*
Victor had returnedto the spot where he had left Devlin and his men. The walk from the front gates of Glenteige had been a wide-open one, as the settlement was surrounded by wide open spaces to get a better field of fire when the fortress was attacked. Things that could hide rebels like trees or bushes had long since been removed.
As he stood on the precise location where he had last seen his men and de Bermingham, he noticed the trees about a quarter of a mile to the east were moving. More than moving, they appeared to come alive and Victor realized that his men were coming through the foliage. Weary, beaten, some men helping others to walk, the entire group was emerging fromthe forest, including the massive bulk of de Bermingham. They had evidently seen him approach and were breaking their cover. Victor went to meet them.
Devlin was at the head of the group, moving faster than the others because he was perhaps more anxious than the others. He met Victor several feet in front of the others, nearly bowling the man over in his eagerness and haste.
“Well?” he demanded. “Did my knight make it to de Noble before we did?”
Victor shook his head. “They have not seen him,” he assured him. “He is not here.”
Devlin, who had let his imagination go wild for the past hour, literally had to catch his breath. The shock was so great that he actually gasped.
“Freddy has not been here?” he asked again, just to be sure.
Victor shook his head again, seeing how astonished de Bermingham was. “Nay,” he repeated for good measure. “De Noble and I had a long conversation where he assured me that no one from Black Castle has come. He says that the only reference to Black Castle in the past few weeks was a lone farmer named John bearing a woman who, he said, had washed upon the shore after Kildare’s armada was defeated.”
That was good enough for Devlin; he was beyond the ability to measure his relief. “And Emllyn?” he fired at him. “Did you see her?”
Victor knew what he meant.Is she your daughter? But somehow, Victor wasn’t sure he could tell him the truth. From his discussions with Devlin, and his brief encounter with Emllyn, he could already see the joy and adoration when one spoke of the other. There was a warmth there, a spring of hope everlasting, that was more powerful than anything he had ever sensed. Therefore, he wasn’t sure he could spoil it with reality. Sometimes reality was best left to one’s own interpretation.
“I saw her,” he said. “She is healthy and whole, and she is anxious to see you. She told me to give you a message.”
Devlin’s big body was quivering with anticipation. “What message?”
“She says to tell you that everything leads me to thee.”
Devlin stared at him. Then, he emitted something that sounded like a hiss, running his hand over his bristly head, his gaze lingering on the fortress in the distance. The longer he stared at it, the more impact the words seemed to have. He could feel tears of pure emotion sting his eyes. He blinked rapidly, chasing them away, before returning his focus to Victor.
“Is she your daughter, Victor?” he asked softly.
Victor paused before answering. “Do you really want to know?”
Devlin suspected the answer but stopped short of pressing the man. After a moment, he simply shook his head.
“I suppose it does not matter,” he said. “I fell in love with Emllyn. She will always be Emllyn to me.”
“As well she should be.”
Victor’s men were starting to gather around them so they let the subject die, never to be discussed again. Neither man saw the need. Whether she was Catherine or Emllyn, it simply didn’t matter any longer. She was loved either way. Together, Victor and Devlin led the ragtag band of English soldiers into the embrace of their ally’s fortress.
Once the party reached the enclosure that contained the great stone keep, de Noble sent out men and servants with blankets to assist them into the feasting hall where they would be fed and tended to. De Noble was also there to greet Devlin in the flesh. He made a point of seeking the man out as he stood next to the feasting table where the English were eating, stuffing his mouth with roast fowl. Two days without decent food had left him ravenous.
Devlin looked big and raggedy, and his hair was starting to grow in as bristly as a thistle. He was also starting to look more and more like someone de Noble had once seen, although he still couldn’t place him. He came up behind Devlin and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Greetings, John,” he said rather amiably. “It seems you are the English’s greatest ally in Ireland. I am sure you have already been thanked profusely for rescuing these men from Black Sword’s vault, but let me add my thanks as well. We are very fortunate to have you on our side.”
Devlin turned to the man, swallowing the food in his mouth as he did so. He forced a smile as de Noble reached out and took his hand to shake it.
“It was my pleasure,” he said. “I was glad to assist.”
“But how?” de Noble wanted to know. “How did you manage to do it?”
Devlin had to think fast. He didn’t dare look at Victor for fear of appearing uncertain, so he simply began speaking.
“When I arrived at Black Castle after I left Glenteige, all was quiet for the most part,” he said. “Since I had no produce for delivery, I tried to get in to see the cook under the pretense of finding out what he needed so I could supply the appropriate things. I managed to get into the fortress because they knew me but shortly after I arrived, Black Castle was besieged and I was trapped inside.”
It was mostly the truth, at least about being trapped inside. De Noble nodded in understanding.
