“Where do your sympathies lie, John?”
It was an interesting question, now with the other knights listening in. Devlin wasn’t a fool; he knew he had to play the game, but it was harder than he thought. He wanted to jump up and roar for the victory of the Irish, but he kept still. He had been fighting men like de Noble for years and had served under them for longer still. The English had always given him commands or oppressed him one way or the other, and his natural urge to rebel was strong. But his sense of self-preservation, and of the preservation of Emllyn, was stronger.
“I have never had a quarrel with the English,” he said. “In fact, my fellow Irishmen seem to give me more trouble.”
“How is that?”
Devlin shrugged, thinking now would be a very good time to start gaining English sympathy and trust. “Men from Black Castle raid my fields and steal my vegetables,” he said. “The O’Connors have been known to steal my stock. When the English want something from me, at least they pay me for it.”
That brought a thin smile from de Noble. Looking Devlin over, he could see that the man appeared very exhausted. The dark blue eyes were dull. But as he gazed at him, he also found the man strangely familiar. He couldn’t put his finger on it, because all Irishmen looked alike to him, but there wassomething vaguely recognizable. Ah, perhaps it would come to him at some point. For now, he was intent to glean what information he could out of the man about Black Castle, only his tactics were far more subtle than his lesser officers. He was a man who knew how to get what he wanted.
“That sounds typical,” he replied after a moment. “When was the last time you ate, John?”
Devlin thought about it. “Yesterday, m’lord.”
“You must be starving,” de Noble said. “Would you join me for a meal? I have not yet eaten myself and I would like to hear more about this defeat of Kildare’s armada.”
Careful,Devlin told himself. He knew it was more than an invitation; it was a directive because they wanted to probe him. He was on to their game. “I am not sure what I can tell you, m’lord,” he said. “I only heard about it from others.”
“But you found a woman who said she was with Kildare’s fleet.”
“Aye, I did, but she didn’t tell me more than that.”
De Noble didn’t push. He would get the information he wanted, eventually. “Will you come and eat with me, John?”
Devlin hesitated; he didn’t want to walk into a trap, lured by a smooth-tongued Englishman, but he knew he could not refuse. “Can I return when we are finished?”
“Of course.”
Elyse, who had been listening to the conversation, went to Devlin and put her hand on his arm. “Go now and eat with my father,” she said encouragingly. “He will bring you back here when you are finished.”
Devlin didn’t want to be rude and refuse, not when he was trying to establish some trust, but he was very hesitant to leave Emllyn. Still, he had little choice. Stiffly, he climbed to his feet.
“Will you send word to me if something changes with her?” he asked Elyse.
The woman nodded patiently. “Of course,” she said, giving him a little push in her father’s direction. “Go and eat now. We will be here when you return.”
Genuinely exhausted, Devlin allowed himself to be led out of the chamber by de Noble and wasn’t surprised when the knights who had been lingering by the door closed ranks behind him, effectively escorting him out of the room. Together, the small group made their way back down the stairs to the feasting hall below.
De Noble called for food and soon, they were swarmed with more food and drink than Devlin had seen in a very long time. He was starving, shoving the succulent beef into his mouth and downing very good English wine. De Noble ate along with him and gave him plenty of time to drink more wine before commencing with the questions.
It was then that Devlin realized he shouldn’t have drunk so much wine. The clear-headed English commander had plenty of questions for him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Black Castle,” deNoble said slowly as he poured Devlin more drink. “I was there once, several years ago during the peace. Before the rebellions, when it was still Kildare’s holding. It is a big place.”
Devlin was minimally drunk and he could clearly see that de Noble was trying to get him drunker. He was fairly certain that the man didn’t suspect his true identity but he knew the man was trying to press him for information. If Devlin had been in de Noble’s position, he would have done the same thing. Sometimes the peasants heard and saw things that were valuable during a time of crisis. With that in mind, Devlin put the ale to his lips but he didn’t drink; he just pretended to. He wasn’t going to allow himself to become more addled than he already was.
“Me da used to take me there,” Devlin said, playing the part of the ignorant peasant. “Me da was a farmer, too, and we would take our produce to Black Castle when I was young, when Kildare was still in possession. I still remember the big English knights and their big swords. As a boy, that was exciting.”
De Noble smiled faintly. “And now?” he asked. “Do you still find big English knights with their big swords exciting?”
Devlin shook his head and pretended to take another drink, spilling some of it clumsily as he set the cup down. That would throw de Noble off somewhat on exactly how much he had imbibed.
“Nay, m’lord,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t find it exciting. I find it a burden.”
“Why?”
