As though she could sense she was being watched, she turned, her eyes locked with his and the smile that had graced her soft sweet face was replaced with a frown that made her footsteps falter. The brisk breeze sent wisps of hair across her face as an uneasiness settled in her heart. She took one step, then another, before she turned and walked hastily the last few yards to Glenna’s hut unsure of why he had been staring at her in the first place! She glanced over her shoulder at him nervously, her bottom lip between her teeth thankful that he had not yet moved from where he stood. She knew she had done nothing to warrant his hard scowl, but with a man like him that didn’t seem to matter!
Miranda felt a shiver go through her as she stepped into the hut, though the older woman hardly noticed anything was amiss as she took the basket full of eggs from her and laid them on the roughened table aside her. And yet even as she tried to smile, she found herself glancing towards the clearing instead—more than thankful to find that he had gone; but even that did not hinder the uncomfortable feeling that had settled in the pit of her stomach…
Alden.”
Alden Blair looked up from his work at the sound of the low male voice behind him. He had been wedging moss and mud into the crevasses of his log home; it wasn’t much, but it was better than some of the huts that the villagers managed the winter in. He glanced over his shoulder and managed a polite smile at the unruly man before turning back again. “Ah, good day to ye, Egan. What brings ye to see me this fine day?” The older man said; not ceasing from his work to consider the younger man who walked up behind him stiffly.
Egan Wallace was a tall man, nearly nineteen summers now, though he looked much older because of size. His long dark curly hair hung to his shoulders, his face though it was handsome was hard and cold, with a dark complexion and black eyes that gave him a ruthless look, and one he enjoyed. He was a man unafraid of a confrontation and everyone knew it. Most of the men in the village backed down from the younger man, but not Alden. Though he was stout and graying, the older man had never been one to be intimidated, and today was no different. But yet, curiosity made him glance at the young man before him again as he took another handful of moss.
“Alden… I—I have come to talk to ye about yur daughter.”
The older man stopped but a moment at the words he’d just heard; then took up his task again. “Miranda? Why? What could she have done? The child is peaceable enough.”
Egan shifted on stiff legs and crossed his arms over his strong chest, never taking his eyes from the older man’s back. “I—have come to ask for her hand in marriage.”
Alden let a short loud laugh burst from his throat. “Marriage? To Miranda?”
Egan’s eyes narrowed even more. “I do not see the humor in this, Alden. The girl ‘tis surely of age to wed.”
“Aye, she is five and ten summers, that much is true; but I have no intention of making her wed ‘til she be ready.”
“’Til she be ready?”
Alden shifted and laid down his stone wedge; his work rough hands going to his hips, his eyes narrowing on the younger man in front of him. “Aye. And—ye shall not press her, Egan! Is that clear? The lass shall marry when she is good and ready to do so; and not a moment before!”
The younger man didn’t blink, though he shifted uncomfortably as he considered the stern words well. “…Aye, I hear. And I give ye my word then that I shall not press the lass; but I want her for my bride, Alden… and I am prepared to wait.”
The older man pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing even more. “Aye, and wait ye shall…!”
He watched the younger man nodded stiffly then turn before he walked away without another word. Alden looked down at his dog, which sat at his feet tail wagging and shook his head. “A lot of good ye do for me, ye old mutt! Ye could have at least barked to warn me or better yet, ye could have just bitten the scoundrel!”
The dog barked twice and Alden just shook his head as he picked up his wedge again. “Marry the lass, indeed! Ha!”
Miranda had no idea why Egan had been staring at her. Even though she knew she had done nothing wrong to warrant his hard scowl, yet even that didn’t seem to help settle her nervous heart. It was true that Egan Wallace always had a hard cold look on his face, yet there was something different about it today, something in the way he stared at her that made her feel—almost afraid…
She hadn’t noticed him as she walked along, but then suddenly he stood in her way. She stopped with a jolt and looked at him with wide eyes, not knowing what to say, but she was sure she was about to feel his wrath.
“Good day to ye, lass.”
She nodded stiffly, unable to find her own voice.
He stared at her with icy coldness in his eyes, then lowered his head and shifted on long legs, choosing his words carefully before he spoke. “How old are ye, Miranda?”
She blinked twice and finally found her voice as she took a small step back. “I—I am five and ten summers.”
He smiled the barest of smiles, but it did nothing to soften the hard look on his face. “I am nearly twenty. Ye are old enough to wed, lass, have ye ever considered such a thing?”
Every girl in the village talked about falling in love and about marriage and children; but she was not about to share her thoughts with him, so she merely shook her head slowly without a word.
“Ye have grown into a very fair lass; and I would be pleased for yur company.”
She looked down and stepped back again. “I—I thank thee, but I—‘tis not proper for ye and I to even walk together, nor—nor, have I any wish to talk to thee of marriage.”
He lifted a dark brow and crossed his long arms over his broad chest, purposefully ignoring her words. “Nay? Surely ye want children, lass?”
She blushed and clutched the bucket in front of herself. “S—someday, I suppose…”
He shifted again, looking around at those in the village who were now watching them. “I would wait for ye, lass; till ye were ready for a husband if ye chose it to be so.”
She didn’t want to talk to him and especially not about something like this! She hesitated, then looked up at him and took another step back before she turned and ran past him heading towards their small farm that was just a stone’s throw from the village.
He watched her go, as did everyone else in the village. Well, good, let them watch; he had placed a claim on her today, and one day the lass would be his regardless of what any of them thought!
Alden watched as his daughter ran the short distance from the village to their farm; it was hard not to notice her hasty steps or the tears that now ran down her lovely face, nor the way she glanced over her shoulder towards the village. He set down his tools and dusted off his hands as he walked towards her, knowing full well that Egan had talked to the lass, and he hoped that talk was all he did!
She glanced up and saw her father walking towards her and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, trying to avoid his concerned eyes. “Nay, Miranda, stop, lass; I wish to speak to thee. Come here now.”
She hesitated a moment then turned towards him; the half empty bucket still in her hand. “I—I spilled most of the cream, da. But I—I didn’t mean to.”
He took the bucket from her and touched her flushed cheek with his thumb tenderly. “Well now, how can I be upset when yur tears tell me ‘twas but an accident.”
She looked down and worried her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Miranda, did Egan speak with ye this day?”
Her blue eyes grew wide and she nodded wordlessly.
“He wants ye as his bride, lass. Do ye have feelings for the man?”
She shook her head quickly. “Nay, da, how could I ever love a man like that…!”
He put his arm around her thin shoulders and drew her along with him as he walked towards the roughened log hut more than glad for the words she’d just spoken. And yet, he didn’t know what to say, for in his heart he feared that Egan was determined to have her as his wife; though for now he had
only managed to deter the man he was sure.
“Ye are young, lass, there shall be time a plenty to speak of such things another day.” His easy words made her feel secure; although in his heart he wasn’t at all sure if Egan Wallace would wait for the girl to agree before he pressed his suit again. He was merely biding his time; and both he and Egan knew it. It was not the way he had pictured things happening in his mind, for the happy thoughts of a young man seeking her hand one day had been replaced with hard thoughts of Egan Wallace and he knew that his daughter deserved better than that!
Chapter Four
His men had already set themselves to tending the gardens that had remained unkept for nigh four months now; salvaging what they could and discarding the rest. But sadly, the bad outnumbered the good. The work was hard, but it kept his mind from wandering to his home and his father… and to the thought that someone had tried to kill him… All were wary here, but yet William was determined not to let his fears hinder his efforts. Being here gave him a purpose when everything else had been taken away from him, and he needed that more than anyone knew.
He took to clearing the rubble that yet lay around the buildings; adding arm load after arm load to the already roaring fire. He gazed at the ripening fields knowing that soon they too would need their attention. Then he straightened and ran an arm across his damp forehead peering off down the long trail that led towards the old roadway. His eyes narrowing at the old man and his dog that now drew closer to him. The smile on the old man’s weathered face never wavered as he approached; but despite the friendly smile William’s own hand went to the grip of the knife that he had tucked into the belt and rested there in silent warning, as his wary eyes scanned the area around him for others.
The old man who was stout with graying hair and work worn clothes lifted a hand in greeting. “Good day to thee!” He called out; his Celtic dialect had a sing song sound to it that made William soften a bit as he managed to smile in return.
He nodded and stood with legs spread apart, then released his grip on the knife and folded his arms over his broad chest instead, waiting to see what the intentions of his guests were before he took up his weapon again. His mission here had been to make a goodly name for himself, and that was first and foremost in his mind even now. “And to thee.”
The old man never lost his smile. “Ah, ye not be from around here then. I saw thee as I walked and was curious as to who it was who had returned to this place. ‘Tis English I hear in yur voice though. ”
William laughed easily. “Aye, ‘tis English.” He said then nodded respectfully, resting his hand on the grip of his knife once again watchfully. “…that much is true, though I am but a simple farmer, good sir.”
The man looked around then patted his dog on the head. “I be, Alden Blair of Chadwick.” He paused then and looked William in the eye, his smiled fading somewhat as he did so. “I do not know how ye have come this way, but have a care of the man who owns this land, unless ye be from him that is?”
“And who might that be?” William wondered to himself, not sure if he meant the villager who had possessed this land or his father himself.
“Ye have not heard that the Earl of Whittington has confiscated these lands and killed all who once lived here? ‘Tis not safe here now.”
William looked down at the mention of his father’s name and shifted uncomfortably on rigid legs. “Aye, I know of it, and he knows of my plans here. I have petitioned him and asked that I might farm this land. ‘Twas tribute he wanted from Glenton Moore when he came here that night, and now he has it! The land may be his to control, but the farm is mine.”
The old man smiled and rubbed his scruffy chin with a work worn hand, then smiled again. “No one dares live here—but then ye be English, so—I suppose he thinks better of ye.”
The younger man smiled respectfully again. “Do ye know of any who may have escaped the siege or left relatives behind? I do not seek trouble with them for my intentions are sincere, I give thee my word on that.”
The old man tilted his head keenly; his eyes narrowed a fraction as he took in the words just spoken to him—not able to help but be worried that the man before him now was a spy sent to hunt down the few that had yet remained alive. “Well now, if I had, I would not tell ye, English...”
William merely smiled. “Aye, ‘tis well I suppose—though I only inquired as to hire them. ‘Tis nigh harvest and I would not have the fields go to waste.”
“Fine words ye speak, aye, very fine; but I cannot help ye with what ye asked. ‘Tis better if ye not bring it up again.”
William nodded and then looked into the man’s soft blue eyes. “True, I suppose, but if ye hear of a man who seeks work, would ye send him to me?”
The old man just smiled again. “Aye, I shall. Though, I doubt any shall come.” He reached down and patted his shaggy dog again and its tail began to wag slightly. “I have a fair walk ahead of me, so I bid ye a good day then, English.”
William gave a cordial nod, as the man turned and headed back down the path he had just come on. He watched the old man for a moment; he was right, it was going to be difficult to get anyone to believe his sincere intentions after what had happened here. The Welsh were wary of all English to begin with, and with good reason. For in times past many a battle had been fought over boundaries and possession of this land, though for now it was the English who ruled it with a hard hand.
With the man gone, William took up his work again till his stomach told him he had had no food since he broke his fast that morning. He sat down under a tree to eat the nigh burned bread that Phillip had made that morning; smiling even as he did so, pleased at how the day had gone. His eyes scanned the area around him assessing the work they’d done and that yet to do. Smoke billowed from the rubble he’d heaped on the blazing pile—and he paused again as thoughts of the fires the night of the siege swept through his mind once more… He drew a deep breath willing himself to forget, not wanting this place to always remind him of the sadness that had happened here…
It was evening when his companions rode back from the village, the pile he had burned that day was still smoldering, the shutters had been nailed in place and a table and two benches had been set right again. He stopped and rested his hands on his hips, a broad smile on his soot smudged face as he lifted a hand in greeting. “I see thy journey was successful.” His eyes scanned the cart full of produce.
Phillip smiled. “Aye, the gardens are now tended and the well in village is not tainted as we had feared.”
William watched his friends with a smile. “Aye, ‘tis good… I had a visitor this day.”
Thomas glanced at the red haired man who sat beside him, then looked back to William with concerned eyes. “And?”
“’Twas a man from Chadwick; nigh an hour’s walk from here I believe. I’m not sure why he was here for I neglected to ask, though he seemed a goodly sort. I inquired after the survivors of Glenton Moor, but he was wary to answer me.”
“William! Tell me ye did not! They are wary with good reason, and they shall not soon hand over one of their own to the English!” Thomas said, his voice tinged with worry.
“’Tis true I suppose, although I had hoped that one day we would hear of some.” He put his hands on his hips as he glanced at the already ripening field. “Perhaps, we could even go to Chadwick and barter produce and grain for livestock. It would give us a goodly name among our neighbors and help us keep food on our table this winter.” He said and glanced at his men’s worried faces. “On the morrow then, Phillip, ye and I shall go and see to it.”
Phillip just shook his head with a worried look.
And Thomas’ frowned. “And I?”
He knew that anyone who saw Thomas’ hard scowl would anticipate trouble and said, “Ye shall stay here and mind what is ours. If they see thee frown so, Thomas, they shall have their swords drawn before we even have a chance to talk.”
He smiled and turned away not willing to be argued with. Hi
s two friends only looked at one another wondering at the wisdom in his decision, but they said nothing. They were strangers in this place, and worse they were English, and it was that, that made them worry at the welcome they would receive in Chadwick…
That night he laid on the floor again, his friends soon asleep from hard work the day had brought them; the sounds of crickets chirping in the damp night air making him finally feel welcomed in this place. He closed his eyes listening, and prayed that all would go well.
With each day the farm took shape, the crops that were already planted by the inhabitants before them were growing well. There would need to be enough food to see them and any who may stay in the village through the long cold winter ahead. Around the settlement the gardens which had been planted before too were growing lush again. The three men had more than enough work to do to keep up with them, saving what they needed and bartering the rest. Things were good here, and he was happy—finally.
The cart well and loaded with produce, William and a wary Phillip climbed up while Thomas watched scowling more than ever. “I do not like it, William! If ye are determined to go; then we should all go!”
William seated himself and took the reins glancing at the worry in Phillip’s eyes before he answered the other man, “All shall be well, Thomas. We have our swords and fair weather this day; and we shall not invite trouble, I promise thee.”
Thomas wanted to say more, but instead he stood just shaking his head as he watched them turn the cart towards the old narrow roadway, praying that somehow William was right.
The two headed for Chadwick regardless of Thomas’ apprehension and Phillip’s wary looks; more than glad that the ride was uneventful as they meandered along the narrow rutted road that was nothing more than two bared wheel marks through the tattered grass. But for all the peaceful surrounding; yet, Phillip did not cease to let his guard down. It was hard to forget that they were two Englishmen surrounded by those who were not, and he was sure they would not be received well.
Debra Kay Leland Page 3
