“So we’ll take the women and hide. We can go downstream to the Nansemond until Winn and the others return,” Maggie said.
“No, that willna work. If the English come upon this place and find it abandoned, they will burn it to the ground. It would save ‘em the trouble of making a peaceable request,” Benjamin replied.
Gwen cleared her throat.
“Then you must get the children and Maggie away. Take them now, and let us face the English when they arrive.”
“Gwen, no, you can’t stay here! None of you can –”
Gwen reached for Maggie, who quieted when the older woman took her hand. Gwen smiled, a gesture that served to muffle Maggie’s protests for a fraction of a moment.
“Of course I can. It’s my duty as yer kin and yer duty as our Chief’s wife to see yer children safe. Now is the time to lead, my lady. We shall be waiting here fer ye once the English have crawled back to their snake holes.”
When Gwen’s sad eyes met his he swallowed hard. He nodded at the unspoken request in her voice.
“Ye’ll see them safe, will ye not?” Gwen said softly. “Maybe ye are yer father’s son.”
Yes, he thought. He would keep them safe. For that was his duty, and he would not abandon it.
“Mama?” Kyra called out, her voice pitched high in question. Benjamin looked back toward the horse where he had deposited Kyra with strict instructions to stay put. The horse lifted his head straight up, ears pricked and eyes focused on the wood line.
The rustle of movement through the brush and the disjointed shouts of strangers reached them, making the idea of a threat into instant reality. Maggie plucked Malcolm up off the ground.
“Ride, sweetheart,” she whispered, kissing his head as she placed him behind his sister. With shaking hands, she hugged Kyra as Benjamin spoke softly to his niece. Kyra promised to follow the river path downstream to the Nansemond village, where she would wait. In turn, he promised that her mother would not be far behind.
Kyra ground her heels into the horse’s flanks and the beast took off into the woods. He grimaced as Malcolm jerked backwards, but the boy recovered without issue and remained astride behind his sister. Benjamin took Maggie’s hand.
“Go!” Gwen insisted.
Maggie followed him mutely into the woods, gripping his hand with the strength born of panic. He had known her very well once, and he knew fair well when she was afraid. That unguarded part she struggled to contain flared like a beacon with every emotion on display, as if she dared anyone to tell her she should not act on what she felt.
It was clear she did not want to leave the village. He had no doubt she was bold enough to face the English on her own – and he had witnessed her capable behavior on more than one occasion – but there was much more at stake than that. Apparently, she did not recognize the name of her own father, and for the life of him, Benjamin did not know why. Had Winn not told her that her father lived? Nor Erich? Did they think it best she not know of the man? Whatever the reasons, it was clear Maggie was in the dark. The true danger to her and the children was not the English – it was the Norse Time Walker with a vengeful streak who would stop at nothing to claim her if he knew she existed.
“Come on,” Benjamin growled. He could see the English through the trees as they rode into the village and he knew their time to flee had run out. He pulled Maggie into the woods toward a small alcove surrounded by slate boulders, a place he recalled the children often played. Sitting well above the Northern Hall, those in the niche could see the village below, but were unlikely to be seen in return.
“But the children –”
“They’re far gone by now. Ease yer self. We’ll stay down until they leave,” he whispered.
Benjamin tried to control his breathing as he drew her close and they kneeled down in the dirt.
“They willna hurt anyone. He’s here to give them the King’s decree, then he’ll go,” Benjamin said softly, more to convince himself than to placate Maggie. He knew she could see Agnarr down below for the man stood out amongst the English as a gemstone gleamed in the sun. It was not only the expensive clothes he wore and healthy horse he rode, but the way he carried himself lent no argument as to who was in charge.
“Who is he?” she asked.
“An enemy, if ye must know,” he snapped. She twisted around at his harsh reply and shoved him in the chest, which surprised him but did not budge him an inch. It had been years since he had spent time with her, and truth be told, he was no longer that same man. Despite the danger before them, having her in his arms stirred something down deep in his gut. Memories assaulted him, causing a scowl to form on his face.
“Yes, I must know!” she shot back.
“Ye need know he’s dangerous. He’ll recognize ye as a blooded MacMhaolian, and he’ll stop at nothing to take ye,” Benjamin replied. “And yer weans,” he added.
Maggie stopped arguing. More than a dozen men on horseback poured into the courtyard below amidst a cloud of dust, shouting amongst each other as if they feared no retribution. When he saw the band of English soldiers flank the group he realized why. Every man among them held a musket, even the plain dressed Englishmen who were in Agnarr’s employ. Benjamin wondered why they seemed armed for trouble rather than for a simple notification, yet he knew in his bones the answer.
Agnarr did the King’s bidding – when it suited him. Sturlsson always had another motive in his dealings, however, and being vigilant in the search for other Time Walkers was his ever-present task. Holding fast to the notion that not all the Norse colonists had been exterminated by the Indians, Agnarr lived for the moment he might stumble upon one.
And Benjamin, as such, lived to prevent him from doing so.
Agnarr dismounted slower than the others. Shorter than Benjamin but still marked with considerable brawn, the man straightened up in a refined manner and surveyed the others. His bright blond hair was coiffed fashionably back with a ribbon, his velvet and brocade attire more reflective of a gentleman than a rogue.
“What is his name?” Maggie whispered.
Benjamin sighed. He saw no reason to keep it from her.
“Agnarr. My employer,” he answered. Let her chew on that morsel if it would quiet her. With a touch of inappropriate amusement, he noted that Maggie still had no control of her emotion. Always defiant, forever willing to give a challenge instead of acquiescence, he supposed that was one of the things that drew him to her. He adjusted his hand at her waist, aware suddenly that he was gripping her entirely too close as they watched the scene below.
“So you’ve gone back to the English, and this is what you do? Why not join them now? How many villages have you raided? You traitorous bastard –”
“Damn ye, woman, quiet yer tongue. I’ve done no such thing. Did ye ever know me at all?” he snapped.
He could see her pulse throbbing madly along her tight jaw as she glared up at him.
“I thought I did,” she said whispered.
His voice was hoarse when he answered.
“You did know me,” he said. “You knew me like no other ever had.”
Her eyes glistened with the swell of tears and he looked away before she could shed them. His belly was a heavy knot, the warmth of her in his arms sending him back in time to that place where she belonged to him. He shook off the memory as quickly as it surfaced.
The past was over. Now was time to pay for his sins.
Two of the soldiers dragged Gwen from the Northern Hall. Maggie jumped up and Benjamin immediately jerked her back down.
“Doona move!” he ordered.
“They’re hurting Gwen!” Maggie cried. He held her tight, but she refused to turn away from the scene below.
“They willna kill her,” Benjamin whispered.
The tone of his utterance did not console her. She tried to twist away from him once more.
“Let me go, we can talk to them–” she pleaded. Gwen wasted no time displaying her opinion of the intruders, spitting i
n Agnarr’s face when he approached her.
Benjamin was surprised to see Agnarr turn away from the woman, but his stomach clenched when Agnarr plucked at his glove. Finger by finger he removed it, folding the glove neatly in half before he nodded to his companions. One of Agnarr’s men grabbed Gwen and pulled her out into the middle of the courtyard.
They tied Gwen to a tall post by the well in the yard. Maggie gripped his forearm.
“We have to do something!” she said.
“There is nothing to be done!” he replied, his voice strangled with fear. Agnarr had no cause to harm the villagers. His only duty was to inform them they should move further west, away from the English as they cleared more land for tobacco farming. Benjamin had visited many villages with Agnarr where they had done the same, ending the visit peacefully with no harm to any person. Yet those villages had been filled with Indians, and none of those people held interest to Agnarr. Not like the tiny settlement Winn’s family lived in, a mix of whites, Indians, and random stragglers that kept to themselves.
Benjamin did not expect Maggie to relent, but he was still startled when she renewed her struggle. She struck out at Benjamin and connected with his cheek, her nails scraping his skin. He grabbed her wrists then and crushed her to his chest, holding her head down as Gwen began to scream.
“I promised to keep ye safe. I promised her – and my father. If ye go down there now, I will go after ye, and it will be for naught because they will kill me where I stand.” He felt her jump at the crack of the lash. “I willna let them harm ye. Never,” he whispered fiercely into her hair.
He had made that vow, and he planned to keep it. Maggie let out a muffled shriek against his chest when Gwen screamed again.
They could hear each snap of the strap and the resultant cry from Gwen until finally the lashing ended. They were too far away to hear what the English were saying, so he could not determine what the man said to Gwen as he bent his head to hers. He only knew that there were too many men to count, all armed with gun power, and he was helpless to do anything except stay hidden until it was over.
He felt like a coward, but he knew he had no choice.
“Is that Ellie? What is she doing?” he whispered. When Maggie looked up at him, her face had taken on a pale tint. She followed his gaze back down to the courtyard, where Elli approached the intruders.
“She has Daniel with her,” Maggie whispered.
“Whose wean is that?” he asked.
“Mine. I mean, Rebecca’s. She–she died giving birth. Makedewa left. I’m watching over him until his father returns.”
He bowed head and closed his eyes. Makedewa had been his friend, his companion. To know his friend had lost a wife and now wandered alone was a sickening thought. Benjamin knew what isolation was like, to feel as if your home was no longer a place you could stay. It was a loneliness they had held common, one they had worked to vanquish as they traveled together. He wondered where Makedewa was, and how he fared.
He wished to convey his sadness, but he had no right to behave as if he were still part of the community. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he simply said, “I am sorry.” Maggie gave a slight nod at his words, but her eyes were focused on what was unfolding in the courtyard.
In Ellie’s arms was baby Daniel, bundled securely as she spoke with the English. Elli stood straight as she confronted the intruders, but they were too far away for him to hear what was said. Benjamin’s breathing stilled and he loosened his grip around her.
“What’s happening?” Maggie asked.
“I doona know. I think they’re leaving,” Benjamin replied.
He was right. After speaking with Ellie, the English mounted their horses. Agnarr spoke once more at Gwen and Ellie, and then he turned and slowly surveyed the village.
He raised his chin as if the villagers sullied the very earth he walked on, glancing down his chiseled nose at something on his jacket. With a flick of his gloved hand he brushed at the shimmering brocade, then swiftly mounted the horse one of the other men held for him.
Maggie leaned forward in Benjamin’s embrace. Bored, disgruntled, Agnarr’s countenance bespoke a smoldering anger undisclosed. Once securely astride, Agnarr’s horse turned in a tight circle and the man looked into the woods. Maggie stiffened when Agnarr seemed to stare straight at them, but it was only a momentary glance before he turned and galloped off.
“I will never forget his face,” she whispered as the men rode away. “How does he know me, Benjamin? Tell me.”
“’Tis not my tale to tell. Do not ask it,” he said quietly.
“I deserve an explanation,” she replied.
His throat contracted when he swallowed and his hands tightened on her arms.
“Then ask yer husband and yer uncle. I’m sure they know more about this feud than I do. Tell Winn I will be at the tavern in town if he should care to speak.”
He knew his brother and Erich enough to know that they would not let Gwen’s beating go unpunished. For whatever reason Agnarr had ordered it, the consequence would be more bloodshed. Benjamin feared this was just the beginning.
Ellie untied Gwen and the older woman fell to her knees. Maggie opened her mouth as if to question him again, but closed it and instead.
“Wait here until I see it’s safe. Stay down,” Benjamin replied. More women assembled in the courtyard to help Gwen, but Benjamin would not be satisfied until he was certain the English were gone.
Maggie made to move away, but Benjamin held her for a long spell, feeling as if he were lost somewhere that he could not return from. He stood up and pulled her to her feet with him, forgetting for a moment where he was as he spoke softly to her.
“Do ye see the ridge, over on the far side of the meadow?” he asked. She nodded. “Look there. When I see they’re gone, I’ll wave to ye. Stay here until ye see my hand.”
“I – I want to see Gwen – but the children –” she stammered.
“I’m sure they’re safe. I will see them returned to ye,” he said softly. She nodded.
He released her. Maggie’s cheeks were streaked with tears, but her demeanor was controlled as she gathered her composure. His mouth twisted with the hint of a grin as he thought he would rather fight the English than stand between Maggie and her family – the family he had once meant to call his own.
He stole one last glance at her before he turned away.
God strike me down, he thought if I should still love her. For how can I feel anything else, when I would give my life for hers?
Marcus had given up everything for the sake of his vow. His father had protected the blooded MacMhaolian with his last breath, using his final moments to elicit a pledge from his sons for her safety. In the time Benjamin knew him, Marcus had never spoken of loving a woman, not even Benjamin’s own mother.
Was that the future for one who protected the blooded MacMhaolian? To love her from afar and pledge his life to her protection? It had been easy at that moment, when his father asked it of him.
To realize that he could let her return to Winn without an ounce of regret was another matter entirely. That ache was gone, that tiny part of himself that demanded he keep her was buried, not even an ember of it burning as he walked away. It was a different sort of love, one he could use when needed and look on with fondness. One he could live with without regret or shame.
Relief settled heavy in his chest. His brother would return soon, and Winn’s family was safe for now. He heard the whisper of her voice as he left her, carried to him over the gentle roar of his heart.
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded and kept walking.
CHAPTER 9
Winn
The men returned from hunting not long after the sun dipped behind the mountains, but the moment they reached the village Winn knew something was amiss. Be it the stillness in the air or the lack of welcoming cries from their women, it was a silence that sent his heart to racing.
His motions were blunted in a blurr
ed haze as he left his horse ground tied and gave his son an order to stay in the courtyard. Chetan and Erich called out to him, but he could not decipher the words if he had wanted to. All he could manage to focus on was the path to his longhouse, and until he held the sight of his family safe before his eyes, he would not rest.
It was Chetan who reached him as Winn opened the door to his empty dwelling. If not for his brother’s hand on his arm, he might have exploded at the sight of the cold hearth. Where were his wife and children?
“They are with Gwen,” Chetan said, the question clear on Winn’s face. “Men were here.”
“Powhatan?” Perhaps Winn had brought retaliation down on his people by refusing to help Opechacanough.
“English.”
Torn by his anger and overwhelmed with relief, he followed his brother to Gwen and Erich’s longhouse. There he found Maggie sitting beside Gwen, silently watching her aunt sleep. Kyra and Malcolm curled up beside each other in a pile of furs next to the fire, and Makedewa’s son slept peacefully in a cradle beside the fire. All those Winn loved were safe, the guilt of relief washing over him as he looked down upon them.
“Will she wake?” Erich asked, placing his hand on Gwen’s shoulder. Her body tensed but she did not stir, and Maggie shook her head.
“I gave her a drink for the pain. The poppy made her sleep,” Maggie said softly.
Winn heard his wife gasp when Erich parted Gwen’s dressing. Erich looked down on Gwen’s flayed skin, his body unnaturally rigid as everyone fell silent. When Erich gently replaced the bandages and turned away from the bed, Winn thought his wife’s uncle was in control. Yet striking quick as a serpent, Erich whirled away from the bed and buried his fist into a thick wooden beam, leaving his hand bloodied and ragged as he turned to the fire. The older man was surprisingly quick in his temper, uttering a hoarse oath as blood dripped from his torn skin. He ignored the wound and placed both hands on the mantle, leaning over the fire as he struggled to speak. His ragged voice emerged, low but steady as he stared into the flames.
“I willna let this go. Give me two men, Winn, that is all I ask of ye,” Erich growled.
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