Debra Kay Leland (10 page)

“Well?”
  Thomas said as he took a drink from the bucket of water he had left in the shade, knowing that neither man had yet spoken of their trip.

“Well… we asked for help.  Now, we wait and see if it comes.”  William didn’t look at him as he spoke in a disheartening tone.

“If it doesn’t, we shall loose most of the crop, ye know that...”  Thomas said with a frown.

“
…Aye, I know…”

The three worked side by side till near midday, then sat down and ate the hard bread and cheese they had with them.  William let his eyes travel over the field that was yet to be harvested, worried that his plea for help would be ignored.  He and his men stood and took up their work again without another word—that’s when they noticed the group of villagers who stood afar watching them.  The three straightened and wiped the sweat from their faces with their sleeves.  William stepped forward and lifted a hand in greeting, though none was returned as they stared at him.  He turned to his men with a concerned look.  “Come… they only mean to test us, and I refuse to be bated into a fight.”

The three turned aside and took up their sickles again, keeping a wary eye on their guests; but soon Egan himself stepped forward, a roughened sickle in hand and began harvesting at the far end of the field without a word.  Others joined him while the women shocked what had been cut down, and the children car
ried the bundles to the carts.

William smiled to himself as he prayed that all would go well that day with their wary friends and that trouble would not soon find them…

The sun had sunk low in the evening sky.  The people had worked together silently for hours; and the field was nearly finished.  William brought a bucket of water from the well and a ladle to drink from also as he walked towards them noticing how they still glanced at him warily.  He turned to Egan, the tall man wiped his face on his forearm and eyed William cautiously before he drew near and met him with a guarded handshake. 
“A man of his word is hard to find, and even harder to find is an Englishman who is true.”

William smiled and dipped the ladle in the cool water and held it to him.  “Aye, and harder still, to find a Welshman who does not wish a fight.”

The man’s face drew into a sly smile, and he took the ladle offered him.

“I asked Phillip and Thomas to bring a basket of apples and dried meat for thy people, they can’t be expected to walk back without food in their stomachs
.”

He glanced at William and nodded appreciativ
ely.  “Many thanks, English…”

William only smiled and turned to offer another beside him a drink of cool water.  The villagers smiled back and accepted his hospitality gladly; which was more than he had gotten low these past few weeks.  When he finished he walked back to Egan; who now sat comfortably in the shade of a huge oak tree, one knee drawn up in front of himself.  William stopped and set the bucket down and cocked one leg casually, his strong hands on lean hips.  “Will
ye come again on the morrow?”

Egan glanced at the men around him without lookin
g up at him.  “Aye, we shall.”

“Good.  The grain shall not last much longer I fear; but with h
elp I believe we can save it.”

Egan drew himself up slowly and crossed his arms over his chest.  “I do not know why ye are doing this—but, yet ‘t
is much appreciated, English.”

William met the man’s gaze squarely.  “Is it not enough, that it ‘tis the right thin
g to do?  Need there be more?”

Egan stared at him a long moment before he spoke; his dark eyes never losing their cold and hard edge. 
Through it all he yet held a grudge, and purposefully sought to find something to use against the man despite the goodness he had shown. 
“Ye make me wonder, English…” 
He paused and eyed him before he spoke again,
“Were ye among those who laid siege this village…?”

William didn’t flinch as he answered, his gaze still riveted on the man in front of him.  He’d known all along that one day he would have to have an answer for
this very thing.  “…Aye, I was… but I was also the one who rode ahead to call off the attack when the men of the village had fallen and the cry for mercy went out…”

Egan looked down and shifted restlessly with fire in his eyes; his head
snapped up, his nostrils flared with anger as he spoke. 
“’Twas no mercy given that night!”

Though his words hissed between clenched teeth, yet William was not swayed.  “…Nay, no mercy, till now…”  His eyes took on a distant look as he spoke. 
“…’Twas I, who rode ahead … saving only a few… and ‘twas I who was struck down by one of my own who had turned against me for it all, leaving me for dead…”
  He eyes focused on Egan again, his gaze hardening as he spoke. 
“I could not save them all—but I toil now to repay the debt that my countrymen rent here.”

Egan shifted and let out the loud harsh breath he’d been holding; his thin lips pursed angrily. 
“If—ye were struck down, why is it that ye still stand here, English?!  Yur well chosen words shall not sway me!”

William turned his head and lifted his hair from the deep scar that ran along the left side of his head as he said calmly, “’Tis only by the grace of God I stand before thee, Egan Wallace.”

The tall man sighed, his angry eyes softening as he looked at the gnarled purple scar and dented flesh before him. 
“…Aye…”
  He paused, shifting on rigid legs; avoiding the glances of the men around him. 
“If—if by God’s will ye survived and do this… then we shall not spite the Almighty’s hand.” 
He shifted again and met William squarely. 
“The grain shall be harvested, and gladly so.  And we shall not bring trouble on ye, English, ye have my word on it.”

William put out his hand and he took it with a slow smile and then shook it.

Phillip and Thomas glanced at one another through the strained conversation; their hands resting on the grips of their knives ready to protect William at all cost; yet they knew he did not seek violence as an answer this day.  The confrontation done, the villagers moved on, and the two came to stand beside him again. 
“Ye are well and blessed that he did not slit thy throat!”

William smiled generously and turned to look at his friend. 
“Aye, and thine along with it!  But I knew that these things would come to light eventually, ‘twas best not to hide them.”

“Aye, probably not, but I think I aged ten years standing here listening to ye.”

William merely laughed. 
“Aye, and I also.”

L
ord Edmund Sheridan, the Earl of Whittington Castle sat down at the table in his solar and took pen in hand.  His thoughts were as they always were, on his younger son…  Yet, his words did nothing to amend the hurt and loss he felt at his absence from the castle and from his life; so he wrote what he could and bore those things that went unsaid in his heart. 
If,
the boy thought himself ill favored by his father, ‘twas not so; William had long since been his favorite, though he would never have dared speak such things aloud—but in his heart he knew it was true.  James was his heir, and rightfully so; but it was William whom he had loved.  The missive finished; he sealed it and sent if off with a messenger to Glenton Moor, and to the son who had broken his heart…

W
illiam stood and looked over the freshly harvested fields feeling somehow complete, for the harvest was well and finished and stored in barns for the cold winter ahead.  He turned and strode up the low rolling hills that encircled the meadow; the only thing on his mind was a fair haired girl with soft blue eyes that somehow always seemed creep into his thoughts, though he did not intend it to be so.  And somehow, he found himself wishing he could find an excuse to go to Chadwick again and laughed to himself.  Yet even if he did, he knew he would never be able to meet her shy glances or dare speak to her, though he wished to do just that; even if it meant just to catch a glimpse of the lass from afar…

She was not just fair to the eye, her soft shy voice and gentle grace made him always take pause.  He wondered if he pressed the suit if both she and her father would agree to it…?  Though he was English and she was Welsh, it had happened before that the two had married.  And now that he seemed to have made peace with some in the villagers, he wondered how much opposition would be made if he asked for her?  A marriage would be a good thing for both of them, he was sure of it.  They would become part of his family and be protected by his name, and he would gain their friendship and form an alliance for the days ahead.  And as for as the girl, she would want for nothing; nor be far from her home and family—and at least she’d be free from the likes of Egan Wallace!  He smiled at his thoughts, almost convincing himself that it would be a good thing to wed her—
almost
…

William woke up early as did his men to ready the day ahead.  He strode out the door and stretched as he breathed in the cool morning air, then stilled as he saw that he was not alone.  In the meadow, a woman and child stood facing the house, wary and alone.  William lifted a hand in greeting though they refused to do the same.  He paused only a moment before made his way towards them slowly.  But as he neared the woman lifted a trembling hand to stop him. 
“Nay, please, good sir, I—I have heard tell that ye wish to rebuild Glenton Moor?”

William stopped and folded his hands behind his back, dropping his gaze at her shy retreat from him.  “Aye, and those who wish shelter there are welcome in
it.”

The woman gathered her son closer to her and looked at him with teary eyes, she had heard the rumors and though she wished the kindness to be true, she had thought too that it might be a trap to find and kill those who yet remained.  Yet, she had also heard of the good this man had done here; and in sheer desperation with winter’s approach she had come to this place to see for herself. 
“My—my husband fell in the battle that day… and —and I fled with my child, and my da into the moors beyond.  This—this was our village, our home was within…”

He closed his eyes against the painful memory of that day and the heartache of her words knowing that it was all for not.  “Ye are welcome to take sanctuary in the town, ye and those that come with thee.  The houses are not rebuilt, but my men and I shall see to it for thee.”

The woman’s voice choked with emotion.  “…Nay, my da and I shall see to it if ye shall only give us yur blessing.”

He nodded and looked at her with kindness in his blue eyes.  “Aye, ye have my blessing.  No one shall attack ye or Glenton Moor as long as I am alive.”

She wiped tears from her flushed face, unable to answer as she slowly turned away, but then she paused and glanced at him over her shoulder. 
“I—I remember ye that night, good sir… ye—ye were the one who let us escape…”

He nodded wordlessly and managed a gentle smile as he watched her leave, her child still gathered to her side.  They were afraid and wary of him even as they went, glancing back over their shoulders with cautious eyes as they walked and he couldn’t blame them after all that had happened.  But soon, they too would
heal just like the land had…

William couldn’t hide his smile from his friends as he strode back through the door.

Thomas looked up at him and frowned.  “Alright, and why is it ye are smiling this time?”

“I have just welcomed back a family to our village.”

“Nay!”

“’Tis true, they asked for my blessing to rebuild there.”

“Are ye sure they were from the village?  William, this could be a trick…”

“Aye, I believed what I saw in their eyes…”  His smiled faded but for a moment, then was back again knowing that his prayers for this place were being answered.

William drove the cart laden with food to the village to check on his new occupants.  The woman’s father, a thin frail old man met him in the yard and gave his hand, albeit warily.  William couldn’t blame the man for his uneasiness, and did his best to reassure him that he meant his family no harm.  Though it was true that the man was hard pressed to believe him for all that had happened in that place, yet before he left he thanked him kindly and William knew he was sincere.

But as he mounted his horse he saw a man ride towards him from the road beyond.  William knew well the symbol of the golden lion on a red background that stood out on the man’s tunic; as he was sure the old man who stood not far behind him did
also.  The rider recognized the Earl’s son and dismounted and he knelt before him holding the missive in his hand.  William sighed and told him to stand as he took it, knowing all the while that the old man still watched him warily.

He stepped to the side and broke the seal fearing what might have happened that would have caused word to come to him from Whittington like this;
and he only prayed it was not about his father…  His eyes traveled down the familiar handwriting telling him that all was well, but that a father missed his son as much as William missed him, and that he worried for him with cold winter drawing near.  At the end, was the heartfelt plea of his father asking him to come back home.  William drew a long breath and rolled the missive slowly putting it in his tunic with care before he turned to the messenger again.  “Ye shall tell my father that all is well, and—we have ample supplies to make it through the winter ahead.  Tell him—tell him not to worry, all shall be well.”  He paused and looked past the young man reigning in his emotions.  “…And tell him—that I too think of him.”

“Aye, m’lord.”

William nodded and dismissed the young man without another word; watching as he mounted his horse again.  But even as he himself mounted and rode past the old man, he couldn’t help but notice the wary look he gave him.  William sighed and looked down at him with sincere eyes.   “All is well.”

The old man merely nodded and went back inside without a word, but William could tell what he was thinking...  It would be no secret soon where he had come from, or
who
he was—though for now they could only wonder, for he had not use his proper name, nor his title in this place, nor would he now.

When he came to the farm house, he went inside without a word and carefully took pen and paper and began a missive to his father asking him for a document that promised peace to both Glenton Moor and Chadwick; asking that each be safe from attack from Whittington for as long as he and his, dwelt there.  It was all he dared do, lest he anger James in it all; but it would ensure them peace here, or so he hoped.  The missal written, he handed it to Phillip and told him to mount his horse and ride to the castle again. 

All the hard work here
had truly kept his mind busy, though not entirely.  He still worried about his attacker, wondering if one day he would meet him again face to face or to feel the bite of a well placed arrow as he labored in the fields; but yet he would not spend the rest of his days being a prisoner to dark thoughts!  If James or whoever it was still intended to kill him, there was little he could do that he had not already done—save hiding in the caverns like a hermit; a thing he refused to do!  He could only hope that the sour taste of revenge had settled in their stomach and that they were satisfied with the fact that they had driven him away.  He sighed again and walked out the door refusing to let his mind be held in fear.

M
iranda’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of William’s cart rolling steadily towards their farm house.  He was here, and it wasn’t even the beginning of the week!  She worried that it meant that something was wrong, till she noticed his bright smile that made her tingle all over.  She felt a soft blush creep up her cheeks and wished she could go out and greet him as her father had done—offering him a welcoming smile, if only to see if he would smile back at her.  But for now, she could merely content herself to watch him through the shuttered windows.

William smiled and offered his hand to her father and the stout man took it hardily.  “Ah English, ‘tis a fine day for ye to visit me.  Have ye ought to barter in that cart of yours?”

The younger man just smiled.  “Aye, cheese and butter, sweet red apples and a keg of ale for a suckling pig perhaps?”

The old man laughed whole heartedly.  “Ye have fine taste, English.  Well… for the goodness ye have shown, I shall trade ye for a pig.  Will ye come into the house and share a cup of mead with me?”

William nodded and followed the man towards the narrow door.  He entered, his blue eyes going to where Miranda sat carding wool.  She glanced at him shyly, a soft blush already on her golden cheeks.  But he dared not let his gaze linger more than a moment for it was not proper to do so, English or not.

He followed Alden to the roughened table; the he two men settled down at it, a cup now before them.  They discussed the new inhabitants to Glenton Moor and his hopes that the village would soon be filled again.  And then he said, “…I have asked of the Earl that as long as I live there, that the place be protected from both the armies of Whittington and from those who would see it destroyed.  I received a missive today, and he has given his word that as long as I dwell there
and those who are mine, the place shall be safe.  We shall pay him tribute each fall, I myself shall see to that.  ‘Tis a little thing if it means the peace and safety of the village.”

Alden nodded silently and dropped his gaze with a frown.  “…Ay
e, ‘tis a good thing ye do...”

“Ah, but not only there Alden, but in Chadwick also.  I have told him how the villagers here have befriended me and I asked the same prot
ection for this village also.”

The man looked up then and tilted his head eyeing William curiously before he spoke,
“Who are ye really, that ye dare ask such things of the Earl?”

William laughed and dropped his eyes, then lifted his cup as he said easily, “I am a simple knight, a gentleman farmer, a man who is favored… ‘tis all, Alden.”

“I don’t believe ye are ‘a simple’ anything, English.”

A coy smile drew across William’s handsome face as he sipped his cup.  “The reason is not important, Alden, only the fact that we shall have peace.”

The older man nodded and held up his cup satisfied with the careful answers he’d been given from the honest man before him. 
“Then to peace, English; come, drink to with me.”

Wi
lliam lifted his cup also and smiled…

The two men continued talking while Miranda sat listening quietly.  She found it hard to believe that William was merely a simple man either, there was something about him that made everyone stand up and take notice.  Perhaps it was the way he carried himself.  Or maybe his handsome face and tall strong frame.  She wasn’t sure what it was; but there was something about the man that made people want to follow him and she liked that.  She glanced at him behind lowered lashes, enjoying the sight and sound of the man; his strong low voice made her heart skip a beat.  Yet, as he stood to leave he made no attempt to even acknowledge she was there, nor did he even look at her—it was enough to make her want to cry as she turned away fighting the tears that already had filled her eyes.

William stood and turned with his host towards the door, from the corner of his eye he watched the girl, her mouth drew to a thin line and she turned away.  His heart fell at the subtle insult.  His hopes for gaining her favor seemed to slip away all within that simple look.  And then he went out the door without a second glance.  He’d been a fool to think so highly of himself that the girl might be as interested in him, as he was in her.

Alden bid him good day and watched as he drove back down the path that
led him towards the village.

“Ye are a fool, an utter fool
…”  He murmured to himself at the thoughts that swirled around his head as he drove on.  He had hoped that for all he had done, that he would have gained the girl’s favor, but…
He scowled even harder at his lofty notations to win the girl’s affections; wondering what was he doing thinking of her anyway or even considering a wife!  He had
no proper house
of his own, and he couldn’t just ask Phillip and Thomas to move into the barn!  He shook his head again at the silly notion, well better he found out now before she knew his heart and told him plainly what she thought of him!  But despite all his reasoning’s, still her insulting look was felt deep within him.

The next week was spent collecting firewood for the cold winter ahead.  The village now boasted three families, all of whom had escaped the night of the siege, and together with his men they had rebuilt their homes and stocked them with what was needful.  They would fare well in the cold months ahead—and if they did not, there were those around them now who could and would help.

His work helped ease his mind, for he was too busy to think of his attacker—or of her…  But somehow, despite himself his mind always found a way back to her again, each time remembering her soft blue eyes, and shy timid smile and—
and her subtle insult
.  And yet though it all, his thoughts always started and ended with her…

J
ames Sheridan, the oldest son of the Earl opened the missive from the man who he had sent to keep an eye on his brother, he worried yet that William would somehow remember who had struck him and that he would make the truth known to his father!  The only thing that had spared his life was the fact that he yet remained silent, and yet remained far away from Whittington!  No one knew what had happened that night, for his brother could not remember and he himself had pushed Cooper from the rooftop of the mill in Kent making it look like an accident so that no one would have suspected what he had really done.  It was too risky to let him go free, and when he died the secret died with him.

He glanced down letting his eyes move over the words that told him that William continued to rebuild the settlement and was nothing more than a farmer there…  James tipped his head and smiled at the thought of his brother as a gentleman farmer.  “’
Tis good, William, remain there and if ye do, ye shall remain alive
!”