Éire’s Captive Moon by Sandi Layne Read Free Book Online

spoke to you?”
    Cowan shook his head; his focus had been elsewhere. “They’ve not been harsh with me, that’s all I can say.”
    A rough, guttural grunt interrupted them and Cowan flinched. He knew that sound; he’d heard it often enough as a boy. It was the sound of a man being put to death. A brave man, not a coward who went out screaming.
    “Christ above, help us!” Martin shouted, rising to his feet and making as if to stop the slaughter.
    “Sit down, man. Do you want to be next?” Cowan tugged sharply on Martin’s tunic. The image of their morning bath in the sea was suddenly vivid in his mind. Had it only been that morning? It seemed a week had passed since then. Cowan forced Martin to collapse again on the blood-spattered earth.
    Some of the monks were deemed too wounded to be enslaved. They were slaughtered out of hand. Others of the holy men had taken a fierce stance, when given the opportunity, in defending the monastery’s treasures.
    They paid the ultimate price with peace on their faces and axes in their skulls.
    Cowan was torn between pride in the monks and nausea at the manner of their deaths.
    A commotion arose among a group of about ten men who were gathering at the broken gate. The braided man—the one called Agnarr—was pointing east, toward the sea. Were they leaving?
    The hope that leapt within him was quickly dashed.
    “ Tu!” You.
    The command came from the leader of the smaller group, the one who had called for him earlier to be a translator. Cowan almost didn’t notice that the command had come in Latin, but when he did recognize that fact, he was astonished. Had the other already begun learning the lingua gente of the civilized world? The second son of King Branieucc was unwillingly impressed.
    The command rang again, the terse word bouncing off stone walls. Cowan rose slowly to his feet. If he were to leave the encircling walls, he might find a way to escape to his father and then he would bring back a fighting force to overwhelm these vikingr, as they were called in the Aquitaine.
    “Cowan!” Martin asked, slapping his bare leg with the back of his uninjured hand. “What are you about?”
    “Survival,” Cowan rasped, “and escape if I can. I’ll see you freed, my friend. Have faith and remember Christ in all your dealings with these men. He himself accepted torture at the hands of the Romans and did not retaliate.”
    With that needed caution and a most direct glare at the newly impetuous Frankish monk, Cowan wiped the dust from his tunic and approached Agnarr with measured steps. “Yes?” Wait, what was the word he had heard for an affirmative? “ Ja ?”
    Agnarr’s dark blond brows twitched in surprise before a slow smile slanted his mouth. Using words that made no sense to the man of Éire, the invader gestured that he, Cowan, should accompany him.
    “Wait!” Cowan said with what he hoped was a firm and respectful tone. “What about my friend?” He used gestures and hoped to convey that he wished Martin to be treated and cared for.
    The vikingr made a noncommittal sort of sound and Cowan had to let it stand; he had tried. He muttered a prayer as he allowed himself to be bound by the wrists. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for You are with me.

    “Here! Bring that ladder here!” Devin shouted, gesturing firmly to the youngsters who were helping in the defense of the rath . “And you, there! Yes, you! Fetch the healer!”
    Charis heard her husband and hurriedly gathered what supplies she could carry, not knowing what the man needed. Had he been hurt? So close to a battle? Foolish man, gouging his arm with an axe, no doubt trying to fortify their rath .
    Tension thrumming through her, she was already at the door to their dwelling when the young, black-haired boy appeared at the door. “Healer! Devin wants you!”
    “Is he hurt?” she snapped.
    The youth stopped short, as if he had run into a wall. “Hurt? No,