Rohracht stole a deliberate look at his men. “Did I no’ tell ye o’ what he was made?”
Adair did not know what to say.
“Aye, well, lad,” Rohracht said, his voice a bit stronger, “there is—as I see it—one more course we can steer. We can fight.”
Adair blinked at the old man, barely on his feet. “Fight.”
“Aye, so. Repel the bastards. Mak’ sure they do no’ again set foot on our land.”
It would have been laughable, were the old man not so earnest.
“Master, have ye the men to put up a fight? Men enough, that is.”
“Do we ha’ the men to fight? Aye, I believe we do. Mican has no’ come wi’ an army. Just a stout band. I ha’ trained warriors and men skilled at farming the land or sea who will down tools and up weapons.” Rohracht bent a look upon Adair. “I ha’ you.”
Dismay momentarily robbed Adair of all breath. “Me.”
“Aye. My grandson now. A man who has already defeated the redoubtable Earrach. A man who, if I am no’ much mistaken, has the makings o’ a warrior beyond compare.”
“Master, yearemuch mistaken. I trained at arms back home, aye, but I am but a third son. ’Tis my brother, Baen, who is the warrior.”
“I ha’ no’ met your brother. So I canna say what sort o’ man he is. Whether he has the fire in him. Ye ha’ that fire, lad. What I used to have. My men will follow ye.”
Adair stepped forward, imploring the old man now. “Grandfather, I cannot help but think the best thing I can do for ye and yours is vacate this place. That way, Mican can find nay fault in ye. He cannot raze your holding and come back wi’ an army.”
“That is what ye want, is it? To tak’ my granddaughter and sail off? To Erin, is it?”
“’Tis no’ so much what I want. But it may be the safest for all o’ ye.”
Rohracht did not reply at once. He fastened the belt at his hips and said to one of his men, “Bring me my sword.”
Love for the man—this valiant, wasted man—flooded Adair’s heart so that for the moment he could not speak.
“Lad, either ye stand wi’ me or no’, but I am standing.”
“I still feel, master, ’tis an unequal battle.”
“Such has been won before now. They ha’ been won by heart and by the grace o’ the gods.”
“Aye.”
Rohracht took a step toward Adair and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Grandson,” he said deliberately, “stay and fight wi’ me, fight for this holding, and when I die, ’twill be your own. I ha’ no heir, save my granddaughter. And now, ye.”
“Grandfather,” Adair returned, “I am no’ worthy.”
“Then prove yoursel’ so.”
Slowly, Adair said, “A man does no’ fight for land or for a holding. At least, no’ to my mind. He fights for those he loves.”
“Then come, and we shall both do just that.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Ineed aweapon,” Bradana croaked as she finished dressing and bundled her hair into a hasty knot. Adair had gone out ahead of her to join Grandfather, but Morag had lingered, twisting her hands in her smock and looking distraught.
Wen, also still with Bradana, stared up at her and whined.
