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.”
Brigid attempted to make her friend see reason. “Do you not remember your father’s tale? There is no negotiating with him. The man demands and no one dares defy him.”
“I do not intend to defy him. I will provide a good exchange for his services.”
“Mapmaking.”
Reena stuck her chin out. “Whatever it takes.”
Brigid’s mouth dropped open. “You cannot mean to offer yourself to him?”
Reena laughed softly. “Do you really think he would want the likes of me?” She held her arms out from her sides and turned slowly. “My body is so thin that I fear a gust of wind will pick me up and carry me away.”
“You are a stubborn one, you would demand the wind release you,” Brigid said on a gentle laugh. “And you underestimate your beauty.”
“I do not think so and I do not care about beauty. I care that the villagers starve and that you are in danger. Something must be done.”
“Your strength and courage always amazed me. If it had not been for your strong support, I would never have survived John’s death. And even now it takes strength to go do what you plan. If your father or mother knew of your intentions, they would never allow you to go.”