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

Healer. He just said he wanted you.”
    Charis felt the pressure inside her cease at once, even though she knew the Northmen were coming. The sails had been seen, but the invaders had gone to the monastery first—more luck to the warriors here. Charis believed in luck, yes. Not the gods and goddesses who had let her and her people down over the past long times, but luck—luck they couldn’t live without.
    Still with her herbals and bandaging in the numerous pouches and pockets she fashioned in her léine , Charis ran past the young messenger and found Devin by his voice. When his gaze lit on her, she could see his demeanor soften a bit.
    “Charis, I want you to go to the tunnels.”
    She blanched, then her face hardened. “No, I won’t go into hiding. I will be here with you and Devlin, where I can help!”
    Her answer turned her husband into the stern warrior-chieftain who struck fear into the hearts of rival chieftains and the nearby, land-hungry kings. His voice dropped to a low register and he all but dragged her behind the nearest haystack. “I can’t fight if I’m worried about you. Devlin can’t either. You know that. We have to concentrate!”
    Charis set her jaw and glared at the man. “I will not go below! The passages are for the old and the children. We need to be getting them below; that is what we need to do. They can hide there until the Northmen have been driven off.”
    He threw his hands up in the air with a roar before grabbing her by both shoulders and shaking her once. “Charis! Lass! Listen to me! Haven’t you heard what they do to women? I’ll not have them do that to you!”
    She shuddered. It wasn’t so much the thought of captivity that bothered her, but being violated was degrading, humiliating. Although, she reminded herself, she was not without resources. Bringing herself—body and mind—under control, she reached up to stroke her husband’s tense, hard hand with her own.
    “Devin, I’ll not have you worrying about me. I can take care of myself.” Had he forgotten that healers had knowledge beyond pulling teeth and patching wounds?
    Devin shook his head once. “I know you can, lass. I know it. But . . . I cannot allow the distraction. That will kill me.”
    “That’s not fair!” she protested, shaking off his hands and stepping away.
    His face smoothed to impassivity, but she could see the fear in his eyes and it made her hurt inside. She thought of the tunnels, stone-lined passages underground that they had constructed over the past three years for just such an occasion. There were stores there. Travel food, medicinals, blankets—though who knew what condition they were in—and places for the children and aged to hide.
    It wasn’t fair, though, that an able-bodied woman such as herself should hide, too. She resolved not to do so, but not tell her husband she’d be helping as best she could aboveground. To drain the fear from his face and shoulders, she slowly nodded her head.
    “I’ll go,” she said, not wanting to lie to her husband, but refusing to give in. “But if you or Devlin get yourself killed, I’ll not want to be seeing your shades at my door!” Holding no faith or beliefs near to her heart, Charis nevertheless believed in ghosts. Spirits of dead people could and would extract revenge on those deemed responsible for their demise.
    Devin made a small show of laughing off her fear. “Not to worry, lass. We’ll be pulling you out from underground as soon as we get rid of the Northmen.”
    And what if you’re the men who are taken away?
    Not if she could help it, Charis decided, shaking her apron and turning abruptly from Devin.
    “Come!” she called loudly to the children. They were everywhere, having been drawn by sheer curiosity to where the healer and chieftain were arguing. Their elders were busy; where else would the children go? They surrounded Charis in the space of a few breaths. Youth over-young for battle, toddlers and infants clung to