She laughed softly. “Aye, ‘tis true of some I suppose, but this man seems most honest.”
He threw her a concerned look. “Ye would do well to keep away from him!”
She took her brother’s strong hand in hers. “Have no care, Turin. I doubt we shall see the English here soon after the welcome he received.” But even as she said it, she hoped it wasn’t true…
The three men began working hard to fix up the fences that had been torn down; though their first cow and her calf didn’t at all seem to mind being staked out in the meadow on a long rope; and William was glad for it.
He stood with legs apart and strong arms crossed over his broad chest watching his cattle graze as the sun sank low in the sky casting beautiful shadows on the meadow from the tall trees around it. Phillip had seen to roasting the deer that Thomas had shot with his bow earlier that day. The savory aroma from the meat hung in the heavy evening air. He smiled, finally realized that this place had begun to feel like a home to him. As if life itself had finally come back to him and to Glenton Moor at the same time. And it was a welcome relief from the heavy, disheartening quiet that hung over the ruins and over his thoughts when they had first arrived.
Aye, the land was healing—now if only its people could… He knew there were survivors who had fled the destruction that night, he himself had watched their desperate eyes as they fled from him expecting him to follow, but instead he pointed them towards safety and told them to hurry. Now, he just wondered if they would ever come back to this place again.
“William! Come eat!”
He smiled at Phillip’s words and went to the well to wash the dirt from himself before he walked to the hut clean but damp; and for the first time feeling as if somehow everything was going to be alright.
Chapter Five
“Why the long face, father?” James Sheridan, the oldest son and heir of the Earl of Whittington said as he strode into his father’s solar. His father had been staring out the large bank of windows at the countryside just beyond the castle walls for nigh an hour without saying a single word. James knew his mind was on one thing, and one thing only—his younger son, William….
He straightened at the annoyed tone of his son but didn’t turn around.
James was tall and strong, his looks were similar to his brother’s; but that was the only thing that was similar about the two. James, unlike his brother was uncaring and disrespectful—and to his disappointment, he had not yet even married and given him a grandchild to ease his mind.
“Are ye thinking of thy prodigal again?” He said as he settled himself down comfortably, watching his father with a dark smile on his handsome face.
His father stiffened at his words and turned slowly, wondering which of his sons was truly the prodigal, the one who had left his home to do what was right in his soul or the one who yet remained at his side and spoke such to him. “Prodigal? No, James, he is not a prodigal. He does that which his conscience demands.”
“Oh, do not misunderstand me, father, I think William shall make a very happy farmer and I wish him well! But ye think of him overly, even mourn him.”
His father lifted the cup in his hand to his lips and took a sip. “Aye, I think of him; he is still my son, James.”
“But not thy heir, father; and if he had any regard for thee, he would not have left. But then perhaps ‘twas for the best for he shall not inherit Whittington. So, best he gets on with his own life.”
“But if ye fail to produce an heir, James, then what?”
The man only laughed. “Oh I shall, father, Whittington is mine and mine alone. And alas, I am only twenty-three summers and shall soon take my betrothed to the altar. And though the girl is sweet, she is not my first choice.”
“She was chosen to form an alliance between Greycliff and Whittington, and ye know it well.”
“Aye, I do; but ’tis not for love I wed the girl, nor she, I. We shall wed when I am twenty and five; I promise ye that, and then ye shall have thy heir.”
“Nay, James, not my heir, but thine…” He looked at his son, not able to help the thought that swept through his head again—if only William had been his first born… if only… He sighed and turned back towards the windows with saddened eyes once again not letting himself say the things that lingered in his mind…
Another trip to Chadwick?!” Phillip frowned, not even trying to hide his concern. “Do ye think this is wise given the way the men of the village were already angered by our first visit?!”
“Aye, they were; but the more we go, the more they shall see we wish them no harm. Come now, Phillip, help me load the cart.”
“Aye, I shall; but I am not pleased to do so…!”
Thomas looked to the two and merely shook his head; knowing that nothing he said would sway William’s determined mind even now.
The cart loaded, the two men headed towards the neighboring village to the west. All the while William kept talking to his uneasy friend, discussing the things that needed to be done before winter was upon them, as they traveled—mostly to try to put his friend at ease, though it did not work. It was a slow uneventful journey that took them to the outskirts of the village again; yet despite the calm of the day, Phillip felt none of it!
“Good day to ye, lass.”
Miranda looked up at the man who now stood in her path. She glanced towards the cobbled huts to her left; glad that they weren’t alone as she drew a long sigh. “Good day to ye, Egan.”
He relaxed his stance and cocked one long leg, crossing his strong arms over his barrel chest as he smiled. Yet, even though he smiled, his face did not soften but remained hard, his long hair hanging recklessly to his shoulders. “Would ye go for a ride with me, lass?”
She blushed and looked down uncomfortably not wanting to anger the man after what had happened the other day. “Ye know ye are to ask my da.”
He sighed and glanced around them in frustration. “And ye know I have done so and yet I am turned away!”
She felt like she was walking on thin ice with him, for once he knew why she was really in the village he would be angry all over again. She swallowed hard as she looked away uncomfortably. “Egan, ‘tis not right for me to stand here and talk with ye like this.”
He glanced around them at the few curious faces that dared to look their way; then turned back towards her with annoyance. “No one would dare speak ill against us. I merely want to know if ye’ll ride with me, lass.”
“Nay, I shall not.”
His face grew dark and he shifted again; his nostrils flared and she knew he was angry though he worked to keep his voice from rising and she could see it. “Is there another then that has caught yur eye?”
She stepped back and turned aside, in truth there wasn’t, but even if there was she would do well to keep it to herself. “Ye know there is not, nor do I wish there to be—now, Good day to ye, Egan Wallace.”
Before he could answer again, she walked away. She knew he was staring at her, she could feel is cold dark eyes against her back; but she wouldn’t let him intimidate her and make her run away as she had done before.
She knew Egan better than he thought she did, and knew that he fancied to meet a young widow from the village now and again; and it did nothing to sway her thoughts towards him in the least. Despite his sincere determination to gain her favor, there was nothing he could ever do to change the type of man he was or to change her mind. And in the end, that was what turned her from him the most.
No sooner had she reached the edge of the village, when she saw the Englishman driving his cart slowly down the narrow road just ahead. She stopped and glanced behind her, but to her relief Egan had gone; although she knew that soon enough word would reach him that the English was here and he would be more than angry. She turned again and slowly lifted a shy hand in welcome; feeling a warm blush spread across her soft cheeks as she did so.
William nudged his friend with his elbow discreetly as they neared. “Ah see, the girl has come to
meet us again. All shall be well, Phillip.”
His friend glanced at him and scowled, then turned back towards the girl who stood there waiting for them hesitantly; knowing they were to put their very lives into the hands of a mere lass and it did not set well with him.
William couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful young girl who stood waiting as he pulled his horse to a stop and looked down at her gently. “Good day, lass.”
“Aye, and to ye. My da sent me to wait and see if ye would come this morning.”
Without another word she glanced over her shoulder nervously, realizing that the other villagers had also noticed that he was there and had begun to murmur. No doubt Egan would soon find out also. She turned back and motioned for them to follow not wanting to waste a second. “’Tis best if we go now, Egan is sure to hear of yur visit.”
She had no sooner spoken, when Egan saw the cart—and the girl—and his face grew dark and angry as he strode towards them with intent, blocking their way and making her take a halted step back.
“For God sake, lass, what are ye doing! Do ye really intend to go off alone with the likes of these again?!”
She flushed slightly at his tone, and tried very hard to hold her ground. “I have my knife, and I know how to use it if they but give me reason to!”
He sneered down at her with his hand on his hips and his cold eyes never blinking as he spoke. “Ye are a child! And a fool!”
“Ye shall not bring trouble on these men today, Egan! And ye shall not tell me what I can or cannot do!”
He paused looking down at the stubborn tilt of her chin before he continued with narrowed eyes, “If ye intend to do such a stupid thing, then go! But—ye shall not go alone! Does yur da know that they have come this day also?!”
“He does.”
He threw the two men in the cart an icy glare then dropped his gaze back on the girl once more, careful not to anger her to the point she would not speak to him again. He drew a long breath, then purposefully tried to soften his angry look as he continued to frown down at her—if only she was already his, then things here would have been much different this day! He stood there a long quiet moment and merely shook his head, never taking his cold dark eyes from her. “And he leaves his only daughter to lead English dogs to his house. If ye were mine, lass, I would not let ye out of my sight. And—I would nigh run a man through with my sword for even looking at ye!”
She dropped her eyes and turned then, walking past him stiffly; not knowing how much further she dared push him this day. “Follow if ye must, Egan, but take care what ye say! For I am not promised to any man, and owe ye not a care!”
He threw William a dark look; then strode after the girl walking a few paces behind her, his low angry voice carrying farther than he intended it to. “Yur da is a fool for not pressing ye to marry! Good God, lass, what do I have to do to get ye see that I care for thee?!”
She didn’t answer, though he knew she’d heard him full well as he sighed. “Ye don’t even know me, Miranda—if ye would just spend a little time with me…”
“Nay.”
He frowned as he watched her walk stiffly in front of him. “I would be good to ye, lass. But ye are too much of a child to even see it!”
She walked even faster as if purposefully trying to get away from his words. “I do not love ye, Egan, I have told ye that.”
“Ye would learn to love me.”
She turned then and pointed towards the village. “There are many a lass that would be eager to be yur bride! Ye know full well that Shannah has eyes for thee; yet ye press me! ”
He sighed again glancing behind him as he tried to keep his voice low, “I do not wish for just any lass; I want ye, Miranda.”
She turned away stiffly. “Go! I do not wish to speak of it further!”
He looked at her with narrowed eyes knowing he’d said more than he’d intended to; and knowing that she could very well refuse to let him even speak to her at all if she chose to do so. He drew a long breath and frowned at her with angry eyes; then dropped his head for a moment as if to calm himself before he stepped up meeting her gaze intently, lowering his voice to a insistent whisper as he spoke the words he’d chosen carefully, not willing to give her reason to push him any farther way. “…Very well, I shall be patient with ye yet a little longer, but—tell yur da that he is a fool to risk his daughter like this...” He threw a glance over his shoulder at the men in the cart behind them, then he drew a long sigh and looked to her again. “…Good day to ye, lass. Ye can see yur da’s hut from here, so I shall leave ye, but tell Alden that it ‘tis not good for the English to come here.” He nodded stiffly to her; then turned hastily, pausing just long enough to stop and glare at the two men seated on the cart before strode away with long angry steps.
She waited for a moment, then took a deep breath and turned towards the farm again; not bothering to say a word to the two men behind her.
Neither Egan nor the girl had seen Phillip’s hand on his friend’s sword arm restraining him as he listened to the man’s angry words to her. He frowned hard and flicked the reins then glanced at Phillip; his voice no more than a low rumble. “If—he had dared to even touch her once, I swear he would be missing a hand this day…”
Phillip knew it was true, he could see it in his eyes. He glanced towards the village, then to his friend again wondering just how close they had come to bloodshed this day…
Miranda walked stiffly the rest of the way, knowing all the while that the men behind her had heard Egan’s words to her. In truth, she was more worried to be alone with him than the two strangers that followed her now. Egan knew no fear, he was a man of battle—but not the kind man to have as a husband, though in his mind he was sure he was right for her. Thankfully, her father was one of the elders of the village and none would go against him, not even Egan Wallace and for that she was thankful! But yet she worried, knowing there were ways the man could force a girl’s hand into marriage; ways that sent cold chills down her spine… For if he found her alone and took her with him even if it be by force, her da would have no choice but to allow the marriage between the two. But she didn’t think that even Egan was cruel enough to force her hand in such a way—or so she prayed.
Her father came from the little hut and smiled, raising a hand to greet them. “Good day to ye, English, I hope ye did not find trouble this day?”
William stopped the cart and climbed down glancing at Miranda as she retreated to the hut without a word. He knew how very upset she was, but he also knew that it was not his place to say a thing about it. He turned his gaze back to his the older man and managed a smiled, but couldn’t help wondering if she would tell her father of what had happened with Egan or not. “Nay, Alden, not much this day. I’ve brought ye more to barter, and a small keg of ale.”
“Ah, ye know well how to drive a man to bargain with ye! And what is it ye want of me this day?”
“Two chickens and a rooster.” He finally smiled. “The men have a taste for eggs.”
The older man just laughed. “We shall see.”
An hour later the man bid them good day at the edge of the village and turned to go back towards his farm again. Phillip glanced over his shoulder with worried eyes as they rode on. “Did ye see Egan and the other men?!”
I did, but Alden has yet to discourage us from coming.”
Phillip frowned and looked to his friend’s profile. “So—we shall return again?”
“Aye, we shall return.” He was sure that neither Phillip nor Thomas knew how important it was that they gain an ally in the occupants of Chadwick. If they were to remain in this place, they need not fear those who lived around them. And, if he ever intended for those who had fled Glenton Moor to return he needed to prove himself trustworthy—and this was the only way he knew how to accomplish it! He said nothing more to Phillip, though his thoughts were of Chadwick... And yet, somehow they wandered to Alden’s daughter and Egan Wallace. He shook his head, silently reminding
himself that what happened in Chadwick was none of his business; but even as he tried not to think of it, he just couldn’t stop himself either.
Miranda sat in their house watching the men from a small crack in the shutters.
“Miranda, ’tis rude to watch them like that!”
“I know it is, but he cannot see me. I just find the Englishman interesting. Don’t ye ever wonder where he came from? He has yet to say…”
“I do not. I only wish him gone—though, I do not wish ill to befall him.”
Miranda peered through the crack again, knowing that if she could but choose a husband of her own she would choose a man like that... She watched them both clasp hands with her father, then settle up on the cart again before they turned to leave and yet her eyes followed them.
They had only gone but half way home, when William pulled the cart over to the side without a word.
Phillip glancing around them; his hand already on the hilt of his sword—worried that he had not seen the threat as he turned to William with concerned eyes. “What?! Why have we stopped?!”
“’Tis—nothing really, I—I seem to have a headache… I just—need to lie down in the back…” William stood weakly, nearly stumbling off the seat as he eased himself down; somehow managing to catch himself before he fell to the ground.
Phillip jumped down and ran up behind him with a steadying hand on his friend’s back, before he put an arm around his waist as he took him to the rear of the cart. He pushed the crates to the side before he helped William up. “Are ye sure ye are well?”
William didn’t answer, didn’t opened his eyes; his jaw clenched tightly against the pain as he felt his friend push him down onto the rough wooden planks and settle his cloak under his head as a pillow.
“William?!”
He struggled for words, only managing a choked reply. “Go—home…”
Debra Kay Leland Page 5
