Erinsong by Mia Marlowe Page A

clapping and stomping till the floor of the keep
trembled. Brian Ui Niall kissed Brenna on the cheek and silenced
the crowd with upraised arms.
    “ ‘ Tis good to know my little songbird
hasn’t forgotten how to warble,” he said. “But pleasant as her
songs are, that’s not why I called all Donegal to the keep. We’re
here tonight to honor a stranger among us. Jorand, me lad, come up
here.”
    The guests parted to make way for the big
Northman.
    When Jorand reached the
king, Brian Ui Niall slapped both his hands on Jorand’s shoulders
and bid him to stand beside him and face
the throng.
    “In times past, I’ve hated
your kind, Northman. They’ve been a
scourge from the sea, the cause of end less woe to the people of Erin. I came to believe the raiders
from Lothland were more beast than man.”
    The gathering nodded its assent.
    “Since ye washed up on our
shores, I’ve altered me thinking on that
point somewhat. Now I’m after believing there’s good and evil in
all sorts of folk,” the king said as he turned to Jorand. “Ye are
one of the good ones.”
    The Northman studied the
floor, as if embarrassed by her father’s
praise.
    “For the way ye saved me daughter Moira, I’m
deeply in your debt.”
    Brenna’s heart lurched as Jorand looked over
the heads of the gathered Irishmen toward Moira, who was leaning
against the oak door.
    “I’m glad I was there to help,” Jorand said
simply.
    “So am I, lad,” the king said. “And that’s
why I’m after joining my house to ye. Here before these witnesses,
I’m offering ye me daughter’s hand in marriage.”
    Jorand seemed struck dumb as he continued to
gaze at Moira. Brenna thought she might be sick on the spot.
    “What say ye?” Brian demanded.
    “The king does me honor but—”
    “Good! ‘Tis settled then.
I’m pleased to announce the betrothal of me daughter to the
Northman, Jo rand,” the king said. “We’ll
finalize the details of the agreement in
private,” he said softly, then bellowed out, “Father Michael, we’ll
be havin’ a wedding!”
    Then, inexplicably, the king turned and took
Brenna’s hand. He led her to the Northman and placed her icy palm
in Jorand’s warm one. Then Brian held their joined hands aloft.
    The crowd was silent for
the space of a half dozen heartbeats, but
then roused itself to offer a chorus of well-wishes and half-hearted cheers.
    “God’s grace on the pair of
ye!” The king’s blessing echoed off the
stone walls. “And may your joining bring
peace and an end to the ravages of Northmen on the people of
Donegal.”
    So that was her father’s
thinking. A Norse son-in-law might exempt them from future raids.
Peace meant crops sown in season and full bellies all winter. Safety from Norse raiders was a
sentiment the clan could endorse
enthusiastically and the cheers were
louder and more heartfelt this time.
    Brenna hoped their marriage
would bring peace to someone. Since she
suspected her betrothed preferred her
sister, the union wasn’t likely to bring much peace to
her.
     
     

Chapter Eleven
     
     
    “Da, I cannot believe ye
would make this match with out so much as
a by-your-leave from me!” Brenna’s pent-up
outrage nearly exploded when the last guests straggled out of the keep in the wee hours of the
morning.
    “Or me,” Moira said coolly.
    “Be easy, daughters,” Brian
Ui Niall said, raising his hands to
silence them. “Moira, get ye to your bed this instant. Ye are not to trouble yourself further on this matter, and that’s me final
word.”
    Moira huffed her
disappointment, but the king’s dark scowl
sent her stomping off to the ladder. A mo ment later, from the uppermost story, Brenna heard the door to their small room slam with
vehemence.
    Brian Ui Niall sighed. “Brenna, ye must trust
me. ‘Tis only your welfare I’m thinking of.”
    “Me welfare!” Her brows
shot up. “To wed a stranger we know next to nothing of. How
can that possibly be conducive to me
welfare?”
    “