Chapter VIII Lowborn and Loyal
Ealdmund's left eye twitched as he scratched the scar running down his left cheek. The irritating itch required all four fingers of his left hand. He scratched and scratched and scratched some more. His hand formed a twisted rake with prongs of broken, dirty, yellow fingernails delving into his skin, which quickly turned red.
The scar would always begin to itch when Ealdmund was nervous. Beautiful women made Ealdmund nervous. Young, powerful, beautiful women made him even more nervous. Lann Mac Carthaigh belonged to the latter category.
Ealdmund did not dare make eye contact with the duchess. He was transfixed by her full, red lips. He watched them move as they formed words, but he did not hear nor care much for what they were saying. Two straight rows of perfectly white teeth made brief appearances while Lann droned on. The Duke of Ulster kept his own crooked and decayed incisors well hidden behind a closed mouth, although he wished for nothing more than to display them in what he believed to be his most charming and seductive smile.
He briefly glanced at the duchess's long, coal-black hair cascading down her sable-clad shoulders. He could smell it from where he sat. The aroma was a delectable combination of blackberries and sour cherries.
'Ealdmund. Ealdmund!'
The Duke of Ulster finally looked up at Lann's eyes.
'You are bleeding,' the Mermaid pointed at his left cheek.
Ealdmund retracted his hand from the side of his face and examined the smears of blood on his cracked fingernails. He cursed under his breath and stuck his arm under his right shoulder to which action Lann's red lips formed into a demure smile.
He is mine.
'So are we in agreement?' asked the duchess with the slightest trace of a Norse accent in her Gaelic.
Ealdmund's left eye twitched again, but instead of scratching the scar again he inhaled deeply though his nose while tilting his head back.
'I beg yer pardon, Lady Duchess, but I be a simpleton in these matters that you and I be talking of. Let me see if I compreha...compre... com... understand this right. I get me boys to fight for you so you can be the queen and you give me a castle near Dublin?'
Lann nodded.
'Well why don't ya just marry Conall?' the duke squinted with one eye and raised half his upper lip in an expression of disgusted incomprehension.
Lann sighed and did her best to remain calm. She ran her hands along her thighs and smoothed the creases on her white dress.
'Because he is my nephew,' her dark eyebrows furrowed in a deep frown.
The Duke of Ulster placed his right hand on the table between them and drummed out a short little beat on its wooden surface. He looked behind at the fire burning on the hearth and tried to think of something to say. He was visibly lost, this much Lann could see.
He has to be mine.
She was less certain than just moments before.
'How many men would you be needing?' the duke cleared his throat and corrected himself, 'Or how many would make the Lady Duchess happy enough grant me ol' Castle Trim and its treasure vaults?'
A coy smile reappeared on Lann's face.
'The banners under your direct command in Ulster will suffice.'
The Duke of Ulster drummed out another several notes on the wooden table and stared directly into Lann's eyes.
He has the audacity to look at me like that. Her smile never left her face.
We shall see how well he will ogle me without any eyes.
Ealdmund sensed that his gaze had overstayed its welcome. He turned to look at the fire again and nodded as if to himself.
'Aye, me boys will help...'
*
She pressed herself firmly against her kinsman's body and let her lips brush against his. She then exhaled quietly into his ear and rubbed the back of his neck. Duke Dabíd III of Leinster pretended to resist her caresses. He grabbed her by her wrists but did not push her away. She pressed her bosom harder against his chest and glared at him with sheepish, seductive eyes.
'Lann, we are both Mac Carthaighs. This is not right!'
The Duchess of Orkney chuckled.
'Oh please, Dabíd, so our grandfathers were brothers...' she whispered as she freed one hand from the duke's less-than-iron grip. She then caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers and continued to stare deep into his eyes, 'Let me show you what pleasures await you once I am queen upon my throne in Castle Trim, just a short ride from your majestic estate,' she brushed her lips against his once again.
Dabíd inhaled deeply and pressed her head against his chest. He looked into the shadows beyond the light cast by the hearth in his bedroom.
A pair of eyes glared back at him. He saw them move up and down in a gesture that had to be a nod. At that point any inhibitions that the duke may have still had vanished completely. He threw Lann onto his bed and began to fumble at the laces of her dress.
'Tell me, sweet cousin, tell me what it is you want of me,' he leaned over her and nibbled on her neck, 'What is this plot you have readied for that fool Conall.'
Lann gasped in delight and pressed Dabíd's head against her cleavage.
'We shall march our armies into Dublin while Conall visits the summer fair. Then block his way to Castle Trim and that pet hound of his. What is his name?'
'Báetán?' Dabíd groaned as she drew him onto her.
'Yes!' Lann exclaimed, 'We shall bind him in shackles and put him on one of my longboats! If he resists we shall drown him...' she murmured into her cousin's ear, 'And if not, we will let him live out his days in Wales. I'm sure we will not wait long to hear of his demise. The Welsh are fickle when it comes to Irish rulers without Irish armies.' Lann giggled like a little girl and kissed Dabíd on the mouth.
She failed to notice a sudden movement in the bedroom and was only alerted by the loud screeching of the chamber's wooden door opening. A figure clad in a dark hooded robe was outlined by the torches lit in the adjacent hall. It stood with its back turned to the lovers on the bed and was evidently leaving.
Lann pushed Dabíd off of herself.
'Who are you?!' she screamed.
'I am Ardgar of Kildare, the pet hound's brother,' the figure's voice was a smooth and cold as ice, 'But that is not important.'
The shadow left through the open door revealing King Conall, the Duke of Ulster and Báetán of Kildare.
Ardgar of Kildare, King Conall's Trusted Spymaster
Lann's lips began to quiver in fear and shock.
'No!' she hit the bed she lay on with clenched fists, 'No! No! NO!'
If Conall felt anything at that moment, his face did not show it. Báetán was seething through his teeth like a rabid dog and the Duke of Ulster boasted the ugliest, most vile smile one could possibly imagine.
Lann threw herself half-naked at Dabíd and began to choke him.
'You knew of this! You knew!'
The dukes eyes bulged out of their sockets as he flapped his hands at the Mermaid too dumbfounded to put up a real fight.
'Restrain her before she kills the poor man,' Conall's voice was as devoid of expression as his face.
Báetán walked briskly up to the bed and tore the duchess off of her cousin. He grabbed her from behind by the elbows and escorted her toward the king.
Conall glared at Lann's blue eyes. Her irises were no longer as cold and calculating as those of a predator stalking its prey. Her eyes were a mess of tears and red blood vessels laced with hate, fear and not the slightest hint of remorse.
The duchess turned away from his gaze and spat into Ealdmund's face.
'You will burn in hell for your betrayal! Traitor!' she screamed at the lowborn duke as he wiped her saliva from his face.
'You be calling the kettle black, Lady Duchess,' Ealdmund reached up to scratch his scar but ended up only rubbing it.
'Get her out of my sight,' the king sighed while rubbing his forehead.
Báetán escorted Lann out of the room, half of her dress trailing behind her, and led her down to the castle's dungeons.
When the woman's screaming could no longer be heard, Conall turned to Ealdmund and rested his hand on the man's shoulder.
'Tell me. She offered you much and more. Why did you pick me over the riches of Castle Trim?'
The roguish duke smirked and patted his king on the arm resting on his shoulder.
'Well, Your Majesty, to be completely honest, which I am, if I do say so myself, that spymaster of yours left me without a choice.'
The duke moved away from the king and headed toward the door. He stopped at the threshold and chuckled.
'Oh, that, and strong women make ol' Ealdmund nervous. I'd scratch half me face off if she were queen.'
Duchess Lann Mac Carthaigh Imprisoned, July 1274