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NOT AN HOUR LATER, Stefan was bathed, his beard and hair were trimmed and he wore new clothing in the colors of his grandfather. The slaves hardly recognized him as he sat a horse next to Limond and looked down at them. “Ye are free. Laird Limond has agreed to give each of ye a portion of food and a horse to see ye home safely.”
Limond nodded to the guards, who were happy to walk away, but the slaves still could not believe it. “We are truly free?” asked Baodan.
Stefan smiled. “Aye, and if ye still have families, they have waited long enough.”
“And if we no longer have families, where will ye be?” Baodan asked. “I will be in yer clan, Stefan. Ye have saved our lives more than once and ye will be my laird.”
Amazed, Stefan watched several of the others nod their agreement. Marriage to a laird was what Kannak wanted and it was now in his power to give it to her. “First I must marry the lass I love...if she be yet free and then I will take her to the hidden castle. Do ye know where that be?”
Limond smiled. “‘Tis on my land and ye are welcome to it. The place be haunted.”
Several of the men gasped, but Stefan grinned. “‘Tis not haunted. ‘Tis only the wind, but there are no cottages for ye to live in.”
“We can build cottages easy enough.” Baodan dumped his last load of rocks out of the bag he carried over his shoulder and grinned. “Say it again, are we truly free?”
“Truly,” said Limond. “My grandson has shown me the error o’ my ways and I hope someday ye will forgive me.”
“We can go, right enough,” another man said, “but we have no weapons to defend ourselves. I’d not like letting them capture me a second time.”
At that Limond scratched his head. “I have a few Viking weapons if that will do. Come to the keep and choose. If ye will stay the night, it will give our lasses more time to bake bread for yer journey.”
“Do ye trust him, Stefan? Be it a lie?”
“I trust him, but I promised we would not harm his people. ‘Tis a small price to pay for our freedom, do ye agree?” He waited and one by one, the men nodded. “Good. If ye come to me at the hidden castle, l will welcome ye and yer families. But let it be known we have nothing to build with, no planted fields and no seed or stores for the winter.”
Manachan grinned. “My father will give us seed for planting, he be a right dead brilliant farmer.”
It was the first of many smiles Stefan would see that night and he stayed with the slaves even though he wanted nothing more than to swim the river and go to Kannak. He talked to each man, learned of his family and found his nature pleasing. He asked each why they were sold and most of their stories were more like his than of any crimes they committed. Only two admitted stealing. Each claimed it was the Brodies who sold him.
“Our new home will border Brodie land,” Stefan warned.
“Good,” said Manachan, “I’ve a message to give them.” All the men laughed and their laughter sounded like music. It was nearing dawn when they finally settled down enough to sleep.
The next morning, Stefan watched each choose his weapon, mount his new horse and accept his bag of food. Then he watched them ride away together and at last, it was his turn.
*
THE SHORTEST ROUTE between his grandfather’s side of the river to the Macoran side was to swim, and in summer the water did more meandering than rushing. He rode his grandfather’s horse down the river bank until he was sure he recognized the other side, dismounted, handed the reins to his grandfather and then waded into the water. It was ice cold but he didn’t care. All he could think of was getting home.
The currents were stronger than he expected, but nothing could defeat him now and he swam hard to reach the other side. He climbed out onto the flat rock where he often filled the bucket with water, paused just a moment to catch his breath and then stood up. His first hint that something was wrong awaited him there. Jirvel’s bucket was half buried in the sand along the shore. He stared at it for a moment, pulled it free, dumped out the sand and then rinsed it in the river. That’s when he noticed a hole in the bottom, tossed it away and smiled his relief. “Cast off, were ye?”
He almost forgot, turned to wave to his grandfather and then headed up the path to the cottage. But his foreboding was back and the closer he got, the more certain he was that something was wrong. The land looked deserted and the heather had nearly overrun the place again. He finally dismissed that too; perhaps Jirvel would not let Macoran give her a man to help them.
He should have been able to see the cottage by now and when he could not, he slowed. Careful to walk quietly, he eased closer until suddenly he stopped dead in his tracks.
Jirvel’s cottage had burned to the ground.
Stunned, he stayed where he was and stared at the ruins. In all his months of worry, he never once considered that the cottage had burned or that his women were in it when it did. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and tried to push the terror out of his mind. Please God, do not let her be dead. At length, he moved closer. But he could not make himself look inside ... not just yet.
Even the shed was burned. Slowly, he walked around what was left of the cottage to the remains of the shed. Even the three walls of the chicken pen were scorched. Burned stubs still remained of the posts that held up the front of the roof and when he dug down, the pouch with his father’s gold and silver coins was still there.
Stefan stood up and shook the dirt off the pouch. Then he checked the contents, hung it around his neck and slipped it inside his tunic.
Finally, he forced himself to look at what remained of the cottage. There was little left but the outline of the walls and the hearth. He went back, paused at the doorway and then stepped inside. Jirvel’s little basket of salt still hung on a hook on the hearth, but the outside of it was black. He could see the charred remains of everything that had been made of metal and carefully stepped over them toward the small room the women used as a bedchamber.
He did not want to look, but he had to know if there were any recognizable human remains. When he saw none, he was comforted. Then he realized Macoran would have seen to a proper burial of the bones and ashes and his relief dissipated.
Stefan made his way back toward the wall where their weapons once hung. He leaned down and picked up his father’s blackened three-pronged spear minus the long wooden handle.
“What does a Limond want on our land?”
Stefan dropped the spear, spun around and put his hand on his sword. The man already had his sword drawn and it took a moment for Stefan to look from it to the Macoran’s face, “William?”
“By God in Heaven, ‘tis it truly ye, Stefan? We thought ye buried by now.” William quickly shoved his sword back in his sheath.
Stefan stepped out of the ruins, walked to him and locked forearms with his old friend. He was afraid of the answer, but he had to ask, “Are they dead?”
“Nay, just moved. The cottage burned not long after ye went missing. Macoran insisted they live in the village and make belts. With ye gone, they could not make a go of the place anyway. I asked Macoran to let me have the land, but he feared Kannak and Jirvel would see it as a sign ye were not coming back.” He slowly looked Stefan up and down. “Ye fell in the river I see. Ye are all wet.”
Stefan’s relief was so overwhelming he only half heard what William was saying. “Did Jirvel agree to live in the village?”
“The two o’ them were so mournful, they dinna care where they lived. What happened to ye?”
“I was sold.”
“What?”
“‘Tis a long story. Have Jirvel and Kannak taken husbands?”
“Kannak waits for ye and Jirvel breathes fire when any man suggests it. Macoran had the priest declare her husband dead last year...ye were sold?”
“Into slavery.”
William’s mouth dropped. Then he gathered his wits. “Come home with me. Andrina will be as happy to see ye and ye could use a good drying out.” He noticed Stefan look toward the village and knew what he was thinking. “Ye’d not like her to see ye looking like a wet dog and in Limond colors. Come with me. I have an extra Macoran shirt.”
*
WILLIAM LOANED STEFAN a blanket to wrap around his waist while Andrina hung his clothing near the hearth to dry. If she noticed the scar on his back, she did not mention it. “Kannak will be so happy to see ye.” Just then, a baby cried and she went to the other room to fetch it.
“A laddie or a lassie?” Stefan asked.
William beamed. “A laddie and I could not be more proud. I can help ye build a new cottage after the harvest. Blair and some o’ the other lads will help as well.”
“I am thinking o’ starting my own clan.”
William watched his wife come back out with the baby and exchanged a look with her. “I am tempted to go with ye.”
“And leave this fine land?”
“‘Tis fine land indeed, but there are times I feel we labor just to satisfy the tithe.”
“There was a time,” said Stefan, “when yer tithe kept us fed and the tithe from the weavers and the cobbler provided us with warm clothing and badly needed shoes that fit. The tithe be a good thing, but perhaps a little less would do.”
“Then we would like to be in yer clan.”
“Aye, but we have no tools, few horses, even fewer weapons and no cottages. ‘Twill be a hard life in the beginning.”
“Then we will think on it.” William poured wine into a goblet and handed it to Stefan. “Blair has married again and Diarmad be betrothed. Both be fine young lasses.”
“I am pleased to hear it on both counts. Is Macoran yet married?”
“Aye, Mistress Agnes be still among us though she be so sickly looking we dinna know what holds her up.” William smiled at his wife’s giggle and took the baby from her so she could join them at the table. “We named him Stefan.”
Stefan’s eyes lit up. “My father gave me the name after his grandfather.”
William leaned just a little closer. “Tell the truth o’ it, are ye the Viking we could not find after the attack?”
Stefan rolled his eyes. “Have they not caught him yet?”
He ate the noon meal with them, told of his months of slavery and tried to be patient while his clothing dried, but it was growing more difficult by the minute. At last he could stand it no more and stood up. “I must see her or I will go daft.”
William laughed. “I dinna expect ye to make it this long. Dress and I will get the horses. Do ye still ride without a saddle?”
“I prefer it.”
“So do I, not that we can manage to save enough for fine saddles, what with the tithe the way it is. We...,” he was still talking after he walked out the door.
William’s pants were too short for Stefan, so he opted to put his damp pants back on. He was almost finished lacing his shoes when Andrina came back inside and noticed the calluses on his knees. He stood up, kissed her lightly on the forehead, touched the baby’s cheek and smiled. “‘Tis only from hard work.”
In two short days his life had changed from exhausting labor to freedom and riding a horse bareback felt good. He followed William out of the small courtyard and turned down the path toward the village. “What caused the cottage to burn?”
“We dinna know. Jirvel and Kannak were in the village when I first saw the smoke. I am not afraid to say my heart stopped. By the time I got to it, I could not have saved either o’ them had they been inside. It burned quickly and very hot. Even the oak tree next to it burned.”
“Did others come?”
“Aye, but by then all we could do was keep it from spreading.”
“And ye dinna know how it started?”
“Nay. Jirvel vowed the fire in the hearth was put out afore they left. But then, an ember might have blown out on the floor. I’ve seen that happen a time or two when the wind blows hard enough.”
Stefan changed the subject. “Have ye seen the black stallion?”
“The gift from God, Jirvel calls it? Nay, no one has seen him since he helped Kannak escape. She talks about it often, but then she talks about ye constantly.”
“I think about her constantly too.”
“Love...it will either kill us or cure us...o’ what, I am not quite certain.” William laughed and kicked the side of his horse. “Come on, Stefan, yer love has waited long and hard.”
They were almost around the bend when Stefan suddenly halted his horse. “William?”
William stopped, turned his horse around and went back. “What is it?”
“I must see Macoran alone afore I let anyone know I am alive.” William started to protest, but Stefan put up a hand to stop him. “Go to Macoran and bring him back without his guard.”
“What should I tell him?”
“I dinna know...tell him ye’ve a surprise for him only.”
William hesitated, but the look on Stefan’s face assured him it was serious, so he turned his horse and rode off.
Stefan guided the dapple gray into the trees and dismounted. He prayed his suspicions were wrong but feared they were not. If he was right, only Macoran would know who to trust and what to do.
It seemed like it was taking forever for William to come back and he ran his hand through his hair repeatedly. Finally, he heard horses, peeked around a tree, made sure it was William with Macoran and then stepped out.
Macoran slowed and cautiously approached the man wearing Limond colors, until at last he saw the face of the tall, muscular man wearing it. Instantly, his eyes lit up and he quickly got down off his horse. “Stefan? Ye are not dead? We had nearly given up hope.”
“Nay, I am not dead but there be danger still. Come and I will explain it.” He led them into the forest and waited until all three were standing close together. “My snatching was planned.”
“What? By whom?” Macoran asked.
“Brodies.”
Macoran spat on the ground. “Those blackguards! I’ll see they...”
“Ye dinna know who it was?”
“Kannak was so frightened she could not remember the colors o’ the lads who chased her. Ye were on Limond land and...”
“Limond be my grandfather.”
Macoran was so shocked he had to lean against a tree for support. “Good heavens, that is bad news.”
