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“Food,” Susanna murmured, heaving another pack into his arms. “Drink.” She hoisted another one into Ré’s hands. “Powder and shot. And salves.” She looked at Katarina. “Be safe,” then glanced at Cormac and tipped up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “You too.”
Cormac’s face, what could be seen above the beard, flooded red. He fisted his hands around the baggage once, twice, then, with a curse, dropped everything and flung his arms around her. He planted a long, hard kiss on her mouth. Then he gathered all the bags back up. “I’ll watch out for your lady,” he said gruffly.
“And I shall watch out for him,” Katarina said as they turned for the door.
Then, on the stairs, Bran appeared.
“My lady, may I…I must…” His voice broke for a second. “I am coming.”
Cormac, after a glance toward Katarina, spoke first. “Lad, you’ll be needed here.”
“I am coming.”
Ré said almost gently, “Aodh specifically ordered you to stay here, Bran. He wanted you safe—”
“He raised me. He saved me. I am coming.”
Katarina saw in his eyes exactly what she felt in her heart. “Of course you are coming,” she said, and flung the door open. Cormac shook his head, and Ré all but glared at her. “He doesn’t want to be safe,” she said. “He wants Aodh. Surely we can all understand that. Come, we must be off. The army will move directly for England, and the queen will not be kind to Aodh.”
She had no further plan than this. The queen will not be kind was not, in actuality, a plan, but these were Aodh’s men, built for reckless adventures, and they required no convincing.
Nighttime was everywhere by the time they led their horses though the small back gate and along the path of the precipice that overlooked the sheer cliff. Carefully, they led their horses along the slippery, rocky cliffside. The hard rock trail underfoot was damp, and reflected moonlight off stone like wet obsidian.
“Jesus save us,” Cormac muttered, his rumbling murmur bouncing off the cliffside, “If I didn’t know better, lady, I’d swear you were trying to kill us.”
“I did not realize you were afraid of heights,” she said, leading the way, her hood pulled forward so she was little more than a dark shadow.
Cormac stiffened but didn’t look up from ground beneath his boots, “No’ frightened, simply…cautious.”
“Since when?” Ré inquired from behind.
“I’m a cautious fellow, at times,” came the indignant, if faint, reply.
“Aodh did not mention ‘cautious’ in his descriptions of you,” Katarina said, supporting Ré in this line of questioning.
“Talkin’ about me, was he?” Cormac muttered.
“He spoke of all of you.” She stepped over a portion of the path that was washed away. Rocks dribbled into the little gorge that had been left behind. A little earth slide cascaded into the miniature crevasse, and bounced noisily down the vee.
“What’d he say?” Cormac asked.
A few more pebbles skidded down and fell blackly into the chasm below. She tightened her hands on the wet leather reins of her horse and walked on a little faster. “He told me Ré was most bold, Bran fiercely loyal, and you were middling with a bow and lethal with everything else. He also mentioned you were a most valiant drinker of ale. Mind the washout,” she added, as if it were an afterthought.
“Valiant, is it?” he railed indignantly. “An’ he said nothin’ of Ré’s drinkin’, did he?” He snorted and stepped over the washed-out portion indignantly.
“He said you could drink Ré under the table,” she informed him.
“Hardly,” the amiable retort drifted up from the back of the line, where Ré brought up the rear, and in this way, they distracted Cormac from the plunging depths to their left until they reached the end of the rocky cliff trail and stepped out onto grassy earth. There they crouched, and watched the army begin its retreat.
Then smoothly and in single file, caped and hooded, like moving shadows, they rode down the only path of safety through the bog and followed after.
*
THEY TAILED THE ARMY for two days, but it moved swiftly, never stopping for more than an hour or so. There was no chance to intercept it, or sneak inside its perimeter, nor to make any sort of more complicated plans. The army reached their ships and loaded up immediately, eager to return with their prize. And to leave Ireland in their dust. No delay, no pause.
Above the town, Katarina, Ré, Cormac, and Bran watched the launch. After two days’ riding, they were a motley-looking crew and would never get through the gates.
“I suppose we must hire ourselves a smuggler,” Katarina announced, realizing she had utterly turned a corner. Lover of rebels, employer of smugglers.
