The Last Quarrel (The Complete Edition) (35 page)

“A good question,” Cavan admitted but he was saved from answering it by a commotion from further up the wharf.

“What is going on here?” a plump man demanded, hurrying down the wharf but keeping half a dozen armed men in front of him.

“You must be the harbor master,” Cavan said. “You are too late to save me but luckily that had already been done.”

“Who are you? What has happened here?” the harbor master asked suspiciously. “What is that ship doing here? I have no record of it!”

“Open your eyes, man! This is Crown Prince Cavan, who was attacked in your harbor by thugs – it was only by our lucky arrival that he survived. Now what is the King going to say when he learns his son was almost murdered because you can’t control the docks?” Fallon shouted.

The harbor master skidded to a stop as he peered at Cavan, then his face went white and he bowed deeply and desperately. “Your highness, my humblest apologies. I did not know –”

Meanwhile Rosaleen had made her way to Cavan’s side and pressed her hand onto his shoulder.

“Put your weight on your leg now, highness,” she said softly.

Cavan tried his ankle and his face betrayed his relief at its healing. “Excellent. Harbormaster, if you want to keep your head, let alone your job, you will listen to me very carefully,” he said.

“Whatever you need, highness,” the man promised, sweating profusely.

Meanwhile Rosaleen placed her hand on Fallon’s arm and he mouthed his thanks as she sealed his cuts and the sharp pains along his side and thigh vanished.

“I need these bodies cleaned up and taken to one of your warehouses, where they shall be guarded by a squad of your best men. Next, I want this ship watched at all times and fresh food brought here every day. Fallon, how many men do you want to bring up to the castle and how many will you keep on board?”

Fallon reckoned two score of villagers, including Gallagher, Devlin and Brendan of course, and adding Rosaleen and Padraig, should be enough.

“And my son as well,” he added.

“Naturally.” Cavan smiled. “I will have blankets brought down to the ship for the rest. Harbor master, see that these men get anything they want from your stores.”

“Yes, highness.” The harbor master bowed.

“And we’d better not see the shit stuff, nor any whining about payment,” Fallon told him.

“Of course, sir. It shall be as you say,” the harbor master groveled.

Fallon turned away from him and signaled to Brendan, who strode over, his hammer back over his shoulder and blood splattered all over his clothes.

“Are you all right, my friend?” Fallon asked softly.

The big smith shrugged. “I have changed. Death and killing don’t bother me any more,” he said. “I won’t feel them until I get Nola and the kids back. And I’ll kill anyone else who gets in my way.”

Fallon was not sure if the gentle giant was truly going to be happy about the carnage he caused but he looked forbidding enough.

“Then you watch over Prince Cavan. You are his new bodyguard. Keep him safe while I get the others.”

Brendan nodded grimly and Fallon climbed back on board. Apart from collecting Kerrin and their things, he had to make sure the ship was looked after. He was tempted to leave Gallagher there to keep an eye on things, for all respected him. But he had an inkling of a better way to use Gallagher and Devlin.

“Murphy!” He hailed the young farmer who had been the only one to challenge him since Baltimore had been sacked.

“Aye? What do you want?”

“I need you to watch the ship while I am watching the Prince. This is our way out of here, the last card we have to play to get our families back. Make sure it is
always
ready to head for sea. You heard the Prince: whatever you need, the harbor master will get it to you. Can you do it?”

The young farmer looked astonished for a moment, then his face cleared and he nodded. “Aye. But why me?”

“Because I need someone I trust. Not to like me, but to do a job.”

“It will be ready,” Murphy promised.

Fallon nodded and headed up to the tiller. But as he climbed up, he was hit in the stomach by a missile that almost knocked the wind out of him. It was a few moments before he realized it was a sobbing Kerrin. “What is it? We’re safe and we’re going to meet the Prince, go and live with him for a few days,” Fallon said, patting his back.

“I thought you were going to die,” Kerrin cried.

Fallon looked up at Gallagher, who shrugged. “He saw you knocked down while I was getting the ship secure.”

“I was just fooling him,” Fallon lied, awkwardly hugging Kerrin. “I wanted to get him away from the Prince before I beat him.”

“I’ve had enough. I want Mam back. I want to go home,” Kerrin sobbed.

Fallon gently removed Kerrin’s arms from his waist and kneeled down to look into his son’s eyes. “Listen to me,” he said. “I wish I was back home as well, that this was all a bad dream. But we can’t wake up and have everything go back to the way it was on its own. This is not like one of Mam’s stories. If we want a happy ending, we have to make it ourselves.”

“I don’t like this. It’s not like those stories!”

“That’s right. It’s not. Mam can’t make things right this time. It’s all up to us. If we want her back we have to do it ourselves. But I can’t do it alone. I need you to help me, understand?”

Kerrin nodded.

“Now wipe your eyes. We’re going to go and stay with the Prince! We’re going to have so many stories about living there that your mam won’t believe us when we tell her.”

“I don’t want to lose you, like I lost Mam …” Kerrin said, his voice trailing off as the tears arrived again.

“You won’t lose me,” Fallon insisted. “Your mam has been trying to lose me for years and she never succeeded!” He looked at his son and saw the joke had not worked.

“I want us to be a family again,” Kerrin wept.

“And so we will. But now I need you to stop crying. Get your things, for we are off to the palace next.”

Kerrin reached out his arms again for a hug but Fallon could feel time slipping away, so stepped back. “That’s enough!” he said forcefully. “Now stop crying and get your things.”

Kerrin dropped his hands and turned away, wiping his eyes at the same time.

“Good. And hurry up about it. You can’t cry in front of the Prince!”

Kerrin walked away, shoulders slumped, and Fallon wondered if he should go over and do more, or say more to the boy. But there was no time for it, and it was time the lad toughened up anyway. Bridgit had let him get too soft. All these years she had spent being over-protective were now coming home to roost.

Fallon grabbed Gallagher by the shoulder. “We’re leaving the ship to Murphy. I have a much more important job for you and Devlin. I’ll get you some sort of royal seal or something so you can walk the streets without getting grabbed by guards, but I need you to watch the Kottermanis.”

Gallagher glanced over his shoulder to the wharf where the Kottermani trading ships were moored.

“So you already saw them then?” Fallon asked.

“Aye. I didn’t miss them as we came in,” Gallagher said.

“Watch and follow, especially the ones that come to visit the palace. When they arrive they come bearing gifts and goods. But what do they take away with them? And where do they stop on the way back? Are they collecting stolen children along the way? We have to know.”

Gallagher looked grim but still nodded. “If they’re up to anything I will find it. You can rely on me.”

Fallon clapped him on the shoulder. “Already knew that,” he said.

The children usually rushed over when the door opened, for it meant there was food coming, and they were eager to get the pick of what was in the basket. Most days it was the same – flatbread, meat and a strange, hard fruit that their captors told them were called dates. Bridgit had let them do this so that they grew less afraid of their captors and saw them more as providers. The women were under no illusions, of course, but anything that made the children happier was good. Bridgit would never have let Kerrin run over towards strange men but then she was doing many things on board this ship she would never normally do. It had been barely a quarter-moon but she already felt like the lost children were hers. She made sure they always had enough to eat and she loved singing them the songs that had once put Kerrin to sleep at nights. The feeling of having a small child cuddle into her helped fill the yawning ache inside.

She still cried for Fallon and especially for Kerrin, but only at night, when all others were asleep. Sometimes she looked out of the tiny window in their cabin and caught sight of a star or the moon, and wondered what they were doing. But although the longing to see them was so strong it made her feel sick, she could push it aside to focus on the children. She had made Kerrin safe; now she had to keep her other children safe. All her usual worries had melted away in the face of this. Sometimes she even felt happier than she had back in Baltimore, especially when she was playing with her new children, but occasionally just when talking with the other women, when they looked to her as their leader. Often it felt as though this was a dream, that they would all wake up and laugh at the thought she could help others. Yet, as the days passed, it became more natural.

There were also times when this dream-like existence was rudely shattered.

The children raced over to the door when it opened. But this time there was no food, only a trio of armed men and, instead of pleading for food, the children ran, crying.

“Where is Bridgit?” one of them called.

Bridgit hurried over, planting her feet firmly and crossing her arms. “I am Bridgit and what is the meaning of this? Why are you scaring the children?” she demanded, her face not giving away the pounding of her heart.

“Prince Kemal orders your presence.”

“Why?” Bridgit asked, although the three of them had already half-turned away.

“You dare to ask why? The Prince commands and you must obey!” the Kottermani said.

“He is not my Prince. And the others will worry if I leave like this,” Bridgit said, standing her ground.

The Kottermani strode across to her, looming over her, but she did not flinch, even when he raised his hand.

“Move, woman!” he growled.

“Do you think the Prince will like the fact you struck me when he ordered no hand raised against me?” Bridgit stared into his dark eyes defiantly, and saw a flash of fear there. No doubt Prince Kemal had ordered and he had obeyed without question. That was something to remember.

“Now take me to Prince Kemal immediately, so I can report you!” she told them loudly, knowing that was what the rest of the cabin would remember. “Hurry up! Let’s go!” She shooed them out of the cabin, turning her head to give the others a broad wink as she did so. She felt she was getting the hang of dealing with the Kottermanis now. They all lived in terror of Prince Kemal and she just had to exploit that. She wanted to despise them for the way they treated their Prince but had to admit her own people would act much the same way around their nobility.

The Kottermani stamped from the room and she followed, giving the children a final cheery wave as she did so.

“What was the meaning of that game?” the Kottermani demanded as soon as the door was shut.

“It was no game,” she told him calmly. “You might consider us slaves but what value will we have if we sicken and die before we reach Kotterman? We need to be treated like humans, not animals. Now, lead on, or I shall indeed report you to Prince Kemal.”

The Kottermani waved a thick finger at her. “You will do well to learn your place, woman.”

“And you would do well to heed your Prince’s orders,” Bridgit retorted. “Take that hand away from my face.”

The man dropped his hand with a snort of anger and frustration and turned his back on her, stamping off up the passageway towards the light.

She followed at a slower pace, the other two guards at her back, although they did not say a word. Part of her marvelled at the way she was standing up to these men. Fallon had always said she was strong and she had never believed him. Yet standing up to the Kottermanis was little different from not falling for Fallon’s blarney. He had been right; she hoped she would get the chance to tell him. The rest of her knew there was no choice. They would despise weakness.

The daylight was bright again, although it was overcast, with the promise of rain. Once in the open it took a few moments before she could see where she was going, following her angry guide back to the sheltered part of the deck, where Prince Kemal sat comfortably. Her guide was down on one knee, speaking angrily.

She hurried over but they were talking in Kottermani and she had no idea what was being said, so she contented herself with staring defiantly at Kemal.

He glanced up at her and waved her guide to silence. “It seems you have been antagonizing Erdogan here,” he said mildly.

“I would say it was the other way around,” Bridgit replied instantly.

“You need to address the Prince as highness!” Erdogan twisted around and told her.

Kemal held up his hand. “There is no need to argue about foolish things,” he said wearily. “She will regain her manners when she is not being attacked.” He looked up at Bridgit. “I did not bring you here to discuss my men. I brought you here because many of the women we took from your village are refusing to eat and are wasting away.”

Bridgit felt a flicker of fear at the thought but pushed it down. “I wonder why,” she said with a touch of scorn in her voice. “Could it be because they were snatched from their homes and families, their children stolen from them and forced to live in a cramped wooden prison with the constant fear of rape and death hovering over them?”

Kemal smiled thinly. “Mostly true, except for the part about the rape. My men will not lower the value of the slaves we took that way.”

“You are telling me your men can spend a moon or more on a ship without any of their own women and keep their hands off the ones from my village?” Bridgit sneered.

“Yes, I do. Because I ordered it,” Kemal said simply. “But that does not mean it is not hanging over them. When they reach Kotterman, they will be expected to work as slaves. Those that try to resist will have their spirits broken and I believe the slave masters’ favorite tactic there is rape for the women.”

“And for the men?” Bridgit growled.

“The same,” Kemal said with a shrug. “I do not involve myself with the process but from what I have seen, it works well.”

Bridgit bit her tongue, holding back her fury with difficulty.

“But that assumes they reach Kotterman safe and healthy. I want you to go and speak to these women, convince them to eat again.”

“For what?” Bridgit asked. “So that their rapists can have the satisfaction of not grunting over bags of bones?”

“I would have thought you wanted to keep your friends alive,” Kemal said mildly. “You may say what you want to them, tell them that you are sure your husband and his friend the Crown Prince will rescue them – whatever you need to. Give them a taste of hope so they eat again. Who knows? It might even come true.”

“No.” Bridgit shook her head. “That will not work. If you want to keep them alive you need to give them more than the illusion of hope. You need to give them back their children.”

Now it was Kemal’s turn to shake his head. “That is foolish,” he said. “They will not be allowed to keep the younger ones. It is kinder to get them used to that reality now, rather than force them to part with their children a second time.”

“You are wrong. It is the only thing that they will cling to. Give them back their children, let us all stay together, and that will be hope for them. I shall tell them about Fallon and how he will be coming for us, and that will give them what they need to hold on once we reach Kotterman and they are forced to part from their children again. That is the only way to save them.”

Kemal’s brow wrinkled. “To me that seems like giving them false hope. It is merely moving the problem on from now to when we land in Kotterman.”

“No, it’s not. And as for false hope, is that not the best kind for you? I shall tell them what I believe, that my husband will come for us. They will believe it but you do not. So whether it comes true or not, it will have achieved what you want.”

Kemal said nothing for a long time, merely stroking his chin and staring out into space. “You are an unusual woman,” he said finally. “Every conversation we have proves that to me. Very well, we shall try your idea. Erdogan, I want the partitions between the women and children’s cabins to come down. Now. But they go up again if Bridgit cannot make the sick women eat.”

“Then they will need food as well. Honey in water is best at first for the very hungry, then solid food in a day’s time,” Bridgit said, thinking back to when Kerrin had been sick.

“Make it so.” Kemal waved. “Begin now. But we shall talk again, Bridgit.”

Stepping back down into the dark corridors below decks did indeed feel like going into a different world and Bridgit marvelled at the way she had persuaded the prince to let everyone come together. But she also quailed at the thought of what was waiting for them in Kotterman. Rape as a weapon to break their spirits and make them all obey? If she persuaded them to act like slaves and wait for Fallon, how long and through what suffering could they keep it up, hoping for Fallon to arrive and rescue them?