Page 49 of Bound By Honor
“For only a short while, I should think. Until de Burgh sends them after fitz Thomas. We can feed them for that time. We’ve cattle and sheep. And, if need be, they can fish and hunt.”
She had best instruct the cook to begin making more bread. The chiefs’ wives would help as well. Telling her father she would return shortly, she went to the kitchens to see the bread would be made. Then she went to her chamber to change into clothes more appropriate for greeting guests.
In her chamber, she found her handmaiden. “Nessa, we are to have guests tonight. Even now they come.” Then recalling the number of men, she added, “More like a small army.”
“An army in the castle? Who are they?”
“The Macdonald Islesmen, who come to help Earl Richard. But only a few will be housed in the castle.”
Nessa grew thoughtful. “The Islesmen are great men of the sea.”
“They are and from what I hear, formidable warriors as well. ’Tis their galloglass who serve the Irish lords.”
“Let me help you dress,” said Nessa. “I set out the blue silk, should that please you.”
Áine nodded and, with Nessa’s help, donned the silk gown of deepest azure set slightly off her shoulders but still modest enough for her father. She dressed with care for her appearance, thinking of the Lord of the Isles’ brother, who was allied with the Norman Earl of Ulster. She must do all she could to present herself well for her father’s sake. Her only jewels were those in the sapphire pendant he had given her.
“Here, let me brush your hair,” said Nessa. “You have been out in the wind and look more like one of the village girls than the chatelaine of the castle.”
Áine laughed. “Very well, brush my hair.”
Picking up the brush, Nessa ran it through Áine’s long thick tresses, very dark brown in color except where the sun had touched them. Once this ritual was finished, Áine left her hair to curl around her shoulders and hang long down her back.
“Will you see that Brian’s nurse stays with him this evening?”
“I will do more than that. I will take Finn to the lad and tell both of them a story. Brian likes the stories you tell him. Surely I can conjure one from my memory.”
“Thank you, Nessa.” Her handmaiden had grown close to Áine’s young son since they’d left Tirowen.
“Here,” said her handmaiden, holding out a small dish, “I crushed some wild strawberries for your lips.”
“That was thoughtful,” she said, taking the dish and dabbing her lips with the sweet juice. “I suppose I often look pale and this small bit of paint will give the priest nothing to frown upon.” Áine blotted her lips with a small cloth. Since her eyes were dark and her lashes long, she never applied anything to them. She turned to her handmaiden. “Do I look the proper hostess?”
Nessa stood back with her arms crossed over her chest and gave Áine an assessing look. “I will just say this, Mistress. Whatever fish you are hoping to catch, he is already in the net.”
Áine chuckled at her handmaiden’s clever way with words. “I think to catch no one, Nessa, only to make Father proud. I have dressed in the same manner for all of his chiefs and even for Rory of Fermanagh, who would be my suitor.”
“Yes, Mistress, you have. It is just that you grow more beautiful with each passing year yet you do not see it.”
“Your flattery will certainly add color to my cheeks.”
“Mayhap my words will cause you to think yourself a woman greatly desired. You can have your choice of suitors, you know.”
Áine shook her head. There was no convincing Nessa but she had to say it. “I am content with my life as it is.”
“’Tis possible God has other plans.”
Áine left her chamber, reflecting on her handmaiden’s words. At Dunseverick, she was needed, appreciated and loved. Her father and his chiefs could protect her from the petty wars that swirled around them and her brother would always offer her a home where she could raise her son. She turned her wedding ring on her finger, the ring she still wore. In truth, she was afraid to leave so warm a nest. Once before, she had done so with dire consequences.
By the time she entered the great hall, their guests had arrived. She paused in the shadows to consider the scene before her. Three men, bristling with weapons, stood with her father and the captain of his guard. Behind them were six giant galloglass, heavier in stature though no taller than the three in front of them. She frowned, thinking of what it would take in beef, sheep and butter to keep such men fit for their battles.
The galloglass, with hair falling in waves to their shoulders, wore the uniform of their occupation: saffron tunics, padded coats, knee-length mail and gauntlets. They had weapons aplenty, belted swords, daggers and each gripped a long-handled axe. Irish galloglass might leave legs and feet bare but these wore hose and leather shoes.
The three speaking with her father were like the galloglass in the weapons they carried, save for the axe which they must have left behind with their padded coats and mail. They were elegantly garbed in brightly colored woolen tunics. The tall one in the middle, whose tunic was a rich crimson, wore a gilded leather belt from which hung a fine-looking sword.
As she stepped from the shadows, they turned and the conversation ceased.
“Ah, my daughter,” said her father. “Come, Áine, allow me to introduce you to our Macdonald guests.”
