It had been two weeks since the attack, and Deirdre was going out of her mind with boredom. She took care of Allan, who had always been rather self-sufficient; she took care of the boys, when she could wrestle them away from the O'Malley sisters. Ruarc's house servants extended their duties to the home of the captain at arms, as well, so Deirdre barely had to lift a finger and it was driving her mad. She decided to change into pants, feeling the urge to go for a walk come over her. She knew Allan wouldn't want her to traipse through the woods unprotected, and so she knelt on the wooden floor by the bed she shared with Allan, and pulled a long, heavy box out from under the bed, running her hand reverently along the top and tracing the carving there.
When they had left England so hastily a year and a half ago, Deirdre had been forced to leave her beloved Díoltas behind; Ruarc had promised to send someone to fetch the sword once they reached Ireland, and he had been true to his word. When Ruarc's men had returned with the weapon however, it had been housed in not only the beautifully worked leather scabbard that she had made herself, but also in a brand-new oaken box, which was decorated with such intricate designs that Deirdre had been immediately fascinated by it.
Worked into pictures of trees and forest animals were circles, each one bisected by a line which in turn was bisected by a curve that connected back the original circle—the symbol of Robin Hood's men. Two bushes had branches that looked remarkably like a 'W' and an 'S.' The wood had been buffed until it was as soft as butter, and Deirdre had no fear of splinters as she ran her fingers along the work, moving to open the catch that was midway down on the side. She kept the hinges oiled, so the lid made no sound as it opened and her eyes fell on the blue silk inside.
Carefully, she reached in and peeled back the material to reveal a light brown leather scabbard decorated with swirls and circles and lines that looped over and around themselves—this was the scabbard that she had decorated under the tutelage of her father's tanner. Díoltas had been presented to her on her sixteenth birthday; the only present she had asked for had been a sword and, despite his misgivings, her father had given her one.
Fàelàn O'Niall would never just give his oldest child an ordinary sword, though. Díoltas was forged of expensive Damascus steel, brought to Ireland and wrought by the finest swordsmith her father's deep pockets could find. The blade had been decorated with Celtic scrollwork, and polished until it was almost a mirror, despite its dark color. The leather for the hilt had come from the best Ulster cattle, tanned using the brains of slaughtered animals until it was a soft creamy color that was far more water-resistant than the darker, vegetable-tanned leather.
Rising, she belted the sword to her left hip, the better to draw quickly with her right hand. She headed across the house to the door at the back, thinking that if she went out the front door there would be too many questions to answer. Almost immediately, she was enveloped by the cool shadows of the forest as she walked along deer paths, enjoying the chill of the autumn day. The forest was not nearly so dense or large as Sherwood, and was populated by bare-branched deciduous trees interspersed with evergreens. Filling in the gaps were various bushes and flowering plants, although the flowers were all dead at the moment, the leaves blending in well with the surrounding plants.
It wasn't long before she found a narrower path branching off to the north; following this new path, she came to a small clearing. She stepped into the clearing and walked the perimeter, her feet taking on a natural rhythm as they scouted for holes, roots, and rocks, and her path made smaller and smaller circles until she had checked out the entire glade. The stones that she did find, she chucked into the trees, the rocks she carefully stacked to one side, the holes she filled with dirt. When she had completed her tasks, Deirdre stood for a moment, hands on hips, surveying the clearing. She rubbed her chest as her aching breasts reminded her that she was still required for some tasks back at the manor. She glanced up between the bare branches to see that the sun was nearly to the tree tops to the west of her and realized that she had better hurry lest Allan and Ruarc discovered her gone and began to worry. She smiled ruefully as she thought that with those two, she'd likely be locked up for her own safety if they worried too much. Quickly, she made her way from the glade and hurried home.
Ruarc, however, was not worried about Deirdre at the moment—he was busy talking to the woodsmen and carpenters who would supply the wood to Áinfean Murphy for the repairs to her ship. The houses in the village that had suffered damage from the storm had been repaired, and now it was time to see to the needs of Captain Murphy and her crew. Even as he thought of the beautiful red-haired captain, she came striding toward him, radiating anger, and a sick part of him looked forward to the encounter, even as the woodworkers fled.
"You!" she began, jabbing a finger into his chest as she came even with him.
Ruarc screwed up his face in pain—she knew how to cause it, that was for sure.
"Yes, that would be me, lass. Have you a point or are you just wanting to clarify who is me?"
She ignored his attempt at a joke, glaring at him instead.
"You," she repeated, pushing her finger at him once more as Ruarc reached up to grab the digit this time. "It has been two weeks, and I've still got no wood to fix my ship. You promised me wood. I've already paid for it. I gave you two bolts of cloth per board, untreated. Where is it? We've got to get the pitch ready…"
"The wood is being cut down and made into planks as we speak. I was just paying the carpenters, now that my village is back to rights and the people can live in their homes again."
Ruarc's admonition appeared to work, as Áinfean calmed down, frowning and looking abashed.
"I'm sorry, O'Brian. I guess I get a little moody when I'm in one place for too long."
"Why don't you take a walk, then? There's plenty of places to explore and we'll have your wood to you soon now."
"Aye, I suppose I could do that." Murphy turned and stomped off without a backward glance.
Ruarc watched her go, feeling his groin tighten as he watched her bottom sway.
Every day, Deirdre left the manor for a few hours and walked to the little glade; after nearly a week, when she was sure the ground was as flat and free from obstructions as she could make it, she began to practice with her sword. The moves had been ingrained into her by her trainer, Martin, and she was proud to find that even after the years of dormancy, they came back to her more and more swiftly each day.
Díoltas sang through the crisp air as Deirdre wielded it; she would have sworn the weapon was as happy to be out of its box and put to some use again as she felt using it. She began with basic thrusts and parries, but soon her arms tired as the weight of the heavy sword pulled on long-unused muscles. The sword dropped, its tip landing in the ground as Deirdre leaned heavily upon it, breathing hard as sweat ran down her face and neck, staining her shirt. From the forest, she heard clapping and looked up, expecting to see Allan or Ruarc ready with a tongue-in-cheek comment, but instead it was the captain, Áinfean Murphy.
The red-haired woman leaned casually against a tree, crossing her arms as Deirdre looked up. Murphy grinned.
"Tell me, what is a pub mistress…"
"Ex-pub mistress," Deirdre interrupted, straightening quickly.
"Excuse me. Ex-pub mistress. What is an ex-pub mistress doing out here in the middle of the woods, throwing around a great big sword? And a fine sword it looks, too."
"I don't see where that's any of your business."
"All right. But if you ever decide you'd like to learn how to actually use that sword…which you got from whom, by the way? I'd be glad to help," Áinfean retorted smugly.
Deirdre's face had turned red at Áinfean's words, and her own voice was low and dangerous as she replied.
"The sword is mine, and I know how to use it well enough. I'm out of practice, is all."
"Perhaps Lord Ruarc should've given you lessons along with the gift of it for…services rendered?"
"Services rendered? I don't…"
Áinfean raised an eyebrow, allowing her gaze to slide up and down Deirdre's body, and suddenly Deirdre understood; she stood in shock at the captain's insinuation.
"You…I…you…" Deirdre swallowed before finding her voice once more. "You think that Ruarc gave me this…for sleeping with him?"
"It makes sense. The way he's moon-eyed over you. The way he hangs about with you and your husband. The way he gave your husband a good job so you could be closer to him. It makes sense."
Deirdre nearly fell from laughing. When she could breathe again, she looked into Áinfean's green eyes and responded.
"It makes no sense at all, but I can see where you might think such a thing, looking in from the outside. Ruarc and I were practically raised together. He's like a brother to me, and I have no interest in doing such things with a sibling. He gave the captaincy of his guard to Allan because Allan deserved it and the old captain is moving on. I've had the sword since I was sixteen, and I'd like to see you wield one when you've had your hands full of babies and pies instead for two years."
It was the most words Deirdre had ever spoken to Áinfean, and for a moment the captain stood, non-plussed, before breaking out in a huge grin.
"You know it'll be easier to get your skills back when you've a sparring partner," she offered.
Deirdre raised an eloquent eyebrow before grinning and picking up the sword to stand at guard.
A/N: I need your help. I am considering attaching some pics to the chaps over on LiveJournal, but I'm not sure who my girls are. Please send me your ideas for who (actress, singer, model, etc) you would choose to play the following: Deirdre, Addy, & Áinfean. They must meet the descriptions of the characters, and there must be numerous photos to choose from. Thanks in advance for your help!