To Be a Spy

Chapter 6

The days, weeks, months and years went by in a rush. If something was too big for a spy to handle, every detail concerning the situation was written down. This report was then sent to soldiers or assassin who took care of their problems. One of these problems was Flann mac Finian. Rowen had been right, time had softened her threat. He had appeared again. But just briefly. Then he had vanished. England had no idea of his location but as the hundred year mark of Boru's victory passed uneventfully he was forgotten as other threats arose. It was a thrilling time. But by the time Rowen had turned twenty-two, ten years after she had first climbed the stairs of Great Hall, she had to admit something. She was in love with William. No amount of trying to focus on her work or ignoring her feelings worked. She was in love. But William showed that he cared nothing more for her except as a friend.

And, now her 'betrayal'. Edward had tried to kill her. No, he was just trying to protect the other spies. Rowen cringed as she thought of what their reaction would be when they heard the news. William would hate her. But she wasn't a traitor. But how to prove herself? Elizabeth. She had started there and her thoughts and memories and gone in a complete circle. It had started with Elizabeth now something might be found there. She would go back, tomorrow.

The next day she watched Elizabeth go about her morning routine. As she began to weed her garden, Rowen walked unnoticed behind her and pulled up a weed over Elizabeth's shoulder.

She started. "Oh!" Then she relaxed as she recognized her visitor. "Rowen. What brings you here?"

"I," she paused. It was best to get right to it. "I need to know everything about my past."

"Well, dear, I believe I have told you everything."

"But would there have been anyone who, I do not know, who did not have a fondness for me? Who would have wanted me not to succeed?"

"Rowen, has something happened?"

"Was there anyone?"

"No, not that I know of."

"Bit, where did I come from?"

"I do not know, Rowen."

"But surely you have an idea."

"Here, I shall see if I can locate the clothes you were wearing when they found you."

Rowen followed her inside. A rush of memories cascaded over her as she caught sight of the familiar objects that had been a part of her childhood. Elizabeth had always kept things organized so it was no surprise when she returned from the attic only a short time later. She placed a package on the table. Rowen undid the string around the bundle. After removing the paper a green dress, the exact color of her eyes, was revealed. She studied the small garment, stopping on the hem. A design was stitched on to it with gold thread. Straining her eyes she realized she knew the pattern. A bagpipe and a sword with three dots over them. The Maverick Clan. The sign of nobility. She was Irish.

Elizabeth, noticing that her face was draining of color, demanded, "Rowen, what happened?"

She handed her the dress. "The embroidery on the hem. The pattern is the sign of nobility in the Maverick Clan. An Irish Clan."

"Oh, Rowen."

Savagely she crumpled the dress into her hands. "I was blind. My hair, my eyes. Why did I not see?"

"You cannot blame yourself, how were you to know? There are plenty of red-haired, green-eyed girls in England."

"But surely, I could have known somehow."

"You could not have known."

But Rowen would not be consoled. "I was a fool."

"Stop it! I shall not have this!" Elizabeth's voice cut through Rowen's fog.

"I beg your pardon, I am acting like a small child."

Elizabeth gave a brisk nod. "That is better. So you are Irish. What of it?"

"But they are the enemy, so I am the enemy." She paused, thinking of her fight with her teacher. "Edward was right."

"What has Edward to do with this?"

"Nothing." Rowen was determined not to tell Elizabeth about how she was 'dead'. Edward and her had been, or were, friends. She would not be the cause of a rift between them.

"Rowen." There was a warning edge in her voice.

"Bit, please."

There was a pause. Elizabeth sighed. "What are you going to do now?"

"I do not know. I have to think."Rowen opened her hands and stared at the wrinkled fabric.

"Good."

"What?"

"It is always good to think before leaping into action. Think, do not just plunge blindly into a fight."

Rowen turned to look at Elizabeth. "You sound like Edward."

She smiled. "I did learn that from him. God go with you, child."

"Thank you, Bit." They hugged, and Rowen returned with the little dress to the forest. It would have been too odd to ask to stay at her old home. The request would have brought up questions Rowen preferred not to answer. It wasn't a hardship to stay in the woods. Rowen had done it several times before in training and on missions. Besides, it was still summer. Food was in abundance and she didn't have to battle the cold. The next two days she mulled over the information. Edward had to have known. He would have recognized the embroidery. Yet he had never told her. Why? Was he protecting her? From whom, though? The other spies, perhaps, or even herself. Ideally, she was the perfect person to be a spy, she hadn't known where she had come from, so she had no loyalties to one place. Would she have not wanted to spy on the Irish if she knew they were her people? It was possible. Edward had been right not telling her. When he had found out that information was being leaked the logical conclusion was her. She was Irish. They were her people. It was still difficult to accept. The Maverick Clan. She brought up all the information she could remember from lessons and the few missions she had to that area. There was a huge need for spies there, but she had only gone there a couple of times when no one else could be spared. Now she realized that Edward had planned it that way. The Mavericks had always disgusted her. They were a large backward clan that was rude and insulting, sneering at the English at every opportunity. But they had good qualities. Honesty was one jewel that managed to shine through their flaws. They were also loyal until death. They would fight for a friend or their country. Oh, the irony! She had always viewed herself as being over the Irish. Now, she found out she was one of them.

That day Rowen made a promise to herself; never again would she look down on anyone. But what should she do? Unasked for the image of William appeared before her. The dependable face, the honest eyes. Someone she could trust. She would tell him. Everything. Her ancestry; why he had been told she was dead; everything. She spent one more night in the woods, thinking through her decision. Still, convinced it was the right thing to do, she went back to Great Hall the next morning.