An Involuntary King: the Tale Continues

[The following story takes place just after the reunion of the king with his wife and children and Shannon with Rory at the end of An Involuntary King: A Tale of Anglo Saxon England. If you are planning to read this novel, be warned that some of the contents in these stories are spoilers for events in the book.]

After the Reunion

Shannon lifted his head from where it lay on Rory’s chest. His face was puffy, tear-streaked, but he was smiling his lop-sided smile. Then he frowned. “Ochon, Rory, what a mess they made of your face.”

Rory raised his eyebrows ruefully. “That they did. Mayhap it will make my battle tales more believable.”

He glanced to the side, just seeing the king’s and queen’s embracing forms disappear as the welcoming throng closed behind them.

“Will ye not be going after her, then, boyo?” Shannon asked.

Rory shook his head. “She’ll not be after needing me. She has her lord and now he has her and their wee ones. ‘Tis for that I fetched her.” He grinned into his friend’s concerned face. “I should like to spend this welcome with ye, me friend.”

Shannon’s face lit like a sunburst. “Then off to the Blue Lady, lad, and we shall celebrate with wine, women and song… or in your case, just wine and song.”

Rory grimaced at the reference to his celibacy, dedicated as it was to the unattainable queen. He put his arm around the shorter man’s shoulders and started up the street. “I’ll be assuming’ the alehouse be in the same place as before. Grand so.”

At the alehouse the Ulstermen were greeted with delighted surprise. Everyone in Lawrencium had heard that the Irish mercenary commander O’Donnell had hanged Rory. Yet here he was, somewhat the worse for the treatment he got at the man’s hands, but nonetheless alive and seemingly well.

As Shannon sought out the alehouse’s owner, Leofwen, to share the unbelievable news and get his friend and himself well supplied with her ale, Rory found himself drawn to one of the crude tables near the fire. The cacophony of welcomes and questions about his deliverance made his head ache. The group parted as Leofwen made her way through it like a ship into fishing boats. “Rory, Rory, God be praised!” The stout woman’s bright face was running with tears. She drew him to her be-aproned breast and held him to her in a mighty embrace. “Shannon has been mourning ye something awful. We all have been. Praise God that he has brought ye back to us.”

Rory made a mental note to seek Leofwen out and hear more about how Shannon had spent his time since he and the queen returned from Affynshire. He had seen the redness of his lifelong friend’s eyes, the puffiness of his face, and smelled the ale on his breath.

Now he was drawn to a bench and seated, Leofwen bringing ale to every cup, refusing payment and casting tearful and happy glances at the returned prodigal as she did. The calls came for the story of his escape as the cheery response to free beer subsided.

Shannon sat across from Rory. He watched his friend’s face wondering what tale he would tell. Would he tell the true reason O’Donnell had taken him?

Rory’s face was somber as he considered his own path. He cast Shannon a questioning look. Had he said anything about O’Donnell’s obsession with him, his designs on making Rory his lover? He gratefully received his answer in the slight shake of his friend’s head. The long years of companionship made any more explicit communication unnecessary.

No, he would not reveal the purpose of O’Donnell’s trading the queen for him when she was captured. He would not reveal what had transpired in the hall of O’Donnell’s fortress. He would not tell them how he had pretended to return the man’s desire, and then hurt him sorely. He would not tell them that the man who set him free was O’Donnell’s lover as well as his lieutenant.

Shannon offered him a way into the story he would tell. “In Hucknall.. they told me you were executed as a spy…”

Rory’s nod and smile were as much a thank you as assent. “Aye, ‘tis true. That be what they said, and sure and if I had gotten away on me own two feet that judgment should have been exactly what I should have done. I should have made me way straight to the king with every bit of information I had garnered in the fortress.”

Leofwen looked betw3een the two men. She noticed the silent communication. There was more to this tale than she would hear. Mayhap she never would know for sure, but she would pay attention. The man, with his broken cheekbone and nose, his drooping eyelid and slight limp might be the outward signs of a much greater hurt. If she could help him heal, she would.

Rory proceeded to tell a story of being tossed into a locked hut and beaten by the mercenary lord’s rough soldiers. He revealed what he could of his remarkable escape. All he recalled, or so he told them, was being dragged unconscious to a cell in the town, then of being carted away and taken over the Trenta in a boat to a monastery. He woke a long time after to find himself cared for by the monks. He was unable to move for his broken bones and injuries. It was only when he learned that the queen was a prisoner of the usurper Gadfrid that he left the monastery. When he reached the king’s fortress the lady was just leaving with the Breton for safety with her children. He followed as best he could, finding her at Lindisfarne.

“Why did you not bring her home straight away?” one man asked.

“We believed the king was killed. It should not have been safe, so it wasn’t.”

Rory glanced at Shannon. He was beaming and happy.

Another man spoke up. “’Twas a good long time from when our good queen returned and the Breton spirited her away. Shannon, was it not? Were you crippled all that time?”

Rory hesitated. He worried how he would explain the delay all the while he was heading east to save the queen if he could. He looked at Shannon’s face. It was averted, considering. He caught the mop-haired man’s questioning glance at him. How could he ever explain to Shannon how he had thought to save him and all others from the pain he felt he had given them?

He opened his mouth to answer when Leofwen interrupted. “’Twasn’t so long a time and the man was near to death. Of course he was crippled. He should have come straightway had he not been. Isn’t that right, Rory?”

The onslaught of questions and congratulations recommenced. Rory had avoided that explanation. At least for now.

Shannon was quickly drunk enough to forget any misgivings, leading the company in song, telling stories of Rory’s and his journeys, and finally collapsing off the bench. Leofwen took him lovingly in hand, and left him in a back room with Rory as she and the others who had carried the man there departed. She caught Rory’s eye as she dusted off her hands dramatically. “He is not the man you knew, my friend. A part of him died when he thought you had.”

Rory gazed at her, then nodde3d. “I thank ye for lookin’ after him as ye did, goodwoman.”

She looked back into his eyes before she nodded and left.

Rory sat on the rushes next to the thin pallet Shannon was now snoring on. Tears sprang to his own eyes. “Och, Shan, how can I ever make you understand?”

To be continued.

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