Glendalough Fair Read Online Free PDF Page A

rain, pulled him into her arms. She pressed her lips against his and he wrapped his arms around her thin body and soon they were pulling at one another’s clothes and grabbing handfuls of hair and pressing their mouths hard together. They fell onto the pile of furs by the hearth and abandoned themselves to it. They did not make it ten feet from the door.
    Now Louis let his breathing return to normal and wondered about the servants who usually were bustling about. She must have sent them away , he thought. The girl planned ahead. He liked that.
    Then he heard the voice behind him, calm, measured and cold. “Done now, are we?”
    Failend gasped and Louis rolled over, the warm, luxuriant feeling entirely gone. Standing by the door that led from the kitchen, having apparently come in through the back, was Colman mac Breandan, owner of the house, likely the wealthiest man in Glendalough, and, largely because of that fact, Failend’s husband.
    Colman was not a pretty man. He was twice Failend’s age at least, of middling height and stout, his hair thinning and mousy where it had not turned gray. His fine clothes could not hide the general lumpiness of his physique. But Louis’s attention was drawn not to his appearance but to the long, straight sword he held in his hand. Louis was not so transfixed by the weapon, however, that he failed to wonder just how long Colman had been standing there watching.
    Maybe he likes that , Louis thought. Maybe I do him a service.
    But like it or no, Colman did not appear to be in a grateful mood. He took a step in their direction and Failend gasped again and Louis’s eyes darted off to the side, looking for his own weapon.
    And then he remembered that he did not have one.
    “You don’t have a sword,” Colman said in the same instant that Louis realized that fact. Colman took another step forward. Louis sat more upright.
    “Do you recall why you don’t have a sword?” Colman asked. Louis did, but he remained silent.
    “It’s because you’re a man of God,” Colman said. “Have you forgotten?”

Chapter Four
     
     
    Many a sweet maid when one knows her mind
is fickle found towards men…
    Hávamál
     
     
    Louis rolled over and onto his feet, landing in a semi-crouch, a fighting stance. It was a nice, athletic move, and Louis would have been impressed with his own easy grace if he had not been so acutely aware of his nakedness and vulnerability.
    He saw Failend snatch up the fur and cover herself but he had no such cover to grab. There was nothing he could say to Colman other than to beg the man for his life, and he was not about to do that, so he said nothing. Instead he backed away, glancing left and right, looking for something he might use as a weapon.
    Then Colman stopped advancing and lowered his sword. “You can stop running, you cowardly shit,” he said. “I’m not going to kill you for rutting with my slut wife. If I did that I’d have killed half of Leinster by now. Just get out.”
    Louis remained silent. He took a step sideways, his eyes on Colman, his arm outstretched as he reached for his clothing, which consisted of a monk’s robe and belt, nothing more. Colman’s sword came up again.
    “Leave it,” he said. “I’ll keep that as a trophy. Or maybe my wife can wear it when I send her to the convent. Now go.”
    Louis stepped back again, making for the front door, unwilling to turn his back on the man with the sword, regardless of the safe conduct he had been offered. He pictured himself stepping naked into the rain-drenched square. When he arrived the place had been crowded with people. He wondered how he would get back to his cell unseen, or how he would explain the loss of his only robe to the abbot.
    “Stop,” Colman said. He stepped sideways and pointed with his sword to the back of the house. “Out the back door, you Frankish turd.”
    Louis was happy to acquiesce to that demand. He moved cautiously in the direction the sword pointed, making a wide