Page 106 of The Darkland

Kirk, as well as Mara, finally came to know peace.

EPILOGUE

The day wasbalmy and bright, and a strong breeze blew in off the Irish Sea, snapping the standards of Bowland that flew over Wicklow Castle. The smell of salt was in the air along with a hint of warmth, as the summer season had proven oddly warm during the middle of the day. This morning promised the same weather pattern as the inhabitants of Wicklow went about their business before it grew sticky.

Kirk entered the cool confines of the enormous keep. He had been in the bailey seeing to their baggage, for a cog was moored less than a mile away that would take them to the green fields of England. It had been a trip long planned to visit Micheline and he was anxious to get on with the travel while the weather held good. With baggage and possessions loaded, now it was time to load up his family. With four young children, that would be the tricky part.

He hadn’t taken five steps into the keep when he came to a halt and looked around at his feet as if he was missing something. Retracing his steps, his intense gaze roamed the bailey as he shielded the sun from his eyes.

“Ryan?” he called.

A moment later, a small boy with dark hair leapt onto the stone steps. He was a sturdy lad, five years of age, and in his arms he carried a puppy. The dog’s long body trailed down, the hindquarters swinging as Ryan mounted the steps. Kirk frowned.

“Where on earth did you get that?” he asked.

Ryan Connaught turned his handsome young face to his father. “There was a dog that had puppies by the smithy shack,” he told his father excitedly. “I took one!”

Kirk cocked an eyebrow. “I can see that,” he said as the boy drew close and extended the puppy for his father’s inspection. “A fine beast. But you must return him to his mother.”

Ryan’s expression fell, looking much like his mother when her wishes were denied. “Papa, I want to take him with us,” he said sincerely.

Kirk shook his head. He started to reply but was cut short by first one scream and then another. Kirk turned towards the direction of the screams in time to see one of his daughters shooting out of the keep entry and bash into his legs. When he reached down to steady her, another daughter ran up on her heels and he grabbed them both to keep them from tumbling down the stairs.

“Regan!” Came the cry from inside the keep. “Bridget! Stop immediately!”

Fortunately, Kirk had the two year old and three year old girls by the arms as Mara emerged from the keep, holding several pieces of garments in her hands. Kirk looked at her curiously until he realized his daughters were only half-dressed.

“You are only now dressing them?” he asked his wife with strained patience. “We are supposed to be departing shortly. What is taking so long?”

Mara cast him an exasperated look. “The baby is screaming and these two will not stand still,” she said as she grasped Regan by the arm. “They are both trying to climb onto the windowsill for some reason. I would pull one out and the other one would climb up.”

Kirk smirked. “They get that particular trait from their mother.”

Mara didn’t see his humor. “We are going to have to do something about putting shutters over their windows,” she said. “I am terrified that they are going to fall out of the windows.”

He looked down at the dark-haired babies at his feet. “I will see what I can do,” he said. “But they really should be dressed by now. We must depart.”

“Then it would be very helpful if you could lend a hand.”

Kirk gave his wife a smile as he grasped the toddlers by the hands and led them gently back into the keep.

“You tend the baby, love,” he told her. “I will take the poppets in-hand.”

Mara reached down and scooped Bridget up. “Bridgie still needs her hose and shoes, and Regan needs nearly everything else,” she said as she watched Kirk pick up Regan. “I think she has a splinter in her toe; see?”

Kirk looked at the foot his wife was holding up into his face, kissing the dirty little foot as Regan squirmed and whined.

“I will get it out,” he said softly. “I’ll not let my baby suffer.”

Mara called out to her son, who rushed past his mother up the stairs, still holding the puppy. Mara called to him again but he ignored her, instead taking the puppy into his chamber and trying to hide him behind his bed.

As Kirk took care of Regan’s splinter, Mara went into the bed chamber occupied by her sons and wanted to know why Ryan had the puppy stuffed under his bed, but the little lad, being rather persuasive, was able to convince his mother that the puppy was a necessary fixture in his room. Mara didn’t have the patience to argue with him mostly because her ten month old son, Brendan, was screaming his lungs out in his pen on the opposite side of the chamber. She picked the baby up, comforting him.

With the baby in her arms, Mara went into the girls’ chamber to hurry her husband along but found herself watching him interact with his daughters instead. Over the past five years, Kirk, the big Irish knight with the big voice, had turned into an incredibly soft and attentive father.

In a world where most men didn’t participate in child rearing, Kirk had gone out of his way to be a part of his children’s world. Ryan was his shadow, Regan and Bridget were his loves, and baby Brendan, with dark hair and his father’s gray eyes, was usually a fixture in his arms. While Mara had little patience sometimes, Kirk’s patience was infinite, and it made her love him all the more.

She watched him as he plucked the splinter out, kissing and hugging the little girl as he proceeded to pull her little hose on and tie on her little leather shoes. Regan was the oldest at three and a half years, and she was very much her father’s daughter, but Bridget, at nearly two and a half, was the image of her mother in both looks and manner. As Kirk tried to tie up the last of Regan’s shoe, Bridget wormed her way onto his lap and plopped down. Kirk simply worked around her.