“I have their ear more,” Devlin fired back softly. “Shain, I appreciate your concern, but I will speak with Freddy. He will understand his place and if he does not, then you and Iver will ensure that he does not get out of control. But while I am away, you are in command. I will trust you.”
Shain knew there wasn’t much more he could say. After a moment, he simply nodded his head. “As you say, Dev,” he said softly.
Devlin could see how unhappy he was and he clapped him gently on the head. “All will be well,” he assured him. “But for now, we need to focus on today. When I came out of the keep, I noticed the men were breaking down the ships on the shore. What are you having them do with the wood and other treasures?”
Shain reluctantly shifted from Devlin’s future plans to the situation at hand. “Anything salvageable, wood or rope or tools, is being brought to the fortress and stacked outside of the walls. Anything of value like personal possessions or coin is being brought inside and stored inside the barn. Would you see it now?”
“Later,” Devlin replied. “Are the prisoners still in the vault?”
Shain nodded. “Still,” he answered. “It is very crowded. Those chambers were made for no more than twelve men and there are thirty of them.”
“Make sure they are fed and watered properly,” Devlin said. “They can deal with the cramped quarters but I would make sure they are fed adequately. I’ve no inclination to starve men to death.”
Shain cocked his head in thought. “Dev,” he said casually, “do you think you should interrogate them before you depart to de Cleveley lands? It is possible that someone knows something about future attacks against us. It would be a prudent thing to at least question them.”
Devlin had been thinking that very same thing. Emllyn had made mention of it last night in a roundabout way, wanting to see the prisoners to see if she knew of one of them in the commander hierarchy, but in her case it was a self-serving desire. She only wanted to see if her precious Trevor was among the captives.
In Devlin’s case, he thought perhaps to interrogate them all to see if anyone knew anything valuable. Truth be told, he was more than curious to know if, indeed, Trevor was among them. A day ago he had no interest in the man but now, he found himself more and more intrigued. Who was this man that held Emllyn’s heart? Curiosity had the better of him, and another emotion he didn’t recognize. He thought it might be anger or disapproval; it never occurred to him that it was jealousy. He had to see the man who had her attention.
“Aye,” he said after a few moments of deliberation. “Mayhap I will visit the captives and see if I can discover anything useful. Has anyone questioned them at all?”
Shain shook his head. “Nay,” he replied. “We rounded them up and threw them straightaway into the vault. With the chaos last night, there has been no time for interrogation.”
“Then mayhap the time is now.”
Shain agreed and they made their way out of the stables and into the brisk salty wind that blew steadily off of the sea. The bailey of the fortress was fairly empty this time of night even though his soldiers were milling about and there were men on the wall on patrol. It was a full moon over head, peeking out from between intermittent rain clouds, something that had illuminated the battle the night before much to the advantage of the Irish. Devlin glanced up at the ghostly silver moon, his gaze lingering on it. Shain caught his expression.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
Devlin shrugged although his gaze remained on the sky. “I am thinking of Elathan, the God of the Moon,” he said. “The noble and beautiful prince of darkness. My mother said he was my ancestor.”
Shain’s expression grew somber. “He was also a man too trusting in those around him,” he muttered. “He was betrayed by a relative. Beware that you do not make the same mistake.”
Devlin took his eyes off the moon, looking at his friend and seeing how serious he was. He gave him a half-grin. “That is why I have you to watch out for me.”
They reached the gatehouse, wet from the rains and surrounded by mud that had spilled down into the narrow steps that led to the vault. Shain stopped and faced him before they went in.
“Tell me this,” he murmured. “If Freddy goes against you, do I have your permission to deal with him?”
“How?”
“Kill him.”
Devlin’s warm expression faded. “Although I respect and love you, my friend, you have never particularly cared for Frederick,” he said quietly. “I am not saying you have it in mind to see him dead, but you have never warmed to him. Take carethat your personal prejudices against him do not cloud your judgment.”
Shain grunted, lowering his gaze and fidgeting. It was clear he was uncomfortable and perhaps frustrated. “My personal feelings towards him have nothing to do with it,” he said. “Freddy commands eight hundred men personally sworn to him. He is a baron’s son. He is also your cousin and for that alone, he has my respect. But he loves you and he envies you, Dev. He has a devious streak in him. Take care thatyouare not blind to his true intentions.”
Devlin knew that; Shain was aware that he knew it, too. It was not a new conversation with them. Giving the man another grin, perhaps one to tell him that he worried too much, Devlin descended the slippery, muddy stone steps that led down into the vault.
There were thirteen steps before they hit rock bottom into a tiny, cramped room with two small cells. The cells were separated by bands of iron, forced together with great iron bolts to create what looked like cages, all set within the stone and rock of the sandy Irish soil. A big flaming torch burned against one wall, wedged into an iron sconce and giving off heavy black smoke from the fat-soaked wick. There were two guards on this level, seated on the ground playing some manner of dice game, and they stood up when they saw Devlin enter.
Devlin didn’t notice the guards; he was looking at the prisoners, literally crammed into the cages until they could barely move. Most of them were sitting but a few were standing because there was no more room to sit, and there was certainly no room to lie down. It was fairly appalling conditions. The entire room reeked of urine and feces, enough so that Devlin’s eyes started to water from the pure strength of the stench. But he studied the group of men who gazed back at him with variousexpressions of fear and curiosity. As Devlin continued to inspect, Shain pushed in front of him.
“My name is Devlin de Bermingham,” he said with authority. “My father is John de Bermingham, Earl of Louth, and I descend from the kings of Leinster. I am known as Black Sword and you are my prisoners. Who is the ranking soldier here?”
No one said anything for a moment; they simply gazed back at Shain in silence. A few lowered their gazes, unable and unwilling to speak. It was clear that the name Black Sword carried great weight with them; they all knew of the rebel leader. He was a man to be feared, the man their liege greatly hated. He was the man who had soundly defeated them. Shain grunted in mounting impatience.
“I am simply looking for one man to speak with,” he said. “I am not looking to make a martyr out of anyone. Speak up, now; who is your leader?”
