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“Something troubles you,” Tavia said a sudden scowl marring her husband’s fine features.
“We will talk of it another time,” he said, after he had learned more about her.
They walked to the edge of the village.
Bhric went to inquire about her leg and stopped himself. As she had said herself, if she paid her leg heed she had no trouble. He would leave it to her, for now.
The old man sat on the snow-covered ground and his wife stood beside him, her frail hand on his shoulder. Both were thin and appeared weak, the man more so than the woman. Their garments were worn, their cloaks threadbare offering little protection against the cold. Their aged faces betrayed the harshness of their life and Tavia’s heart ached for them.
“A few days of food and shelter is all we ask, my lord,” the woman said, a tremble to her voice.
“How ill is your husband?’ Bhric demanded.
“He is weak from barely having food to eat and trying to do work better left to the young to keep us from starving,” the woman said, the tremble in her voice extending to the hand on her husband’s shoulder.
“A day of rest, my lord, and I can work for our shelter and food,” the man said, raising his head slowly.
Tavia turned to her husband and kept her voice low. “We must help them. They are too weak to continue walking and they have nothing to protect them against the cold.”
His wife had a caring heart and he a skeptical one, but he would not turn the aged couple away. He turned to his warrior. “Take them to Bowen’s cottage, he needs it no longer, having moved in with the widow Olga. See a fire is set for them and food brought to them.”
The old woman looked about ready to collapse with relief.
“Bless you, my lord. Bless you,” she said, her eyes tearing.
“We are grateful,” the old man said.
The Northman warrior offered his support to help the old man walk after a nod from Bhric.
“That was generous,” Tavia said.
Bhric said nothing, as he continued walking with his wife. He had not offered the couple shelter out of generosity. He had done so because he wondered what brought them here. Why had an old couple shown up in the dead of winter at his home at this particular time? Instinct had him cautious and he would see if he was right in paying it heed.
CHAPTER 12
Bhric found sleep difficult. He rolled back and forth on the bed not able to find a comfortable position, the blankets twisting around him and causing his annoyance to flair. He could not get his wife off his mind, having spent a pleasant day with her. They had not lacked for conversation. He had found himself telling her of his plans to extend the planting fields in the spring and add a longhouse for his warriors where they could gather.
He played the conversation again in his head.
“My warriors would appreciate a longhouse where they can gather to talk and drink.”
“And the MacShane warriors? Where will they gather to talk and drink?” Tavia asked, a crinkle to her brow. “A laird usually entertains his warriors in the Great Hall. Is that where you will meet with them, separately from your Northmen warriors? How well will it serve you to keep a divide between them?”
“My tribe have their ways as do the clan warriors, but they are one.”
“How can they be when you divide them?” she asked.
“They will grow together soon enough,” he argued.
“How can they when you have yet to fully embrace the MacShane part of your heritage?”
He grabbed the pillow beneath his head, gave it a punch as he turned on his side, and slammed it down on the bed before dropping his head on it. That her question had been a curious one and held not a trace of blame in it annoyed him all the more. Mostly, because it reminded him of his promise to his grandfather.
“The Clan MacShane is a strong clan that has always been led by powerful men. Do it proud, Bhric, and guide with pride, wisdom, and strength so that all those who came before you and fought and sacrificed did not do so in vain. And make sure your son understands that so he may carry on the name and tradition of the great Clan MacShane. Promise me this, Bhric.”
“Aye, Grandfather, I give you my word.”
His grandfather had died peacefully later that night. Could his wife be right? Was he not doing enough to unite his tribe and clansmen? Had he been more devoted to one than the other?
