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Authors: From Whence Came A Stranger...

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They rounded the bend and came towards the small farm.  Her father was on a ladder mending the thatched roof on the barn.  He stopped and lifted a hand to his eyes against the glaring sun before he climbed down, wiping his hands on his trousers
as he came towards them—and bringing his daughter to his side protectively at the sight before him.  “Good day to ye, Egan.  Ah, English, ‘tis ye who wanders to my home this fine day, welcome.”  He glanced at the villagers who stood at a distance watching them intently and waved them off.  “All is well, ye may go back to yur own business now!”

Slowly they all turned and walked away, glancing back as they did so, making it quite clear they too were not happy about the strangers who had come to visit him that day.

His daughter, whose golden cheeks were now blushed pink threaded her arms around his stout middle and smiled up at him—more than glad to finally be home with the group she had led.  “Da, this Englishman and his companion inquired after ye in the village.”

He glanced down at her and smiled.  “Go along now, daughter, the men and I would talk without women about us.”

She managed a smile before she turned to go into the hut; catching her mother’s worried eyes though the slightly open door before the woman took her arm and pulled her inside closing the door sharply behind her.

Egan shifted and glanced between the strangers at his side and Alden in front of him. 
“What do ye think yur doing, Alden, inviting trouble to our village like this?!”

The older man lifted a hand to silence him as he glanced at William and Phillip who stood beside the cart awaiting a verdict to their dilemma before he face
d Egan again.  “’Twas not from an invitation that they have come this day, but—” He glanced at them again, then back at the angry young man who stood stiffly before him.  “—
if
they come here seeking hospitality and mean no harm, then I shall give it.  English, are ye come to my farm to seek trouble with my kin?”

William dropped his sword hand to his side and met the older man’s eyes squarely.  “Nay, Alden, though since ye are the only one I know
from this village, I inquired of thee.  But in truth, I have only come to barter.”

Alden smiled again and then turned
back to the dark scowling Egan.  “See, he brings no trouble!”

“All English are trouble!”

Alden laughed heartily, doing his best to calm those around him.  “That may be so, and in truth I shall soon see, but ‘tis no concern of yurs, Egan Wallace.  Come English, and I shall show ye my hospitality and then we shall see to thy goods.  Good day to ye, Egan.”

The tall man glared at the three as they turned and went towards the small hut closing the door behind them.  He stood there for a long minute glaring in their direction even after the door was already shut; then strode back down towards the village again, his black mood in no way lessened.

 

“Come, English, sit, sit.  Rae, bring our guests some ale.”  His short plump wife glanced at the three with wide worried eyes as she brought the small keg and wooden cups to the narrow table.  “Ye would do well to avoid, Egan… and the men with him.”

William nodded.  “Had I known I would have received such a welcome this day I might not have come; but ‘twas thy daughter who spared us a fight, and for that I’m grateful.”

Alden nodded and cast his blushing daughter a glance that made her turn away for she knew he was not at all pleased at the risk she took without knowing these men more.  “So English, ye have come to trade then?”

“Aye, and to inquire if any would be willing to work.  There is more to do than the three of us can manage if we hope to have the village repaired by first snow fall.”

“Repair the village?  Why in the name of the Almighty would ye do such a thing?!”

William hesitated and glanced down at the cup in front of him, then back up at the older man seated on the bench across from him.  “’Tis right to do so, in truth, it should have never been destroyed in the first place.”

The old man took a sip of his ale and set the cup down purposefully.  “Strange thing for an English to say
..
.”

“Not so strange for man of morals.  English or not, that village belonged to the women, the children and the old, yet even now it stands empty.  ‘Tis not right.”

He stared at his young guest knowing he could see good in his blue eyes.  “I imagine if yur countrymen heard tell, they would string ye up by yur neck
.”

William only laughed.  “Or die trying!”

His host only laughed hardily with him seeing the strength of the man seated across from him.  “’Tis true by the looks of ye!”  He pushed away from the table and then stood
.
“Well then, shall we see to that which ye have brought, and perhaps ye might leave here with something in trade.”

 

Miranda stood to the side of the narrow room kneading the flat bread that her mother had begun, listening to her father and his guests speak, hardly able to keep herself from glancing over her shoulder at the two handsome men who sat at their table.  One had reddish hair and kind eyes; his companion was equally handsome, with dark hair that hung down and curled at the nape of his neck.  His face was strong and handsome with deep blue eyes that looked honest and true.  He was taller than the other, with broad shoulders and long legs.  She was sure he was more than just a farmer, for her da had even thought as much when he had met him—and perhaps he had even been a knight.  His deep voice made him sound as if he could command an army itself and she wondered if he had.  She glanced at him again till her mother tapped her arm briskly making her turned away without a word.  None of them were sure why the English had really come to Glenton Moor, but she was sure it wasn’t for trouble—or at least she hoped that it was so!  For they had all had enough trouble without this man making more…

 

The bartering now done, the three men went to work on unloading the cart before they tied a scrawny cow and her young calf to the back for the long journey home.  “I shall ride with ye, English, until ye are out of our village, ‘twould not be safe to go alone.”

William nodded stiffly and waited for the old man to climb into the cart.  “Do ye fear trouble for us on the road home?”

Alden shrugged.  “I cannot say for sure what they would do, though I would think that they would let ye pass through peacefully enough.  None of them want to bring the English armies down upon us by doing something foolish!”

The old man’s hesitant words didn’t sit easily with either of them, and as they neared the village the occupants stopped and watched them wordlessly with
dark eyes.  Alden nodded to his stiff neighbors, not expecting a greeting in return, nor did he get one.  He took them far enough out of the village so they would have a head start if trouble followed, then had them stop.  “English, I bid ye good day, and… and if ye have ought to barter again, only bring it to the village the first day of the week by mid morning.  I shall make sure one of my children are there each week to watch for ye.  If in truth ye wish to make them trust ye, this is where ye must start—though I would warn ye English that if ye are doing this deceitfully, it shall not end well for thee.”

William smiled and held out his hand, the Welshman looked at it, then smiled and clasp it heartily.  “I have no hidden
purpose, Alden.  I came this day with the hope to show my neighbors that I am not a threat, hopefully I have succeeded in that even if somewhat.  But I thank thee for thy friendship and the warnings too, I shall be careful not to give them reason to doubt my good intentions. Well, much thanks, Alden, and good day to thee!”

“Aye.  God speed, English.”  The old man nodded with a satisfied smile at his honest words.

He smiled and flicked the reins as his companion murmured stiffly, glancing behind them with worried eyes as they went.
“William, tell me ye would not ye go back again after the welcome we received this day?!”

“Aye, we shall go back, we have to…”

Phillip merely rolled his worried eyes.

William glanced at him and knew what he was thinking, and with good reason too.  But they needed to barter for livestock, and he wanted to make sure the food that the villagers had left in the gardens and in the fields didn’t go to waste—but more importantly he wanted his neighbors to know that he wasn’t a threat and that they could trust him.  And so it was to his benefit to have a friend in Alden Blair.

Phillip shook his head slowly at his words, but kept his thoughts to himself despite his desire to argue the point when he knew it would do no good…

Miranda’s younger brother Turin came down the same trail he had left earlier that day to go hunting; his shoulder’s now laden with quail, his bow and quiver on the other.  The lad was twelve
summers, not overly tall, but strong and lean with reddish hair and bright blue eyes like their father.  He smiled when he saw her.  They were the only children of Alden Blair, and the joy of his life.  “Good day to ye, brother.  I see ye have had a good hunt!”

He smiled proudly into her soft face.  “Aye, I did.”  He said and lifted his prize proudly.

“We had visitors this day, the English da had told of!”

“English!?  Here?!”
  The boys couldn’t help but frown as he kept pace with her.

“Aye, Egan and the men of the village weren’t too pleased for it either.”

The boy shook his head as he walked.  “Nor am I!  We have no reason to show hospitality to the likes of him!”

“Now Turin, don’t ye go and get all riled up with words like that!  In truth, the man only came to trade, and then he left.”

He paused, studying his sister’s delicate features a moment before he spoke.  “I see he has made a friend in thee.  If ye were smart, lass, ye would hide yurself from him!”

She blushed and continued to look ahead as she walked ignoring his trite words.  “He seems the goodly sort and said he wishes to rebuild Glenton Moor and see it turned over to the widows and children that yet remain.”

Turin hastened his steps till he had caught up with her again. 
“Have a care, sister, that ye do not fall under the man’s spell!  All English are liars and thieves and we know it well!”

She laughed softly.  “Aye, ‘tis true of some I suppose, but this man seems most honest.”

He threw her a concerned look. 
“Ye would do well to keep away from him!”

She took her brother’s strong hand in hers.  “Have no care, Turin.  I doubt we shall see the English here soon after the welcome he received.”  But even as she said it, she hoped it wasn’t true…

 

 

T
he three men began working hard to fix up the fences that had been torn down; though their first cow and her calf didn’t at all seem to mind being staked out in the meadow on a long rope; and William was glad for it.

He stood with legs apart and strong arms crossed over his broad chest watching his cattle graze as the sun sank low in the sky casting beautiful shadows on the meadow from the tall trees around it.  Phillip had seen to roasting the deer that Thomas had shot with his bow earlier that day.  The savory aroma from the meat hung in the heavy evening air.  He smiled, finally realized that this place had begun to feel like a home to him.  As if life itself had finally come back to him and to Glenton Moor
at the same time.  And it was a welcome relief from the heavy, disheartening quiet that hung over the ruins and over his thoughts when they had first arrived. 

Aye, the land was healing—now if only its people could…  He knew there were survivors who had fled the destruction that night, he himself had watched their desperate eyes as they fled from him expecting him to
follow, but instead he pointed them towards safety and told them to hurry.  Now, he just wondered if they would ever come back to this place again.

“William!  Come eat!”

He smiled at Phillip’s words and went to the well to wash the dirt from himself before he walked to the hut clean but damp; and for the first time feeling as if somehow everything was going to be alright.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

 


W
hy the long face, father?”
  James Sheridan, the oldest son and heir of the Earl of Whittington said as he strode into his father’s solar.  His father had been staring out the large bank of windows at the countryside just beyond the castle walls for nigh an hour without saying a single word.  James knew his mind was on one thing, and one thing only—his younger son, William….  

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