Free The Lord of Ireland (The Fifth Knight Series Book 3) by E.M. Powell Page B

Irish call it,’ he said.
    ‘They have their women assembling there?’ John’s face creased in uncertain fear once more. ‘Why?’
    ‘Fear not, my lord, they don’t.’ De Lacy caught back a laugh. ‘It’s one of the ancient legends of the Irish. One of their heroes , a great warrior named Fionn, wanted to choose a new wife, so he commanded a large group of women to race to the top. He gave the woman he really wanted a secret path, so she would be the winner. That mountain is where the Irish say it happened.’ He gave a quick bow. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have much to attend to.’
    ‘Yes, yes. Go.’ John watched de Lacy leave, a frown deepening. ‘Bring me that wine, sister.’ He ducked back inside the tent, and Theodosia followed. ‘I need it more than ever.’
    An ashen-faced Gerald remained seated on the chest. ‘What’s happening?’
    ‘All is calm once more, praise God,’ she said as she prepared John’s drink. ‘Our prayers have been answered.’ She took a long breath, still alert to the threat that was her own brother.
    John took the goblet from her without thanks, still wearing his frown.
    ‘You do not look all that relieved, my lord,’ said Gerald. ‘Sister, I will have wine too to steady my heart.’
    ‘Yes, brother.’ Theodosia complied as John drank deep.
    ‘That Hugh de Lacy,’ said John. ‘My father suspects him of treachery, and I share that view. He knows this land so well, he could be one of them. And how did he know that there would be no attack? He seemed very certain, yet he stands on this side of o ur wall.’
    Heart knocking afresh, Theodosia bent to folding and tidying the cleric’s clothing that had been thrown about by John, alert at the mention of de Lacy. She might be able to glean information that she could pass on to Benedict.
    ‘The man even knows their wild tales and mocks me with them.’ John related the legend of the mountain in the distance as he refilled his goblet.
    Gerald crossed himself. ‘The Irish are simple as well as savage. I k now of it from my previous journeys.’
    ‘No wonder they need taming. I believe de Lacy does too.’ John looked at the bottom of his empty goblet. ‘Or maybe he only likes tales of women who would run up a mountain for a man.’ He gave an unkind laugh. ‘With a face like his, he must only see them run away. That fine-breasted young wife of his, that Eimear, must keep her eyes shut, all night, every night.’ His frown returned. ‘The same wife he has brought here as part of his group. She’s of Irish stock.’ He slapped the goblet on the table. ‘I need to regroup with my men, examine what has happened today.’ He went to the tent door. ‘Keep a close eye on de Lacy, Gerald. His wife too. Anything suspicious, I need to know.’
    ‘My lord.’ Gerald inclined his head, and Theodosia bowed too, aware that John did not even acknowledge her presence. While his casual use of her for his own protection irked her sorely, she was also relieved. She had no wish to attract his closer attention .
    ‘Close the door, sister,’ said Gerald. ‘We need to get on with our work. We are behind, thanks to the commotion.’
    Returning to her table, Theodosia gasped softly in frustration.
    ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Gerald.
    ‘It is all ruined.’ She held up the vellum that had contained the account of John meeting the Irish. ‘I spilled so much wine in my fright. Forgive me, brother.’
    ‘Fret not, sister.’ Gerald crossed himself. ‘The inks have mixed together, as the Irish have done in the face of John’s insults at Waterford , surrounding us here and waiting to pounce. We shall start afresh, no matter how many hours it takes us.’ Gerald’s mouth turned down. ‘But it is an ill omen, sister: an ill omen.’

    ‘Back to work, all of you! Stop standing around like staring sheep!’ John delivered his yell as he stalked back to his own quarters, steps clumsy in the sticky mud.
    With a shake of his head,