Never Never, page 5
“What happened?” Mike said as he reached them. He knelt by Declan and touched his hand. Declan turned to look at him. It was then Mike saw the blood-drenched rag held against Declan’s chest. “Jaysus! What happened?”
“Two blokes,” Declan wheezed, closing his eyes.
“Where? In the woods?”
Declan’s face whitened and he nodded.
“We need to get him back to the wagon,” Fiona said.
Mike braced himself against a tree for leverage and pulled Declan into his arms. Gavin helped lift from underneath until Mike had a decent grip.
“Just clear the way for me,” Mike grunted. Fiona bent back the bushes in front of him.
“He said he got turned around,” Gavin said. “The bastards must have watched him go in the woods. They hit him, then went friggin’ mental when he didn’t have anything of value on him.”
Mike focused on getting Declan out of the woods without dropping him.
“Took…took me sgian-dubh,” Declan gasped. “The one you gave me, Mike. I tried to…I tried to…”
“He tried to get it back,” Fiona said briskly. “So they used it on him.” She glanced at Mike but her eyes went to her husband’s wound.
God! Were they in the woods this far?
“I’ll get the horses,” Gavin said as he sprinted away.
Mike’s arms were screaming from Declan’s weight. The last thing he wanted to do was fall to his knees but he wasn’t entirely sure he could make it all the way to the road.
“Stop and rest, Mike,” Fiona said.
“Just clear me a path,” he panted, his sweat cooling on his skin, his legs on fire with every step.
Up ahead he saw Gavin mounted up. He heard the sound of rain hitting the forest treetops but none had yet to fall on them.
“We’re there, Mike,” Fiona said, putting her hands under Declan’s body. Even that little help made a difference and Mike knew he had the strength to make it the rest of the way.
“I’m so sorry, Mike,” Declan said, tears beginning to stream down his face. “So, so sorry.”
Gavin rode into the ditch and through the first line of trees. Mike felt him grab Declan under his arms and pull him slowly into his lap on the horse while Fiona pushed. Declan groaned. The sudden loss of weight on his arms made Mike stumble and he put a hand out to steady himself against Gavin’s horse.
“Ye got ‘im, Gav?” he asked breathlessly.
“Aye, good and solid. Meet you at the wagons.” Gavin turned his horse down the road. By the time Mike emerged from the woods Fiona was already mounted and trotting after them.
Mike looked around, wondering if the blackguards who’d stabbed Dec were still around. The road was silent except for the fading clip-clop of Gavin and Fiona’s horses and the patter of the rain on the road.
While he hadn’t had time to get a close look at Declan’s injuries, he could tell by the amount of blood down the front of him that it wasn’t good.
Not good at all.
* * *
Sarah was the first to see Gavin ride up with Declan’s limp body in his arms. The gossip had spread like a prairie fire up and down the little wagon train.
Everyone knew Declan had gotten lost. The fact that they’d brought him back was not a consolation to Sarah. She assumed they’d find him.
In what condition was the question.
Fiona cantered to Sarah’s wagon and dismounted, tossing her reins to one of the women in the back.
“What do you need, Fi?” Sarah called.
“Some place to lay him,” Fi said as she ran to the back of the wagon and began helping the children out of it.
Sarah wrapped the reins around the brake and jumped down from the seat. By the time she reached Fiona, Mike had arrived and was easing Declan out of Gavin’s arms and onto the ground.
There was so much blood down the front of Declan it looked like his chest had exploded.
No way, Sarah thought, as she watched Declan feebly try to sit up. No way he’ll survive this.
Fiona was all business now. She climbed into the back of the wagon to lay out bedding. Several of the other people in the group had walked from the front of the line.
“Move back. Give him room,” Mike said. He and Gavin slid a blanket under Declan and lifted him up between them and onto the wagon. Sarah saw that Mike’s shirt was nearly as bloody as Declan’s. She’d hear all about it later. The woods were full of murderers and cutthroats. The wonder wasn’t that one of their party was attacked but that it hadn’t happened sooner.
Sarah climbed into the wagon with Fiona and pried the first aid kit out from behind the driver’s seat where she’d packed it. Siobhan watched the goings on from the comforting arms of one of the compound women. Sarah knelt next to Declan and squeezed his hand.
“Hey, Dec,” she said, forcing herself not to grimace at how white he looked. He squeezed her hand in return.
“I got the bleeding stopped,” Fiona said breathlessly. “It’s why it took us so long.”
Sarah peeled away the wadded up sweatshirt Fi had used for padding on Declan’s chest. The bleeding had definitely stopped, thank God. And the wound itself looked shallow enough.
“Hand me that bandage, will you?”
So why does he look like he’s at death’s door?
“Is this the only injury?” Sarah asked.
Fiona looked at her, her eyes showing panic.
“You think there has to be another explanation for why he looks like this?” she asked.
Sarah glanced up at Gavin where he sat on his horse. The patch across the front of his jeans where he’d held Declan was bright red.
Shit.
Sarah slid a hand between the blanket and Declan’s back. His eyes fluttered back into his head and he moaned.
“Help me move him to his side.”
“It’s his front where he’s hurt,” Fiona said but she pulled on Declan’s arm as Sarah shifted his hip toward her.
He lay in a pool of gore.
“Oh, Sarah,” Fiona whispered. “Oh, please do something.”
“Okay, calm down,” Sarah said, her mind racing. This was well beyond her experience level.
He’d lost a lot of blood—was still losing a lot of blood—from the back wound. She reached for another wad of padding. It wasn’t clean but it would have to do. She had to stop the bleeding. She’d worry about infection later. She bound the padding to his back and tied it securely with a cloth belt. Declan had passed out which Sarah hoped wasn’t a bad sign. But it probably wasn’t good.
“Did you talk to him?” Sarah asked.
Fiona’s eyes brimmed with tears as she stared at Declan’s face in repose.
“He said two men stabbed him with his own knife.”
“Just the once?”
“I…he didn’t mention more than one time.”
“Okay. I want to clean it and see how bad it is but I need to wash up for that. Stay here.”
“Sarah, sure you can fix him, can’t you?”
Sarah hesitated. She tried to remember a single other time when Fiona had looked or sounded this helpless. In point of fact, Fiona was usually considered the compound healer. She had an encyclopedic understanding of medicinal herbs and concoctions and kept a good supply for most occasions.
But broken bones, bullet holes and stab wounds were a whole different thing.
* * *
Sarah glanced at Declan and then back at Fiona. What did she want her to say? A lie? What did Fiona think was going to happen when she’d backed her brother so vigorously about leaving the convent?
Is it possible she is really surprised?
“Stay with him,” Sarah said jumping down.
* * *
An hour later, Sarah had cleaned Declan’s wound the best she could. Fiona had some herbs in her homeopathic medicine chest for fighting infections and, even better, Sarah still had a decent supply of antibiotics. Now that the back wound had stopped bleeding, they needed to keep him quiet and hydrated until they could return to the convent. Sister Alphonse was a registered nurse.
Mike had set up camp in the middle of the road so they didn’t even have to move the wagon that Declan was in. The other wagons were shifted off the road and two small campfires built at either end of the makeshift campsite. The mood in camp was somber.
It had rained early that afternoon but not long and not hard. Mike gave orders not to unpack the tents, which suited Sarah just fine. The sooner they got on the way back to the convent, the better.
Nuala O’Connell kept Fiona’s little girls with her so that Fiona could stay with Declan. She would spend most of the long night trying to get beef broth and water into him, and checking his bandages and his pulse.
Sarah went to the larger campfire where she knew she’d find Mike. If there was ever a time she wanted to hear him say the words I was wrong, this was it.
The relief of knowing the whole mad caper was over—and had ended almost exactly as Sarah knew it would—helped ease the chronic anxiety that lived in her gut.
We’re going back and that’s all that matters.
When she walked up Mike stood from where he was seated by the fire.
“You look done in,” he said grimly, making room for her to sit. “Come, eat.”
Sarah looked around the campfire. Gavin and Sophia sat opposite them, their little one asleep in Sophia’s arms. Several of the women they’d liberated from the rape camp last spring also sat around the fire.
“Siobhan’s with Mary and Kev,” Mike said, handing Sarah a plate of roasted rabbit.
“Great,” Sarah said absently. She bit into the meat and realized she was ravenous.
“How is he?” Mike asked.
“Not good. But Sister Alphonse will know what to do.”
“Sarah…”
“How is he, Sarah?” Sophia called from across the fire. “I said a prayer for him.”
“That’ll help,” Sarah said with a smile. She looked at Mike. “And on our first day out.”
“I know. It’s my fault.”
He looked haggard and Sarah felt her heart soften toward him. She saw his guilt and his misery. It was true that Declan wouldn’t be laying in the back of a horse wagon fighting for his life if it hadn’t been for Mike’s insistence that they go looking for something better. But at least Mike saw that.
“Don’t blame yourself too much,” she said laying a hand on his knee. As soon as she felt his leg, firm and hard under her hand, she realized it had been a long time since they’d touched. “I’m sure Sister Alphonse can fix him up.”
“Sarah,” he said, his shoulders sagging.
She reached out to touch his face.
“We’re not going back,” he said wearily.
Her hand froze. Would he really joke at a time like this? Or had he totally lost his mind?
“Of course we’re going back,” she said, edging away from him, her food forgotten. “How can you even say that?”
“Sarah…” He looked at her helplessly and then glanced at the wagon behind her with Fiona and Declan in it. “We have to go forward. There’s no future for us back there.”
“Well, there might be a future for Declan back there,” Sarah said loudly.
“Lower your voice. Fiona’s upset enough as it is.”
“You mean you don’t want Fiona switching to my side which you know she’ll do once she realizes you’re crazy enough to want to go on.”
“Fiona agrees with me.”
Sarah jumped to her feet. “I don’t believe it! You’d sacrifice your best friend for this obsession of yours about a stupid castle?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Mike said between gritted teeth. “Declan is his own man.” But his eyes flitted again to the wagon. Sarah saw the indecision there. The guilt.
“You know very well he isn’t any more! And now look where we are!”
“I admit it!” Mike said angrily. “I was wrong to let him go off on his own. I made a mistake. I won’t make it again.”
“You won’t get the chance again. He’ll be lucky to pass gas on his own now, let alone take a walk in the woods.”
“You’ve made your point, Sarah. I accept the blame for what happened.”
“And you’ll go ahead and do what you want anyway.”
“As long as I believe it’s the right thing for those who follow me, aye.”
“Maybe that’s the key phrase.”
“Be mindful of what you say, Sarah.”
“Why? Because words have power? How about actions, Mike?” She turned and stomped away from the warmth of the campfire, her mind buzzing with disbelief. They weren’t going back. Unbelievable.
Sarah felt her fury drumming in her chest as she walked away from the wagons where the road stretched back toward the nunnery.
She couldn’t leave. Not yet anyway. Not without Siobhan. She just needed to walk and wear down the anger and the hurt.
The sounds of camp receded and Sarah felt a drape of calmness descend on her the further she got from the noise. She stopped, closed her eyes and took a long cleansing breath.
When she opened her eyes, she felt a little better. She looked longingly down the dark road as it bent around a far corner on its way back to the convent and imagined walking down that road in the sunshine with Siobhan in her arms.
She promised herself she would. Soon. If Mike couldn’t see the dangers ahead it was up to her to save Siobhan. And John. Just thinking it made her feel calmer.
Suddenly the noise from camp amplified. She turned to look back. When she did, the noise softened. Confused, she turned again the road to the convent and instantly saw the true source of the sound.
People morphed out of the darkness. Heading toward her.
9
Things were shaping up nicely and it had only taken the wholesale slaughter of a little less than one hundred men to affect it.
Hurley strode to the first tier of the Dublin opera house. It smelled like a dung heap and no surprise. While the lions lived comfortably on the stage and orchestra pit in the ancient indoor amphitheater, cleaning up after them was out of the question.
One of the younger Centurions had the idea that mercy might be shown to any sacrifice who was able to clean a section of the lions’ den and stay alive for five minutes. Unfortunately, after the first week once all the politicians and officers were tossed to the lions, the beasts were always fairly hungry.
Hurley had known terror was the fastest way to wake up his lackluster troops and that had been absolutely proven in the past three weeks. While it was true he was only one man and could easily be overpowered, none of his men appeared to think in those terms. It confirmed what he’d always known.
They wanted to be led.
The sloppiness of the work of the Garda in the last five years was gone. It was gone as fast as it took for the mortal screams of Hurley’s commanding officer to fade and everyone else who held a rank above corporal.
Hurley had quickly organized the men into three legions and renamed the Garda the Imperial Irish Army, noting of course that there was no emperor or nonmilitary leader of any kind in Ireland. It didn’t matter. If the outside world ever came calling again—whether to offer aid or ask for it—they could deal with Padraig Hurley, Centurion Commander.
He surveyed the malodorous amphitheater. His men had created barriers from the stage to prevent the animals—or their victims—from escaping. The lions paced the filthy stage now, their paws clogged with feces and blood.
They would need to find more lion food soon.
The Centurion, James Brady, appeared by his side. Hurley estimated that the young man was still in his teens but he was keen and had difficulty seeing gray areas.
The perfect soldier.
“Why don’t I have tigers, Brady?” Hurley asked without turning his gaze from the lion pit.
“I’m told the lions stayed together so they were easily caught but the tigers are loners and so they escaped.”
Hurley glanced at the boy. “Who told you this?”
Brady didn’t even blink. “Centurion Murphy, Commander.”
“And was Murphy one of the ones who went out to capture them?”
“Yes, Commander.”
Hurley nodded. “Gather the men. They’ll want to see what happens when a centurion doesn’t properly obey orders.”
“Yes, Commander.”
10
After stomping around for a few minutes and trying not to put his fist through a tree, Mike was astonished to see Sarah come running back to the campfire with a grin on her face.
He thought for a moment he was bloody hallucinating.
Behind Sarah was a crowd of people led by a dilapidated pony cart painted with big yellow flowers and driven by none other than Jaz and Regan.
Mike had to admit, their timing was spot on.
The pair parked the cart in the middle of the road and descended on everyone with laughter and squeals of delight. Mike even saw Jaz give her ex-love Tommy a fairly X-rated kiss on the mouth before running over to the women who were next in line to be returned to their homes.
They could not have shown up at a better time.
Even Fiona was smiling from where she sat with Declan. The two girls brought a rush of enthusiasm and sunshine with them that they all badly needed. They also brought a small group of gypsies they’d met on the road.
Sarah quickly organized food for everyone and Mike broke out the whiskey. It wasn’t often they got newcomers and it was always a big deal.
Newcomers meant news.
“Cor, I’m that sorry about poor Declan,” Regan said as she tore into leftovers of roasted rabbit. “Mind you, it’s dangerous out there, so it is.” She and Jaz exchanged a look that made Mike frown. Obviously the two had had a close call somewhere along the line. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the details.
“Did Meggie’s mum cry when she saw her?” One of the women asked.
“Did she ever,” Jaz said with a laugh. “I felt like Lazarus, so I did.”
“Nay,” Regan said. “Lazarus is the one who got raised from the dead. Ye felt like Christ, in fact. He did the raising.”
