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“Do you see the soldier in the front of the northwest tower?” he said quietly.
Ludthorpe nodded.
“See the hair?”
Ludthorpe stared, then made a sound of surprise. “Methinks I see hair on a goodly number of them.”
“You do. They are hers. That is she. The lady of Rardove.”
“Armed?”
He nodded.
“Good God,” Ludthorpe exclaimed in a low breath. “On your behalf?”
Pride and fear moved through him in equal measure. “Aye.”
Ludthorpe turned, squinting against the rising sun, his teeth bared in a grin. “You are not to be believed, Aodh,” he said. “Send her to me, and I swear, she will not be harmed.”
“It is not my choice to make, my lord.” Aodh turned for St. George. Ré did as well, a silent shadow.
“It will not be pretty,” the commander said as they swung up.
“No, it will not.” Aodh gathered his reins and nodded toward the tree-lined hills that surrounded them. “There are a lot of Irishmen out there.”
“My scouts estimated a hundred,” Ludthorpe revealed. “Not so many.”
“More are coming.”
“That is good to know. I do not intend to be here long.” The commander pointed to the bright green meadow that stretched in front the castle. “That thing ate one of my cannons.” The top half of the long gray barrel of a cannon could be seen, pointing up at an odd angle out of the vibrant green. Its back end and lower portion had been sucked under.
Aodh smiled faintly. “It’ll eat everything: armament, horses, men…’tis a hungry meadow.”
Ludthorpe laid his hand flat over his brow and peered at the keep. “So the path is the only way,” he muttered. “The cliffs behind are far too treacherous.”
“The path back to England remains open to you.”
Ludthorpe lowered his hand and clapped it against his thigh. “Well, that’s that, then. I am sorry it has to end this way, Aodh.”
“As am I. Would your men want some whisky?”
The commander’s eyes lit up. “Jesus God, man, yes.”
Aodh smiled. “I’ll have some sent out.”
“Anything to lift their spirits. These winds, this wet…”
“God-awful.”
“How does one do it?” Ludthorpe asked with a burst of impatience. “Live out here, in all this?”
“Ireland isn’t for everyone, my lord.”
Ludthorpe met his eye. “But it is for you, eh? At all costs?”
“All of them.” Aodh and Ré reined about.
“She always favored you, Aodh,” Ludthorpe called. “She would be lenient.”
