Connor had barely finished outlining his strategy when a runner arrived from Tearlach with the word that his men had won their skirmish and now held the armoury. They had found fourteen of Liam's men in place there and had lost seven of their own in recapturing the building. Liam's people had fought hard. Moments later, word arrived from Shelagh that the children were safe and had been rescued unharmed.
I attached myself to Derek's group and spent the next period of hours embroiled in the grim struggle to recapture Derek's autonomy in his own town. It was bitter, dirty work, but having seized the initiative, we pursued it grimly, and by the end of the first hour there was no question of our victory. The Sons of Condran showed themselves doughty fighters, despite their awareness that their plot had failed and that their admiral prince had gone down in death at the outset. They fought with die suicidal madness of desperation, refusing to surrender and often grappling barehanded in total darkness with the baleful, outraged men who swung their swords mercilessly, seeking vengeance for treachery.
, Late in the proceedings, we found ourselves on the outskirts of the town, close to the tavern where I had first seen the man in the yellow tunic. Someone had overturned a lamp at some stage of the fighting and the burning oil had set the entire tavern ablaze, so that its hectic glare lit up the night. As we approached, a knot of running men broke from the space between two buildings and came pouring towards us, seeing us only when they were almost upon us, and then veering to attack us immediately. They were five against our four, although others of our group were close behind. One of them came for me directly, his teeth bared in a scream, swinging a heavy-headed axe. Checking my instinctual urge to jump aside, I stood still and waited for him to swing his weapon. Still running, he chopped at me two-handed, aiming to cleave me from left shoulder to breastbone. I avoided his stroke by leaping forward to my left, beneath his axe. Then I thrust my sword point beneath his exposed shoulder, bracing my left knee to check my momentum and throwing my weight backwards, leaning deep into my thrust. The weight of his falling body dragged me around with him, and as I struggled to free my sword, pushing him off the Wade with my foot, I saw Derek rolling on the ground beneath another of the men, clutching the fellow's wrist in both hands as he fought to keep the point of a long, sharp knife away from his throat. I reached them in one long stride and swung my foot, kicking the knife- wielder beneath the chin and knocking him backwards. I finished him with a hacking, overhead slash. And then we were alone in the street, Derek and I, both of us panting for breath as we looked around us.
I heard a commotion in the shadows of a neighbouring passageway and started to head towards it, but I stopped to make sure that Derek, who had regained his feet, was unhurt. He was more winded than I was and bent over, gasping for breath, but he waved me away, indicating that he was well enough. I ran towards the noises and heard him begin to follow me, but we were to fight no more that night. Silence had fallen by the time we reached the end of the passageway, and we found some of our. companions collecting themselves and congratulating each other.
We returned immediately to the burning tavern. Derek was fearful that the flames might spread to other buildings, but there were no other buildings close enough, and as we stood there looking at the flames and counting the bodies visible in the firelight, a heavy rain began to fall. We regrouped and set out to search elsewhere, but the rain, at first refreshing, soon became a curse. We were relieved to find that the fighting was over and order was being restored everywhere. Ours had, apparently, been the last skirmish, and no Sons of Condran remained in Ravenglass.
Next we organized work parties to help with our wounded and to begin collecting corpses, transporting them, in what had become torrential rain, to a designated area close to the bathhouse. While we were doing that, Rufio brought word from Lucanus that he had established a temporary infirmary in the central court of the administrative building, the largest single space he could find that was uninhabited. Derek immediately passed the word to tell our walking wounded to make their way there for assistance, and he sent runners to the other three quadrant commanders, to pass on the information and instruct each of them to appoint litter- bearers to carry their more gravely wounded to the new field hospital. There were no walking wounded among Liam's people. Those few who had survived the conflict were all gravely injured and close to death.
At length, satisfied that everything that might be done was being done, the king and I went looking for Connor. We found him where I had expected to find him: outside the western wall on the wharf, in conference again with his captains, Tearlach, Feargus and Logan. He dismissed them as he saw us approach, resettled his sodden cape about his shoulders and sniffed loudly in disgust at the weather.
"Is there any place in this town that is dry?" he asked as we arrived.
"Aye, there is, and we were just about to go there," Derek answered. "My house. The place should have been cleaned up by this time, but even if it hasn't, there are some rooms where carnage was shut out. Come with us, we have much to talk about."
A short time later, pleased to see that the space beneath the thatch had been cleared of bodies, and the blood cleaned up and covered with fresh straw, Derek led us into a pleasant room in his own living quarters, where a fire burned brightly in an open grate. Once we had shed our soaked outer clothing and settled by the fire, clutching mugs of mead, he wasted no time in coming to the point.
"You will not be leaving in the morning now, I hope?"
Connor, seated in the middle, looked at me and winked surreptitiously before he turned to face the king. "Why not? There's nothing to stop us now, is there?"
Derek had the grace to flush with discomfort. "No, I suppose not ... " Neither Connor nor I made a sound. "But ... I hope you'll stay."
"For at least two days more, you mean, until Liam's fleet arrives?"
"Aye. They are your enemies as much as mine."
"True, but self-serving, Derek." Connor's nod was judicious. "They have been my enemies for years and I know how to deal with them on my own terms. They have only been your enemies, openly, for hours. It's fortunate for you and yours that we were here at all, today, and you'll admit you've given us little encouragement to remain ere this. Besides that, they are a fleet—thirty of them at least, where I have but three galleys. If I leave with the tide tomorrow as you originally suggested, I'll be well clear of the threat of them by the time they arrive."
"Five, if you'll stay."
"What?"
"Five galleys. Liam's two are now mine, by forfeit. I'll give them to you if you'll stay to help us."
Connor nodded again. "That is appealing, I will admit, although in truth it was my men who took them. But still ... five galleys, manned by the crews of only three, against thirty ... " He grimaced and shook his head.
Derek stood up and began to pace. "Look you, it's not your galleys I need, it's your men, up on my walls, to stand them off."
"I don't follow you." Connor was frowning. "You want me to place my men on your walls, and leave my galleys floating empty in the harbour to be burned?"