The Faithful Heart (26 page)

 

 

“One hundred and ten, with about one hundred of them completely fit
for service,” Finn replied.

 

 

“Then I’ll divide the crew in half and have them make a start at
each site.”

 

 

“And I’ll go out tomorrow to supervise them all,” Finn offered,
"just as soon as the funeral is over."

 

 

They stood in silence outside his door for a moment, both deeply
saddened at the recollection that all their wonderful plans for
improving the clan would never have been necessary if Morgan had
been a better leader. And how their future was going to be without
him.

 

 

“Thank you, Finn, for everything. I knew I could count on you.
Ruairc was just saying this morning that you would be home to help
soon. Thank God for it. It’s good to have you home,” Morgana said as
she hugged him to her with relief.

 

 

Finn sighed. “It’s good to be home, my dear, whatever the
circumstances. I loved your father, and he me. And he loved you, for
all he was so unkind at times. I think he did it to toughen you up
more than anything else. ”

 

 

"Well, in that case I must have a hide on me like a wild boar by
now."

 

 

He grinned and touched her cheek. "Nay, petal soft, and even more
lovely than when you left two years ago. Ruairc MacMahon always was
a lucky devil."

 

 

"And you, Finn? How is your luck running?"

 

 

"Until I meet another woman like you, Sweetheart, slim to none."

 

 

A thought struck her then, and she whispered to him her one final
secret.

 

 

"Did you know?"

 

 

He looked aghast. "No, never. I mean, not that I have anything
against her, and it's not that shocking. I mean, we all know the
stereotype of the lusty widow. But he was her son's age, nay,
younger."

 

 

"Then it's clear Conor didn't confide in any of the people closest
to him about something so private. Which makes me wonder what else
he was doing behind our backs which might have got him killed."

 

 

"You don't think Mary—"

 

 

She shook her head. "I don't what to think. So either he was
involved in some way with some other people in a manner which was
not something he wanted to have brought to light, and they killed
him, or it was one of my family here, Aofa, or Mary or Fergus being
at the top of the list."

 

 

"And either they were in love, and afraid of being separated, or it
really was a meaningless roll in the hay for him. Otherwise I am
sure he would have told one of us. Especially Ruairc."

 

 

She nodded. "Aye, that's what I think too, but thank you for
confirming my estimation of the situation. It may be important, it
may not be. All I know is the truth is out there somewhere, and I
intend to find it before it's too late."

 

 

He nodded. "You will, and I'll be here to help."

 

 

They hugged each other, and then headed off on their respective
errands, Finn to get cleaned up after his many days of travelling,
and Morgana to see to her father's funeral.

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

 

 

The morning of her father's funeral dawned cold and grey. Morgana,
up again for the second night of the wake, moved numbly downstairs
to the kitchen to stoke up the fires and get the ovens heated for
the baking. She had just finished kneading the dough for the second
time when she heard a shout. Wiping her floury hands on her apron,
she climbed to the floor above, and walked out the large portal of
the castle. Through the eerie mist she could make out a ship’s mast,
and ran down to the causeway that linked her castle with the jetty.

 

 

Morgana blinked disbelievingly as she stared into the swirling fog
and began to make out the approaching form.

 

 

“Patrick!” she cried, overjoyed, and ran into his waiting arms.

 

 

Patrick tall and wiry, with glowing red hair and kindly grey eyes
full of mirth said, “Well I’ll be blowed! That’s a greeting worth
coming home for!What on earth are you doing here? You’re meant to be
a nun, or did they kick you out for bad behaviour? Where’s Father?
Is Finn here?”

 

 

Patrick’s face fell as she informed him that he had arrived just in
time for Morgan’s funeral.

 

 

As he began to weep, she lead him into the great hall.

 

 

They sat together and talked in whispers as she explained all that
had happened in the few short days since she had returned from the
convent at Kilgarven.

 

 

Once again, she was convinced of her cousin's complete innocence
from her reaction to all her news. He looked as though he had been
struck a physical blow, he was so stunned.

 

 

When she was sure she had answered his most pressing questions and
she could leave him, Morgana rose to finish her most urgent chores.

 

 

“I must make some last minute preparations for the funeral feast, so
if you could go up to your room and find something suitable to wear,
I shall get Mary to bring you some hot water for a wash. Then we
will have many plans to discuss after it is all over.”

 

 

“Whatever you say,” Patrick agreed numbly. "I was so eager to get
home. I never imagined it would be to circumstances like this. He
shuffled sadly out of the hall to break the news to his crew so they
could get ready for the funeral as well.

 

 

Morgana went down to the dungeons to see Ruairc, who was overjoyed
that Patrick had returned safely, and that both he and Finn were
willing to support her efforts to regenerate the clan.

 

 

“But come, we can talk more later. It's time for you to start
getting ready for the funeral.”

 

 

Morgana opened the cell door and kissed his unshaven face tenderly.

 

 

“And you, Morgana, what will you wear?” Ruairc asked suddenly.

 

 

“I hadn’t given it much thought, to tell you the truth,” Morgana
replied distractedly.

 

 

Ruairc cleared his throat, and said quietly, “If you look in your
wardrobe, Morgana, you’ll find some gowns I had intended for you
once we were married.”

 

 

“But Ruairc, there aren’t any gowns hanging in my wardrobe apart
from the oldest ones.”

 

 

Ruairc frowned. “Perhaps Aofa helped herself to them then?”

 

 

“Oh Ruairc, they weren’t encrusted with jewels, were they?” Morgana
gasped.

 

 

“No, but there were about a dozen in fine brocades and two black
velvet ones, either of which it would please me to see you wear.”

 

 

“Good lord, Ruairc! I’m so sorry! I’ve given them all away! I
thought they were Niamh, since they were so lovely, and in amongst
all the other things Aofa stole. I bundled them up, thinking she was
being kind and helping me save face by not admitting how much had
been pilfered from her.”

 

 

“’Tis no matter then. You might be able to get them back, or not. It
matters not a jot to me. They were only dresses, my love, ‘tis
nothing to distress yourself over,” Ruairc soothed as unshed tears
sparkled in Morgana’s eyes.

 

 

“But it was the thought that was important.You loved me enough to
buy them for me,” Morgana sighed.

 

 

Ruairc hugged her to him, and stroked her cheek lovingly. “I shall
buy you as many as you like, Morgana, if only you will marry me one
day soon. Now, go see if you can get them back from Matthew the
tailor, and if you can’t, then you’ll just have to wear one of your
old ones. But we will need to hurry.Father Doyle will be here soon.”

 

 

Morgana left Ruairc at the foot of the stairs as she raced to
Niamh's room and admitted her error about the gowns.

 

 

Niamh took it in good part, hugging her friend, and sorted through
the bundle.

 

 

"They're a bit crumpled, since I've barely had time to eat since we
came for our visit. I should have notived there were too many, and
that some were black,” Niamh said. “An unlucky colour, black, but it
always did suit you somehow, with your vivid hair and snowy
complexion.”

 

 

Niamh observed Morgana as she held up the gowns to her slender form.

 

 

Morgana moved to and fro to try to get a better look at herself in
the small mirror sitting atop one of the coffers.

 

 

"I've never had anything finer." She said, stroking the luxurious
fabric. She stared at her reflection, and couldn't help notice how
her fair skin, auburn hair and violet eyes glowed against the ebony
velvet.

 

 

“Thank you, Niamh!” she called delightedly as she raced to her room
to try them on.

 

 

Though she was ever concious of the sad occasion, Morgana couldn’t
help feeling delight over these two fine presents Ruairc had been
kind enough to purchase for her.

 

 

The first dress she tried had golden embroidery all around the
curved neckline and long flowing sleeves, and it had a matching
golden embroidered girdle which set off her tiny waist and shapely
hips to perfection.

 

 

The second gown was plain black apart from some thin strips of
embroidery around the edge of the puffed sleeves and piping all
around the square neckline. But the underskirt was the key to the
whole exquisite gown, for when she walked, the black pleats opened
up to reveal a cream coloured silken panel with exotic birds and
plants embroidered on the fabric in a rainbow of colours.

 

 

Morgana knew it was too fine to wear to the funeral, so she put it
in the wardrobe carefully before donning the first gown, and then
securing the girdle around her waist.

 

 

A sudden glance at the top of her chest caused Morgana to take off
the girdle again, as she strapped her sword around her waist
instead.

 

 

Then she refastened the golden girdle over it, and moved the hilt of
the sword to within easy reach of her hand.

 

 

Morgana rummaged into her drawers until she found a plain black veil
to cover her hair. She tugged at her unruly auburn tresses furiously
with a brush as she tried to untangle all the knots.

 

 

She plaited her hair, and coiled the long queue which hung well past
her hips into a neat roll high at the back of her head.She secured
the veil to the top of her head, and left it thrown back as she
returned to the great hall to make a last check on the preparations
for the funeral.

 

 

Ruairc entered last, looking resplendent in a black tunic with
slashed sleeves with red silk, black trunk hose, and a gold chain
around his neck on the end of which hung a heavy cross which Morgana
thought looked oddly familiar.

 

 

Their glances met across the room, and she looked at him proudly,
her head held high, as he feasted his eyes on her in the exquisite
gown, and then began to move towards her.

 

 

Her violet eyes flashed him an unmistakable warning before he could
advance too far, and conscious of all eyes in the room focussed upon
them, Morgana turned her back on Ruairc and took Finn’s arm instead.

 

 

At last all was ready, and the grim procession walked to the nearby
church of Killadeas, where her father's body was interred. Morgana’s
mind went totally blank as the priest intoned the mass for the dead,
and she would have stumbled several times on the walk to and from
the church if Finn and Patrick had not been there to prop her up.

 

 

Morgana was conscious of the dark looks cast at Ruairc, and knew
that tomorrow she would have to call the clan together for her
investiture. Would it also be a convenient time to announce that she
had decided to wed Ruairc?

 

 

Much as she wished to make her position perfectly clear once and for
all, she hesitated. She had no idea of what the consequences of such
a step might be. The only thing she did know for certain was that a
traitor with a grudge against Ruairc was in their midst, and she had
every reason to fear for his safety.

 

 

"I wonder," she muttered to herself, as she sipped a glass of wine
and received condolences from the many guests who filed past.

 

 

Patrick overheard her, and asked, “What do you wonder?”

 

 

“If perhaps Dublin might not be the safest place for Ruairc right
now. If I were to go back to the convent, he would leave, wouldn’t
he?Could we not pretend that you or Finn are taking over the clan,
and leave the investiture until after he is safely gone, so that no
harm may come to him?”

 

 

“But Morgana, you and he have already wasted so much time!” Patrick
disagreed. “It isn’t fair to separate the two of you again when you
have only just found each other after two years of
misunderstandings.”

 

 

“Ruairc’s safety must come first. I love him. I couldn’t bear it if
anything were to happen to him because he came back here to help
me.”

 

 

“Ruairc will never believe you. He will never think for a moment
that you and the clan think you’d all be better off with myself or
Finn in charge. Let alone that you've decided to return to the
convent when you are so badly needed here.”

 

 

She bit her lip. Her own words of love, and romantic actions, would
also give him serious cause to doubt. “I’ll just have to get things
in order so that I can leave. Then I will pick a fight with him, and
head back to the convent at Kilgarven. You can send word to me when
he's gone back to Dublin and the coast is clear.”