Betrayal Read online

  The afternoon noises and sharp smells of Dunfermine came to her on the little breeze that stirred her long skirt and tickled the strands of blonde hair that fell around her face. The heavy smell of burning coal from the blacksmith shop down the street mixed with the warm aroma of horse manure and the stench of human waste from the nighttime chamber pots. Nothing unusual about any of that. Lara returned to her laundry, trying to shake the feeling. She didn’t have time for it.

  Her younger sister, Morwyn was still confined to her bed from her recent childbirth. It was her sixth. So Lara had to pick up the work of two. She hadn’t even had time to make the fine lace that she sold to the local shops. She had become the spinster who cared for the sister lucky enough to find a good man rather than the useless, sots who preyed upon Lara after her disgrace.

  Lara finished the washing and checked the large pot of boiling stew hanging on a hook over the fireplace in the kitchen and the bread baking in the oven. She glanced up as her father, Kurk, shuffled through the door. His shirt and trousers seemed to sag around his bent frame as he leaned on his crutch.

  “How was the shop today?” Lara asked as she filled her father’s bowl. The children started to filter in, making so much racket that she couldn’t hear his reply. His crutch leaned against the table. He bent his silver head to the spoon of hot broth.

  Lara paused to examine Kurk’s gnarled hand that quivered as it raised the spoon. The rheumatism made his cobbler work difficult, but he never complained. Lara rubbed warm oil on his hands every night, which eased the discomfort some, but they were getting worse.

  She served the children and took a slice of bread and bowl of steaming soup up to Morwyn. She found her nursing the baby. Lara caressed the soft head. The touch brought back the longing for her own little Evan. Sometimes her arms still ached to hold him.

  A muffled knock on the door below created pandemonium in the kitchen as the children scrambled to see who would reach the door first. Lara descended the stairs to find that the house had become quiet. This puzzled her. She couldn’t remember a time when a visitor made the children more quiet. It usually made them even more excited and rambunctious.

  She stepped into the hallway to the sound of low voices. Men were speaking to her father. She paused in the doorway to the kitchen. A man in his mid-forties stood grasping her father’s hand in his. He was tall and thin with a grizzled beard. His clothes were dirty and travel-worn. Beside him stood a tall, handsome young man, perhaps in his early twenties. This young man was dressed in the earth-colored Salassani clothes that had the closed neckline and long sleeves that tightened on the wrist, but he didn’t have the same dark hair and eyes. His hair was sandy-brown and his eyes the color of honey. He had scars on his face and a long, purple line on his right hand. Lara hesitated at the door, uncertain whether she should intrude, but concerned for her father’s safety.

  The young man noticed her movement in the doorway and their gaze met. The recognition in his face puzzled her. He touched the older man with the grizzled beard standing next to him. When the older man raised his head, shock swept through her. She would have recognized that expression anywhere. She had seen it a million times while growing up in Comrie and then hundreds of times after that. It was the expectant look of one who wished to please, but who feared rejection.

  Lara’s lips moved. She whispered his name. Her father, turned to look at her but she could not take her gaze from the man. “Redmond?” she said aloud.

  “I . . .” he began as he stepped toward her and then stopped. “Lara, I’m sorry. I’ve come home.”

  Lara swallowed. She blinked rapidly. What was she supposed to feel? For years, she had hoped and waited and waited and hoped. She had endured scorn and poverty, and now he returned and told her that he had come home? That he was sorry?

  She opened her mouth to speak, but could find no words. She left the room, climbed the stairs to her bedroom, closed the door softly, and sat on the edge of her bed. Why had he come? What did he want from her?

  * * *

  Redmond watched Lara walk away with a despair he could not describe. She still had that delicate, kindly face with deep-brown eyes. She wore her blonde hair shorter than he had remembered, but it still had the soft, yellow glow. She hadn’t recognized him at first, and, when she had, she hadn’t seemed happy to see him.

  He hadn’t expected her to throw her arms around his neck as if nothing had happened. But the stony silence was difficult to experience. He glanced back at Emyr who simply shrugged, but his face betrayed his emotions. Lara had not recognized her own son. Redmond reached out and squeezed Emyr’s arm in reassurance, though he felt none himself.

  Redmond looked down at Lara’s father, Kurk, who peered up at him expectantly. Redmond remembered him as a soft spoken, gentle man, but one who was not afraid to be direct when necessary. Redmond blinked at the sting in his eyes. He didn’t know what to say.

  “I think you gave her quite the shock just now,” Kurk said as he waved to the table where the crowd of children stared at them in silence. “Sit down and eat with us. Lara is still a good cook.”

  Redmond hesitated, then nodded his acceptance. The children made room for him and Emyr. The oldest girl arose after a command from her grandfather to serve them a bowl of soup and a slice of bread.

  “Are these Lara’s children?” Redmond asked.

  Kurk smiled. “No, no, my boy. They are all Morwyn’s rascals, every one.” He reached over and pinched the cheek of the boy nearest him.

  “Derrick should be home shortly.”

  “Derrick?” Redmond asked.

  “The children’s father,” Kurk said. “Good man, Derrick. He took us in when we first came to Dunfermine. Hard worker, that boy.” The old man paused. “Now tell me lad, where have you been these long years?”

  Redmond swallowed his mouthful of bread. It was warm with the sharp taste of rye. “I’ve been in the southlands beyond the sea. I sold the skills I learned in the Heath War as I wandered about.”

  “So you’ve been a wandering warrior, have you now? Seen many great battles?”

  Redmond nodded. “Too many, I’m afraid.”

  “Lots of southern women too, no doubt,” Kurk said with a mischievous grin.

  Redmond shook his head. “No, sir. I never took a wife.” How could he explain to this man what his life had been like for the last eighteen years?

  Kurk studied Redmond for a long moment. “You know she waited for you,” he said.

  Redmond nodded. “I know.”

  “You broke her heart, boy.” It wasn’t spoken as a rebuke, only a statement of fact.

  “I know.” Redmond bowed his head. The bitterness of his wasted years pressed down upon him.

  “So why come back now? What do you want?”

  Redmond blinked as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. He had known this would be difficult, but he was finding it more of a challenge than he had expected. How could he explain? “I didn’t know about the baby,” he said. “Or I never would have left.”

  “The Taurini got him,” Kurk said quietly. “That’s when they ruined my leg.” He reached a hand down under the table. “They left us for dead, you know. Lara nearly drowned in the river, and I would have bled to death if that Carpentini man hadn’t found me. He saved my leg, but, well…” Kurk trailed off.

  “I’ve brought him home,” Redmond said. He cleared his throat and blinked rapidly, trying to control the raw emotions that tightened his throat.

  Kurk raised his head slowly. His gaze swiveled toward Emyr. For the first time, he took a long, hard look at him. Emyr sat still, watching.

  Kurk swallowed. “Is it you, Evan?”

  Emyr nodded.

  Kurk turned his gaze back to Redmond.

  “How?” Kurk said.

  “It’s a long tale, and you’ve just sat down to your dinner.” Redmond paused. “I think Lara should hear it.”

  Kurk nodded. “It won’t be easy for her.” He examined Redmond.
“What are you going to ask of her? She has suffered enough.”

  “I’ll ask for nothing. I only want to explain.”

  Kurk nodded and motioned to the oldest girl to fetch Lara.

  “Come over by the fire where it’s more comfortable,” he said. “These old bones like the warmth of a fire.”

  * * *

  Lara entered the room with a passive face. She had now had time to absorb the shock a bit, and she was ready to hear what Redmond had to say. Redmond stood and offered her his seat, but she shook her head.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you,” Redmond said. “I hardly know where to begin.” He paused as if deciding something important. Then he motioned toward the young man. “This is Emyr, Lara. He is our son.”

  The warmth drained from Lara’s face. She stepped forward involuntarily as Emyr rose to his feet. His brow was wrinkled the way her Evan used to wrinkle his when he was worried. His golden brown eyes watched her, excited, anxious. He stepped toward her.

  “Mother,” he said as he clasped her hands in his. She gazed into his face. There behind the scars, the dirt, and the whiskers was her little boy.

  A sob escaped her throat as she pulled him into a fierce embrace. He smelled of sweat, and dirt, and heather. It was a wild smell—the smell of the open heathland he had so loved as a child. Her boy. Her little boy had come home.

  Lara’s mind seemed to freeze for a long moment as she struggled to comprehend how this could be. She could form no clear thoughts or words as she sobbed into the dirty, smelly shoulder of her boy who now called himself Emyr.

  No one spoke. The quiet popping of the fire competed with Lara’s sobs as she clung desperately to this strange, young man who had returned to her as if from the grave. Fifteen years of heartbreak burst from her in a torrent.

  When she had regained some control of her herself, Lara pulled away and wiped at her tears. Emyr left his tears to glisten on his cheeks.

  Lara sniffled. “You’re a man now,” she said. Then she glanced at Redmond. “How did you find him?”

  Redmond shrugged. “He found me. It’s a long tale if you would like to hear it.”

  Lara nodded. She scooped one of the children from the chair behind her and sat cradling him in her lap. Redmond and Emyr resumed their seats.

  “First, I want you to understand why I left,” Redmond said.

  Lara bowed her head to stare at the floor. She didn’t know if she could bear to hear it. “Neahl already told me,” she said.

  “Neahl didn’t know,” Redmond said. “He thought I was a coward who had abandoned him to a desperate fight. But that wasn’t true.”

  The earnestness in his voice caused Lara to look up.

  “I would have stayed and, if necessary, died with them.” Redmond clasped his hands in front of him and stared at a spot on the floor. “But my horse was shot by an arrow, and he bolted. My boot was caught in the stirrup so I couldn’t dismount. By the time I regained control and made my way back to them, they were gone.”

  Redmond raised his gaze again. “I had to fight my way through the Dunkeldi, but I kept hearing how Neahl and Weyland were boasting that they would kill me on sight for being a coward. I knew they would, too. I felt betrayed.”

  “That’s a pretty lame excuse for leaving me with a child,” Lara said. She didn’t care that pain flicked across Redmond’s face. He deserved it after all she had suffered because of him.

  “If I hadn’t left,” Redmond said. “Neahl would have kept going until we were all dead. You know how stubborn he is. I realized that I had to kill him or leave him. I couldn’t kill my own brother. But things were worse than you know. On my way south, I discovered that I was being trailed by assassins. I couldn’t lead them to you. So I lured them off the island and killed them. I couldn’t come back after that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I was being followed. The only way to keep you safe was to stay away.”

  “Weyland managed,” she said, though she suppressed a twinge of guilt. She hadn’t told Redmond about the baby. It had been her choice to remain silent. She had wanted him to come back to her because he loved her, not because he felt an obligation to his child. She had believed he would come back. But she had been wrong. He hadn’t loved her enough.

  Redmond shook his head. “Neahl protected them for years. But in the end, Weyland’s enemies got to him.”

  Kurk poked an iron into the fire, and Redmond sat forward, his face alight with an earnestness she had seldom seen. Lara glanced down at the floor again.

  “I know I betrayed your trust,” he said, “and I am sorry. But if I had known that you were with child, I would have taken you with me. I never would have left you alone with a child, no matter what the risk.”

  Silence filled the room again, but Lara refused to look at him.

  “I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said. “But I wanted you to know the truth.” He paused. “All these years I imagined that you would already have a family of your own. I didn’t know.”

  He paused to wipe at a tear and to clear his throat.

  Lara lifted her gaze from the floor. She had no reason to doubt his word. In fact, she had never known him to lie, except for the promise he made to come back to her. That betrayal had been the source of all of her suffering. In some ways, it might have been better had he died on the heathland. At least then she would not have had to suffer all the years of doubt and wasted hope.

  “Do you have any idea what I have been through?” Her voice was even and low.

  Redmond shook his head. “I can only imagine,” he said. “I would take it back if I could.”

  “No, I don’t think you can imagine.” Lara let the bitterness fill her words. “I don’t think you have any idea what it has been like to be spurned and mocked and hated and ridiculed all because you chose to run off and leave me.” Her back was up, and she would give him a piece of her mind. “I don’t think you have any idea what it was like to have my child, my fatherless child, torn from my arms because his father wasn’t there to protect him like he should have been.”

  “Lara,” Kurk tried to cut in but she talked over him.

  “I lost my child to the Taurini whom his father had spent half of his life fighting because he insisted on following his selfish brother.”

  By the time she finished, she was shouting. Her chest heaved and burned. She glared at Redmond, daring him to contradict her.

  Redmond had bowed his head under the assault. This act of submission fueled her anger. He should defend himself, give her some reason to keep shouting, tell her that she was partly to blame for not telling him about the child. Tears of bitterness and anger trickled down Lara’s cheeks to drip onto the child in her lap who wiped at them and peered up at her with a frightened gaze. Lara squeezed him reassuringly and tried to smile.

  The uncomfortable silence settled over the room like a damp blanket.

  Emyr sat forward. “Mother,” he said with that expression he had when he wanted to please. “You asked how Father found me.”

  Lara nodded.

  “I remembered the stories you used to tell me about my father and Neahl and Weyland.” Emyr shifted, and his face became troubled. “I captured a girl named Brigid on a raid only to discover that she was Weyland’s daughter. Her brother Brion, Neahl, and Redmond came to rescue her and another of their friends. Eventually I realized who they were, and we came to find you together.”

  Lara wiped at the new tears. “But what happened to you after they took you? Where have you been?”

  The child in Lara’s lap wiggled, and she let him down.

  “I was sold up north to the Taurini,” Emyr continued, “where I lived for a few years. Then a Salassani warrior bought me and raised me as his son.”

  Emyr glanced at Redmond. “His name was Mortegai. He had met Redmond years before when Redmond had killed his son in battle and then spared Mortegai’s life.”

  “Neahl never forgave me for sparing him,” Redmond said,
“for what he called my ‘weakness.’”

  “But because you spared him,” Emyr said, “he was there to raise me as his son.”

  Redmond bowed his head to contemplate the dirt floor.

  “Mortegai died in a raid a year ago,” Emyr said, “and his mother recently passed away, as well, so I came south.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lara said to Redmond. “Why did you come back at all?”

  Redmond held up his hands. “I heard rumors that the entire island would be engulfed in war. I wanted to come home to see if you were all safe. But the day I found Neahl over in Wexford, I found out that Weyland had been killed by the Salassani that very morning, and they had taken Weyland’s daughter.”

  “Weyland is dead?” Lara asked.

  Redmond nodded. “The assassins finally found him,” he said. “They killed Rosland, too. Their son, Brion, and Neahl and I went into the heathland to find their daughter, Brigid, and two other village girls. That’s how we found Emyr.”

  Lara blinked at Emyr. “You did it?” Lara’s stomach tighten.

  Emyr nodded. “I was the leader.”

  “You’ve become just like them then.” Lara couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. Her own son had become a murderer and raider just like the ones that had stripped Evan from her arms.

  Emyr shook his head as a pained expression swept across his face.

  “No, but I had to survive, Mother. I was a child. I could barely remember anything else.”

  Lara persisted. “But you’ve been raiding and enslaving all these years?”

  “No, I haven’t. When I raided I only took horses or property. I never took slaves. I only killed when I had no choice, and I never raided in Coll except that one time.”

  “Lara,” Redmond began, but she silenced him with a glance.

  “It’s hard,” she said as if to herself. “It’s just hard.”

  Redmond watched Lara before turning to Kurk. “Sir, we need to get you and your family out of Dunfermine,” he said.