A fresh surge of energy filled Cailin. The Bruce had made good his pledge that, if possible, he would send a fighting force, one that would rout his uncle’s men.
“’Tis Rónán O’Connor, a friend, who is here to aid us!”Cailin shouted.
Stunned relief swept Taog and his people’s dirt- and blood-streaked faces as in a steady wave, the new combatants cut throughDalkirk’s men.
Body trembling, Elspet lowered her sword. “Thank God.”
In the mill of horses and retreating fighters, face flushed with outrage, his uncle raised his sword at Cailin. “’Tis far from over! I will be back. Next time my forces will be united with the Earl of Odhran’s!” He whirled his mount and fled into the woods, his menon his heels.
Cheers rose within the Romani camp.
With a weary smile, Taog wiped his blade, then sheathed his sword. “’Tis a prayer answered.”
“Aye,” Cailin agreed, “but my uncle’s threat to combine his forces with the Earl of Odhran’s is a union we canna allow.”
“How can we stop him?” Taog asked.
“We must lay siege to Tiran Castle and prevent him from sending a messenger to Odhran. Gather any of your men who are able and tell them to prepare to ride.”
The Romanileader nodded.
“Rónán!” Cailin waved his friend over as he hobbledbeside Elspet.
“Thank God you are—” She gasped as she took in his gash. “Your wound needs attention.”
His injury throbbed. “I will tend to it, but for now, ’tis imperative that we reachTiran Castle.”
Hoofbeats thrummed over the snow-covered ground as Rónán broke away from his knights and cantered over. He drew his steed to a halt a few paces away. Curiosity flickered in his gaze as he glanced at Elspet, then he turned to Cailin, scowled at the large wound on his thigh. “God’s truth, ’tis deep.”
Cailin grunted, tore a strip of cloth from a dead fighter’s garb, wrapped the wound tight. “It would be bloody worse had you not arrived when you did. Nor can we linger. We must surround Tiran Castle before my uncle can send out messengersseeking aid.”
His friend gave a curt nod. “My men and I will join your ranks.” He cantered to where the Romani warriors were waiting.
Bracing himself against the pain, Cailin mounted, then paused as he found Elspet frowning at Rónán. “What is it?”
“’Tis the Irishman I saw visit my stepfather,” she said, “the one you said was like a brother to you.”
“Aye. As your stepfather was loyal to King Robert, nay doubt Rónán’s visits involved duties from the king.” Cailin shifted, trying to alleviate some of the pain without success. “Hurry,we must leave.”
She frowned at his wounded leg, then mounted her horse.
Cailin kicked his destrier into a canter, and she fellin behind him.
* * * *
From the tree line surrounding Tiran Castle, Cailin studied the stronghold a moment before facing Elspet. “Stay with Taog and his men while I speak with my uncle. If he is wise, once he realizes that he has no hope of waiting us out, he will surrender.”
Her eyes darkened with worry. “You believe he will?”
“Nay, but I must try.” He cantered to where Rónán awaited him, then they rode to the fortress, Cailin holding a white flag high.
Streaks of red and orange cut the sky as Cailin halted before the portcullis of his home, the memories of his youth, of the happiness there smothered by Gaufrid’s betrayal. He glared at his uncle standing upon the wall walk, peering down. “Cede and I will show you leniency!”he shouted up.
“’Tis my home!”
“One gained through treachery.”
“’Twas nay wrongdoing,” Gaufrid snapped. “I receivednews you died.”
