The rains had cleared out from the past couple of days, leaving the air crisp and salty as a strong wind blew in off the Irish Sea. Gulls screamed above her and more than once, Emllyn looked up to see that the birds were close overhead, looking for some scrap of food. When she wasn’t looking at the birds, she was looking at her surroundings and noting the enormous bailey with the wall enclosing it, a wall that was built all the way to the sea cliff. It was like a half-circle, enclosing in the ward, and a big gatehouse was built into it, facing west. The wilds of Eire were on the other side of the massive gate, a place full of rebellion and mythical creatures, or so Emllyn had been told. England wasn’t nearly as frightening or mysterious as Ireland was.
Emllyn and the small figure were nearing the gatehouse and a series of outbuildings near the wall when someone grabbed her from behind. Emllyn let out a frightened yelp, terrified, until she realized she was looking into Devlin’s frowning face. He had a tight grip on her arms as he clutched her against his mighty chest.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “I told you to stay to the keep.”
Startled by his appearance, Emllyn scrambled to explain.Show the man compliance and obedience!“I…” she stammered, pointing lamely at the tiny figure. “I… Iwasin the keep when this… thispersoncame to the chamber. I do not know who it is because… well, I do not even know if it is a man or a woman because it has not spoken to me, but it….”
Devlin cut her off, looking to the tiny person that still had hold of Emllyn’s wrist. His manner was stern.
“Eefha,” he said, almost scolding. “You cannot remove her from the keep. For her own safety, she must stay there.”
Emllyn looked between Devlin and the scruffy little figure. “Whoisthis?” she asked.
Devlin looked rather impatient. “My mother’s sister,” he said. “Her name is Eefha. She’s quite mad.”
Emllyn looked at the tiny old woman and recoiled, leaning in Devlin’s direction. “Mad, you say?” she said apprehensively. “She must be to smoke that horrible pipe. What is in it?”
“What does it smell like?”
Emllyn eyed him reluctantly. “Well,” she said slowly, “it smells like…”
He cut her off but not without an inkling of droll humor. “It is,” he said. “She gets it from the horses, dries it out, and then smokes it. Mayhap breathing all of that foul air in contributes to her madness.”
“Is… is she dangerous?”
Devlin shook his head. “Nay,” he said, sounding less frustrated and more resigned. “She’s harmless. She was probably taking you to add to her collection.”
Emllyn looked at him. “Collection?” she repeated. “What do you mean?”
Devlin opened his mouth but the old woman interrupted. “She hath healed a monarch’s eye,” Eefha said, pointing at Devlin. “Many a war for she hath thou raged.”
He looked at his mother’s sister with a mixture of impatience and resignation. Emllyn leaned closer to him. “What does she mean?” she whispered loudly. “She was saying such strange things to me earlier. Why does she speak like that?”
Devlin glanced down at Emllyn; it took him a moment to speak because he realized, in that instance, that he had never seen the woman in the light of day. Now all he could see was creamy skin and rosebud lips. Tendrils of wavy reddish-blond hair peeked out from beneath the heavy woolen hood and for a moment he was actually speechless. Was it true there was suchbeauty in the world? His heart, a hardened and protected thing, began to thump strangely against his ribs in a manner he’d never before experienced.
“She always speaks like that,” he told her. “It is simply her way. When I was young, she was a teacher. She would recount all of Ireland’s great tales. The older she became and the more madness set in, the more she would use passages from these tales to describe what she was feeling or what she wanted to convey. For example, if she wanted to imply that danger was coming, she would say something like ‘thousands rouse to battle’s rage’. We knew it was from a passage of a tale of the great King Conor, a passage leading to war, so we would understand she meant danger. Unless you are Irish, however, and know the tales she is referring to, it all sounds like gibberish.”
It was a vastly intriguing concept. Emllyn looked at the tiny old woman through new eyes. “So she is indeed trying to say something,” she said in understanding, “but you must know what she is referring to in order to understand what she means.”
“Exactly.”
Emllyn gazed at the old woman a moment before looking up at Devlin. “When she led me from the keep, she said ‘Devlin was mountains and gifted, but Elohr kept safe’,” she told him. “I wonder what she could mean?”
He shrugged. “Elohr was my mother,” he said. “It could mean anything.”
Emllyn pondered that a moment, but then she thought of something else Devlin had said. “What did you mean when you said that she was probably taking me to add to her collection?”
Devlin’s gaze lingered on Emllyn a moment before looking at his aunt. “She is a scavenger,” he said. “She has many wonderful things among the piles of rubbish she collects.”
“Can I see?”
Devlin almost denied her; he wanted to return her to the keep. She was, after all, his prisoner, and prisoners didn’t usually have such freedom to roam about and visit. But the moment he looked at her and saw the curiosity and eagerness in her expression, the words of refusal died in his throat. He’d never been known to let anything sway him, but Emllyn had done it very easily. One expression from her had been the catalyst for his surrender and nothing more. Grudgingly, he gestured in the old woman’s direction.
“If you must,” he said reluctantly. “But know that if she tries to keep you, I may have a battle on my hands.”
Emllyn grinned, a surprising gesture, and he was instantly captivated. He’d never seen her smile before; it was as if the clouds had parted, the heavens had opened up, and the brilliance of angels was now staring him in the face. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“A journey’s long,” Eefha grasped Emllyn by the arm, pulling her away from Devlin and breaking the spell between them. “And if this cometh, not to content thee.”
