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Peter Kilkern advanced on John. “Tenants work hungry or not.” And to everyone’s horror, and before anyone could react, Kilkern pulled his knife from its sheath and struck at John, slicing his arm open from shoulder to wrist.
“No one is to challenge my edicts,” the man raged, his face red with anger.
Brigid screamed and ran to her husband as several men nearby reached out for John as he dropped to the ground in agonizing pain.
Brigid had worked frantically to stem the bleeding and to piece his savaged arm together. Fever soon set in, and within a week John died, after having suffered greatly. Everyone in the village had offered Brigid their help, but that winter proved difficult for all. There was barely enough food to feed everyone, and without game from the surrounding woods, many went hungry. Reena’s father had gone hunting in an attempt to find food; he suffered a broken leg, and by the time he managed to return to the village, his leg had begun to heal, though not properly. Her father lost much weight, and now he walked with a severe limp that limited his ability to farm the land.
Reena had taken over her father’s farming chores, but they proved more demanding than she had expected. Average in height and slim, she had never lacked strength or fortitude in completing any task, but the constant struggle with the land overwhelmed her, and she began to lose weight until she barely resembled herself. Her once full breasts shrunk to a mere handful, her curving waist, which had flowed to curving hips, were no more, and her face had lost its fullness. If it were not for her long, shiny black hair, many would think her a young lad; it fell to the middle of her back and was straight, not a curl or wave to it. She wore it tied back, rarely pinning it up, preferring it loose and free.
When possible, she had helped Brigid attempt to keep up the parcel of land that John had so successfully cultivated. There were many nights when she had been too exhausted to eat and fell into bed only to begin her arduous chores again at sunrise. The second winter proved more disastrous—several older villagers died, along with two babies, barely two years.
Reena could not, would not allow another horrendous winter to pass. All the villagers had worked together to help one another, giving food to those who had none, helping to farm another’s plot along with their own, but it had taken its toll, and they were beginning to hoard their food for themselves for fear of starving.
It could not go on, especially with what had recently happened to Brigid. Peter Kilkern had mostly kept to himself, his men keeping count of the tenant fees paid with the harvest. One day Kilkern rode up on his steed as the villagers arrived at the keep to pay their fees. Brigid had been among them, and her beauty had caught his eye. He had approached her and made it known that she would do well to please him, for then she and her friends would not go hungry.
Reena knew that her friend considered the option. So many people were suffering, especially the children. What did Brigid have to lose now when a part of her had died with her husband? And she did not wish to see Reena’s family suffer any more than they already had. Her father was crippled and her mother rarely left her bed. Reena was the only one capable of taking care of her family, and she planned to do just that.
“I cannot let you do this,” Brigid said with a determined swipe at one last stubborn tear on her damp cheek.
Reena stood and continued packing the cloth sack. “And I do not want you selling yourself to the man who killed your husband to keep me and my family fed or any of the villagers from starving.”
Brigid reached out and grasped her wrist. “Think about what you do.”
“I have thought. I have thought long and hard, and it is the only chance for us all to survive.”
“You do not even know where to go.”
“But I do,” Reena said as she reached in the sack and pulled out a rolled piece of parchment. She spread it out on the table, moving the sack to the side and placing the candlestick with the half-burned wick closer so that Brigid could see clearly.
“A map,” Brigid said, surprised, and looked more closely at it. “A good one too, so it must be one of yours.” Her fingers traced the intricate lines and drawings.
Reena smiled, something she had not done in many months. But then drawing maps brought her much pleasure—at least it had before Peter Kilkern had arrived. When she had grown old enough to travel, she had accompanied her father on his mapmaking expeditions, and he had taught her well the ways of recording the land. Reena possessed a natural ability to draw and had an acute eye for detail and memory. She’d remembered much of what she had seen on her travels and had recorded all she could.
Her father and her travels had come to an abrupt halt when Peter Kilkern had arrived. There had been no time for anything but work, and when her father had suffered his broken leg, they’d both known that he would never again map any lands, far or near.
Patrick attempted to encourage his daughter to continue her mapmaking skills. He would whisper at night when her mother was asleep that she should go and travel and not return home.
She understood that he wanted her safe and happy, but she could be neither if she left her family and friends behind to suffer, especially when she had it in her power to help them.
“How do you know this map is accurate?” Brigid asked. “You have never been there.”
“But I have,” she said with a sad smile. “My father’s tales have taken me there so often that I know the way without even glancing at the map.”
“Then you also recall that anyone that trespasses on his land suffers a terrible fate.”
Reena rolled up the map. “I will not be trespassing.” She shoved the valuable parchment in the sack.
“What will you be doing if not trespassing?”
“I will be offering my skills as a mapmaker in exchange for protection of our village.”
Brigid shook her head. “What would he want with a mapmaker?”
“I have charted many areas with my father. When he sees my work, I am sure he will see how it could benefit him.”
“In exchange for protection? He will lead his army here in exchange for your mapmaking skills?” Brigid disagreed most vehemently. “I do not think so. He will want more than that.”
“I will negotiate with him.”
