The Lord of Ireland (The Fifth Knight Series Book 3) by E.M. Powell Page A

get paid for fighting. Even better, the Lord John would reward us with our own lands.’ His big, bland face became curious. ‘As I’m sure you will get too.’
    ‘I have land.’ Palmer went to swing his axe again but stopped dead.
    Theodosia.
    She had walked out of her tent, jug in hand, headed towards a barrel of water in a quiet corner.
    ‘What I need now is to get some water.’ Palmer laid his axe down, pulse surging at this chance. ‘Keep at it.’ He nodded at the tree trunk. ‘It’s almost done, and we’ll have something to show for this morning.’
    ‘That we will.’ Simonson set to, happy to claim Palmer’s work as his.
    Palmer walked over to Theodosia, holding in his deepest urge to run to her as she struggled to lift the heavy lid. ‘Need a hand, sister?’
    She looked up and her eyes met his. Delight and relief shone in them as he knew did in his own.
    She took in a long, long breath. ‘Please, good sir.’
    He lifted the lid with ease and laid it on the ground. ‘There’s no one near?’ He kept his voice low.
    ‘No, we’re alone,’ she said. ‘Oh, Benedict. How I wish I could hold you.’
    ‘And I you. You ’ re unharmed? ’
    ‘Yes. Though it shames me to say it, when I thought we were under attack, I was so frightened.’
    ‘I know you must’ve been. But I was watching your tent. You shouldn’t have come outside.’
    Her gaze dropped like a stone.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Swear to me you will do nothing.’ She bent to pick up her water jug from beside the barrel.
    ‘Theodosia.’
    She looked at him again. ‘John forced me out. He concealed himself behind me so he could get to his men.’
    ‘So the warrior lord is in truth no more than a yellow-braies. The snivelling little snake.’ With a low growl, Palmer yanked the jug from her. ‘We’re leaving. Now. I’ll take my chances in explaining why to Henry. I know I can get us home.’
    ‘No.’ Theodosia tried to tug the vessel back. ‘We must stay.’
    ‘To have you used by John to try to save his own skin?’ Palmer held firm. ‘Theodosia, the man has no idea of what he’s doing. Look at what he did at Waterford, insulting the Irish and estranging them. Proclaiming some wild conquest of his own.’ He battled to keep his voice from climbing. ‘Here at Tibberaghny is no bett er. H e’s brought men who know less about fighting than a dairymaid. And they know even less about building a fortification. We still have only half a wall, and half of that will fall over if there’s a gale. He’s drinking with his friends every minute he has, instead of leading the men he’s got. I’ll wager the Irish know it. They’re playing this perfectly: I sw ear they’re biding their time, waiting for the right moment.’
    ‘Precisely.’
    Her response threw him, and she scooped the jug from him.
    ‘Benedict, John believes Hugh de Lacy is definitely working against him, possibly his wife, Eimear, too. He spoke freely to Gerald of it.’ Her hands tightened on the jug as she gave him an account of what she had overheard. ‘Which means that my father’s suspicions are correct. If I stay where I am, at Gerald’s side, I may be able to gather information to pass on to you. Information which you can use far more effectively than John.’
    Palmer was glad she held the jug. He probably would’ve dropped it. ‘You mean act as a spy?’
    ‘Call it what you will.’ She gave a twitch of a smile. ‘After all, that is what you are for the King, is it not?’ She didn’t allow his answer. ‘But if I am also in a position to help you to do what the King needs, what he ordered, then that is what I must do.’
    ‘Theodosia. It’s too dangerous. You can’t.’
    ‘I can.’ She dipped the jug into the barrel. ‘This water butt can serve as our meeting place when it is deserted. No one will question our presence here.’ She held the full vessel with a look as firm a s he r tone. ‘Now I must return or Gerald will wonder where I am.’ Her free