Eefha had been waiting for them before dawn as they went to gather up their horses. She never said a word about riding escort, or about her intentions; she had simply been waiting for them astride a small and worn-looking palfrey near the stableswhere the other horses were tethered. Devlin didn’t say a word to the woman, as if her presence had been expected. Even now, he was fairly dismissive of Emllyn’s concerns.
“They will ride with us only a short way,” he told her. “When we get within range of de Cleveley’s scouts, they will return to Black Castle.”
“But what of Eefha?” Emllyn wanted to know. “Will she turn back as well?”
Devlin glance over his shoulder at the old woman, muttering to herself as she plodded along on the palfrey. “I am not sure,” he said. “She may choose to go with us. She will be a good set of eyes for us if she does. People often ignore a mad old woman, not realizing that she is indeed taking notice of what goes on around her.”
Emllyn looked over her shoulder at the old woman, too. “God’s Blood,” she muttered. “Even if she does hear something that will be of help, how is she going to tell you? Is she going to tell you a tale of a great battle and hope you understand what she means?”
Devlin fought off a grin. “That has been known to happen.”
Emllyn was cut off from replying when Devlin suddenly lifted his right arm, a heavily gloved appendage, and a falcon of magnificent breeding swooped in and landed on it. Startled, Emllyn cowered behind him as the bird fluffed its features and stretched out its wings, settling in on Devlin’s arm. He lifted a hand, still holding the reins of the horse, and stroked the bird on its chest with a big finger.
“Where did he come from?” Emllyn asked, eyeing the enormous talons that were cutting into Devlin’s leather glove.
Devlin smiled faintly at the bird. “From the gods,” he said affectionately. “Have you not yet met Neart?”
Emllyn thought a moment, a flash of a memory from the night she was captured popping into her head. She remembereda big, dark bird hanging over Devlin’s head the first time she ever saw him and now the animal’s presence was starting to make some sense.
“I think I may have noticed him on the night you and I were introduced,” she said somewhat wryly, watching the bird as its head swiveled around, searching for predators or prey. “Is he your pet?”
Devlin nodded. “Pet and protector,” he said. “He has been with me for many years. Much like Eefha is an unconventional protector, Neart is much the same. I raised him from a very young bird and he is quite attentive to me.”
Emllyn watched the bird as he ruffled his fathers and preened. “He is a beautiful creature,” she said. “Do you plan to bring him with us, then? I am not sure an escaped prisoner would have a falcon of this magnificence.”
Devlin’s focus was still on the bird. “You worry much,” he said. Then, he murmured swift words to the bird. “Neart,cuardach.”
He lifted his arm and the bird took off, sailing into the air like a great preying beast and disappearing into the mist. Emllyn was fixed on the spot where he had vanished, trying to see if she could spot him in the fog.
“Where is he going?” she asked.
Devlin glanced up at the heavy white mist surrounding them. “His eyes are far better than ours at seeking out danger,” he said. “If he sees something, he will call out to me.”
“Like what?”
“The enemy.”
“Patrols from de Cleveley?”
“Aye.”
“How far is their settlement from Black Castle?”
“Twenty miles,” he replied. “Tonight, our escort will turn back and on the morrow we shall see the English settlement by mid-day.”
“Is it possible that de Cleveley has sent patrols this far north?”
Devlin lifted a dark red eyebrow. “After Kildare’s defeat three days ago, anything is possible. News of my victory will travel fast and we must be vigilant.”
Emllyn fell silent after that, mostly because she wasn’t sure what more to say. Three days ago she was on a ship foundering on the Irish coast; now, she was in the midst of a fog in enemy lands, heading for her brother’s allied encampment. There was a sense of adventure to it all, of disbelief in the situation in general, but in truth all she could manage to feel was apprehension. This was dangerous, and unfamiliar, ground.
But the course was set and there was no turning back. The party from Black Castle traveled into the mid-morning, avoiding the main road and plodding through fields and copses. Eventually, the mist lifted, revealing the brilliant green landscape of Wicklow.
As they moved inland from the coast, it became dotted with green hills and overgrown vales, and there were patches of heavily forested areas. The grass was very thick and about knee-high on the horses, and they trudged silently through the growth as they made their way over hills and down into ravines. It was long and slow going in the cold and brisk air, but Emllyn remained huddled up against Devlin’s back, covered by her borrowed cloak, and it wasn’t so bad. As the morning passed into afternoon and they rounded a particularly tall hill and headed down to a vale with a swiftly running stream, Devlin called halt to their travel.
“We will stop here and water the horses,” he said. “Take what rest you can. We will not stop again until after dark.”
The two knights accompanying them climbed off their coursers and moved the animals to the water to drink. Devlin also dismounted, glancing at their surroundings before turning to help Emllyn from the horse. She was fast, however, and had slid down before he had the chance to assist her. She was already looking around, evidently searching urgently for something.
