Besieged

good life together in Scotland with their children.'

'You need not fear, Adali,' Rory Maguire said, and there was a dark hint of sadness in his voice. 'She never saw me as anything other than a friend. It is the best I can hope for. I will not lose even that small part of her attention on a foolish hope and dream that will never, ever be. Nay, Adali. I would give my life for my lady Jasmine, but she shall never know the part I played in saving her own life all those years ago. It would shame us both.'

'Nay, there was no shame, Master Maguire,' Adali reassured him. 'You, the priest, and I did what had to be done. No more than that. There is no disgrace in it, nor should you feel guilt. Good night now. I will see you in the morning.'

'Good night, Adali,' Rory Maguire said quietly, rolling himself onto his side, wrapping his cloak about him. Then he thought that the next few months would be the hardest of his life.

Chapter 2

They departed the Appleton estate even before the sun was up. Their hosts were still abed, but they were anxious to remain not a moment longer than was necessary.

'Please tell your master,' the duke of Glenkirk instructed the butler, who himself was but barely awake, 'that we thank him for his hospitality, but our journey is a long, tedious one. If we are to reach its end by sunset today, we must depart earlier than would be expected.'

The butler bowed low, as obsequious as his employer. 'Very good, my lord. Sir John will be sorry he had not the opportunity to bid you a proper farewell himself,' he replied smoothly.

'He is excused,' James Leslie said grandly with a wave of his gloved hand. Turning he shepherded his wife and stepdaughter from the entrance hall out into the damp and foggy morning.

The coach carrying Adali, Rohana, and their small bit of luggage had already departed. Rory Maguire stood waiting, holding the horses. They mounted quickly and cantered down the gravel drive away from Appleton Hall.

'Good riddance!' James Leslie said.

'Aye, and amen to that, my lord,' Maguire responded.

The morning brightened, and the fog slowly lifted, but there was no sun, and it rained once again. Strangely the gray only made the countryside greener by comparison. The green hills over which they traveled rambled gently. The rolling landscape was broken only rarely by a gray stone tower, usually in a state of ruin, or a small village. There were fewer villages, Jasmine noted, than when she had first come to Ireland. Some were deserted and falling into decay; others were gone entirely, their former existence attested to only by a broken and pulled-down Celtic cross in a weed-strewn square. Ulster, never heavily populated to begin with, was now even less populated it appeared.

'What has happened here?' Jasmine asked Rory Maguire.

'Not all landlords are like you, my lady,' he replied. 'You know the penalties placed upon those who follow the Catholic faith. Many have been driven off their lands because they will not convert to Protestantism. It is that simple.'

'But these landlords are not even in Ireland,' Jasmine said. 'What difference does it make to them as long as the land is worked properly and is prosperous for them?'

'They appoint agents who follow the letter of the law,' he explained. 'Most are English as are the settlers. We have Scots landlords too, but for now the Scots remain in Scotland, except for those who are able to give up their clan ties to seek lands of their own.'

'What happens to the people?' she queried him.

'They go to relations in parts of Ireland where the laws are not so assiduously followed. They flee into the more remote regions, living a more primitive existence. They die. A few emigrate to France and Spain. There are no other choices.'

'It is the way of the world,' Fortune said quietly, surprising them. 'I have learned this in my studies, and Mother has often said that it is so. One tribe conquers another, and another, and so forth. Nothing remains the same forever. Like my mother, however, I see no necessity for what is happening in Ireland. Bigotry is wrong, and it is cruel.'

'There's just as much of it on one side as the other,' Rory told the girl. 'At Maguire's Ford we are fortunate to have two men of religion who are liberal and open-minded, but such a thing is unique. For as many Protestant ministers who tell their flocks that Catholicism is a wicked, idol-worshipping faith, there are an equal number of Catholic priests howling that the Protestants are dirty heretics who ought to be burned, and if not here on earth, then surely in hell, for they are the devil's own spawn. Such thoughts do not lead to understanding, or tolerance, my lady. There are, I fear, and am sorry to say, far more John Appletons upon this earth, than people like yer mam.'

'You like my mother, don't you?' Fortune observed, moving her gelding next to his.

His heart contracted in his chest, but Rory Maguire flashed her a casual grin. 'Aye, my lady, I do. I always have. It must be the Irish in her for she's got a big heart, does the lady Jasmine.'

'My mother says if I remain in Ireland I should keep you on because you can be trusted, and few men can,' Fortune said.

'Perhaps yer husband will have other ideas, lady,' he replied.

Fortune looked at him as if he had lost his mind. It was a look he recognized, but it was certainly not her mother's look. 'My husband will have no say in the management of Maguire's Ford,' Fortune said. 'If I marry William Devers, he will not be in possession of my lands. He has his own. The women in my family do not give over their wealth to the men they wed. It is unthinkable!'

He laughed aloud. 'Yer mam has raised you well, my lady Fortune,' Rory Maguire said, vastly amused, but also relieved when she continued.

'If Iwed William Devers, you will retain your place, Rory Maguire,' Fortune said. 'Besides, I will need you to teach me all about the business of the horses. I know little about horses but that I like them very much and enjoy riding them.'

'You know how to talk to the horses,' he said. 'I saw how you conversed with Thunder before you got on his back. Who taught you to do that, my lady Fortune?'

Fortune looked puzzled a moment, and then she said, 'No one, Rory Maguire. I have always done it before mounting a strange beast. It only seemed polite. My sister and brothers make fun of me for it, but I've never been thrown, or had any difficulty since my very first pony.' Fortune explained to him.

'Ahh, now that's the Irish in you,' he said with a smile.

'I like you, Rory Maguire,' Fortune told him.

'I like you, Lady Fortune Mary Lindley,' he answered her.

'How do you know my full name?' Fortune was surprised.

'Do you not know, my lady, that I am your godfather?' he replied.

'You are? Mama,' Fortune called to her mother who was riding just behind her. 'Is that true? Is Rory Maguire my godfather?'

'Aye,' Jasmine said. 'He is.'

'Then,' said Fortune emphatically, 'I shall call you Uncle Rory, and you will call me Fortune when we are in private, en famille.'

He turned his head to catch Jasmine's eye, and she nodded just barely.