Legendary Warrior
Page 6
“I am sorry if I offended.”
Her apology seemed to irritate him even more, and he marched off without a word, leaving a decisive chill in his wake.
Reena hugged the pup to her. “Do not worry, Horace. Brigid will calm the Legend.”
Horace whimpered and snuggled closer to Reena, tucking himself soundly in her arms.
“Brigid will be good for him,” she whispered so only she could hear.
Why, then, did the thought upset her?
Chapter 7
Reena sat by the campfire, perplexed. They were not that far from their destination, yet Magnus had ordered them to camp for the night. She had hoped they would continue and arrive near nightfall, but not so.
She huddled in the comfort of the brown wool cloak, grateful for its warmth, for the night had chilled considerably. Frost would soon be thick and heavy on the branches, and winter was not far behind. And a sorrowful winter it would have been if she had not enlisted the Legend’s help.
She knew even at this moment that while she sat warm, her stomach full, many in her village huddled before a dying hearth, their stomachs aching for a scrap of food.
A good reason why they should have continued on and not camped for the night when they were so close. Her village could have had food tonight and eased the torment they had suffered.
Thomas joined her, draping a wool blanket around her, adding more warmth and much more guilt. It hung heavy on her shoulders.
“Why do we stop? Why not go on? The village is so close.” She heard her own annoyance.
Thomas simply shrugged as he stretched out on the opposite side of the fire from her. “I do not question his decisions. They have always proven to be wise.”
“My people are hungry.” Her annoyance was replaced by a sense of defeat. What if she failed one person by being so close and not arriving on time? Losing one was as bad as losing ten, for they were all connected—they all cared for each other, thus one survival meant everyone’s survival.
“Do not worry yourself,” Thomas urged. “This night will make no difference to anyone in your village. If one should die of hunger, our arrival would not have saved him for he was too close to death to save. What matters is that tomorrow your village will have an abundance of food once more and the winter will see no one go hungry. Magnus will make certain of it.”
Reena stretched out on her pallet. “Thank you, Thomas, your words help.”
“Good, now sleep, for tomorrow we rise early and there will be much work to do when we arrive at your village.”
“Aye, much,” she agreed and smiled to herself. She would help distribute the food and assist the healers with the ill, but first she would hug her parents to her—and Brigid as well. Tears threatened her eyes, but she fought them with a deep strength, as she had so many times in the last few months. It would do her no good to show weakness. After all was settled and everyone taken care of, she would go to a place of solitude and release the abundance of tears that needed shedding—alone, where no one could see or hear her. Only then would she allow herself to cry.
Reena rose with the sun, happy that it was a beautiful day for her homecoming. The camp rose as well and packed in mere minutes, no food being cooked or distributed. Magnus had given orders that they would share the morning fare with the village.
He approached her with strong and hasty strides where she stood beside her horse, and she fought the urge to retreat. He intimidated when dressed for battle, especially when he wore his helmet. He resembled the dark lord of the underworld who rose from the earth to instill fear.
He stopped beside her, so close that his arm brushed hers. His slight touch sent a shiver through her, the likes of which she had never felt before. And it perplexed her, for she had tasted fear on more than one occasion and his touch felt nothing like fear.
“You are chilled?”
She focused on his eyes, for in them, beyond the helmet, was Magnus. “Nay, I am fine and eager to return home and see my family and friends.”
“I need not remind you that your loyalty is now with me?”
She nodded. “I understand.”
“Then no matter my edict you will follow?”
She hesitated a moment. What was he asking of her? She gave his words thought and then spoke up. “As long as it brings no harm to my village.”
He smiled and she had to fight down the shiver that raced over her, for his expression looked ominous framed by the dark helmet.
“You have courage and you are honest with your word—I would ask nothing of you that would bring you dishonor.”
“Then I will follow your command without hesitation.”
His hands went to her waist, but before he hoisted her up on her horse he bent his head and whispered, “Trust me.”
She had no choice but to trust him. Her fate and the fate of the village were in his hands.
He swung her up onto her horse and walked off to mount his own horse and lead his troop. All followed him without hesitation, as did she.
Reena rode beside the Legend, and she grew anxious on their approach to the village. Everyone knew of her absence, Brigid having told them she was on a mapping expedition that could possibly provide the village with another source of food. They would be relieved to see her, but cautious of the troop she rode with.
From what she could see at first glance nothing much had changed. The village looked as she had left it—defeated and on the verge of utter starvation.
The villagers eyed the entering troop with suspicion and caution, whispering among themselves. A few hurriedly crossed themselves in protection, uncertain of their fate and fearful of the iron masked man who led them.
She called out to a few and waved to others, alerting them to her presence. While they responded in kind, they continued to keep a suspicious glance on the man in the iron helmet.
“Reena,” Magnus said, catching her attention. “A place where I can address your people.”
She nodded and called out to the people to meet them in the center of the village, for she had important news to share with them. All followed, eager to hear from Reena and whoever it was she had brought to them, though they kept a safe distance from the stranger on the large black stallion.
“Introduce me, Reena, so that the villagers’ needs can be seen to.”
Reena nodded, proud that concern glared in his dark eyes, Magnus’s eyes, but it was the Legend she introduced.
“I left here but five days ago to seek help for our village. I have returned with that help. I bid you all welcome to our home . . . the Legend.”
Gasps and cries rang loudly in the air, and the children, having heard tales of the infamous warrior, scurried behind their parents in fright. Reena caught sight of Brigid. Her friend was helping her father, who leaned heavily on a crutch, and her mother, who looked more pale and thin than when she had left. Her father’s eyes widened in shock, though they softened quickly enough, and tears followed a smile as he looked on his daughter with pride.
Magnus made no move to dismount; he sat in complete silence, waiting as the crowd quieted to a hush and silence once again reigned.
“Your village is truly blessed to have one so brave among it. Reena came to me and offered her mapping skills in exchange for protection of her village.” He did not wait for the rushed murmurs to settle before he continued, “I accepted her offer, her mapping skills having been proved worthy of such an exchange.
“My people have food for you and healers to help the ill. After you have feasted I shall speak with you all again.” He turned to his troop. “See to all their needs.” He then looked down at Thomas, who stood beside his horse. “Place guards with extras in the tall trees to the north.”
“It will take Kilkern time to learn of our arrival, since he appears a poor leader with no extended sentinels in watch of his lands.”
Magnus lowered his voice. “By then we will be gone.”
Thomas nodded and walked off to see to his orders.
Magnus dismounted, slipped his helmet off, and handed it and the reins to one of his men, who stepped forward without a word having been spoken to him. Curious and cautious eyes followed him and Reena as they approached her parents. A few brave souls nodded and whispered their thanks, though none looked directly at him.
“Magnus, may I present my mother, Anona, and my father, Patrick.”
Magnus gave a curt bow to her mother. “Your daughter is an exceptional woman, and I am pleased to have her in my service.”
“Thank you, sir, for such kind words.”
Magnus turned to her father and extended his hand. “Your daughter speaks highly of you and your talent.”
Patrick accepted his offer of friendship, giving his hand a firm shake. “She far surpasses my meager skills and does me and mine proud.”
Reena was quick to introduce her friend. “This is Brigid, my friend since forever.”
Reena had not wasted a moment in introducing her friend to him. Brigid was as beautiful as her drawing. She had hair the color of freshly sown wheat, eyes that mirrored the blue skies, and a faint blushed skin that looked petal soft, with a body that captured a man’s breath.
But it was her all too skinny friend who stood beside her that caught his attention, especially since he caught her shiver and thought for sure he heard her stomach grumble. She required food and rest, but he had learned fast that Reena put others before herself. He would soon change that.
“I am pleased to meet you and I look forward to becoming better acquainted, but right now I am sure you all must be looking forward to the morning fare.” He turned to Reena. “Take your family and friend and feast. We will talk when you are finished.”
“I am grateful for your generosity,” she said before walking with her parents and friends toward the wagons, where the women were busy arranging blankets on the ground and handing boards filled with breads, cheeses, meats and more to the crowd to take and eat in the bright sunshine.
“Reena.”
She turned and hurried over to him.
He placed a finger under her chin and gave it a slight lift. “You make certain you eat well.”
She smiled. “I will try, but I am so happy to be home, I do not know if I could eat a morsel right now.”
“I expect you to eat more than a morsel.”
“Is that an order?” she asked on a laugh.
“You are too skinny, and I require strength in those who serve me.”
She bristled. She knew her unintended weight loss made her appear frail, but her determination kept her strong.
“Do not underestimate my strength. I will serve you well.” She turned and walked away without waiting for him to dismiss her.
“Damn,” he murmured. His concern was for her, and yet he’d made himself appear selfish. It disturbed him to know that she had gone without food and shed weight, which had left her looking thin and frail. And it disturbed him even more to think that she thought him a better match for her friend Brigid, never thinking that he would find her attractive.
“Damn,” he said beneath his breath once more. What was it about her that he found attractive? The thought plagued him, and he would not rest easy until he discovered it for himself.
He walked off to find Thomas and set his plans in motion.
Merriment returned, if only briefly, as bellies were filled, tales were told, and hope filled hearts once again. Reena was thanked over and over again as she joined her village in a feast the likes of which they had not shared in far too long.
But merriment turned to serious discussion when many spoke of the repercussions Peter Kilkern would inflict on them when he learned of the Legend’s interference. After all, this was Kilkern land, and the Legend had no right here. What then?
Reena wondered herself, and her concerns grew when she realized that food was not being distributed to cottages but kept in the wagons. What were the Legend’s intentions?
It was not long before she had her answer.
Thomas informed her to gather the villagers once again, for the Legend wished to address them.
Children were still stuffing their mouths with honey cakes as they leaned against their parents and stared in awe at the Legend. Women openly admired him, though they kept their eyes from his. The men waited with caution, though less caution than before, since their stomachs were full.
Reena remained by her parents’ side. As she glanced around the crowd, she could see that many villagers had food in their hands, fearing that if they did not hold on to every morsel they could once again be close to starvation.
Magnus raised his voice for all to hear. “I will make this brief and easy for you all to understand. I have no right to this land and I cannot force the earl of Culberry to treat you fairly.”
Sighs were heard and tears soon fell.
“He rules this land as he sees fit, fair or unfairly. But you have a choice.” A sudden silence descended over the crowd. “You can stay and tenant his land for unreasonable fees, or you can tenant my land for reasonable fees.”
Grumbles and whispers rushed like a gust of wind through the gathered crowd.
“We have paid our tenant fee for the year,” one man called out.
“And you have nothing left for yourself. How will you feed your family?” Magnus asked.
“How do we pay you when we have nothing left?” asked another man.
“I will take no fee from you for one year’s time. You will have time to till the land, and I will provide food and shelter for you while you work the soil.”
“And in return?” asked a man suspiciously.
“You pledge your loyalty to me and tend my land with the care and love that you once did this land.”
Two men, their wives and children in tow, stepped forward. One followed the other, though their words rang the same.
“I pledge my loyalty to you.”
Reena was not surprised by William and Paul’s hasty decision. Both had six children between them, and William’s wife was heavy with another child. Both men felt their duty was to provide for their family and keep them safe.
Old Margaret, the healer, stepped forward. She was seventy and five years, but no hunch marred her back. Her face was aged, though ageless, and all in the village loved her and sought her talent and wisdom for healing.
“My loyalty I pledge to you.” She paused a moment. “As long as I have enough time to dig up my herbs and ready them for a new patch of soil.”
“My people will help you with whatever assistance you require.”
Margaret nodded. “Then you have my loyalty and I will serve you and your land.”
“I thank you—” Magnus waited.
“Margaret, I am Margaret, the healer.”
“I welcome you to my family, Margaret, and pledge my protection to you.”
The word protection caused an outburst of villagers to step forward, and in the end all in the village had decided to pledge their loyalty to the Legend.
It was little Daniel, the bowman’s son, who stepped forward with courage and asked, “Where is our new home, sir?”
Magnus patted the young lad’s head and looked out over the sea of anxious faces. “My land is not far, for you have just pledged your loyalty to the new earl of Dunhurnal.”
Chapter 8
Reena was stunned by the announcement, but when she reexamined the last few days, she realized that everyone at his keep had been busy preparing for a planned departure. Magnus had had all intentions of traveling to Dunhurnal, and he would have passed through Kilkern property.
She recalled his interest in the Dunhurnal map and now she understood why, and she wondered if it had any relevance to his decision to trade his protection for her mapmaking skills.
He was not obligated to tell her of his plans, so why did she feel a sense of betrayal? The Legend owed her no explanation, and yet she felt he should have
told her of his intentions. She attempted to settle the nagging accusation with the thought that the villagers had a new lord and would be safe. But that knowledge did little to ease her unrest and concern regarding the fact that he had not informed her of his being the new lord of Dunhurnal. Why had he felt it necessary to keep the information from her? And was there more he refused to share?
The villagers set to work gathering their personal belongings and items of importance they wished to take with them. Several women helped old Margaret dig up many of her herb plants and bundle them adequately for travel. They bundled her dried herbs as well, for the plants were an essential part of her healing skills.
The few animals that remained were not in the best of health, Peter Kilkern having taken most of their prime stock, but they were not to be left behind and were tethered to the wagon.
Reena worked hard helping as many as she could, and it was only after her mother and father were comfortably settled in a wagon, along with the few villagers too ill to walk, that she saw to her own meager belongings.
There was not much to take. The important items—her quills, inkbottles and papers—were already packed in her satchel. Her garments consisted of one linen shift, two tunics, and an old bone comb for her hair. The most difficult part of gathering her things were her memories of the only home she had ever known.
It was here in this small cottage that she’d been raised. She remembered much laughter, good food and her daily studies, her mother having taught her to speak fluent French and Latin, she in turn having learned from her uncle, a cleric who felt knowledge was important. And then there had been her father’s patience in teaching her to draw. He would smile at her efforts and encourage her. Her mother would attempt to teach her to cook, the lesson often ending in laughter, since no food Reena prepared ever proved eatable. And then there had been those moments of silence when she’d sat snuggled in a blanket before the hearth, her father busy at the table with his maps and her mother sitting in the rocking chair, stitching.