"Don't be foolish," his wife chided him. "We'll need the monies you have to outfit our ships. If it would make you feel better you may pay me a fee for leasing my ships."

"It's quite practical," the duke told his son-in-law, "and I know both the Cardiff Rose and the Highlander are well-maintained both above and below the water line. You cannot be certain of that if you buy a strange vessel, unless, of course, you have the ship dry docked for inspection before you purchase it, and it is doubtful its owner would allow you to do so because of the expense involved."

"And the Cardiff Rose has the most wonderful master cabin for us to travel in," she murmured at him, her eyes bright with her love.

James Leslie chuckled at his stepdaughter. How like her mother she was although she could not know it, he thought. "I am sorry to spoil your romantic dream, poppet," he said, "but it is unlikely many women will be allowed to go with Lord Calvert's expedition until it is decided where he will settle the colony, and housing is built."

"That's ridiculous!" Fortune said.

"Nonetheless that is the way it will probably be," the duke told her. "You have no choice, I fear."

"Then we shall not go," Fortune replied firmly.

"And where will you live then?" he asked her.

"We shall buy a house near Cadby, or Queen's Malvern," she said with what she thought was perfect logic, "or perhaps near Oxton so I may be near my sister, India."

"With your Irish Catholic husband?" the duke posed.

Fortune's face fell. "Oh dear," she said, suddenly realizing how foolish she must have sounded. "The Puritans in England are every bit as bad as the Protestants in Ulster where the Catholics are concerned, aren't they?" she reasoned aloud, not needing an answer to her own question. "We could go to France, or Spain," she suggested.

"Where you, my darling wife, would be every bit as discriminated against as I am in Protestant lands," he told her. "There is no help for it, Fortune. If we are to live together in peace we must go to the New World; and if Lord Calvert will have me, I may have to go alone until the colony is safe for women."

Before Fortune might protest further Adali came into the hall. "Father Cullen just sent word there is a large party of horsemen coming down upon the village from the direction of Lisnaskea, my lord. I thought, perhaps, that you would want to know. Your preparations are all in effect."

"What preparations?" Jasmine asked her husband.

"For the defense of both the village and the castle," her husband told her. "We canna allow that rabble from Lisnaskea to destroy Maguire's Ford as they did their own nest." He arose from his seat. "I must go and join the others."

"What others?" Jasmine demanded struggling to her own swollen feet. "I am coming with you, Jemmie. These lands are, after all, still mine, and I think it important that I am seen."

He wanted to argue with her, but he knew she was correct in her reasoning. Besides, he considered with a small chuckle, he would not dissuade her no matter what he said. "Come then, madame," he said.

"We're coming too," Fortune told them.

The duke of Glenkirk burst out laughing, but led the way without another word. They assembled in the square of Maguire's Ford with its tall stone Celtic cross at its center. The Reverend Mr. Steen, Father Cullen, and the town's leaders, both Protestant and Catholic, were awaiting them. About them the houses were shuttered and barred. Not even a dog, or a cat, wandered the street this day. Above them the skies were gray with the clouds of an impending autumnal storm, but on the western horizon a slash of blazing red and gold shone with the setting sun from beneath the clouds. Not a breeze stirred. Not a bird called. There was silence but for the faint hum of the mob which grew louder as it approached them.

Down the road into Maguire's Ford they came, led by William Devers upon a fine bay gelding. They carried torches, and the faces of the men behind Sir William were stone hard and without pity. Seeing the welcoming party ahead of them they stopped, and their master moved his mount slowly forward until he stood in front of the duke and his wife. He glared down at them.

"If you come in peace, Sir William," Jasmine said, "you are welcome here. If you do not come in peace, I would request you depart."

He pointedly ignored her, directing his speech to James Leslie instead. "Is it your custom, my lord, to allow a woman to speak for you?" he asked the duke insultingly.

James Leslie laughed mockingly at the young man. "Maguire's Ford and its castle belong to my wife, Sir William. I cannot speak for her any more than she would speak for me in matters pertaining to my possessions. Now, sir, my wife has asked you a question. Have the courtesy to answer it lest you betray your mother's base heritage."

William Devers flushed. He was being made a fool of before his own men, and he did not like it. He heard a faint snickering behind him, but did not turn about for he had too much pride. "We have come for your Catholics," he said. "Give them to us that we may cleanse Maguire's Ford of their foul popery, and we will go in peace."

"Get off of my lands, and take your rabble with you," the duchess of Glenkirk said in an even, cold voice. "Am I Pilate that I would betray innocent people into the hands of your intolerant mob?" She stepped forward so that his horse was forced to move back a pace. "How dare you come here and attempt to cause trouble? The Protestants and the Catholics have lived in peace at Maguire's Ford for years. The Catholics here took in the Protestants ten years ago when they had nowhere else to go. They built a church for them, and all have lived in equanimity ever since. How presumptuous you are, William Devers, to think that you have God's permission to come here and cause murder and chaos on this All Hallows' Eve. You are more the devil's disciple than you are God's, I believe. Go now before I set the wolfhounds on you, and your men!"

"Madame, I will have what I came for," he replied stubbornly. "Search the houses, and bring out the Catholics," he commanded.

Suddenly a flaming arrow arced into the darkening skies above the town, and the bells in both the churches began to peal furiously. The doors of the holy houses at either end of the village opened, and the population of Maguire's Ford streamed forth from their separate ends of the town, surrounding the Lisnaskea men. All were armed with something, from ancient blunderbusses to scythes to frying pans and iron pots.

"Our people will not allow you to turn them against one another," Jasmine told Sir William. "We all worship the same God."

"Hear me!" her opponent cried out from his vantage point upon the back of his mount. "How can you live in the same place as these dirty papists, men of Maguire's Ford? We have cleansed Lisnaskea of their kind, and now with your help we will do the same here! Join us!"

The Reverend Steen spoke for his people. "We will not join you, William Devers. Go home!"

"Have you joined the legions of the damned, Samuel Steen?" Sir William asked him.

The Protestant minister laughed aloud. "Do not presume to judge me or mine, William Devers. You have broken more than one of God's commandments. Thou shalt not kill! Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife, or lands! Honor thy father, and thy mother! You are no fit leader. You are a bully, and a bigot. Get you gone from here!"

William Devers suddenly kicked his horse, and the beast leapt forward, startled, knocking both Jasmine and the Reverend Mr. Steen to the road. A cry of outrage arose from the Maguire's Ford people, but then to everyone's surprise a single shot rang out. With an absolutely astounded look in his eye, Sir William tumbled forward from his horse and onto the ground.

"They've shot Sir William," the cry arose among the Lisnaskea men. "We must be avenged!"

"Nay, the Maguire's Ford men did not shoot him. I did," a voice from among the Lisnaskea mob said, and surprised, they parted to allow a young lad forward.

" 'Tis Bruce Morgan, the smith's son," came a faceless cry.

The Reverend Samuel Steen pulled himself to his feet while the duke helped his wife up. "Why, lad?" the Protestant cleric asked the youngster. "Why have you killed Sir William, Bruce Morgan?" Gently he took the ancient pistol from the lad, amazed it had fired at all let alone with such deadly accuracy.

"ForAine," came the devastating reply. "For Aine, and because of what he did to her. I heard it, but I could not believe it, and so I crept into the house while they were all trying to rescue those in the church. I saw what he did to my lass. We were to be wed one day, you see. I loved her."

"Do you think I'd let you marry some damned Catholic wench, a whore's fatherless offspring?" his father, the smithy, Robert Morgan said, pushing forward angrily. "And now look what you've done, you stupid boy! You've killed our leader. You're no son of mine any longer!"

"Sir William was an evil man, Da," Bruce Morgan replied, drawing himself up to his full height now, and they suddenly saw the boy was almost a man. "And do you think I would have let you stop me from marrying Aine? I never cared about her religion, Da. I cared about her!"

"Faugh!" his father snorted. "I'll hang you myself to take the shame of what's been done here off my name."

There was a faintly audible groan at their feet, and Reverend Steen cried out, "Sir William is not dead! He is injured, but alive."

Kieran Devers quietly reached out to touch young Morgan's shoulder while the others were distracted. "Go to the castle, laddie," he said. "I'll not see you hanged. Hurry before they remember you again. Sir William will not be generous in this matter. Go now!" He watched with a faint smile upon his lips as the lad did his bidding.

"Fetch something to use as a stretcher," the duchess of Glenkirk, finally on her feet again, said. "I'll not have this man in my home, but perhaps Reverend Steen you will see the physician is fetched, and you will shelter Sir William until he is fit to travel again." She looked into the mob before her, forcing herself to stand as tall as she might, but the pains wracking her were difficult to ignore. Still, Jasmine reasoned, just a moment more. "Men of Lisnaskea, are there any of you here who saw Bruce Morgan fire the shot that has injured Sir William? If not, for his father's sake keep silent, I beg of you. You will not see the lad again, and by the time Sir William and his family stop to consider who fired the shot, Bruce Morgan will be long gone from Ulster. He is but a boy, and he loved a young girl who was foully abused and then murdered by Sir William. You know in your hearts what he did to Aine Fitzgerald was an evil iniquity, and a sin as well. Do not compound his sin or the lad's with one of your own. Now go back to Lisnaskea. I will not permit you to wreak havoc in Maguire's Ford." She stood glaring at them until the men had the good grace to turn slowly about, and start making their way home, their torches lighting the darkened road before them as they went. Jasmine Leslie gasped loudly, and fell to her knees. "Yer bairn will be early, Jemmie," she said through gritted teeth.

"Mama!" Fortune ran to her mother's side.

James Leslie didn't bother to wait for help. Pushing his stepdaughter aside, he lifted his wife up in his arms and carried her through the village, across the drawbridge, and into the castle.

Seeing him enter the hall old Biddy called out, "Have you a birthing table, my lord?"

Rohana came running. "I will take care of my lady," she said. "I have been doing it since she was born."

"Let Biddy care for the bairn after it is born," Jasmine said so the old woman would not be offended by Rohana. "And she can help you now too, for she has had the experience." Then she groaned. "This child will wait for no one now it has decided to be born! It will not be like you, my Fortune, taking forever, and then having to be turned about so you could come properly. Ahhh! I can feel the child's head! It is coming now!"

James Leslie knew just what to do. He deposited his wife on the high board, and braced her shoulders so the other women might aid her. There was absolutely no time for niceties. Jasmine groaned with her labor. She had never had so quick a birthing, but she could quite distinctly feel the child's head pushing down. "Rohana?"