Free Maire by Linda Windsor

their homes and locked themselves tightly in. Even when the ship was well away from the shoreline, not a single light of habitationshowed, save those lanterns and torches carried by the Lady Delwyn and the people of Emrys.
    “Easy, Shahar,” Rowan cooed as the stallion began to toss its head up and down at the snap of the leather sail overhead.
    The ship surged forward, catching the rare land breeze. Maire watched her hostage run his hands along the stallion’s back and flank, continually reassuring it. Having been brought up in a man’s world where such fawning was fine for animals, she almost envied the horse. Her foster parents loved her of course, but they’d been reluctant to show her such love as Delwyn demonstrated for Rowan, for fear of ruining her as a future warrior. The little girl in her had missed that which she saw others enjoy.
    Maire twisted her lips in disdain, as though wringing the unbidden longing from her chest. It was a female weakness, this needing to be loved, and one that her brothers would scoff at if they knew. Not that men couldn’t love if it suited their purpose. Maire had seen contrived attentions enough to recognize them when a lusty roll in the grass was the prize. Males, it seemed, didn’t need to be loved like women. Their need was more that of an animal, one that could be satisfied without the sharing of emotion she’d overheard women confide in whispers amongst themselves.
    Yet, Rowan ap Emrys seemed different somehow, appearing to possess a tremendous capacity to love, more so than any man she’d seen. It showed in his treatment of his parents and animals, not to mention the way his servants bade him goodbye—not as their overlord, but as a brother. Even the cantankerous Dafydd had shed tears openly when Rowan grasped his arm in farewell.
    Lady Delwyn was not quite so obvious with her dismay. Since her initial alarm, she’d assumed a serenity that forbade it. Her calmness almost glowed from within her, as though she knew this disaster brought on by Maire and her people would result in good. Standing on the beach, she smiled and waveduntil the mist swallowed her in the growing distance between ship and shore.
    Her son had exhibited that same aura of quiet strength and peace as he’d knelt before the chapel altar one last time. Did it come from the spirit of the golden cross or from his medallion? Maire had neither seen nor heard any assurance to this end.
    “His God will speak to you when you are ready to listen.”
    Despite the warmth of her wrap, Maire felt her flesh pebble as Delwyn’s words came to her mind. She didn’t want to speak to a god. Better to leave that to Brude, who was accustomed to dealing with spirits and such. She preferred to sing and dance in the deities’ honor. By her mother’s milk, give her beings she could perceive with all her senses!
    “You shiver as if it were you who took the cold plunge instead of me.”
    Maire nearly leapt out of her skin at the closeness of Rowan’s voice. How had he left the horses and slipped up behind her without her notice? His god had saved his life, or at least the amulet with his god’s symbol on it had, but had he also given the man the ability to walk like a spirit?
    But for Brude’s intercession on his behalf, and the reluctance of the horses to board the ship on the floating ramp, Rowan would be in chains like any new hostage. But only Rowan could coax the nervous horses aboard and calm them. The invaders had no choice but to let him walk free if the steeds were to go with them.
    Emrys had a way with animals, another gift from his god—a god at least as powerful as Brude’s concoction, given the druid’s expressed respect of the deity. A panicked horse, especially one the size of Rowan’s beasts, could kick a ship apart. The ancient songs told how some of the prized steeds belonging to the Milesian forefathers of the Scotti had been slaughtered when they panicked to save the vessels on the long sea