The Macconwood Wolf Pack Tales

Chapter 6: Betrayal

"How long have ye been in yer cups, brother?"

"What is it you want, Lyall?"

"Ah, well for one, father is furious. Tell old Lyall now, what ails ye so this evening? Can it be the beggarly maid you're betrothed to or is it yer Wolf that plagues yer mind?"

Eoghan raised his head from the scarred wooden table and looked into the dark gray eyes of his younger brother, Lyall. Hmm, he seemed happy, an odd thing for his younger brother.

Eoghan saw no trace of the Wolf within the man. Lyall always was hard to read, but even more so when it was between moons as it was now. He wished he too had mastered the art of hiding his troubles in public.

Mayhaps he should ask him for lessons in the matter for future reference. ‘Twas too late for now, Eoghan wore his heart and his woes on his sleeve. What a sad and sorry wretch he felt!

"My lord, shall I help ye to yer quarters?"

"Nay, Tom, I shall remain with my brother. Ye may go."

"Aye, sir." Tom Kelly had proved a loyal lad and brave too. Eoghan wondered why he stared at them for a moment before heading out the doors to the courtyard.

"You know brother, wallowing in self-pity is not a pretty thing. Even for a Werewolf who looks like Adonis."

"Oh, shut up, Lyall, I am not in the mood for yer sarcastic comments. Can't you see my heart is torn asunder?"

"Ah. So, tis the other than? The mystery wench? Perhaps she was of the Coven you destroyed and haunts yer dreams as a form of revenge?"

Eoghan glared at his brother from over the top of his mug. He'd been drinking for three straight hours, but as was the way with Werewolves the ale had little effect. And none that was lasting.

Eoghan took in is brother and wondered at their differences. How was it he had hair as pale and fair as silver while his own brother's sheared locks were dark as midnight. Like night and day, they were opposite in looks as with dress.

Eoghan favored the plain wool leines and trews of the common folk. He hardly ever wore the mantle his father had bestowed on him. It was a fine cloak of the softest wool dyed and stitched with great care, but Eoghan was a warrior and preferred to dress lightly to assure swift and unobstructed movement.

Lyall dressed to show his wealth and opulence. As if to announce his status to all. There was no doubt in his finely sewn inar and the exaggerated sleeves of his leine that he was the son of the Chief and Alpha.

"Nay, she was no Witch and I'll have words with any who says otherwise," Eoghan said.

His growl was fierce. Lyall moved quickly to expose his throat. Indeed, dress was not the only way in which he differed from his older brother. The Wolf in Eoghan knew prey when he saw it. Lyall sneered at the ground and Eoghan turned his head to regain his composure.

"We two have so little in common. That reminds me, I wanted to ask where you got the information on the location of the Coven? ‘Twas quite useful knowledge."

"A peasant girl told one of my spies that a Witch had passed in the wood where they were discovered. I never meant for ye to go yerself, Eoghan, those were Dungannon lands after all, wasn't it dangerous?"

Eoghan scowled. His brother was always coming across tidbits of information that proved useful in their search against the Dark Ones. Though Lyall was not a Hound himself, he aided their fight against evil.

"When will ye heed father and join the priesthood, Lyall?"

"Thanks, brother, but thus far, I have resisted the call to serve the Lord. After all, who could be above mine own father in my eyes?"

Eoghan missed the flash of anger in his brother. He agreed with him though. Lyall did not have the temperament for priesthood. He was quick to anger, though his rage displayed itself not in physical challenges, but in more subtle ways.

Eoghan recalled the Wolf who made the mistake of calling his brother a dandy. The man was assigned to clean the garderobes for six straight months.

The typical time for that particular duty was no more than a fortnight per assignment for all members of the Pack. But Lyall kept the ledgers and told the foremen who was to work which detail. ‘Twas only when Eoghan became aware of it, did he order the lad to another post. An error, Lyall had said.

"The danger came not from the Witches, but from the wondrous maiden who stepped softly through the woods like an angel on Earth. She stole my heart, I swear it, brother, and I am to wed another. Curse me for a fool!"

"Ease your mind, now, perhaps father would be willing to change his mind."

"Nay, he cares not for my ordeal."

"Let me think on it then, man, perhaps I can help."

Eoghan grasped his brother's shoulder and squeezed though he feared there was naught he could do to sway their da's mind. We are so different, he thought. Lyall believed he could influence their father where Eoghan knew there was little chance of that.

Lyall's dark hair gleamed in the dim firelight. He was smallish for a male Werewolf. Thin and slight despite is long sleeved leine and puffed inar. He lacked the physical prowess to fight his way to the top of the Pack, and so Lyall leaned heavily on his status to exert influence among others. He was cunning in the ways of man and court.

Eoghan had no use for such things. His father used to joke that he was born more Wolf than man. His only desire to run free. When they were pups, Eoghan often reveled in exerting dominance and strength over his younger brother. He competed against any who would rise to the challenge and won many a fight on their training grounds.

"If my position in the Pack was as secure as yours, mayhaps I would not listen to father."

"Oh, Lyall, ye don't understand. I am father's oidhre, his heir, by blood and by dominance. Tis I who must obey the most, for all watch me and act as I do."

"Mayhaps a challenge then?"

"Nay! How could ye think it? I'd never harm father, if I even could. He is much loved by all. His sons included!"

"Yea, tis true."

"Father has a grace and dignity reserved for very few in his position and yet he is much respected by his men and the Pack. Nay, I would die for father, I'd never dream of challenging him. I admit I am surprised ye would suggest it."

"Aye, forget it. I just hate to see you so pained."

Eoghan's reputation for being good and brave was almost as well-known as his fair face. His brother was not as easily trusted among the men. These days he shut down rumors about Lyall with little more than a look.

His mother bade him on her deathbed to watch her second son. He readily agreed as he saw how anxious it made her. Werewolves were naturally attuned to body language. Eoghan was no exception, but his brother was not so easily understood.

Eoghan chalked it up to differences in their nature. He was a leader of Wolves, both Pack and Hound. Lyall was a scholar.

He marched into battle with them against their true enemies. The Dark Witches and Demons who sought to rule the world. Lyall studied law and kept the Pack finances in order.

The destructive ways of the Dark Witches caused chaos, disease, and famine. The last fifty years had been filled with political and religious unrest across all of Britain. It was just the type of atmosphere those devils flourished in. Sometimes hiding in plain sight, even taking the role of village priest or counsel.

Eoghan was their judge, jury, and executioner. He'd been tasked by his da to hunt the Demons and burn the Witches who dared practice on their lands. He did so with pleasure in the name of the Almighty and for the security of his Pack.

His little brother was more bookish and less warrior. He studied ancient texts and worked as chief negotiator for his father. Though lately, he'd not been seen at many of the trade meetings and business dealings that took place on MacContire land.

Eoghan proved long ago he was the better warrior of the two of them. He was a valued fighter, the heir to his father's seat as Alpha and Chief of the Name, and the single most sought-after man in the entire county. Everything was his, and yet sometimes he envied Lyall.

He was fond of him. His sly and sarcastic younger brother was free to choose his life be it as priest, husband, lawyer, what have ye. Sure, he spent his days with scroll or book in hand, but ‘twas his choice to do so.

Eoghan cared little for the written word. He was more a man of action. Though, truth be told, he enjoyed the odd group of players who passed their village every now and again. Especially the wenches who travelled with them.

He looked at his brother's unsmiling face and frowned. Lyall was handsome in his way. When had Eoghan last seen him with a lass or two? Why, was his saintly brother too good for the company of the village wenches?

"Tell me Lyall, why is it that yer always alone with a ledger in hand and never with a young miss on yer arm?"

"I have things of more import to whittle away my time, and besides, you are the one who is fair of face. You've had many of the village wenches and yet you long for one who for all ye know could have been a figment of yer imagination. Ha!"

Eoghan missed the fire in Lyall's eyes as he tossed back the rest of the thick brew in his mug. Still he sympathized with him. It could not be easy for the lad being the second son. Eoghan would inherit all and Lyall, well, he was left to work for him.

"I drink to yer freedom, Lyall, may ye never waste it."

Too many chains came with Eoghan's position in the Pack. Lyall, bless his heart, would have naught to worry his dark head over. One thing he vowed upon his life, Eoghan would always take care of his brother. Blood was blood.

"Is it freedom ye long for? I fear ye shall be free when ye are dead, brother, so do not worry now," Lyall reached forward and poured more dark ale into Eoghan's mug.

"Aye. To death! Ha!" Eoghan's laughter echoed through the hall and Lyall narrowed his eyes.

"Tis really worth the trouble of drowning yerself in ale??"

"You know damn well it is! I must marry the Dungannon lass."

"Is that all?"

"Is that all?! Are ye daft? Tis agony! It pains my heart thus!"

"Eoghan, mayhaps you should find some means to soothe yer troubled heart?" Lyall reached for the arm of the hearty maid who'd been strutting past him for the past hour. He gave her buxom figure a generous squeeze and whispered in her ear whilst she giggled.

"Do not trouble yerself so, Eoghan, marrying the lass is easy. She'll not interfere much. Ye can search for the other when the vows are said, after all, there is naught she can do to stop you, is there?"

Eoghan watched his brother with lifted eyebrow. Lyall continued to hold the wench in one strong arm while he licked the side of her neck and, wait, did he just bite her? She squealed and pushed at him, but he was immovable.

He reached up her skirts in view of all in the place. ‘Twas most unlike him. Eoghan frowned. Whatever Lyall was about, the maid looked scared and cried aloud.

Eoghan was about to intervene, but suddenly, Lyall released her. She hurried off, wiping her eyes as she fled. Mayhap Eoghan needed to discuss the occurrence with Lyall, but he was distracted by his brother's words.

"Don't forget Eoghan that ‘twas I who met with the Dungannon on yer and father's behalf. On father's orders, of course. The cut in dowry was necessary I am afraid, but the maiden is pure and fresh, a normal and a virgin! Our own priest had it from her maid and surgeon."

"That is fine for her. At this point I'd not care whether she be Wolf, Dog or Bear!"

"What say you? Are ye daft? A normal who knows about Wolves and understands the way of things? Tis a blessing!"

"Aye, Lyall, but what of the rest of her? Is she intelligent? Is she kind? Thoughtful? Does she have good humor?"

"Ye mean how does she fair in looks?"

"Tis of no import. There is but one maid I can see in my mind."

"Well, come to think of it, she was veiled when I saw her, but her form was very comely. She was neither too plump nor too thin."

"Oh, that's reassuring!"

"Worry not, fair brother, worry not. I have it on the best authority that you will have all that is yer due."

Lyall grunted when Eoghan clapped him on the shoulder and stood to leave. Whatever was wrong with Lyall, Eoghan had little time for it now. He wished he could bury his sorrows somehow, but it was time for him to act a man.

He was promised and, though he had not made the vow himself, it was just as sacred. He would forget the lady of the woods and prepare himself for his marriage.

He hastened to the chapel and sought prayer and solitude. Perhaps he'd find the answer there. If not, there was always the training grounds. Hmm. Perhaps he'd go there first.