Our swords would have made no difference to these battle-hardened men. Some have half their scalp shaved, with tattoos of dragons and Celtic designs. There are too many of them, and the bows trained on us would make for easy picking.
Aodhán lays down his sword. I see this and follow his lead. I have no memory of these people. We ventured too far and should have heeded the warnings.
A rough-looking warrior with red hair past his shoulders and a braided beard, reminding me of a Viking warrior who had seen too many battles, steps forward.
“Who are you?” He asks in a thick Irish accent.
“We’re from Corke. I’m Aodhán.”
“What is your name?” he asks, looking at me and raising his brow.
I am not sure what to say. Maybe my name can save us from being killed. “I am John.”
The Viking turns to the others and speaks Gaelic, or so I guess, with my name being repeated.
The warriors shrug their shoulders in a questioning gesture.
He turns back to me and says, “There are a lot of Johns in these parts. Do you have another name?”
I look at Aodhán, realizing I didn’t even know my surname. I shrug. “Do you know?”
“Sure,” Aodhán says. “Your mind is still slipping.”
“Well, what is it?” I ask.
“De la Roche,” Aodhán says.
The Viking comes up to me and slaps my back with a great roar of laughter. “So you are the kid. You have grown up since I last saw you. I am Liam.”
“I don’t remember you,” I say.
“You were just a toddler,” he says. “That was when we were trading with your family. Now, times have changed.”
“How do you mean?” I ask.
“I now serve Lord Donal MacCarthy,” he says. “You are of special interest to him. He sent us here to find you.”
“Oh,” I say, hesitating, not sure what to say. “I have not heard of him.”
“That’s odd,” he says. “Everyone knows him in these parts.”
“Sure,” Aodhán says, raising his brow. “He is the true king of Desmond, so he is.”
“He is that,” Liam says. “We do not honor the Earl of Desmond, whom the English king had given to the Fitzgeralds. This land belongs to Lord Donal, so we roam freely across these lands.”
“But it was the de la Roches granted this land,” Aodhán says, taking a step back and narrowing his eyes.
Aodhán didn’t mention the MacCarthys owning this land to me.
“By whom?” Liam asks.
“By the English king,” Aodhán says, standing firm.
“Maybe that’s why Lord Donal wants a meeting,” he says, picking up Aodhán’s and my swords and handing them back to us. “This chance encounter is a mixed blessing. Lord Donal has been trying to arrange a meeting with your family.”
The other warriors relax their bows.
“My father is away on business, but I am sure he would be happy to have a meeting when he gets back,” I say as I sheathe my sword, not knowing if he would.
Liam laughs. It is a hearty laugh. Tears are coming out of his eyes. “Our lord rules from the former Roche Castle on the shores of Lough Léin. Your father does not honor his authority nor his right to be in the castle. Lord Donal has been wanting to repair relations.”
“I’ll let my mother know and see about arranging a proper meeting.”
Liam grabs his jaw in thought. Then he shakes his head. “The meeting will be held at Castlelough. And to ensure the meeting takes place, you will come with us.” His smile vanishes, and he stares directly at me without humor.
“Do I have a choice?” I ask, realizing I am being taken hostage.
“Do any of us really have a choice? It’s all in God’s hands.”
I turn to Aodhán. “Let my mother know I am traveling with them to Castlelough and hopefully will see her soon.”
“Yes, my lord. Mind yourself now, and I’ll see you there as well.” I have never heard Aodhán address me as lord. I find it odd and realize the seriousness of the situation.
The Gaelic warrior hands me the reins to my horse. I mount and turn to Liam. “Let’s go meet this Irish king.”