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Moments later, when he walked into the area behind a hastily hung blanket to serve as divider, the woman lay on a cot, her bruised face had been cleaned and her wounds seen to. He felt sickened that his kind would so something to a woman just because they were weaker.
“How do ye fare?”
Her pale eyes met his. “I cannot say. I should thank ye, I suppose.” She sniffed, a single tear trailing down her cheek. “My betrothed will nae have me now. I am unsure what my future holds.”
“Yer family?”
“Someone went to fetch my parents.” She sighed. “I live in Welland.”
As if conjured, a couple hurried around the blanket. Instantly the woman went to the bed, kissing the younger one’s face. “Thank God ye are alive.”
The father was less forthcoming, but it was obvious he fought to keep his emotions in check.
Caelan stood and went to leave but the young woman stopped him. “He is who saved me.”
The father hurried to him, shaking his hand. “Thank ye. I do nae know what I would do without my lass.”
He left to give the family time and went to find Brock. The two who’d been caught had been taken to Welland. The constable would see to their punishment, although Caelan suspected the beating they’d gotten from the guards would be the worst of it.
“We do not have patrol on the morrow,” Brock said at seeing him. “We can go to the village. To the tavern.”
It was late morning the next day when they rode to Welland, enjoying the warmth of the sun on their backs as they headed to the village. Neither of them really drank overly much but leaving the camp was a good way to spend time among others.
“Did ye hear that we are to get new guards sometime today?” Brock asked.
Caelan shrugged. “Aye and some who've been here are leaving. I prefer to remain here. I like this post.”
“I do as well,” Brock agreed. “The area is large, so it keeps us busy.”
The village was bustling with activity, the warm weather inviting the people to come out and gather.
People called out from the market stalls, whilst women hurried from one place to the other, filling their baskets with purchases. The men lingered on the sides, some sitting at tables sharing ale and whatever stories they could share.
Noting a young woman who looked familiar, Caelan hesitated. When she turned, her eyes widened in recognition, she dropped her basket and ran to him.
“Brother.” She threw herself into his arms. “I heard ye were nearby and had hoped to come and find ye,” Galena was seven years younger than him, making her ten and six now. She’d blossomed into a beauty.
“Who is this?” Brock neared, studying his sister with interest.
“My sister and ye do best to keep yer distance.”
Unfortunately, Galena had other ideas. She grabbed a startled Brock’s hand. “Ye must come and sit with us. I wish to hear all about my brother.”
Noting his pointed look where their hands were clasped, Brock extricated his. “I will return in a moment after ye both have time to talk.”
“Let us get yer basket,” Caelan said walking with her to where she’d dropped it. “Did ye come alone?”
Galena shook her head. “I came with our parents. They are over at the meat pie shop right now.”
It had been five long years since he’d left home. His father standing at the door watching as he lifted a sack of clothes and walked away. A word had not been spoken, but the message clear. There was no room him, for someone with his tendencies in the family.
His father had caught him kissing a lad in the stables. When he’d stumbled away in shock, he’d knocked over a shovel, alerting them of his presence.
Caelan would never forget the look of disappointment. The lack of words, his father standing by mutely as he’d packed. Meanwhile, his mother had asked why he was leaving, all he’d said was that it was time for him to find his place in the world.
“I best go. I am glad ye are well. Ye look good, sister,” Caelan hugged Galena. “Be with care and hug father and mother for me.”
“Ye can do it yerself. Come, speak to them. They do miss ye terribly.” Galena grasped his hand with her free one. “Please.”
