thunder1
Wicked Fan
Countess of Tweets
Posts: 51
|
Post by thunder1 on Aug 1, 2010 4:13:31 GMT -5
ok I am Totally addicted pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee up date love your story verry well written
|
|
|
Post by Ghost on Aug 4, 2010 16:00:31 GMT -5
*** Keith lifted a trunk of the players' goods into his firm grasp and headed out the back door of the tavern to the wagon outside. They had finished their play, and had moved on to the most popular tunes in Derry. Keith's job, as usual, had been to remain in the background.
He hoisted the trunk onto the wagon, glanced up at the overcast sky, and then turned back to the tavern. Drawing his hood over his head, he stepped into the main room of the pub, where the minstrels were playing a lively jig as the women danced around the tables. Good. That meant the drunkards would be focused on the staged area, and not on the tall, cloaked man in the corner.
He had been somewhat surprised to see the tavern so crowded at this hour, somewhere between midday and dusk. But then, it had rained on and off the entire day, making work in the fields practically impossible. Lord Derry, in his usual way, had not forced anyone into the fields.
Keith bent to grab the next trunk, and paused. Toward the middle of the tavern, where the players had made their stage, sat a bald, barrel-chested man.
If anyone could see past Keith's disguise, it would be his father-in-law.
The messenger picked up the trunk and swiftly left the pub. George could not recognize him, or the entire plan would be compromised.
He was shoving the second trunk onto the wagon beside the first when someone behind him spoke.
"Do you know how long it took me to realize it was you under that hood?"
Keith froze, and then turned around to face the middle-aged Scotsman.
"Come on, lad. Take the hood off. I know it's you under there, even without the beard… Keith?"
The messenger sighed, and pushed the hood off his head. "Stay quiet."
"Did you…Where is your hair?!?"
"Shh! I said to stay quiet!" Keith hissed. "I cut it off and dyed it."
"There's a price on your head, lad. Greater if you're dead than alive."
Keith shrugged and raised his hood with both hands. "It does not surprise me."
"Keith," George said as he took a step forward, "what are you doing back in Donegal?"
"I am here because I have to get back into the castle."
"Back into the castle? Have you lost your mind?"
The younger man pulled his father-in-law toward him, so that they were both standing the shadow of the wagon, where they could not be easily seen.
"Keep. Quiet."
"But—"
"Quiet."
George said in a furious whisper, "Keith, there is a price on your head. Sir Devon O'Boyle put it there. And you want to go charging right into the castle?"
"I need to reach Lord Derry. He is in a situation of incredible danger."
"How—why—"
Keith glanced around them. "I do not have time to explain it. But the troupe will be going to Donegal Castle tomorrow, and you cannot tell a soul that you have seen me. Not even Shannon."
"Shannon? How could—" George stopped himself and peered into the shadows of his son-in-law's hood. "Keith, have you not gone by your house since you returned?"
"What? Of course not; it was far too dangerous to be seen anywhere near the house." The Scot's words hit him full force. "Why do you ask? Has something happened? Oh, God, if that man…"
"Keith," George said. "They disappeared."
"What? When?"
"It must have been a month ago."
"A month…Oh, lord. Devon has them."
"Sir Devon?"
"Yes. He poses a great threat to Lord Derry, and to the people of Ireland."
The Scot opened his mouth to say something, but Keith shook his head. "I do not have time to explain it all. George, you must promise me something."
"Yes."
"Go back into the tavern and act as though nothing has happened. No one must know that I have returned to Donegal."
"You cannot ask me to do that. I will not stand by as you risk your life to do God knows what, while my daughter and grandchildren are locked away."
The younger man took his father-in-law by the shoulders. "George. You cannot accompany me; it is too great risk. It would raise too many eyebrows if you joined the minstrel players in the castle. I cannot risk any undue attention."
"Sir Devon has dozens of men to perform his every wish. You cannot defeat them alone."
"Guards can be eluded."
"I will not let you do this alone, lad."
Keith barely smirked. "I will not be alone. Neil will aid me."
"Two men against dozens? That does not—"
"We will not discuss this."
"And why not? You have nothing else to do, lad."
"I had—my plan—"
"Had?" George rubbed his chin. "Old plans are worth nothing to us."
"I had a plan, and a good one. But if Shannon and the children are imprisoned in the castle…"
"What?"
Keith pulled his hood further forward. "Then I must change the plan."
|
|
|
Post by laurenne on Aug 4, 2010 18:44:28 GMT -5
What's the new plan? I can't wait for more.
|
|
|
Post by celticbear on Aug 4, 2010 22:52:11 GMT -5
Okay Ghost I agree with Laurenne, What is the new plan, and what is Lord Derry(Damo saying to Sir Devon) UPDATE SOON! I Still want Keith or Damo to skewer Devon!
|
|
VolleyErica3
Beta
Cabin Lass
Music = my life *points* the green guys name is Fredward ^_^
Posts: 174
|
Post by VolleyErica3 on Aug 5, 2010 10:24:04 GMT -5
*dramatic music plays* WE NEED TO KNO WHAT THIS NEW PLAN IS!!! more soon pleeeeeeeeeeeease?!
|
|
|
Post by CelticLass91 on Aug 5, 2010 14:17:03 GMT -5
AAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! SO GOOD!!!!!!! can. not. wait. for. next. UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
|
|
|
Post by CelticLass91 on Aug 9, 2010 19:39:18 GMT -5
*sits in the 'The Homes of Donegal' thread and waits for the next update...*
|
|
|
Post by celticbear on Aug 10, 2010 18:46:45 GMT -5
*CB joins CC91 in the "The Homes of Donegal" thread and waits for the update....*
|
|
|
Post by Ghost on Aug 11, 2010 14:38:11 GMT -5
*** Lord Derry stood by his desk, one hand resting lightly on an old tome that sat on the wood. O'Boyle stood opposite him.
"Devon," the young lord began, "I want to speak to you about your recent conduct."
The knight folded his arms across his chest. "Have I acted improperly?"
"You have forgotten your station."
O'Boyle allowed his eyes to widen a fraction, but otherwise did not allow himself to show any emotion.
"I should have said something earlier, of course. But I was preoccupied with—ehh, that is beside the point. At any rate, you must not make the castle guard so strong a presence in Donegal, nor the soldiers in the rest of Derry. I do not want my people living in fear."
"Fear can be excellent motivation."
"Nevertheless," Damian said as he leaned against the smooth wood behind him, "I do not want them to be afraid. They do not understand the situation with England, and it is not necessary for them to be told yet. There is no use in their worrying about something that has not, and might never, escalate to violence."
The youth was proving to be an astute lord.
"Very well. I will have the patrols corrected."
He made a move to exit the room, but Damian stopped him.
"There is more. It has come to my attention that you have issued certain orders under my authority but without my consultation."
O'Boyle smoothed his expression and kept his voice level. "If I did not consult you prior to my taking action, it was because I did not wish to bother you with trifles."
For that, the knight found Damian's blue eyes gazing at him with fiery intensity. "Moving a man's wife and children into Donegal Castle for an indefinite amount of time is hardly a trifle, Devon. Nor is posting a reward for a man that is greater for him dead than alive."
O'Boyle clenched his jaw. "I did what was necessary."
"Was that necessary?"
"Keith Harkin is a spy for the English."
"I do not deny that, Devon." But denial is not belief, the lord added to himself.
"I exiled him, and posted the reward in order to keep him from any further treachery."
"But what of his wife and children? They had no hand in it."
"Ah yes." The knight smirked and a glint shone in his eye. "I had them brought here in the event that Harkin attempts to return."
"No." Damian frowned.
"No?"
"Whatever you are planning, it will cease immediately. Keith Harkin may be a contact for the English, but his family will remain unharmed."
"But—"
"No. Devon, I told you that you have overstepped your authority. I am the lord of Derry, and you will answer to me."
O'Boyle bit his tongue.
"Tomorrow, I will have Declan escort Keith's wife and children back to their home. Henceforward, you and your men are to treat them as you would any other peasant family. Do you understand?"
The knight maintained a smooth expression, but his eyes smoldered. He gave Damian a stiff, curt bow. "Yes, my lord."
"Good. From now on, I want to be informed before you take any actions involving the people and welfare of Donegal—and Derry. If I do not give you permission for it, it will not be done."
"Yes, my lord."
"That will be all."
O'Boyle bowed again.
"Oh yes, and I believe the minstrel Neil Byrne and his band of players have returned to Donegal. When they arrive at the castle, ask if they will be ready to perform for us tonight."
O'Boyle nodded and left the chamber.
O'Boyle was overstepping his authority? Damian was the one who had deluded himself into thinking that the peasantry was worth anything! He spent far too much time thinking about the "good" of the commoners, and not enough time focusing on the betterment of Derry's position in Ireland.
That was why Lord Derry had to be killed. And now that he had suddenly decided that he wanted his power back, his death would have to come swiftly. But it could not arouse suspicion...
O'Boyle would have to find the best way to go about it. And once Damian was dead, O'Boyle would quite naturally assume the vacant seat of power. After that, it would merely be a matter of time before County Derry grew to such strength that Ireland would be caught between an English invasion from the east and a push from Derry in the west.
Alliances with other western lords would have to be made, of course. Clearly not Lord Tyrone—he would side with Lord Dublin and the Irish until the end.
But O'Boyle was getting ahead of himself. He must first fashion an accident to befall young Lord Derry—preferably tragic. Until that opportunity presented itself, O'Boyle would be the perfect model of loyalty and obedience.
The knight set about his duties, accompanied by a permanent smirk and a thousand schemes.
*** The minstrels arrived at Donegal Castle a few hours later. The entire group wore cloaks, pulling the hoods over their heads as they passed through the portcullis into the castle courtyard. The overcast sky gave the grounds a gray pallor that dampened even the brightest of moods.
Shortly after the minstrel players entered the courtyard, several members of the castle guard emerged from the keep in order to assist them. Brennan was there, of course, and he immediately approached Neil.
"I will take you to your quarters."
The other members of the guard assisted the players in unloading their goods and taking the horse and wagon to the stables.
"Does Lord Derry wish us to perform tonight?"
"He does, indeed. If you are willing."
Neil grinned. "Of course we are willing."
"Good. Shall my men take your things to your quarters?"
The minstrel shook his head. "Have them take the trunks to the usual chamber near the main hall. We will be needing them for tonight's performance."
"Very well."
The guard turned to give his men the order, and then the band of minstrel players followed him into the keep.
The seven players were given the same chambers that they always had in Donegal Castle; a fairly large suite of rooms that was not lavishly furnished, but was comfortable enough. For Keith, who had grown used to sleeping on the ground in order to make room for the other players, the mere sight of the two wide couches in the antechamber was enough to satisfy him.
Not that he would be using the couches at all, if his new plan worked.
"Shall we rehearse tonight's play?" Neil said after Brennan left them.
The other players had removed their cloaks and had begun to relax in whatever ways they saw fit. At the mention of rehearsals—of any work at all—they shook their heads and sighed.
After a few minutes of discussion, the small troupe settled on a play that everyone knew quite well, but had not performed in Donegal for a long while. Little rehearsal would be necessary, and therefore they would have more time to themselves. Nevertheless, they situated themselves around the antechamber as though it were the main hall, and began to rehearse.
Neil gave Keith a single nod, permission to go about the castle as he chose. He would not be needed at all in this play, and setting out the costumes and things would not be necessary until the players were making preparations immediately before their act.
Keith slipped out the door, pushing his hood off of his head—to leave it on would surely seem odd. He needed to stay unobserved, not rouse any attention. Now was not the time to go sneaking about the keep; that would come later. All that he needed to do now was to find out where his family was being kept.
He ran a hand through his shortened, darkened hair and across his smooth chin. The disguise would really not be enough to keep someone who knew him well from recognizing him—as it had not worked with his father-in-law. But Keith hoped, and planned, that it would be good enough to give an adversary pause, buying Keith the time he would need.
The company's chambers were on the higher levels of the keep. It seemed as though it were a good enough place to hold captives without giving the impression of imprisonment. The corridors were empty, dim, and silent. Keith's soft footfalls reverberated off the stone walls. How was he going to locate his family without drawing attention to himself?
He rounded the corner, and immediately stepped back. Brennan, the tall captain of the castle guard, stood at an open door in the adjacent hallway.
Keith sneaked a glance around the corner. Brennan was nodding, presumably to a person within the chamber who was speaking to him.
The guard said, "Aye. You'd better get your things ready. Lord Derry says you're to be escorted out tomorrow morning."
The figure that Keith could not see said something further.
"He did not say," Brennan replied. His tone changed as he continued, "Did you wish to stay longer?"
Keith finally heard the guard's interlocutor. She—for it was a woman—laughed a short, chuckling sort of laugh and then said something that Keith could not hear. His heart skipped a beat. He knew that laugh.
Shannon.
Keith pulled back and leaned against the stones, biting back a victorious laugh of his own. Devon's best guard had led Keith straight to his family.
He waited until Brennan's footsteps had faded down the corridor. Keith hesitated—he longed to lay eyes on his wife and children again, but to do so now was a temptation. A great temptation. He could very well decide to forget the plan and attempt to rush out of the castle immediately, thereby putting everything in jeopardy.
Keith shrugged to himself. He would walk down the corridor, at least. He strode into the hallway, sauntering down it as though he had done this a hundred times. His ears strained for any sound from the chamber where his family was—one of the children's voices, Shannon's laugh or scold. But the only sound he heard was his own footsteps.
He paused at the door to the suite of rooms, lifted his hand to knock. His knuckles were an inch from the wood of the door when he stopped himself.
He could not do this. He knew that if he saw his family now, he would throw caution to the wind. He would not be able to part with them.
Keith swallowed and fought the rising sadness within him. It would only be a few more hours, he reminded himself. A few more hours, and then they would be safe again. Lord Derry, and County Derry, and Keith's family, would all be safe again. Slowly, reluctantly, he dropped his fist back down to his side. Turning on his heel, he strode back down the corridor the way he had come.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 11, 2010 17:24:53 GMT -5
Oh my! Poor Keef geek! Update soon dearest!
|
|
|
Post by CelticLass91 on Aug 11, 2010 17:28:00 GMT -5
*jumps up from her spot where shes been waiting* YAY! AN UPDATE!!!!! OH what is Keith's new plan....? hmmmm?
|
|
VolleyErica3
Beta
Cabin Lass
Music = my life *points* the green guys name is Fredward ^_^
Posts: 174
|
Post by VolleyErica3 on Aug 11, 2010 18:03:13 GMT -5
YAY!!! U UPDATED!!! i've read thsi story BUT im still reading it again! KEITH U NEED TO SAVE THEM!!!
|
|
|
Post by laurenne on Aug 11, 2010 19:27:33 GMT -5
He's found them. Loved the update. More soon, please.
|
|
|
Post by celticbear on Aug 11, 2010 22:21:21 GMT -5
Ghost you better update soon. And I hope the Play Neil is going to perform will prove to Lord Derry(Damo) who the real spy is! DOWN WITH DEVON! HURRAY FOR KEITH AND NEIL! Ghost I love how Damo told Devon off!
|
|
|
Post by Ghost on Aug 16, 2010 14:48:22 GMT -5
Nightfall found the players crowded into a small side chamber off the corridor that ran between the main hall and the castle kitchens.
Most of the troupe rehearsed their lines for the play. Neil had somehow managed to find enough space in one corner to practice his lute. Keith, ignoring the lack of space, busied himself by assisting the players with their costumes, false hair, and props.
His mind, however, was elsewhere, going back over his new plan time and again, hoping that everything—and everyone—would be in place at the proper time, praying that no unforeseen circumstances would develop and send things awry.
A soft knock came at the door, and one of Lord Derry's highest castle servants, a man named Declan, poked his head inside.
"Lord Derry and his guests await your performance."
Neil nodded, thanked him, and turned to the company. "Let us give the lord our all."
So saying, the leader of the minstrel players led the other members of the costumed troupe out of the chamber, leaving Keith alone with the open trunks.
The messenger set about organizing the costumes that were strewn over the couches, laying out atop the trunks the ones that would be needed. He placed the necessary musical instruments and other props alongside the costumes.
Now came a period of waiting. He could do nothing until the performance reached the musical interlude that the players would perform in between halves of the play.
Until that point, the players would be in and out of the side chamber as they changed costumes and retrieved props.
But at the halfway point of the play, the entire troupe (which would have returned to the side chamber in stages) would go back to the main hall to dance, sing, and play before Lord Derry and his guests.
And that would be the perfect moment for Keith to slip out unnoticed.
With nothing better to do, Keith removed his cloak and picked up Neil's lute. Stretching out in one corner of the room, he began to play the instrument with a few soft strums. How good it felt to play the lute again!
Ah, but he had given up so much when he left the troupe to become a messenger, hadn't he? He had given up the life he had always thought that he would lead. And for what?
Keith smiled to himself as he continued to play, his fingers dancing across the neck of the instrument with old familiarity. For what? To gain a life that was ten times—no, a hundred times—better than he could have imagined. He had a home now, a good position among Lord Derry's servants, and a family that was all his own.
Or at least, he once did. Lord knew what would become of his current life if Devon O'Boyle succeeded in whatever scheme he was planning. Keith hoped that the knight's scheme was little more than framing the messenger for treachery. If there was more…
'Twould not be good, for the lord or for the county. Or for Ireland.
Keith sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. It did not directly concern him if Devon had greater plans for himself. What concerned Keith were the protection of his family and the protection of his lord.
Once he delivered his and Lord Dublin's message to Lord Derry, once the warning about Devon had been given, Keith's task would be complete. If only it could be completed as simply as speaking with the lord once he had retired for the evening. Keith shrugged to himself, pushed those thoughts away, and plucked at the lute.
The door creaked open and Neil stepped inside.
"The first half is nearly finished," he said.
Neil began to remove his outer costume in order to change into his usual minstrel attire. It was not until he was pulling the tunic over his head and off his arms that saw the instrument Keith held in his hands.
"What are you doing? That's a good way to get yourself recognized, my friend."
The sound of raucous laughter floated in from the hallway.
"They'll be finishing up now," Neil muttered. "Are you ready to do this?"
Keith nodded, and stood to place the lute back on the trunk where it belonged.
"Once the play ends, we will return to our chambers. I will not be able to help you at all."
"I understand."
Neil smoothed his brightly colored tunic. "You had best leave, then. I will tell the others that you went to get something to eat."
Keith took his cloak in both hands and spread it across his shoulders. The minstrel had given him an opportunity to leave earlier, and Keith was not about to turn that opportunity down.
"Many thanks, old friend."
Neil nodded, strapping on his tunic's belt as he said, "I wish you luck."
The messenger nodded in return and, drawing his hood over his head, moved out of the room into the corridor. The hall was empty, but riotous applause made its way from the main hall of the castle. He must move swiftly, or the other players would see him as they returned from the ending of the first act of their performance.
He took a breath and made his way to the stairs usual taken by the nobility. He would have been far more comfortable on the servants' stairs, but on a night such as this, the servants' corridors would be bustling with activity. No, it was the nobility and their guests who would not be wandering about the castle tonight.
He took the stone steps two at a time, gliding down a hallway in order to reach the back stairwell—the only one that went all the way up to the highest level of the keep. The halls, the stairs, were quiet. Even the servants would be attempting to catch a glimpse of Neil and his troupe, whose abilities were famous throughout Derry and Tyrone.
Keith could not have been more grateful for that fact than he was now. He strode with sure footsteps down the final corridor, still seeing no one, and stopped before the door to his family's prison chamber.
He breathed once, deeply, trying in vain to calm his nerves. They were safe already, were they not? Should he put them in danger by removing them from the castle? He shook his head. The danger to Shannon and the children would be far, far greater if they were still here when—if—his attempt to reach Lord Derry ran into any sort of trouble.
Without knocking, Keith let himself into the room and shut the door softly behind him.
|
|