contained the English prisoner. “Tell me what more you intend to do to make her pay.”
“Pay for what? I asked you before what you wanted me to do and you gave me your answer.”
“That was before I knew she was Kildare!”
“It changes nothing.”
Frederick roared with anger, sweeping his arm at the cluttered table and sending food, ale, and cups flying. Iver moved out of the way so he would not be struck while Shain moved closer to Devlin in case Frederick physically attacked the man. That had been known to happen.
