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I suppose, because they consider their English
overlord to be the Devil himself." A very simple version of the disturbing
truth.
    Mara frowned, her gaze
raking the structure. "It doesn't look dark to me."
    Niles interrupted before
Corwin could say any more. "A figure of speech, my lady."
    Mara continued to stare
at the castle, a single stone tower reaching for the sky. It was such a
beautiful place that she could hardly justify her reluctance to come.
    "I did not know
Lord Edmund had lands in Ireland." She turned her inquisitive gaze to
Corwin. "Where is the property?"
    "Wicklow, my lady,
south of Dublin," he replied. "The lands were part of his
grandmother's dowry. A very large, very profitable piece of land."
    "Profitable?"
    "Sheep,"
Corwin explained. "Fine wool and Irish whisky, to name a few."
    Mara nodded in
understanding, noting that Micheline's hysteria had calmed. Plain blue eyes
studied the structure as the woman hastened to dry her tears. She was sight
enough for her prospective bridegroom without the added distraction of
red-rimmed eyes.
    "Sir Kirk is from
Ireland," she sniffled. "Is he from Wicklow?"
    Corwin spurred his horse
forward, next to Mara as he answered. "Kirk's grandfather was a great
warlord. He served Lord Edmund’s grandfather for many years as adjutant for the
Wicklow properties. Kirk's father assumed the position after his father's
death, while Kirk came to Anchorsholme to personally serve the House of de
Cleveley."
    Mara's gaze was
lingering on the massive knight at the head of the column, his armor reflecting
the weak sunlight. "Will Kirk go back to Ireland to assume the position at
his father's passing?"
    Corwin nodded.
"Aye. Nearly half of County Wicklow belongs to the House of de Cleveley.
Kirk's father commands over four hundred English troops to protect and enforce
the holdings."
    Mara continued to
observe the distant knight, swaying in rhythm to his horse; in spite of the
fact that he had become both her mortal enemy and her savior, Corwin's
impressive tales about the man and his genealogy piqued her curiosity.
    "Where did Sir Kirk
foster?"
    "Kenilworth, my
lady. Lord Edmund’s father pledge him to the royal household to train."
    "Why?"
    Corwin smiled, a
lop-sided gesture. "Because when Kirk was seven years of age, he was as
tall as you are and several pounds heavier. The man is a product of centuries
of Celt lineage and Monroe De Cleveley recognized the natural warrior in him.
Better to train him properly with strong loyalty to England than to leave him
in the land of his forefathers where he can wreak havoc against the House of
Tudor."
    Mara pondered Kirk's
pedigree, agreeing inwardly that it was somewhat respectable. But considering
her lineage was also powerful in spite of her father's drain on the family
funds, she continued to act as if nothing about Kirk was impressive.
    "He's an Irish
barbarian, no matter what his lineage," she snorted, turning away to
observe the lush lands around her.  Wanting off the subject of Kirk Connaught,
she gestured to the landscape. "I still do not understand why Anchorsholme
Castle is called The Darkland. These lands are anything but dark."
    Niles was riding in
front of the women, hearing every word of the conversation although he
pretended otherwise. When Mara returned the subject to the dismal reference, he
leapt into the dialogue.
    "Lord Edmund has a
sister, the Lady Johanne," he said, veering the focus away from Anchorsholme's
reputation. "She is a little older than yourself, Lady Micheline. She has
been very excited for your arrival."
    Eyes dried, Micheline
looked pleased. "She has?" She turned to smile at Mara, who returned
the gesture. But when her sister returned her focus to Niles, Mara's rolled her
eyes and stuck out her tongue; that was what she thought of Lady Johanne's
excitement. "How wonderful," Micheline said, oblivious to her
sister's mocking expressions. "I had no idea my betrothed even had a
sister."
    Niles caught Mara's
gesture,