“You have lectured me on this since the invitation arrived yesterday and I have repeatedly given you my word. I will take no chance. You have no reason to worry,” she assured him.
If her repeated word hadn’t assuaged his worries, she didn’t know what would, though she did understand his concern. All had been going well the last week. Repairs to the village had continued, another stone hut was being built to store food, the fields were almost ready, and news of several women getting with child had spread joy through the village. Like the land blossomed so did the clan. So it was only natural that Royden worried about keeping everyone protected and safe.
Oria stretched her hand out to give her husband’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “No worries, husband. I will come to you posthaste if anything should upset me.”
“Then my worries are eased… a little,” he said, his dark eyes warning it better be so.
As soon as they entered the village, Oria was surrounded. So many crowded around her after she dismounted that Royden feared he wouldn’t be able to reach her if she needed him.
“Let her be!” Trevor shouted and the people hurried away from Oria. “Mistress Oria will visit with you later.”
Oria’s voice was as strong as Trevor’s. “It has been too long since I have seen them. I will visit with them now.” Oria fought to keep calm, after spotting bruises and unhealed wounds on some and hearing Trevor order her people away from her didn’t help. It angered her to the point that she wanted to lash out at the man, but she was wise enough to know that wouldn’t help the situation.
“I will join Oria and offer what help I can.”
Trevor’s hand shot out, stopping the petite woman that went to walk past him. “You were to remain in the keep, Demelza.”
“Nonsense, Trevor. The day is far too beautiful to stay in the keep and I am looking forward to talking with Oria and the healer Wren. So go take yourself off with the men and do what you will.”
Royden almost laughed seeing the petite woman with blonde hair, a pretty face, and round with child speak to the mighty warrior not only without fear but also order him to take himself off.
“Demelza,” Tremor said, a warning in his tone.
The petite woman went up on her toes to reach her husband’s face, though he quickly bent his head down, and she kissed him on the cheek and whispered something to him. He didn’t stop her when she stepped away from him and turned to Wren, who had remained by Parlan’s side, a pleasant smile on her face.
“You must be the healer,” Demelza said and stretched out her hand. “Come, I’ve arranged a cottage where you can tend those in need and where Oria can speak with her people.”
Demelza walked off with Oria and Wren flanking her and those who had crowded around Oria followed them.
“Women,” Trevor said, shaking his head as if the one word was explanation enough. “Come and have a drink while the women do what they will do.”
“I see a lot of changes here,” Royden said, looking around and seeing huts housing craftsmen and stone work being done
“I will show you what’s been done after we drink and talk,” Trevor said.
Royden nodded and sent one last look his wife’s way to see where she was going in case he needed to find her fast.
“Your wife is safe here. No one will harm her,” Trevor said, seeing where Royden’s attention had been drawn.
“My wife is safe when she is with me. Is that not the same for you?” Royden challenged.
“You’re right,” Trevor said without hesitation. “I would kill anyone who would dare harm my wife.”
“I would do the same without an ounce of regret,” Royden informed him, and so it was made known between the two men that they would defend their wives with their lives.
“Let us drink, talk, and become friends,” Trevor said.
“Friends? That remains to be seen,” Royden said and he and his da followed Trevor to the keep.
Wren looked around the sizeable cottage, amazed at all the dried plants hanging from racks and the many crocks that sat on a high chest. She gently touched the stone mortar and pestle on the table in the middle of the room.
“It takes years of use to form a mortar as deep and smooth as this one,” Wren said.
“It belonged to Hilda, our healer, and her mother before her and possibly her grandmother,” Demelza said. “Hilda told me on the journey here that she was not long for this world but she assured me that a wise, local healer would help until another healer could be fetched.”
“I will do all I can,” Wren said, pleased the old healer hadn’t viewed her as a witch. “Before I tend to those waiting outside. Tell me, how are you feeling?”
“I feel good. My stomach protests some mornings, but not as badly as it first did, and if I feel tired I rest.”
“But your husband worries about you regardless of how much you reassure him,” Wren said, having sensed the man’s worry when his wife had appeared. “Why is that?”
“You sense things,” Demelza said with a smile and a nod as if that knowledge comforted her. “Hilda did too.”
“Did Hilda sense something that worried your husband?”
“No, my husband worries because I miscarried once. I wasn’t far along, but I bled heavily and there was worry I might die. Trevor fears what could happen with this delivery.”
“And when he asked Hilda about it, she was honest and told him that there is no telling what will happen with any birth.”
“You are as wise as Hilda said you’d be. I am pleased you will be around to help, and I beg my husband’s forgiveness now since I know there will be times he will not be as cordial as he should be.”
“Most men aren’t,” Wren said with a laugh. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell or ask me before I begin tending the ailing?”
Demelza hesitated, then shook her head. “No, I’ll leave to your task.”
“Demelza,” Wren said when she reached the door. “Your worry is not for the bairn and you appear well and rested. So what is it that worries you?”
She kept her voice low, almost to a whisper. “He will come here and I worry what will happen when he comes. He is a man who wins at all costs.”
“He brings more trouble here?” Wren asked.
“I hope not,” Demelza said and stepped outside.
Wren followed Demelza out and called out to Oria, “Send whoever you think needs to see me first.”
Oria walked with Ross to the door, his arm wrapped with a cloth, the blood on it dried. “I tried to tell him, Oria, I’m a farmer not a warrior. I could grow him good crops and lift a sword if necessary, but I’m no warrior. Please, I beg you take me and Aine and our two sons home with you. Please, I fear what will happen if we remain here. You should talk with Old Henry. He wants to leave here too.”
That Ross begged her for help tore at her heart and that Old Henry wanted to leave worried her as well. If she remembered correctly, he was the oldest person in the clan. That he wanted to leave the only home he had ever know was unthinkable. She was tired of feeling helpless, tired of watching good people suffer—her people suffer.
“Get your things together when you’re done here and be ready to leave with us,” she ordered.
“He won’t let you take them,” Demelza said after Ross entered the cottage.
“Your husband stole this clan. These people rightfully come under my husband’s rule. If your husband has an ounce of honor in him, he’ll let those go who wish to leave with us,” Oria said, it was growing more difficult to hold her anger. She had listened to complaint after complaint about how every man had to spend so much time on the practice field learning to be a warrior, learning to battle.
“My husband is a good man with good intentions—”
“Intentions of what? Battle? Are these forced lessons in preparation of something to come? Will you attack and take our lands from us once again?” Oria accused.
“It is what my husband knows—”
�
�Then he needs to learn it is different here,” Oria snapped.
Demelza paled and placed her hand on her stomach.
Oria went to her and hurried her to the bench that sat against the cottage. “Stay here, I’ll get Wren.”
“No, please, I’m all right. The nausea comes and goes. It has already past.”
Color began to return to her face so Oria did as Demelza requested, but guilt had her offering an apology. “Forgive me, I should not have spoken to you like that.”
“I can’t believe you have been as pleasant as you have, coming here to the clan that had once been yours, seeing the people who appear to truly care for you unhappy. I have tried to come to know them, make friends with them, but I believe they fear my husband too much to even acknowledge me at times.”
“Were you forced to wed Trevor? You seem far too kind to have wed such a man of your own accord,” Oria said and gasped at her audacity to say such a thing. She was sounding like Raven, who often failed to temper her words. She was shocked when Demelza laughed.
“Everyone wonders the same,” Demelza said. “But I saw and continue to see the good in my husband. Given a chance, I think the people here would see that as well.”
Oria saw herself in Demelza. She would defend Royden no matter what, but then all knew Royden was a good man, grumpy and commanding as he may be at times, he was still a good man. And Demelza believed the same of her husband.
“I suppose that is a possibility, but how long will that take and how many will suffer?” Oria asked worried for her clan.
Demelza sighed. “I don’t know. Trevor can be stubborn until he realizes what I offer him is actually sage advice.”
Oria had a thought. “Perhaps he needs to hear it from me.”
“I don’t know if that would be wise,” Demelza advised.
“Wise or not, I can’t let those I care for suffer,” Oria said and offered her arm to Demelza. “Will you come with me?”
Demelza smiled. “I wouldn’t let you go alone and I wouldn’t want to miss what you have to say to my husband.”
They passed Parlan on his way to see how Wren was doing and he told them that Trevor was showing Royden the practice field. Both women hurried along after hearing that, each not saying a word, but both thinking the same thing.
“What are you doing?” Oria shouted when she and Demelza caught sight of their husbands’ wooden practice swords in hand and both about to enter the practice arena.
“A friendly joust,” Trevor said.
Planting her hands on her hips and with a terse tone, Oria said, “I don’t think so.” She was quick to cut Trevor off before he could remark. “There are more important things to see to than a game best left to young lads.” Her hand went up to stop Trevor again. “The most important thing being that whoever in my clan wishes to come home with me will be leaving here with us.”
Trevor’s eyes narrowed and a scowl spread across his face.
“My people. My clan. My family,” Oria said, pounding her chest as she spoke. “I will not leave them here to be treated poorly by you. You cannot force a farmer to be a warrior or a craftsman to neglect his skill. You have no idea how to be a clan chieftain.”
“You dare insult me in my own home?” Trevor asked and took a step toward Oria.
Royden stepped in front of his wife. “Remember what we said about our wives.”
Trevor took a step back.
“Why don’t we settle this in the practice arena,” Royden suggested. “I win and you let those go who wish to leave with us. I lose and none leave with us.”
“I won’t let all of them leave,” Trevor said. “If you win, you may take ten, no more.”
“Not counting their children,” Royden said.
Trevor nodded. “Not counting the children.”
“Let’s see this done then,” Royden said and turned to his wife. “I may not be able to see all of your clan released now, but it’s a start.”
“You be careful, husband. I don’t want my foolish anger bringing you harm,” Oria said, worried she had not considered the consequences before letting a sharp tongue loose.
“Worry not, wife. You gave me the perfect excuse to see this done.” He kissed her cheek and entered the practice arena.
Oria turned, hearing Demelza raise her voice. “I will not go to the keep. I will stay here and watch.”
“I gave you an order, wife,” Trevor said sharply.
“That I refuse to obey,” Demelza said and walked away from him to slip her arm around Oria’s. “Let’s watch our husbands act like foolish young lads.”
“Let’s go, Trevor, unless you wish to surrender,” Royden called out with a laugh.
Trevor sent his wife a scowl as he walked past her and snapped, “Later.”
“He will not hurt you, will he?” Oria asked.
“Never,” Demelza said. “Never has he or would he raise a hand to me. As I said, he’s a good man.”
Royden and Trevor positioned themselves in the center of the field and as the wooden swords clashed, it drew people to watch the two mighty warriors fight.
Oria had watched her husband when he practiced at home and she’d been amazed then how skillfully he handled a sword. Seeing him now fight against a real opponent, she was amazed even more of how talented he’d become and with only one hand.
It was Trevor who stepped back a moment. “You learned well to fight with one hand.”
“I had no choice and when choice is gone, so goes loyalty,” Royden said.
“You think to teach me a lesson?” Trevor laughed.
“One can try and teach, but learning is up to the pupil.” Royden raised his sword, ready to resume the fight.
The wooden swords slammed against each other and people watched in awe, more gathering as news spread of what was at stake.
The ending came so swiftly that a silence fell over the area as if everyone could not quite believe it had ended with such a quick thrust. It stunned everyone and gave thought that the winner had been teasing the loser all along and brought the fight to an end in his own good time.
A cheer suddenly rang out. “Royden!”
Trevor stared at Royden, his sword gone from his hand and the tip of Royden’s sword pressed to his chest.
“You can thank your leader for your defeat today. He made me who I am now,” Royden said for their ears alone. He lowered his sword. “I’ll see those people gathered now who return home with us.”
“I will have a cart made ready for their possessions and if any can’t walk the distance,” Trevor said. “But I also expect a rematch one day.”
“Gladly,” Royden said. “I will enjoy besting you again.”
Demelza hurried to her husband, his arm going around her to draw her close. “You are all right?”
“My pride is a bit scarred, but it will heal,” Trevor said. “This did not upset you?”
“I am not fragile, Trevor.”
“I know, but you are with child and—”
“I am fine. Stop worrying. Wren says she will be here if or when needed. Now let’s help those who wish to leave and see about making sure we don’t lose anymore,” Demelza said in a whisper.
Oria hugged her husband and couldn’t help but hear what Demelza had said. She hadn’t thought she would like Trevor’s wife since she didn’t care for Trevor, but to her surprise she liked Demelza and thought she just might be good for the clan if given a chance.
“You did well, husband,” Oria said, giving him a quick kiss.
“Do I get a prize for my victory?” he asked with a playful smile.
“Aye, you do,” she said and leaned up to whisper in his ear.
“Damn, Oria, you can’t say that to me here,” he scolded.
She grinned. “I just did and you better walk close behind me since he’s rising to the occasion.”
“Damn,” Royden mumbled and kept his wife close in front of him as they walked away, not so wise to do since the sway of her hips didn’t help t
he image any she had put in his head.
It was difficult choosing those that would return with Oria and Royden. Most wanted to go, but it was decided that those most in need would be chosen. Ross and his wife and two sons were first since Oria had given her word. Oria insisted they all work together to decide and she told them she would work to get more of them released. She also spoke kindly of Demelza and urged those staying to give her a chance. Old Henry made the choice to stay this time so that others, more in need, could be chosen. Oria promised him he’d be in the next group to go.
It wasn’t long before all were ready. Wren had seen to everyone and had shared a brew and some food with Demelza while she waited and now with it all done, it was time to leave.
Royden was speaking with Trevor. Wren was saying a last few words to Demelza. Parlan was talking with Ross, having remembered him when he was just a lad. Oria stood watching it all, happy she could bring some of her clan home with her, though sad for the ones she had to leave behind.
She heard a woman say, “He’s an evil one.”
Wondering who the woman meant, she turned and all color drained from her face. There, a short distance away from her, stood Firth, the man who had taken a dagger to her face.
Chapter 22
Royden went to his wife, seeing her pale and worried she might faint. His arm went around her and when she pressed herself tightly against him, he knew something was wrong.
“What is it, Oria?” he asked softly.
She heard her husband, but she was too lost in the memories of that moment. She could almost feel the dagger slice across her jaw and the blood pour down her neck. The pain and helplessness also returned to assault her. But her husband’s arm tight around her reminded her that she was no longer helpless and no longer alone.
She raised her head and abruptly held her tongue, thinking of the possible consequences of telling her husband.
Royden saw the uncertainty and worry in her eyes. “Tell me, Oria.”
Pledged to a Highlander: Highland Promise Trilogy (Book 1) Page 21
