Chapter 42

                                    

                                          
The horrible screech rose again from what Brienna thought must be a lute, and she searched the room with her eyes, looking for its source. What she saw was Geoffrey, standing amongst the rest of the musicians, who stared at him like an intruder in their midst. Before the last reverberations of the sound died away, Ulf's hulking figure rose from the rows of seated guests, sword drawn, his enormous figure charging into the aisle.
Brienna realized the terrible lute note had been a pre-arranged signal when the great hall doors burst open, nearly coming off their hinges, and Llewellyn and Ruarc burst into the room, backed by a dozen Gwynedd warriors.
"Men of Leinster!" Donnall shouted, about to summon his soldiers to arms. Then he froze.
During the commotion, while Donnall was distracted by Geoffrey, Ulf, and the arrival of Llewellyn and Ruarc, Brienna had recovered her balance and pulled the dagger free of the bouquet, raising it up to Donnall's neck. This time, she found her mark—the tip of the blade poked deeply into the hollow below his Adam's apple, a pinprick of blood already trickling from where it lay.
"You said this was going to be the day I've been waiting for my whole life," Brienna said from between grit teeth. "I shouldn't have doubted you."
She held Donnall's gaze as his eyes widened, his face betraying fury and terror in equal measure. Then, before she could predict it, he dashed backwards, escaping the point of her blade and making a fast retreat through the door that led to the kitchens.
"Don't just stand there," Isobel hollered at her as she rushed past, "After him!"
Spurred to action, Brienna chased Donnall into the kitchens, Isobel keeping pace with her. She could sense Ulf's heavy trod behind her, the clanging approach of the Gwynedd soldiers behind him.
Brienna and Isobel spilled through the door into the kitchens. It was a chaos of activity—the staff rushing to finish all of the cooking for the wedding feast which would be served outside immediately after the wedding. They were so intent on their task that Donnall's escape seemed not to have registered; boys were carrying baskets laden with bread, women stirred pots of stew, the cheesemonger in his hooded cloak was bent over peeling the wax from a wheel of cheddar the size of a newborn calf. Brienna couldn't see Donnall anywhere, but he couldn't have made it to the other door exiting the kitchen that quickly; he had to be hiding somewhere within.
Isobel and Brienna separated, searching moved carefully along the walls. There were very few places to hide, and even fewer for someone as gangly as Donnall. Brienna peeked under workbenches, behind cauldrons, and into the pantry, but there was no sign of him. 
She met Isobel on the other side of the room empty-handed. By now, Ulf, Llewellyn, Ruarc and the soldiers had entered and the workers had begun to exclaim at their presence, fleeing toward the exit when they saw the nest of drawn swords.
The boys with their baskets and women with dripping ladles all scurried past, knocking into Brienna's shoulder in their rush to get to safety. The cheesemonger went by, his back bent with age and his hood shadowing his face. Brienna let him pass. As he went by within inches of her, the hair on the back of her neck rose. She whirled, and ripped the disguised man's hood away.
Donnall yelled in rage, pushed Brienna out of his way and ran out into the courtyard, where his path to the stables was clear. He's going to get away! Brienna thought.
Then, someone came striding across the courtyard. It was Moira, carrying a bag of flour on her way to the kitchen. She was looking at the flurry of people pouring from the kitchens curiously, and frowned when she saw Donnall tearing toward her.
"Moira, stop him!" Isobel yelled.
Thinking quickly, Moira scooped up a handful of flour, and just as Donnall was about to crash into her and send her flying out of his way, she blew it right in his face. He was moving to fast to avoid the gust of white dust and inhaled enough of it that it brought him to his knees, hacking, clutching his throat, choking on the powder that he'd sucked into his lungs.
Isobel and Brienna ran and joined Moira in a circle looking down at Donnall.
"He's down. Should I kick him?" Moira asked.
Isobel hugged her swiftly. "No, you've done enough. You saved the day!"
Ruarc was the first to reach their triumphant threesome and he hauled Brienna's defamed groom to his feet. Donnall was still coughing, his eyes red and watering, but he would be fine. Fine but angry, probably for life. Brienna could tell from the hate that seeped from his scarlet eyes as he looked at her that she had won herself an enemy. So had Llewellyn. If Donnall ever escaped from the dungeon he was about to be acquainted with, they would have very serious trouble on their hands.
Llewellyn. Brienna saw him walking over and she raced to him, landing in his arms in an exultant embrace.
"How did you escape?" she murmured between kisses, which she planted all over his face.
"They made the mistake of locking us in with Geoffrey," Llewellyn laughed. "Who, I might have mentioned, should never be underestimated."
The capture of a Leinster prince proved to be even better entertainment than a wedding, and all the guests had swarmed outside to watch the show. They clapped as Donnall was taken away by Ruarc at the point of a sword, and clapped again as Llewellyn picked Brienna up and kissed her full on the mouth. They clapped when Llewellyn announced that the feast would take place anyway, and they cheered when he said it would be in honor of his engagement to Brienna, princess of Connaught.
On the wave of that joyful chorus, Brienna and Llewellyn, and Isobel and Moira, returned to the castle by way of the kitchens, where the staff was putting everything to rights. One of the boys cried out; he had found the real cheesemonger curled in a ball behind the enormous wheel of cheddar, clutching his aching head where Donnall had knocked him from his post.