My 200th Post

After the Reunion, Part 3

Shannon knew that Rory could not stay away from the queen for more than a day or two. "Like a moth to a flame, so he is," he muttered to himself. And he knew as soon as those delicate wings of his were singed at the edges again, his and Rory's time on their own was at an end.

It was good to see the man's reunion with the king. Whatever Shannon had thought of Lawrence in the past, he saw him now for the warm and tender man he was when not faced with a threat. He clearly did not see the tall gangly storyteller as a threat, for his smiling bear hug almost lifted the Ulsterman off his feet. Nor did it take long before Lawrence and his queen had clasped each of Rory's arms to propel him back to the children's lodging.

Shannon hung back, letting them all have their reunion. He was not overlooked however. Josephine saw her children set to climbing all over Rory, then glanced up to see Shannon leaning idly in the doorway. She came over to him.

"Is it not a blessing, praise God, to have him back?" she said as she put her arms around him. Like she, he was nowhere near as tall as the two other men, and their time together during Gadfrid's short reign had put them on a much on an almost equal footing. Not that Shannon ever was subservient. It was, as he said, "not me way."

Shannon smiled back into her eyes. "It is, indeed it is. As long as he was gone, thought I did he must be dead. Then there he was, grand and bonny, just in the nick of time." He put one arm around her shoulders, causing Lawrence's bright smile to flicker momentarily. Josephine looked back up at her husband with a frank face, and the king shrugged and turned his attention back to Rory and the children.

Shannon whispered into the queen's ear, "Now did Himself tell you how he came to be in that monastery?"

Josephine looked blank. "Lindisfarne? He followed me there. Oh, you mean the one where he was taken after the hanging? No, we have not spoken about it. 'Tis too unpleasant a topic. Why? Has he not told you?"

Shannon shook his head, "Nay, he did so, and he does not know all of what happened. I suppose we shall be after never learning what passed. But I am curious about one thing.."

Josephine stopped her slow walk to where the children were prattling at Rory and waited for Shannon's question.

The children caught sight of Shannon and Tavish crowed, "Shaddod!" which started the rush of four little sets feet up to Shannon and four sets of arms to throw about his legs. Shannon gave the queen a "we can talk later" wink and crouched to gather the little ones in his own arms.

"Watch the lute, now them, don't smash it," he cried, laughing.

At dinner Lawrence quizzed Rory about his last meeting with Elerde. Josephine was off conferring with the steward at the moment. "Heading north, you say? What did he say about m y wife."

Rory looked back at him earnestly. "He said to go to her, nothing more."

"And he had his men with him?"

"Aye, all of them that I recall."

Lawrence took a gulp of wine and asked, "And none of them said anything to you?"

Rory shook his head. "Nay, save that they were that surprised and happy to see me not dead."

Lawrence sat back in his ornately carved chair. "What did happen, Rory? By the time we knew you were taken by O'Donnell we believed it was too late to rescue you."

Rory waved the implicit guilt away. "I am that certain 'twould have been by then."

Lawrence looked uneasy. "Shannon told us. Told us about O'Donnell's.. interest in you that is. Is that what happened, what he wanted you to, that he did...?"

Rory put the king out of his embarrassed misery. "Aye, he wanted me for a lover. But it did not happen. Should I have been so inclined, I should not have wished to.. with O'Donnell."

Lawrence lifted one eyebrow. "But you are not so drawn, so why you did not submit is not important." He was giving Rory a way to avoid expressing his vow to be true to Josephine. Although everyone knew of it, including Lawrence, he was the one person who did not want to discuss it.

Rory considered the king levelly for a moment. "He had a lover of his own, a Scot. methinks that was who saw me away from my peril."

Lawrence held up his cup for more wine as the servant passed along with a pitcher. "There was a man, with O'Donnell, in that final battle."

Rory looked up from his trencher. "Not tall but well made, dark hair and beard? Not as dark of the Breton lord?"

Lawrence nodded. "Aye. When O'Donnell was killed, the man avenged him on the killer. That was my lady's cousin Ioruert. Then Ruallauh killed him."

Rory looked aghast. "MacDhui killed Ioruert. Ochon." He put his face in his hands.

The days went on, each person struggling to return to a normal life. Two years of danger, of bloody battle, of estrangement and loss left them all stunned. Further there was much to catch up on, simple tales of how they all got on, but many as well that were almost as difficult in the telling than they were in living. Lawrence grew so grim as Josephine related her journey after the ambush on the Lincoln road through the usurping and her escape that she found herself leaving out the tenser moments, which only made him angry.

Shannon and Rory spent the first days making the rounds of the Celts who lived near Lawrencium, but slowly a tension developed between them. Shannon saw Rory watching him with a frown whenever he got drunk. For his part, Rory would catch Shannon giving him a speculative but reserved looked, the reason for which he hoped he did not know. That was the one thing he did not want to explain, not to anyone.

Shannon was drinking a great deal, almost continuously. In a time where the accustomed drink was ale for breakfast, dinner, and supper, one had to drink a good deal and stick to the ale from the last of the typical three brewings from the malted barley which had a much higher alcohol content. Shannon did both. Further, he did not hold his drink well, was a stumble down, sloppy drunk whose behavior amused most, but not Rory.

Rory made his mind up to speak to Leofwen's healer friend. He found her outside the back of the alehouse helping Leofwen with her baking. The woman stood up with her hands pressed to her lower back. "So now you have a question too?" she groaned.

At Rory's blank look, she realized he was not aware that Shannon had approached her earlier that day. "Shannon was at me with questions about you. He was curious about your injuries and how they would have healed. I told him I could know nothing without talking to you and examining those injuries." As she spoke he came up to him and was fingering his left eye whose orbital bone had broken badly enough to make his cheek deformed and his eyelid droop. She tut-tutted over. "This really is too bad. And you such a handsome man."

"Shannon spoke to you? What did he want to know?" Rory's blood ran chill.

The healer ran her hands down Rory's arms and torso. "Your cracked ribs seem to be healing. What's wrong with your knee?" She stopped and registered his question. "He wanted to know how long it would take for injuries like yours to heal."

Rory frowned. "I see," he said quietly. He turned around and walked around the edge of the alehouse.

"Wait!" the healer called. "Was there something..."

Leofwen and she exchanged looks. Leofwen confided, "Shannon thinks Rory stayed away longer than he needed to."

The healer crossed her arms over her chest. "Why would he do that?"

Leofwen shrugged. "You know that Shannon went through hell thinking Rory was gone. If it is true that Rory did not come and did not even send word, then all that suffering need not have happened."

The healer gazed at her friend open-mouthed. "No it need not have! I don't understand. Why hasn't Shannon asked??"

Leofwen pressed her lips tight together. "I think Shannon is afraid to. He thinks it might be something he would rather not know."

Continues...