The Samaritan, 1328-1331

[Evangeline O'Cathasaigh]

The Parable of the Good Samaritan

Sir Faolan O'Connor

As the witchy, slivery light of a full moon shown down there would be little doubt that the even in these hours the forest was thick with life. If the guards were keen eyed, one might spy the form of an owl take flight. No doubt set out for prey. But it would be another pair of eyes, that would see the true movement in the woods. Peering out over the world from his vantage in the boughs of an ancient tree, the Green Man watched all. It as he alone that saw the forms of running men - their forms near hidden by their hoods and cloaks - running parallel to the roads. One of the cloaked forms would pause, rising a hair. Did he look up at the Green Man's perch? The Green Man said nothing.... but would it be true or the imaging of the cloaked man below, that saw the ancient carving's leaf-wrought lips turn upward in smile? As if to say, 'Be at peace....the greenwood protets ye'.. Then the cloaked figure was gone. Dashing in to the midst of his fellows, as they readied their ambush. One of his fellows would whisper, "Are ye sure this is the path?" There was a quiet nod, "Aye, I am sure." The leader of the brigadines made ready with his axe, to cut the rope that was all that kept a mighty tree standing. (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

The people along the road were acquainted with Green-man lore. No longer was it a pagan fable, but a reality where green leaves moved on a human male that could not be given a face. Weapons were wielded for the jack-about peasenty while goods were taken from the rich who had far too much of it by virtue to care, yes? Irish story. Bah! One iota of truth against a mole hill of lies. Not all of the rich had their wealth in coins, jewels, or fine clothes. Not all of the rich could identify the measure of any worth whatsoever - such as the carriage that yeld yon rich lady now, sunk back into the bolstered seating of the ancient black model, rounded only enough to be a carriage, thick and heavy. When the world was moving to things shaped in whimsy, Dublin was doubly practical. A blanket was pulled up for no heating breaks were at this lady's feet. The husband whom should have been with her remained with a mistress in his fancy, casting her to home with a sigh of relief on her part. She could take his neglect, it was his abuse she couldn't stand to live through. Witch moon shone slim light on a few items of merit to uphold the illusion of his prestige. A three strand choker of pearls with a gawdy ruby at its center was pulled at, but not taken off. How far did his hand reach? She laughed at her own ill boding humor. Her retinue consisted of the driver, two footmen, and the guards who served as her gatekeepers to hell. (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

In the road side bramble, a hand would raise -- and drop. In that most ill-fated of hours when witches took the skies, there was a terrible sort of sound. One of the tallest and most ancient trees along the road creaked in old age and groaned in despair as it found that it was no longer able to stay standing. The earth trembled when the tree at last toppled to its side, its great length blocking the road. T'was far enough that t'would not endanger the guard or the footmen, but twas still an impediment to that most important of directions: forward. Any hope or thought that it could be but a quirk of nature that had called for the mighty tree to at last give into age and gravity were dispelled -- when another tree behind that lofty and noble train also fell. When would it begin? How long would the guards and the footmen and the driver stare at the fallen tree ahead (or behind, depending upon their place in the lady's caravan)? How long would they be dumb struck, before at last there came the cries of "Ambush!" and "Look to the trees!" Their only answer was the rustling of forms along the roadside, before three shadow figures darted out - to hide behind the tree at that blocked the road ahead. Then, for at time, there came only silence. A voice would then come, "Do not raise your hands in anger! You shall not be harmed, if you but listen to our words!" There was quiet again. But there was another sound, from all around. The drawing back of bowstrings whispered in the ancient trees all around."We have come for the Lady O'Casey! Turn her over into our care!" (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

The trees captivated, ancient sentinals served well the cause of old lore for brigandry tonight! All of a sudden the constant sway of the carriage on the ricket wheels stopped on a hard lurch that sent her wheeling forward from the seat to smack against the other side. To delay the reaction her hands went out, allowing body weight to be caught on the palms. She winced, registering the blossoming of one more bruise to add to the collection. What was going on outside? She lowered herself down, the shade drawn, listening as the men were given asylum on the grounds they - hand her over? The lady found terror root in her heart along with the anger that found at the possibility of being just handed over! "We can not just give ye the Lady o'Dublin!" called the footman, pressing his body to the door. Good, faithful servants were hard to find. The carriage driver oft had pitty, but it wasn't his business. The guards feared the wrath of Paul, but to pass and say it was a great battle perhaps? "Just the wench eh?" said one, showing no loyalty at all. She shrank, muttering. Why did she bother at all with the small bit of meager measure, why did she bother at all to attempt to pay those horrid, file tolls or the fees to keep Dublin from starving out of her own family's estate while Paul beat her each time he heard rumor of the abatement! To be raped by strangers would be worse, for at least rape by Paul was sanctioned by God. (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

There was a pause. ....that'd actually thrown the outlaws for a start. They'd willingly give her over? The leader of the men and one of his companions glanced at each other. There was a cant of his head. There was murmured, "Good help *is* hard to find....." Then the voice called back, "We care not for the wench!" The insolence of it! Was that a jovial air to the voice! "We see the Lady O'Casey and the Lady O'Casey only.....an' aye. For stewardship of the Lady, the rest shall go free." There was a quietness to the air, as the wind rustled through the still leaves. Did the young think that they conducted such talk with but the fae of the greenwood? "You are a long way from the Pale," as though the Irish brogue was not enough to identify the rogues as natives, "Dae ye truly seek to die upon a lonely stretch of moon-bathed road?" There was another moment of quiet, "We seek the Lady. She shall nae be harmed!" (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Take 'er, we've little use!"

The option of death outside of the Pale wasn't as good as ale within it, a tale to recount.
"No, leave 'er be! " The servant plastered himself to the door, and all he could think to do was begin to tip the carriage, hoping she would crawl through a window into the underbrush. "No!" he bellowed, a noble portrait of what the armored men were lacking, no doubt expecing to pay for it with his blood. Hadn't Dublin endured enough? "You don't know, we are nothing without her!" He hissed last words that would be recalled by them all one day. She screamed, feeling the carriage be rocked until it fell over against a neighboring collection of logs. Pricked by the wood, splinters lodged in her hands, but the woman was not stupid enough to wait for an invitation in an attempt to lose herself within the foilage. (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

There was a quiet pause, as the valiant servant sought to protect his mistress. From the front of carriage was a quiet from one of the bowman, "What is that bloody fool doing?" The leader said not a word to his man. The leader did, instead, smile. There was a whispered, "We shall reward that man well before we take our leave...." Would it truly hurt to have good relations with those you robbed? Was that not how myths were made? He would turn to gesture toward greenwood, in a louder voice, "She flees upon the other side!" More dark figures would ghost from the greenwood, going behind the carriage to dart in the wood and seek to find the Lady. Or, if the Green Man smiled upon them, to cut off her escape. At another signal, the brigandine band closed in -- revealing themselves to be twice the number of the caravan's guard. Confident that his men would soon have the Lady in hand, the leader would approach the valorius servant. "You show the utmost bravery in your task!" What did the footman make of that? While he was left blinking, the outlaw leader continued, "I reward such bravery in my ranks -- and if it would not sully you too much, t'would like to honor you with a reward." The outlaw leader removed his own coin purse. Would the servant accept? When his men had the Lady O'Casey well in hand, the outlaw leader would move to her. His words were quiet, so as not to reach the ears of the guards, he said, "I bear my lord's words to you: the Rent has not been paid." He would go back to the footman. "We seek to do the Lady no harm. Here, take this." A scroll was produced. Offered to the valiant footman, "All that needs be done to secure the Lady's return is to feery this to her husband. Once the demands are met, the Lady shall be returned." (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

The servant took the coin pursed, clutching it to him. For all his loyalty, this would feed his family better than the measly offerings of the man who held Dublin, the man who had them robbed upon the roads. Th emessage was taken, but with such ill humor the man spit upon it, and laughed. He laughed bitterly, with a sorrowed fashion in comedy only the Irish could muster. He told the man who awarded him as he watched the woods for his Lady to be captured, "He has no care for his wife..if he comes fer her, sir, twould be for his gain only. She would be better in your hands than his." He wanted to help her, but couldn't. Even rewarded there would be no way to fend them off. In the woods, Evangeline ran from her horrors only to see them reappear at every turn! She slid under branches, crawled on her belly, giving more chase than they would account for in a woman but finally the inevitable happen. Dragged back to the place of the tree's first falling, Evangeline was no meager, frightened woman but a hell-cat who required not one, but two men to hold her even as she twisted against their hands. If one had tried to bind her mouth shut to hold back the screams, it failed. Fingers and thumbs on more than one man were drawn to blood from gnashing teeth. "No, no!" she cried, "I'll nay be yer whore or yer guarantee, let me the hell gae!" That voice was rather...indiginous, for a Pale reared woman. (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

There was a pause, as he looked to the hellcat his men had brought back. There was a bemused, "She troubles you that much?" He shook his head quietly, before saying to the footman, "See it taken, all the same. If not true feelings shall do it, perhaps it shall be the shame of it." No man liked having his possessions taken. Some would even do anything to get them back. But, of course, there was another question. Would the footman truly go back to Dublin? Or would it be the road to Dunluce that he would take? What was it that saw him so stalwart before his Lady? Once his business with the footman was concluded, he would turn to Eva. "Do remember your stations, m'lady, and conduct yourself as such." (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

Remember her station? They brought her close enough to be inspected by him, where she spit in his face promptly. "Remember tha'." Fire ignited in her eyes, as well as pain. But what of pain? Was it that hard they held her, or was it merely coming to this. More men to subjucate her. More men to have their way where she had to sneak about for a say, praying it wouldn't end in broken bones. More men to keep her from the one member of their sex too innocent to be damned. "M'estate needs its lady. Wot dae ye need of me, tae old for a mother ye be n' obviously she be cryin' if she knew." Razor barbs were shamelessly launched as she struggled against their arms. One man mentioned tying her, at which point it was a slap that quieted the rocking of her body in protest. It was when they slapped her, her body instantly obeyed, even if her mind obviously was in pure revolt. Be damned instinct.. She even shuttered. (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

But it would be the reaction of the leader that would no doubt throw her for a whirl. The leader of the group? He boxed the ears of the man who dared slapped her. "Dae tha' again, an' tis yer life," he whispered to the man. There was a large man amongst those brigandines present, one who snorted and said, "What care 'ave I fer *yer* son? When m'own lies dead in tha' ground! Tithed I t'was by the churched, taxed by the Pale tae! What grain had I to feed 'im, what money fer a physician?" There was a soft murmuring of 'Ayes!' and such from the assembled. More than one man had lost a loved one to the Pale's taxes. It was likely that the only way they earned any money now, at all, t'was what they earned in riding for -- for who? They rode not for themselves, the leader had said as much. Did they truly ride for the black rent? Or, perhaps, the warlord who had so thoroughly seized Dunlue Caslte and all of Ulster. Both in terms of lands -- but, so it was said, the hearts of the people as well. (D)


[b[Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh[/b]

Evangeline was not heartless. Words of a dead child tore through her as though this was one child she could have saved if she could have but conjured enough money in the selling of one more jewel, one more promise to the money-lenders. One more gown, but when the Duke accounted for his wife's missing belongings with none of the servants to have them, his suspicions warranted a beating to bring her to heel. He found out about the last pay of rent, and while it meant that Dublin's counties ate, she did not for three days. She swam in that sea of self induced conflict, ready to bare it all again for a child who died. A tear fell, and the men laughed. Oh how pretty they said, the Lady of Dublin cares for the small children that die to pay for her fine gown! One ripped the three stand of pearls from around her neck, her body coiling harder in to itself. Their demand to study the bauble concealed all to evident. Her hands burned to go around her throat, for the whore's worthy bauble at least covered the marks of Paul's last indiscretion. The brigands couldn't have put it there, could they? Hand marks, evident outlines of fingers around the small throat. "Tha' necklace has a worth..take the earings tae, n' m'pins. Take the coronet. Just take it." Who needed an invitation to take them, but still hold her at the same time? "Grown penant now eh?" She actually looked up at the sky before she looked down at the man, "Ah pay the rent, not Paul. Given it will be slow in comin, take wot is upon me. Use it toward old due. Contrary tae yer lore, the Pale isn't all rich. Take tha', n' dun bury another child." This..gave the man pause. Most women would sob at losing possesions. She had no care for them, for she'd already lost herself (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

Did she see the leader deep in thought? At last, he would bellow, "Enough talk! Take what she gives an' cut a horse from the carriage fer 'er. We stand 'ere all the more, tha easier it is fer tha likes o' Paul's men ta find us. We're ta away." (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh/b]

Orders were complied, and she moved with them having nothing more to say. What of other rents? Would Paul actually concede to pay because they had taken a 'thing from him? She paled, growing sicker by the minute at the lot of life. She worried for the people she referred to as her own, a 'child' that humored Paul to take in...it's fate sealed in her absence. (d)

Lord Govenor Jack Flynn

What would that ancient Green Man, whose leafy visage peered out over forest road, make of the scene that unfolded? Once again, it seemed that armed men were about when the witchy light of the moon shown full above. But these were not the cloak-hidden sons of the greenwood. These, instead, carried aloft a banner high. The banner seemed to glow as the column of armed men and horses marched along. A fae ride, perhaps, come out of its hill? The Green Man watched impassively, as figure would materialize from the darkness. The figure hurried on, up to where a mounted rider sat by the side of the road. Words were exchanged, the way pointed out. The army continued its march. Little by little, their destination was reached. The bandit camp was quietly encircled.....with the bandits, hopefully, being none the wiser. (D)

Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

The lady was on the outskirts of camp, her hands bound as her back reclined against a tree. Food would need be forced, for she would not eat. Drink was forced, for she'd take none. She was sick with absence of nourishment, and absence of will. It had been many days hat elapsed with no sign of the rent's pay until nearly three weeks had her moving from place to place with the brigands. One man was kind enough to untie her hands, but she did not each out to fight him. Instead she curled her arms around her legs, wondering what would become of her (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

Although she heard it not, the greenwood was alive with whispers. "We are ready, milord." One armored rider said to another. There was a quiet nod, from the rider who wore a coronet fastened to his helm. "Very well....then come. Let us announce ourselves." "At one, milord." The first rider would turn, nodding to a trumpeter. From the darkness, came the sound of a trumpet loud and bold. It seemed to ring around the encampment. The brigandines froze, widened eyed and fearful, out beyond. They began to moved and reach for weapons. But, already, it was far too late. A sword was unsheathed in the darkness, held aloft for all to see. Then it dropped. With a great and resounding cry, the night gave up its secret. A host of men poured from the woods, each wearing armor and brandishing shield and weapon. Savagely were the bandits encircled and put down -- and yet, none were yet slain. Those that fought, true, were wounded. ...but spared in the long term. As the wave of soldiers swept in, the mounted swept in behind. This included the banner barer. What would Eva make of it, as two of the new warriors found her? There was a call of "She's here! She's here!" Before they set about untying her limbs. The bandits, one at a time, were rounded up and drug before the man who wore the crown on his brow. "You have given us a merry chase," the man said. "For three weeks we have follow your trail.....many a false lead we had." Many a bandit camp discovered and put to sword. The rider, his face concealed by visor to his helmet, leaned down. "I cannot see his face," the man pronduced. One of the guards holding the leader of the bandits was unmasked. Before the rest of his outlaw band were similarly unmasked. Did Eva see the way that the helmeted rider studied each face -- only to do a double take? There was a laugh, little doubt that he recongized this face. "Who do you follow?" He asked one of the bandits -- the one that had largely looked after Eva. The bandit struggled, but did not answer. Eva could not clearly see the face of the bandit that the rider addressed. The rider nodded. Eventually, the rider would be presented with the bandit leader. "Who are you, boy?" There was a defiant "Faolan O'Connor, ya Pale born bastard!" There was a pause, before a booming laughter came. "Dae ye think tha' true?" The rider shook his head, to the bandit he asked, "And he is to you?" To Eva's surprise, a female voice answered, "M'son!" Just as defiant as the boy's. "Ah." The rider looked at Fao, "Ye actions 'ave jeopardized m'plans, boy," the rider said. "An' as fer where I t'was born...." He raised his visor, "I was born in Donegal." The face beneath the helm? One that Eva was sure to know. A man who could only be a sergeant at arms bellowed out, "KNEEL, YOU SWINE, BEFORE THE LORD-GOVENOR!" (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Just let me be."

She told the man who tried to untie her ropes before the great quake shook Ireland, making her body sway absent of a desire to do so. Horses, men, and arms shot out from behind her to meet a scared assembly infront of her. Where she could have crawled away, she only had time to curl in on herself to avoid the kick up of rocks form the horse's hooves. It was a fierce fight. The overwhelmed, one can never underestimate an outlaw. Her captors went up against the men in armor who were no more her 'white knights' than these men were her 'nightmare' anymore. All of them were as good as Lucifer's right hand men for in the end it would only bare her back to Dublin to be spit at, scorned, raped, and tormented. Was it out of Paul's posistion they came to take her hence? Did he grow tired at last of the talk surrounding his incompetance lose his wife to a band of brigands who wore green leaves? The fire was kicked at, sand making the flame sputter but nothing really putting it out. She screamed, the sound lost in the fray, but the men who cut her bonds? Why they found her a tight ball coiled in on herself, as if freedom had to be convinced in her to be accepted! In the end, her hands were undone even if her body was never fully made right, for she was weak with toil. Names though, she must have that! Lifting her head she listened to the exchange between a high horse mounted man and the low brigand he sought to unravel. Not timid, one man refused the command for identity, for recognition. The highest man bore Eva's immediate wide eye stare that of all men the Govenor himself would come hence to bare her away - to the Pale? The night made less and less sense! Donegal born Govenor was being argued with by the brigand leader and his mother, their names emblazened into her mind. Oh lovely, the brigands were organized enemies? Suddenly a big of vigor sparked up her imagination as the men bellowed for respect to be given for the Govenor. In the silence hoarse voiced whispered, "Ye'll need pardon tha', or ah shan't get back up again." (d)


Lord Govenor Jack Flynn, Sir Faolan O'Connor

While the outlaws were all forced to their knees before the Lord-Governor, it was clear that his men-at-arms were expected to stay standing. Least the outlaws do something foolish. "Ye 'ave put me in ta curious postion..... Ye are true men an' brave. I dae sae hate to waste it. Sae a choice. Serve me. Or die." It was then that each bandit would feel a blade at their neck, ready to strike off their heads should they refuse to serve the Lord-Governor. Slowly, they agreed. But where did Faolan O'Connor and his mother Morgan agree? Where they first to pledge service? ....or the last? When their oaths of fealty were at last completed, Jack would dismount from his war horse. He would stride to Eva, motioning for one of his men to bring her food and a wineskin. There was a sorrowfull look on his face, "I am in a perilous position.....I do not know what to do with you...In keeping you in my court, I endager you. By sending you back, I endager you. Neither leaves a good taste in my mouth." (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Keep yer food m'lord, it serves me nay, m'body would revolt it. If ye do nay send me back, ye make tae much a stir against yer work, if ye send me back..ah can dae mine. Ah can keep Dublin standin n' her counties faithful, n' hope tae find some other way than hawkin m'pearls tae dae it. Ah'm runnin out o' jewelry n' candlsticks, n' Paul was ne'er one for patience."The food was indeed pushed away, but she accepted the liquid if only to the vanishing of her voice all together. "Ah've lived with his ways for o'er thirteen years...send me back. Tha' is how it is supposed tae go." Escape refused, she would later cry at the chance to be free of it all. It was the Pale, and as he needed to conquer it so he should have brought her to heel, but was instead afraid for the Anglo-Irish woman who's lot was hard to bare. Soon, she would rise a bolder figure to secure the Pale for the Govenor's whim, but it was not yet that day (d)


Lord Govenor Jack Flynn

There was a sorrowful sigh, as he raised his hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. There was a soft murmured, "A bitter taste indeed......" Would he spend but a few moments, later, at a stream to wash his hands? ....would it feel as though it did any good? He nodded quietly, "Very well. I shall send you back....." He would call four men forward, men who wore the livery of barons or lords who paid lip-service to the Pale while riding for the Governor. "See her safely back to the Pale as quick as you can, her absence has been noted.... even if the bloody bastard has nae begun to move yet, he shall have men out for her now." For the Archbisop and Paul's father had been badgering Paul the First about how insulting it was to have his wife kidnapped. "We 'ave more than 'nough proof of yer activites...." Indeed, Eva'd see many a tree decorated with the hanged outlaws the Lord-Governor and his men had come across. (D)

[Evangeline O'Cathasaigh]

II. Mercy


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"M'lord, please. Ah beg ye not tae kill 'em, the blood would be stained on our 'eads all our days, worse than any e'e rshed afore..Please m'lord I beg ye listen!"The entreaty had a woman who should have been too proud, too arogant to beg near on the floor at the 'mighty' Paul's feet. Like a supplicant begs for admission of prayer to the chapel, so a wife reached out for her husband's coat, only to find her hands hit away. She knew when to be determined She knew when to hide. Today she was a blending of hiding's want and determination. "Let the O'Connor gae, think o' how the rent shall double if ye kill him, by God wot if the Govenor be forced tae come tae the Pale paul!" (d)

Lord Paul O'Cathasaigh It was a rather sticky situation for Paul, wasn't it? Even in his own domain -- within the Pale -- it seemed as though he were loosing control! As if having that 'outlaw chief' (Paul *never* referred to him as the Governor or Lord-Governor) squatting in Dunluce and 'conquering' Ulster. But to have this insolence from his own wife?! Was there little surprise that he would hit her hands away? Paul the Worst visibly seethed with rage. The Jew woman - how would Morgan have taken to being called that? - had first accosted him begging for clemancy for her son. And had been relentless in it! Likely, it had only been the presence of witness that had kept Paul from beating the poor woman.... Morgan, after all, was not his wife. That she was from Ulster? Made it much worse. To have her go back and accost the 'outlaw chief' as Paul had been accosted? There was little doubt the man would show true feeling, raise an army, and march. (That such would happen anyway, was not for Paul to see or know in -- well, ever.) As it was, Morgan stayed on the edge of this scene. Watching it all. But not only because the fate of her son was in the balance.... but because the Lord-Governor had need of her doing this. To do this, was to free her son not only from Paul -- but the Lord-Governor's dire service as well. The great Lord of Dublin was beside himself. He was in the company of a woman whom bedded Jews, and a wife who was disobeying him before their 'subjects'. He had the inflated head of a King, and over the counties beneath Dublin, he was disputed as little less. Smug expression found his face as he side stepped the red headed woman, near anger and tears on behalf of her son. "Hold her" he told the guard, who in no time took up the O'Connor 'Jewess' by her arms. As for Eva? He pinched her face between his thumb and index finger at the chin, "I will spare him," he breathed, before turning her face to the right hard, releasing his grip "You shall owe me for such a favor later, but to make him come to heel with my bidding seems fittin' enough. The total of deaths is too high as it is, at least for the month." With those words, with those words and the days to follow - O'Connor would find his life spared but unable to elave Dublin for he was indentured to the Duke for no less than sixty days to pay off his debts, and more, if he did not behave. Sixty days that now stood at a fortnight. Eva sat at one end of the room, over a ledger, while Fao stood at the other end (d)



Sir Faolan O'Connor[/b

Had any eyes been sharp enough to catch the brief glance that had passed between the O'Connor 'Jewess' and her son? In that mere glance, one could catch the coming storm. There was no smile allowed between them.... but it was enough. While Fao might have a term of sixty days to serve the 'King' of Dublin? They already served another.... they served the Lord-Governor. He, who they felt certain, would render the town of Dublin to cinders and debris. But at the least, Dublin was spared from death by the headsman's axe. And while it was another chance to live... it was also uninviting a spy -- nay, forgive me. *Another* spy -- into Dublin's walls. There could be little doubt that while seeing about his duties, there were was that Fao and his mother exchanged notes... notes - like Eva's - that would find their way to the Lord-Governor (he would know how many men stood upon wall, how long the gate was open, and other such). For all of his servitude, Foa remained an unbroken and unrepentant Irishman. Even then, he seemed rather morose. While Eva was at her task, Fao was quietly standing his post. His hand would rise, to touch a charm at his throat. (D)

Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

Paul of Dublin was calculating but did not account for his wife's proximity to the Lord-Govenor, nor the plan being hatched that would give rise to an eye in Dublin from the proverbial inside. Aye, she suffered indignaty of being forced to his bed as penance for her sin of asking, she suffered his hand print on throat as to have it hidden under a high collar. As Fao touched at his throat, her own itched, but practiced manners kept it down (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

"I am sorry, m'lady, I thought that you had spoken to me...." Perhaps he had simply longed to break the silence. He paused, before asking, "....what are you writing?" Had she wondered why he had watched her hands from time to time while she wrote, wondering what it was she did. (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Silence be golden some would say, m'mother believed there was much tae hear. Ah be writin' tae the clansmen, it would be o' interest fer ye tae ask. Yer payin' attention helps the Govenor tae pay attention after all." She chided, wondering why he did not ask sooner. It stood to reason he was illiterate, he never strained to read the lines on a page but understood the world at large. Wincing, she scratched at the stiff webbing around her throat. "Tis tae disuade them from a month's black rent, which means twill buy us a months time tae figure out wot tae dae with them, another is directly fer the lord govenor, n' they must be passed along quite soon. His Lordship is agrieved, n' tends tae besiege m'ledger when he is." (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

There was a pause, a look of confusion upon his features, "Tha' Lord-Governor?" Honest mistake! Then realization dawned, "Oh." Ah, Paul the Worst. His curiosity had been satisfied, and he asked no more. It stood to reason that the lest he knew, the less he could divulge later -- if their true allegiances were known. Still, there was a quiet gulf between them. Was it born of their station? Or their current situation? Finally, there would be another question. "Why do you do this?" (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Because, Dublin is my responsibility, despite wot....the Duke does or imparts upon meh, Dublin is in the keepin' o' the O'Casey, Paul took the name for the station it afforded him, tha' is all. M'plight need nay detere from the business at hand O'Connor. Ah'm nay the only beset upon lady n' this is nay the only besiet upon place, but we have duties we dae. Ah trust wot needs tae be passed tae the Govenor ye shall commend?" She looked up to him, eyebrow arched, awaiting his answer. She only turned her head to cough, and rued it. God, how it hurt. (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

There was a pause, before he canted his head. "You would have me run messages for you?" It was an honest question. There was a frown, as he canted his head, "....but I am not allowed to leave the city...." It was true enough. Unless she could remand his orders? (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Ye needn't leave the city, O'Connor, there are plenty o' outposts and insources. Ah dun nay often leave Dublin m'self." This wastruth, and since the last time she was taken, Paul hardly let her breathe alone. This room,this shut room had always been her sanctuary. What was it like, to grow up here and have all you knew raped as you were raped? Your name torn from the annuals of good faith? Did he know what it was like to walk, bruised all days of your life? "Ah've written them all, will ye be sae kind as to come n' lend yer arm, Ah find it difficult to stand." (d)

Sir Faolan O'Connor

There was little doubt that he looked a bit shocked. "M'lady? Are we well? Wha' tis wrong?" He hesitated, "'Ave ye need o' a physician?" He looked towarad the door, clearly intented to go. When she would quiet his concerns, he would go to her. Offering his arm to her. (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Wot Physician will tell me anythin other than wot is alerady known n' ne'er done. Ah'm stiff, tha' is all. A lady does nay discuss e'ery hurt." Even if they were so bluntly obvious . Sixty days, how many trespasses against her flesh and being had he seen? How many stifled tears or hard exteriors, how few laughs or smiles? Had he seen them in her short captivity for the barest instant, only for her own home to wash them away like rain? She took his arm and came to standing, canting her head in mild appreciation. How close was he to the famed pale throat? (d)

Sir Faolan O'Connor

What would she do, when he gasped softly? Perhaps he had seen. Seen the brusies on her throat where fingers had gone. That had threatened so to squeeze out her life. Did he consider himself a party to this? Or something else? There was a quiet frown, before he tried to school his thoughts ... and failed. His thoughts showed on his face. At his own throat, was a gold chain holding a golden coin. (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Yer starin," she muttered, before her own eyes turned downward, "Wot is tha' ye wear?" How long would they continue these strained discourses. She gathered up the letters in her hand, awaiting his answer. "it looks like it does nay come from 'ere abouts?"(d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

There was a sad look, some where between a smile and a frown, before he said softly, "Tis a coin, minted durin' the reign of Wladyslaw the Short... a few years ago." He would pause, and do a rare thing. He would unfasten the talismen that he wore at all times (the only thing that he had fought viciously to keep when first brought to Dublin chains). It was a seemingly unremarkable coin. "I t'was born there, in 'is kingdom. What tha' rumors say are true... m'mother married an' loved a Jew doctor." Was odd to hear that word used without anti-Semitism following it -- either in word or conotation? He would name his father (mun forgets). He was quiet, "....I 'ave only the vaguest recollections o' m'father.... he pased on when I was a year old. This coin tis all tha' I 'ave ta remember 'im by." (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

Evangeline took the story he told her and embedded it inside the everlasting side of a brain that would forget tnothing. She promised him in silence this as she leaned now from his arm to the side of his desk, "Sae ,ye are a Pole by thought, n' Irish by blood..sae tis true tha' ye are a 'alf Jew tae, or did ye mother 'ave ye baptized. She seems a woman o' the Christ 'erself." Forgetting herself, she took hold of the neck trinket to examine it only to excuse herself, letting it gently settle against his chest "Ah'm sorry, tha' was rather impertinent. Ah only wear a cross" she smiled, half hearted (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

There was a soft smile, has he briefly felt her fingers against his chest. Did they dare catch eyes? Or was that improper? "I t'was baptised in a Polish church, sae m'mum says..... but as fer keepin' the faith?" He shrugged, "We dun 'ave much truck wit' the churchmen." Came with being a Jew's widow and a Jew's son.... "No 'nough to do good an' what be wrong an' such. ....but ye won't find me in a church." His was a folksy following. He paused, "Tha' tis nae ye'll find me out at some grove, like tha Lord-Governor." (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Ye find God in yer own way then, fer tis said yer mother attends Church, ah dun think God lost sight of her. If he may love a woman who makes an Irish half Jew, he may love Dubliners tae, we are all o' some hope then." Her expression had softened, but the touch disuaded her. She ought not reach for a man - when man reached back...she recoiled, shivering when no sign of wind appeared before catching control of herself. "We should gae," she announced, gently, and on a lesser level..touching his shoulder as she pushed up from the desk. Suddenly her sanctuary felt confining. (d)


Sir Faolan O'Conno

"O'course, m'lady," he said. He would bow and give the proper respect for her to pass first, before he would rise and follow her. What did the town make of the Irish half Jew bodyguard and the Duchess going hither and yon together? (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

They whispered that it would be the Paul of Dublin to put his wife beside a half damned man, or was it that they thought in some way Eva made a cuckold of him for sparing his life, and thinking this man would tell him everything of Eva when instead there would be little to reveal? They hadn't left the room quite yet..her had upon the door had reached when the other was pressed against her middle as she awaited the wave of pain to pass from her injuries (d)

[Evangeline O'Cathasaigh]

The days pass, two months equating to sixty days. Sixty days where in a soul who had never known kindness without false sympathy recieved it from he who walked his own road of disgregard. He pulled her from despair, and she became a companion beside his..

"We are one in the same.From the dark of night unto the light of morning"


He walked beside her never far behind nor to the front of her. He listened as the world burned while other places were never touched. Of all the people in the world he was the only one to show her any kindness, to see her wounds tended, the physician always called. Despite what he learned on the Govenor's behalf it seemed he answered the calling of Christ better than he believed. He could have been free come the new day but instead he sought to stay another sixty days...

Paul, never one to diminish what he saw as punishment, allowed it. Indeed, Faolan was made to suffer Paul's wrath, lesser chores, and endure the same shame as Eva endured save when the door was barred against him.

Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"The thought o' return or bein the servant kept o' any man, or freedom tha' wouldn't last is tae much tae bare. Death is final n' infinite. All else proved tae fine night." Embarrasment. That was the feeling she had where once happiness to leave the sick, twisted nightmare that had become her home had lived. She had made peace with it, and now felt as if she were to lay her entire mind bare before O'Connor. "Tis more than his company loathed, tis all o' it. Tis wot everythin' around me has become, tis wot ah've become, n' m'family. Tis the lies n' deciet n' untruth.." She bit into her lip, pushing back stands of her hair. "Dublin was once the freest place inside o' the Pale. Fer all the luxury it brings forth dae ye see the poverty tha' some hold tae, n' e'en the rich is as witchery? In m'childhood wot came forth n' exhanged moved beyond the pale. Our Ainglish was o' nay ne'ermind for Dublin had always had an Irish leanin' laird, until m'father was made a treasonist agains his Ainglish King when he was nay sae after the marriage tae Paul was ratified, n' the truth learned tae late tae stop it. He would've killed m'mother iffn Ah relented." (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

Fao, sadly, had no steady reply on what was said. Could he assure her that there was indeed safety beyond the borders of the Pale? She herself was an agent of the Lord-Governor... did she think he would send her back so readily? His reverie was broken, when there was a knock at the door. Fao opened and politely thanked the servant who had brought the meal up. What had the servant made, of seeing Fao still with the Lady of Dublin? Eventually, Fao asked, ".....why dae ye stay? I cannae be the only Chrisitan in all o' Eire...." Meaning, surely, that there would be those that would treat her as he treated them now.


III. Revelation



Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Sixty days is at an end soon, ye realize yer sentence be at an end yet ye asked tae stay on longer. is tha' truly wot ye seek?" (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

While he would indeed enjoy being in her company, there was a brief grim look to his features. "Yes, m'lady..... fer yer well bein. More than anythin' else." He hoped that he would be able to talk her into fleeing away. With him, or to freedom. Either was better than saying here. (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Ah've ne'er had a soul concerned about me in a great many years other than the other maids on occasion.Ah thank ye. Ye are most Christian, n' most kind." Her fingers grazed her mouth with tears falling down atop the cross of what she sewed. Ginger fingers wanted to reach out for him, but instead cupped her face , bowed her head, and cried. "Ah'm nay worthy of yer kindness." (d)

Sir Faolan O'Connor

What would she do, when she felt arms go around her waist? He held her close quietly, bringing her head to is shoulder. He made quiet soothing sounds. Sounds that were everything and nothing. And meant just as much. (D)

Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh "How can I take yer kindness when the world is fallin tae pieces, and my beatings..maybe I deserved it sae, maybe...maybe.." She cried so hard, letting the burden of her life fall into his arms, and not refusing them. "Thank you, e'en if I dun deserve it." She lifted her face to look at his face. (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

What would she do, when she saw a stern took on his face? It mated his tone. "Ye ne'er deserve ta be treated as ye are now. Ne'er! Not once 'ave I seen ye be anythin' but Christian, good, an' just. Ne'er fer a minute think other wise." (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Connor

"But wot has been sae black a blight on Dublin tha' the Laird almighty would bind me to Paul." She sobbed softly, gripping her fingers as she looked at him, "N' m'womb is shut tae him, all these years nay e'en a child. Ah'm heartbroken yet glad. Yet feel terrible. Terrible tae nay perform as a wife! N' he violates me....beats me..n' yet Christendom...muddles m'thoughts or years o' listenin tae him. M'mother is in a parish abbey...mute. She has nay written nor will allow sight o' me before her..Ah can nay save her, she can nay save nor wants tae save me. M'father....m'father was beheaded..by King Edward...fer nothin'..n'.he was..more Irish..than any o' us, born Ainglish.. We are damned here..." (d)

Sir Faolan O'Connor

"I shall nae. I am tha Samaratian." He caressed her cheek, "Always an' e'er shall I be fer ye." It was not an outright decloration of love -- but was it not hollow either. (D)

Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"A Samaratian on the pilgrim's road aye? Ah'm nay Palmer n' ye are nay a palmer,Ah'm the wife o' Paul the Black, Paul the Scourge.." It was not love, but it was enough to take them from the lives separate and bind them to something new. Her mouth, shaking, did lean to brush against his lips. "I am damned, n' ye will fall tae hell fer stayin O'Connor. Ye should run, for I can nay. Ye should run." She breathed the words against his lips, aching to be touched. What was greater the sin, adultery or being beaten? She leaned into his touch, shivering as she lifted her own hands to touch him in return (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

Was it true that the Devil had their toes? They were so close to one another already, holding each other. What would she do, when he leaned in close? It seemed as though he would touch his lips against her own. He would indeed
caress her cheek, looking into her eyes. He would touch those lips with his own. And he said, "So ye are upon that pilgrims progesss...but are we nae all? Dae we not all journey ta Heaven?" (D)


Lady Evangeline O'Cathasaigh

"Heaven is a long way from Ireland," and that could have been the jest of the times. Oh how rife with humor the maudlin thought, but all the Irish could echo it if the times were bad enough. When times were good, Ireland was heaven. What was it now? Having never known pleasure in such action, it was almost innocent in how she persued to do it again, lingering this time (d)


Sir Faolan O'Connor

He enjoyed the kiss again. Letting it linger. Enjoying the feeling of having her in his arms. Did she enjoy the same?

[Evangeline O'Cathasaigh]

Thoughts and Prayers

The Duchess of Dublin walked the next day with a slight-of-step that made an abnormal rhythm in the way her skirts swayed around her body. Over the stone she moved with a light step while one half dragged in force pick up to make the appearence of a half-step after. In time, the Lady would walk, but only after many painful stiff steps. He wanted her in the bed to recover but it wasn't in her nature to lay. Today was a more beautiful day than the last because of one kiss stolen in sin. Part of her would have taken to knee, to pray God forgive a moment's weakness, but as it was she couldn't kneel. She laughed, at her own fractured figure still finding a blessing in the day.

It was the first blessing she had thought to recount in years.

Paul viewed her approach with disgust. She was only so useful as the living representation of the name he took with the false presentation of being allowed to utilize it under stipulated contract. Today, he would glare at her only, content to see his handiwork but knowing if he lost himself to the fits of his compulsions, she would do him no good when he needed her. To see her laugh outloud he said, "What stupid thing flits about your head..wife." She stepped to slow to meet him quick enough, so he crossed the space. Evangeline looked up from the scope of a moment's imagination to the horror of reality, only to find the woman she'd been by moonlight couldn't eclipse the day.

"Tis only havin seen the mirth in the chamber maid's child this morn, tis all..m'laird." She dare not call him husband, only by the most formal, most respectful of words. His long, beautiful hands lifted her face to inspection with a rough jerk, the back of his cheek caressing his pretty prize. Still, she said nothing. "Contain yourself, wife. Let them not see you so ill behaved..do you understand?" She nodded her ascent, eyes lowering when he returned her face to be moved of her own will, for once unscathed.

She began to fear what he didn't know, what he would do if he did. For sixty days she had a man make eyes upon her, grant sympathy, and seal it with a kiss. What if he would find out that the smile was not born of a child? Hell-fire licked at the back of her heels. An Irish God was a frightening, fearful thing. He forced aching women down to their knees in the very halls to seek penance for their actions..and yet..when she fell upon those knees in the absence of the Duke..she couldn't pray for penance.

All she could ask of God was this:

"Spare me O'God tha' Ah' might redeem myself in thy eyes, m'people in thy eyes, tha' we might be blessed. Use me in thy service, shape me to thy will, make me submit tae thy testin'. I pray you, O'God...and in thy wisdom, let the O'Connor man stay.."

*

In the day the flowers of the garden bloomed, opening to her hand. In the night gathered flowers were burned in the hearth, and she submit herself to God's shaping as the Duke of Dublin twisted her foot to his sick designs. At the same time, whispers crossed through Dublin of men who didn't look to be clan raiders emassing to the East. The source of her service to God they would be, still unknown. The O'Connor, the Samirtan, would be there too.