Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Six weeks later

The Irish Sea

T hey were nearing Dundalk.

The sea was calm, with very little wind, which had made their crossing from Blackpool slow but relatively pleasant. The sea was a color of green, like a cat's eye, with swirls of deep blue when the winds would shift.

Cort was standing on the bow of the ship, watching the waves roll by, the whitecaps kicked up by the ship plowing through the brine. Since entering shallower waters yesterday, the dolphins had appeared, riding the waves and escorting the ships to the harbor. Even now, Cort watched them as they frolicked in the wake of the bow. They had been an entertainment on a journey that had seen little levity.

Little joy.

He was greatly missing Dera.

She was on another ship, one called the Stella Maris , and he could see it off the starboard bow, her sails billowing in the breeze. But Cort was on a de Winter vessel called The Lordship , the biggest vessel of the seven that were sailing for Dundalk harbor. Dillon, Brend, and Dera were on the Stella Maris with five hundred de Winter troops and two more de Winter vessels, the Bloody Cross and the Forkhill , carried another eight hundred men between them, including the Earl of East Anglia, Damon de Winter.

Damon de Winter was a cousin to Denys and not particularly congenial because he didn't want to come to Ireland. Family obligations forced him to, however, and he brought three hundred men along with two knights, men who were much friendlier than their liege. Sir Elias de la Rosa and Sir Arvid de Mandeville were excellent knights, men that Dillon and Brend had served with before.

Cort found himself on The Lordship with about eight hundred de Russe troops, while the remaining three vessels– the Mary's Lament , the Dromena , and the Lucan , all belonging to the House of de Cleveley, split the remaining de Russe, Wellesbourne, and Shrewsbury men between them.

In all, there were almost three thousand men sailing for Ireland, a significant fighting force with which to regain Mount Wrath, which also included several high-powered knights from the de Russe and Wellesbourne armies.

Along with Cort, his eldest brother and his father's heir, Trenton de Russe, Earl of Westbury, had come. He had command of both the de Russe and Wellesbourne army, but he'd brought younger brothers, Boden and Gage, with him, and Wellesbourne had sent along William Wellesbourne, the youngest and wildest Wellesbourne son. He was an irreverent rascal who both charmed and annoyed far worse that Cort ever could. But in the heat of battle, he settled down admirably and was an excellent knight. He was very much looking forward to battle in Ireland.

They'd been at sea nine days, hoping to dock in Dundalk Harbor at the mouth of the Castletown River. From there, it would be a short march to Mount Wrath. But all Cort cared about was taking Dera in his arms again and telling her how much he missed her. Spending nine days away from her had been torture.

"We should be in sight of their outlooks soon enough."

Shaken from his train of thought by a familiar voice, Cort looked over his shoulder at Trenton, who came up to stand with him on the rail. As big as Cort was, Trenton was positively enormous. He had their father's size and coloring, looking very much like the man had at his age. He was a straightforward, no-nonsense knight and Cort adored him.

"Are we that close?" he asked.

Trenton shielded his eyes from the sun setting in the west. "Our lookouts above have sighted land," he said. "We should be seeing it imminently ourselves."

"And we'll dock in Dundalk?"

Trenton nodded. "According to the captain, we'll dock at the mouth of the river and secure the vessels. But as we enter the harbor, we'll be sighted at Black Cove." He looked pointedly at his brother. "The rebels will know we have arrived."

Cort grunted. "That means word will spread quickly," he said. "Mount Wrath will be prepared for us."

Trenton leaned against the rail, looking at the sea beyond. "That is why we must move quickly," he said. "Any delay will give those at Mount Wrath more time to dig in and prepare. We must move before they have that opportunity."

"Did you discuss that with Dillon before we departed Blackpool?"

"I did. He is in agreement."

Cort grinned. "He is going to do anything you tell him to do, whether or not he agrees," he said. "Being commanded by Trenton de Russe is like being commanded by God Himself. By the way, is Baron Delvin going to meet us when we dock?"

Trenton nodded. "Word has been sent ahead to Richard Nugent, so he and his army should be waiting for us. We will require his expertise on the situation."

They were speaking of one of the prominent English lords in Ireland, major landholders who had spent generations fighting the Irish. The capture of Mount Wrath meant a good deal to the Irish-bound English lords as their hold on the country continued to slip, so the arrival of a big army was a welcome event to them.

It seemed as if everything had been taken care of and all that was left was to arrive in Ireland and carry out the strategies they'd concocted those weeks ago in Denys de Winter's solar. Denys, the master planner, had created the battle plans and sent all of the documentation with Cort and Dillon so that when they met up with the de Russe and Wellesbourne troops, all they had to do was turn them over to Trenton. He was about to reply to his brother's statement when a commotion caught his attention.

Boden and Gage de Russe, followed by William Wellesbourne, were squabbling about something, which wasn't unusual with those three. They were the youngest of great warring families, fully fledged and capable knights, but something happened when the three of them came together.

They turned into naughty seven year olds again.

Even now, William had something in his hand that Gage was trying to grab from him. He went straight to the railing and tossed it overboard. Cort and Trenton watched curiously as the small object, flat and thin, floated down into the surf.

"And that's for cheating, you dimwit," William said to Gage. "You always cheat when we play card games and I always catch you. When will you learn?"

In reply, Gage charged him and tried to throw him overboard. He might have been successful had Trenton and Cort not broken up the squabble.

"My God," Trenton said, slapping Gage on the back of the head when he refused to surrender quickly enough. "I have been breaking up these fights between you two my entire life and I am sick to death of this. Next time, I throw you both overboard and tell your fathers that you were lost at sea. Do you understand me?"

William shook his head. "I can swim," he said flatly. "I will swim home and tell my father what you've done."

"He would applaud me."

"Then I'll tell my sister. Your wife would not let you get off so easily."

Trenton rolled his eyes. It was the unfortunate fact of life that he was married to William's oldest sister, Lysabel, making William his family, too.

"I do not care," he said. "I am not afraid of that threat in the least. You will have to do better."

William grinned, a toothy grin that was incredibly annoying. "I am going to tell your wife that you said that."

"Do it and I will cut your tongue out."

William snorted, grabbing Gage by the arm and dragging him back the way they had come. Boden lingered behind; he was more mature than Gage and William, although he could easily get caught up in their foolery. He found himself looking over the sea.

"I heard that we should be sighting land soon," he said. "Have you seen anything?"

Cort shook his head, turning to look at the endless sea but managing to catch sight of the Stella Maris again.

"Not yet," he said, his gaze lingering on the distant ship. "But you can start spreading the word among the men. We want them ready to disembark once we enter the harbor. Make sure the horses are ready, too. We will need to get off this vessel quickly."

Boden grunted. "Not quickly enough," he said. "I hate sailing to Ireland. I feel as if I am still at sea for two days afterwards."

Cort laughed softly. "That is why we are not sailors, my fine lad," he said. "Go on with you, now. There is much to do."

Boden was off, heading towards midships. Cort watched him go before turning to Trenton. "Are you planning on regrouping with Dillon and Brend before we march on?"

Trenton nodded. "Most definitely," he said. "We cannot go anywhere until we hear from Nugent, so we will have plenty of time to finalize our approach."

Cort simply nodded, leaning on the rail, all but forgetting Trenton as his focus settled on the Stella Maris permanently. In his mind, he was on the ship with Dera, gazing into her pale blue eyes as the sea breeze blew through her long hair.

But as he thought on her, he was coming to wonder what, exactly, awaited them in Ireland. Disembarking the ships into the wild green lands was like entering an island of wild animals, all of them out to kill him. He wondered if Dera would even be safe. The rebels didn't think enough of her loyalty to leave Mount Wrath in peace, so he wondered if they somehow viewed her as a traitor, too, because she'd been sent off to England.

He would soon find out.

And that was what he was afraid of.