“It will look better to de Cleveley if I have an injury as a result of my escape from Black Sword’s dungeon,” she said with forced confidence. “How fortunate this occurred.”
Devlin didn’t believe her for a moment but he admired her courage. “I shall be quick,” he said softly.
For the first time since their rough introduction, there was trust in her eyes as she looked at him. Perhaps there was some appreciation, too, for the fact that he had saved her from cutthroats. Whatever the case, there was something different in her expression that he had never before witnessed. Her lips curled into a faint smile.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Devlin smiled in return and then went to work. There was all manner of warmth between them, of gentleness in his touch that Emllyn had never experienced.It is so odd, she thought to herself as she watched him tend her wound.’Tis almost as if he… cares.But that wasn’t possible. She was a concubine and nothing more, as he had reminded her many times. He was simply protecting his property.
As the battle raged on the hillside, Devlin put five small stitches in Emllyn’s leg with slippery but thick cat gut and Eefha bandaged it tightly. It had been painful but Emllyn had never uttered a sound. As Eefha mixed powdered willow bark with some water from the stream and had Emllyn drink it, Devlin stood off to the side and watched the battle in the distance dwindle. He would not return to it and leave an old woman and an injured lady unprotected, so he remained where he was and watched as Iver and Shain chased off the remaining bandits.
As Devlin urged Eefha to hurry and finish tending Emllyn, Neart returned from his aerial reconnaissance and Devlin perched the bird on his saddle with a bit of jerky as a reward. When the tide of dirty men finally seemed to be moving well off into the distance, Shain gave a sharp whistle and Devlin’s menbegan to retreat. As Devlin watched, the familiar throng moved back in his direction. It was over, for now.
Fortunately, Devlin hadn’t lost any men in the skirmish but he had six wounded, one of them fairly seriously. It was an older soldier who had been cut in the face, slicing through an eye. Shain and a few other men tried very hard to staunch the blood flow and get the man’s eye wrapped so they could move out, but it was a bad wound indeed. It took more time than Devlin would have liked to get him stable. They did what they could and then assigned four men to escort all of the wounded back to Black Castle. When Devlin lifted Emllyn onto his courser and ordered his group to move out, ten men headed back for Black Castle while the remaining twenty five continued south towards de Cleveley territory.
“De Cleveley’s men?” Devlin asked as they resumed their pace.
Both Shain and Iver were riding to his right; the question was directed at them. They were a bit dirty from the muddy battle but none the worse for wear. Shain was the first to reply.
“Nay,” he said. “They were Irish; no English mixed among them, which is usual for de Cleveley. Plus, their weapons were crude and de Cleveley’s men are always well armed. They were also wearing O’Byrne tartan. Didn’t you notice?”
Devlin thought on that information. His heart sank at the thought of his hated enemy, the clann O’Byrne, a large faction that lived to the north of Black Castle and were the traditional enemy of de Bermingham and their allies, the O’Connor. Devlin hadn’t had any trouble from them lately but they were always lurking, waiting to strike. They envied what de Bermingham had.
Devlin fought off a sense of frustration; he had enough trouble with the English. He didn’t need the O’Byrnes resuming their raids on top of everything.
“Truthfully, I was so busy trying to assist the lady that I did not have time to notice everything,” he admitted. “How many did we kill?”
No one said anything about the fact that Devlin had just called Emllyn the “lady” rather than the “prisoner”, or the fact that he had taken her out of the battle and not returned. He had chosen to stay with her, all extremely unusual actions for the usually hands-on commander. If they were confused by it, they kept silent. They focused on his question instead.
“I counted eleven,” Iver said. “They had at least thirty or more men. When they retreated, they left the dead.”
Devlin glanced over his shoulder at the battle site that was now in the distance. “They will be back for them,” he muttered. “We must make sure we are well away by nightfall. I do not wish to remain awake all night waiting for retaliation from O’Byrne.”
Shain glanced over his shoulder, scanning the landscape for more threats. “Do you think they followed us out of Black Castle?”
“It is possible,” Devlin said. “Those bastards are never far off from us. ’Tis better we get clear of this and settle down for the night.”
Everyone seemed to agree on that point and the pace for the group picked up as they moved through a wide brook and into a field full of blooming flowers. Overhead, the overcast sky was beginning to darken and they could smell rain, which would make for unpleasant travel. As Shain and Iver spread out to more vigilantly scan the area, Devlin’s attention turned to Emllyn.
She was unusually quiet and rather limp. He gave Neart a soft command and sent the bird up again to scout the area before looking over his shoulder and trying to get a look at Emllyn.
“Does the wound pain you?” he asked.
He heard her sigh heavily. “A little,” she said. She sounded groggy. “Whatever Eefha gave me to drink has made me very sleepy. Will it be long before we stop for the night?”
Devlin looked up to the sky, noting that it was growing increasingly dark and that fat, angry black clouds were now blowing in off of the sea.
“A few hours,” he said.
She sighed again and he could feel her leaning heavily on his back. “I look forward to it.”
Devlin went a few more feet before abruptly bringing the horse to a halt. He dismounted so swiftly that Emllyn nearly fell off because she had been resting against him. But she steadied herself and watched him curiously as he moved her forward in the saddle so that she was nearly sitting on the horse’s neck, and then mounted the animal again, only this time he was sitting behind her.
He didn’t say a word as he shifted her to a more comfortable position in such a way that she was leaning back against him and her left leg was propped up on the horse’s withers. Wrapping his mother’s old cloak tightly around her, he pulled her back against his chest and cradled her with his right arm. Then he spurred the horse forward.
“You may sleep now,” he told her. “I will steady you so that you will not fall.”
He said it emotionlessly but the truth was he went through some trouble to move her around, and him around, so she could be more comfortable. Emllyn was grateful that he had made the effort to ease her.
