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IT WAS NOT UNLIKE MANY of the villages in Scotland, with a two-story keep made of stone where their laird and his family lived. In front of the keep was a large courtyard with a short wall around most of it. The stables were just beyond the wall at one end, and the clan used the other end of the courtyard as a market place. Surrounding the keep and courtyard were cottages of various sizes, some new and some seemingly very old, but in good repair. With the hill behind the village, trees everywhere, the ocean in the front and the mouth of the river emptying into the sea to the south, Clan Macoran was a desirable place to live indeed.
For most of the farmers on the plots of land granted them by their laird, the harvest had been plentiful. Selling their food at this time of year, when most had eaten there winter stores, was the most profitable. After all, not all were farmers. There were candle makers, weavers, cobblers, tanners, the laird and his family, builders, warriors and the priests, all of whom came to the market to barter for food on a regular basis.
Jirvel kept one back and used the other coin to afford vegetables, fruit, wheat and precious life giving seeds of various kinds they would need for the planting. The fresh salmon was tempting, but she reminded herself they now had a boy who could fish for them.
The market was alive with buyers and sellers all touting their remarkable victory over the Vikings the day before. Only three dead Scots and twenty-six Vikings killed. “They won’t be coming back here again anytime soon,” they all agreed.
Kannak and Jirvel listened to all the gossip and nodded when appropriate. Then their laird arrived and Kannak held her breath. Everything that happened in the clan was Laird Macoran’s business, whether her mother liked it or not. They had to tell him about Stefan and her mother was not an accomplished liar. Even so, Kannak knew enough to remain silent and let her mother do the talking.
“Good day to ye, Jirvel,” Laird Macoran said. He waited for them to curtsy and then smiled his approval. He was a tall man with a dimple in his chin normally covered by his beard. His thick hair was a dark shade of red, as was his facial hair, and his eyes were green. He was a fair minded man who smiled often and nearly everyone loved him. Macoran was dressed in a skirt made of a dark green and light brown tapered pants with shoes that laced up his legs to just below his knees. It was a new form of dress which seemed to be sweeping across all of Scotland, or so the gossip reported. Nevertheless, some of the men found the new dress unfamiliar and still wore their baggy long pants.
Jirvel did not return Macoran’s smile. “Have ye any word o’ my husband?”
Laird Macoran wrinkled his brow. Jirvel’s question meant there were now three men who had taken their leave without his knowledge and he was not pleased. “Nay, I have heard nothing. The two o’ ye are alone then?”
“Quite, but ye needn’t worry, we can manage.”
“How?”
“Just now ye care about us?”
He looked disturbed by Jirvel’s outburst, started to touch her arm and then drew his hand back. “I will send a lad...”
She suddenly realized others were listening and bowed her head. “Ye need not bother, my brother sent a laddie to work the land.”
“Yer brother knows ye are alone?”
“Nay, he does not know. The laddie be unexpected and I am grateful to have the help.”
“Then I am grateful too.”
Laird Macoran and Jirvel held their eyes on each other longer than was normal. No one in the clan was as bold as her mother when it came to standing up to Laird Macoran, and never had Kannak seen Jirvel this forthcoming, at least not in public. Her mother had just told a lie, did it very well and Macoran seemed to believe her. Kannak was relieved. Yet there was something more...something unsaid between them and this was not the first time Kannak noticed.
Macoran also realized others were listening, glanced at the girl and thought to change the subject. “Kannak will soon be old enough to marry.”
At this Jirvel’s anger grew and she narrowed her eyes, “She be but twelve and an only child. She be not yet ready to marry.”
“She was twelve last year.” He studied the rage rising up in Jirvel’s eyes and decided not to push his luck. “Perhaps not yet then. I will see this laddie o’ yer’n when I ride the land next.” He nodded and walked away.
Kannak said nothing as she helped her mother mount the horse and handed her a full basket. Then she got on behind her and accepted a basket one of the men handed her. He was an older man who held his eyes to hers so long it made her uncomfortable enough to turn her head away. She remembered to thank him, but was greatly relieved when her mother nudged the side of the horse.
They were half way home before Jirvel spoke. “Ye must not come to the village so often as afore. Soon the men will be asking for ye and I will not have ye married to a nothing o’ a lad like yer father.”
“Ye have never called him that afore.”
“I have never been this angry afore. He left us, Kannak. and there was no need.”
“All lads go off to war.”
“What war? We heard nothing o’ a war save the one with the Vikings yesterday and Macoran had no idea he was gone. Yer father has abandoned us and he will not be back.”
It was not as though Kannak did not have these same thoughts, but it was surprising her mother would say it out loud. Of all the things Jirvel taught her, respect for her father no matter how drunk he got, was at the top of the list.
“Would Macoran kill him for leaving us?”
Jirvel closed her eyes for a moment. “I’d not like seeing that, but he did not have Macoran’s leave to go. A laird must have complete control over his clan or there will be madness.”
“Then father dare not come back, not now that Macoran knows.”
“Aye, Eogan may not be helpful, but neither be he dim-witted.”
Kannak lovingly put her head against her mother’s back. “I do like seeing what others have crafted at the market.”
“I know ye do. Perhaps Stefan can go with ye and keep the lads away, but ye must not come alone. I will not have ye married until ye are a fully grown lass.”
*
BY THE TIME THEY GOT back, Stefan had a grouse and a rabbit cooking on an outside spit. Jirvel was thrilled, Kannak was not, but that didn’t stop her from eating. The meat and an apple each filled their stomachs and all of them were tired enough to go to bed early.
Grinning, Stefan got up from the table and picked up a bucket made of oak staves, “We are in need o’ more water.”
Kannak slumped. Then she stood, twirled her hand in the air, mockingly curtsied to him, yanked the handle out of his hand and marched out the door. “Bletherskite.”
Both Jirvel and Stefan laughed. After she was gone, Stefan sat back down at the table. “Will she be safe going to the river alone?”
“She has done it all her life save these past weeks. Once Eogan was gone, we did everything together.”
“Is this clan at war?”
“Nay,” Jirvel answered.
“Then whom do ye fear?”
“Any lad who might take advantage o’ two lasses alone. Word will spread that yer here to protect us and we will again be safe.”
He nodded his understanding and accepted the goblet of mead she handed him. It was a sweet drink, but he did not care for it that much, took only a sip and set it aside.
Jirvel smiled. The laddie was not going to take to strong drink and that was refreshing. She decided it was a good time to caution her new charge. “Stefan, when ye go to the river ye may well see Limonds on the other side. They will not attack ye, but we are not so very friendly with that clan.”
“Why not?”
“‘Tis a long dispute over the salmon. Limond accuses us of taking our catch from his side of the river.” She saw the perplexed look on his face and could guess what he was thinking. “Laird Limond be an old lad with no family and there be no accounting for his suspicions. His men watch us, but they mean no harm normally. Nevertheless, we take only the fish we need.”
“I see. I brought a spear.”
“A Viking spear with three prongs?”
“Aye.”
“Good, we will use it but ye must hide it. In the village they know one o’ the Vikings got away.”
“Where best can I hide it?”
“Bring it inside and lay it along the wall behind the baskets. No one will see it there.” She studied his face for a moment and decided she should tell him about the battle. “As I said, we are not fond o’ the Limond, nor they o’ us...except when the Vikings come. For that, we fight together. We lost only three, the Vikings lost twenty-six.”
He could not help but close his eyes and bow his head. It was a hard thing to hear, but he would rather hear it from her where he did not have to hide his sorrow. At length, he gathered his wits. “How did the Limond get across the river so quickly?”
“‘Tis right dead brilliant how they do it. When ye go to the village ye will see a large raft on each side o’ the river. The men board the raft, tie the ropes to arrows and shoot them across so the men on the other side can pull the raft over.”
“‘Tis brilliant.”
“Aye, but it takes time and for this battle, they were slow in pulling them across. A few minutes more and the battle might have been lost.”
Stefan nodded. It explained why there were no men to fight them on the shore and he made a mental note to search out these rafts and have a look. For now, however, he did not want to think about it anymore so he smiled to relieve her worry. “‘Tis the past and best left behind.”
*
JIRVEL INSISTED KANNAK sleep with her and gave him the bed in the other room near the door. It was perhaps not proper to let a boy not related stay inside, but she decided she would feel safer with him and his weapons inside where he could protect them...safer than she felt in weeks.
As soon as Kannak came back with the water, she sent her off to bed and handed Stefan an extra blanket. She went to the doorway that separated the two rooms and untied the cord that held up the curtain. “Good night.”
He nodded, watched her lower the curtain and took off his shoes. He again considered the need for a new pair. He could afford the cobbler and was tempted, but with a Viking missing, letting the Scots know of his wealth would not be such a good idea. Shoes would have to wait. With no sleep the night before and with the pain of losing his father draining him of all emotion, he quickly fell into a deep sleep.
*
IT WAS FRIDAY WEEK before Laird Macoran arrived with his guard to see the laddie Jirvel’s brother sent from the north. Each of the clansmen had red, shoulder length hair, trimmed beards and wore dark green tunics tucked inside belted long pants. For a long moment, Macoran stared at Stefan., who stood just behind Kannak and her mother. “My lads swear one got away and he looks like a Viking.”
“So do half the lads in the north,” Jirvel reminded him. “He is a good laddie and a gift from God in our time of need.” The reminder that he had not realized they were alone, and had not seen to her care as a good laird should, seemed to do the trick and Macoran took his eyes off the tall boy. Then he looked over the land.
Already they were starting to clear a sizeable plot beside the cottage and getting it ready for planting. The skins of two red deer were stretched tight on wooden frames and they had reinforced the shed with more poles along the sides so the roof would not collapse. Even the small courtyard in front of the cottage looked different, although he could not quite discern why. Then he realized Jirvel had started planting flowers next to the cottage.
Though he did not let on, Stefan was revolted. The guards kept looking at Kannak, which obviously agitated Jirvel, and Laird Macoran was wearing Anundi’s sword with the gold plated handle. It meant Anundi was dead too, and Stefan looked away pretending to check on the cow. It galled him to see another man wearing it, even if he was a laird, and Stefan silently vowed to have that sword for himself someday.
“Eogan has not come back, I see. Perhaps ‘tis time for a new husband,” Laird Macoran said.
Jirvel’s mouth dropped and it took a moment for her to gather her senses. “And commit bigamy? Would ye have the church excommunicate me?”
“I could have the priest set aside yer marriage.”
She eyed him suspiciously for a moment. “Say the truth o’ it.”
He should have known he could not pull the wool over her eyes. “Ye have me, I see. Two lads have asked for ye since ye last came to the village. As their laird, I am forced to consider it.”
She glanced at the other men and tried to remember her manners. “I am complimented they find me pleasing, but I will wait for my husband’s return.”
“He is not coming back and we both know it.” Macoran expected an argument, but Jirvel hung her head as though his words hurt. He watched her for a moment before he said, “I will mention it again when next I see ye. Perhaps by then a new husband will be more to yer liking.” He looked once more at Kannak and nodded. “The spring festival be set for Monday week.” He hoped the news would please Kannak and he was not disappointed. He returned the girl’s smile and then the laird of Clan Macoran turned his horse and led his guard away.
Jirvel waited until Stefan walked off and then leaned closer to her daughter. “For this festival, we will bind yer bosom and add more freckles to yer face.”
Kannak watched her mother go back inside the cottage and then hurried to catch up with Stefan. She had to run. He was already past the garden and headed down the path toward the river. “Did ye see it?”
“See what?”
“The way Laird Macoran looked at my mother. It be the same every time he comes, which be not so often, I admit. He be happy to see her and she be annoyed that he came. Once when my father was not at home, he came back without his guard, took her inside where I could not hear and they quarreled.”
“Quarreled? About what?”
“I dinna know, but she was forlorn for days after.” Kannak had to half run to stay up with Stefan’s long strides. “Where are ye going?”
“To the river.”
“What for?”
“To get away from ye.”
