Authors: Donna Fletcher
“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.”
R
eena 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.
She had good memories here, but it was time to take them with her to her new life.
Reena’s mother held out her hand to take her daughter’s small satchel as she approached the wagon.
Reena smiled, seeing the plump little pup curled in her mother’s lap, fast asleep. He had exhausted himself making new friends and begging for food, which all willingly shared with him.
“You will ride with us? You look fatigued,” her mother said, taking the bundle from her. “It will be good to talk with you at length.”
“That is up to Lord Dunhurnal,” her father said.
The title gave her a start. He was a lord and she could no longer call him Magnus. The thought upset her, for she had fast considered him a friend, enjoying his company and his smile.
Smile?
Feeling flustered and considering her father’s words, she excused herself so that she could locate her new lord and seek his permission to walk alongside her parents’ wagon. She would not ride in the wagon when there were many who needed it more.
All was in readiness, and excitement was high in the air. Laughter, smiles and children’s giggles were heard, and Reena’s heart swelled with joy, for merriment had returned to her people.
She found Magnus in the lead, his warriors dispersed throughout the line of villagers. Her horse waited next to his, and she realized he expected her to ride beside him.
What surprised her was that Brigid stood speaking with Magnus, and while she was pleased that her plan to put them together had taken little effort on her part, she felt a strange ache in her stomach. She ignored it and thought on how well they looked together, Brigid beautiful, and he handsome—a perfect pair.
“You are very kind, my lord,” Reena heard Brigid say as she approached. Both of their smiles widened when they caught sight of each other. It was so good to be back with family and friends, and she could not wait to be alone with Brigid and ask her what she thought of their new lord.
Magnus summoned Thomas with a wave, and it was brief and hasty orders he issued. “Thomas, assist Brigid with her needs.”
The big warrior hesitated a moment, as if debating Magnus’s instructions, then he lowered his head, stepped aside, and waited for Brigid to lead.
“Your name is Thomas?” Brigid asked, stepping closer to him.
“Aye, Thomas,” he repeated.
Reena watched them together. Thomas was obviously uncomfortable in front of Brigid, but her friend would see to his unease, and she was sure they would be friends in no time.
“I am pleased to meet you and grateful that you will help me,” Brigid said and walked slowly so that he would walk along with her.
Reena looked to Magnus. “All is ready for departure, my lord?”
He studied her for a moment. “You will call me Magnus.”
“As you wish.” She was relieved that he did not insist she use his title. She felt more at ease, more of a friend, referring to him by name.
He raised his hand slowly, all the while keeping his eyes on hers as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You have gone without sufficient sleep these last few days and require rest.”
His touch was cool and feather light so that she barely felt it, yet it affected her like no other touch. “We all require rest; we have all worked hard.”
Had he taken a step closer to her? He felt nearer to her somehow, and yet she did not recall him moving.
“My concern is for you.”
“No need,” was her hasty response.
His hands went to her waist and rested there, pausing over hers and squeezing gently, as if it were a common touch they often exchanged. Their eyes remained on each other, and for a brief moment in time the world seemed suspended around them. Then the spell was broken and he lifted her and placed her on her horse. “You will ride beside me.”
He mounted his horse, put his helmet on, and directed his stallion beside her. “You will tell me all you know of Dunhurnal land.”
She wondered if she would ever grow at ease with the change the helmet brought. Magnus was easy and enjoyable to converse with, but the helmet hid this side of him away from her; his dark eyes were more ominous behind the metal holes, his look more fearful, and he, more unapproachable.
“Something troubles you?”
She focused on his dark brown eyes, hoping she could see Magnus in them and thus put herself at ease. “My thoughts but wander.” She immediately turned her attention to his command. “Dunhurnal land is rich in soil and the woods wealthy with game. The keep is in disrepair, though a fine size. It was built on a small rise and situated so that from the battlements all approaching directions held clear views, thus no enemy could approach without Lord Dunhurnal’s knowledge. The tenant cottages surround the keep and are in need of repair, and the land itself is thick with useless vegetation. The previous lord passed, and no heirs stepped forth to claim the property.”
A thought struck her silent. Lands passed to heirs; how, then, had the Legend become the new lord of Dunhurnal?
“Did you travel to Dunhurnal land alone when you mapped the area?”
“Aye, I did. It takes time to map the land and the buildings, and none in the village could spare the time to accompany me, but it was necessary for the village to know the land. We needed a place to hunt for food once Lord Kilkern forbade us to hunt on his property.” She paused, a frown on her face. “If the land had been mapped, my father might not have broken his leg.”
“You blame yourself for your father’s injury?” he asked.
“I know it may seem foolish, but I feel my skills in mapmaking can help in many ways, thus preventing unfortunate and sometimes dangerous results. That is why I detail my maps so precisely; you never know what might be helpful.” A yawn rushed up and out before Reena could stop it, and her shoulders slumped slightly, fatigue fast catching up with her.
“You have done far too much, on far too little sleep.”
He sounded annoyed, which frustrated her, since she was well aware that he thought her too skinny and weak and she did not wish him to think so. “I am strong and can do what is necessary.”
“I did not question your strength.” His tone softened.
Another yawn attacked her, and she realized that she would not be able to continue the journey without some sleep. It would be nightfall before they reached Dunhurnal land.
Reena was about to admit her fatigue and seek the comfort of her parents’ wagon when she was suddenly plucked off her horse and deposited in front of the Legend.
One of his men took charge of her mare, directing the animal away from them.
“Lean back and rest,” he said with a sense of command, his face near to hers and his breath a warm, faint breeze on her cool cheek.
She was startled by his unexpected action. What would everyone think? But then he had told her once that he did not care what others thought of him. He had just proved it. She was so tired that she succumbed to his order, and she realized as she rested back against him that her hand remained firm on his arm, which was wrapped around her waist.
She thought to say something but could think of no words, especially since she felt comforted by the strength of him. Her eyes drifted closed, though she fought to keep them open; why, she did not know. He had ordered her to rest, but sleep? She needed to remain alert, needed to finish the conversation with him about Dunhurnal land, needed to discuss Brigid with him.
The last thought startled her, but sleep was close to claiming her, and she could do nothing more but think of how she must look, wrapped in the Legend’s arms, to those around them.
Brigid woke Reena the next morning, and she sat up with a start.
She looked around, sniffed the scent of fresh roasted meat, and saw that everyone was enjoying a substantial morning meal.
“I thought you would be hungry being you slept through supper,” Brigid said and handed her a slice of black bread with cheese and meat piled on it.
Reena took it, her stomach eager for sustenance.
Brigid nibbled on a piece of cheese.
After a bite or two Reena had to ask the obvious. “The last I remember was riding with Magnus on his horse. How did I get here?”
Here
was a soft bed of blankets beside a comforting fire that kept the chilled air at bay.
“It was a sight for sure,” Brigid said excitedly. “First the Legend ordered that a fire be built and bedding spread for you, then he handed you to Thomas—a dear man with a huge heart—to hold while he dismounted. He then took you from Thomas, carried you to this bedding, which I prepared with haste, and lowered you ever so slowly and carefully, as though he thought you would break or perhaps he did not want to let you go. Then he covered you with a blanket and commanded that no one disturb you.”
Speechless, Reena stared at Brigid.
“There are whispers—”
Reena would not allow her friend to finish. “Nonsense. The Legend but looks after his people, and besides, he has expressed interest in you.”
“Me?” Brigid placed a hand to her chest. “Why ever would he be interested in me?”
“You are beautiful, for one thing. And he is handsome beyond belief. You two would make a splendid couple, and I let him know this.”
Brigid nodded, understanding her friend. “We shall see who interests him.”
“I have no interest in him and he has none in me,” Reena said with a defensive edge.
“We shall see.” Brigid smiled, though it faded slowly. “I am glad the Legend moves us to his land. I left much behind in the village, including painful memories.”
Horace ran up to Reena and sat beside her, waiting for any morsel of food. She couldn’t resist him, and besides, she wasn’t as hungry as she had thought. Reena brushed the crumbs from her hands after feeding the remainder of her meal to Horace.
“Kilkern did not bother you while I was gone?” Reena asked, concerned for her friend.
“Nay, there was gossip that he had traveled to see the king in regards to his property, but we could not be certain, and no one wished to approach his keep to see if there was truth to the gossip.”
“You need not worry any longer, you are now under the Legend’s protection.”
“So Thomas informed me.” Her smile returned. “He is such a tender man, I enjoy talking with him.” She laughed softly. “Though I do most of the talking and he listens; he is a good listener, and since John died I have not known a man who would listen so patiently to my endless chatter. He even listened to me tell him about the garden I wish to plant in the spring, and he promises he will till the soil well for me.”