Clansmen hurried to greet the returning men with tears and hugs.
“God be praised, you’re home!” Sara cried out when she spotted her husband.
Stuart had her in his arms in no time and the two wept like children. Little Stuart stood nearby staring at them when Big Stuart suddenly scooped him up and announced, “I’m your da, lad.”
The little lad looked to his mum, and she nodded. “Aye, he’s your da.”
The lad threw his arms around his da’s neck and hugged him, and Stuart shed more tears.
The bell tolled surprising, frightening, and alerting everyone that warriors approached.
Royden swore quietly, not wanting to show his alarm. There weren’t enough men to protect the village and the ones skilled enough to were too exhausted to battle. Somehow he had to grow the clan or it would be far too susceptible if attacked.
“Royden,” Angus called out, and Royden’s hand shot up and caught the hilt of the sword Angus threw his way.
It had taken time to learn that feat, but he had forced himself to do so and it had been a wise decision, one that had helped during battle. He heard the rush of whispers around him. He’d known, without a word being spoken, that many wondered about his abilities and skills having only one hand. In time, they would see he was a far better warrior than he had once been.
Royden was proud that even though exhausted from a long journey the men drew their swords and gathered behind him, ready to fight. The women even reached for weapons along with a couple of older men whose frailty would never sustain a fight. Still, though, they drew swords.
To Royden’s relief, a good-sized man led only six warriors toward the village. They were not under attack and seeing who approached all lowered their weapons, but kept them in hand.
“That’s Chieftain Fergus,” Penn said, standing next to Royden, sword in hand.
“You invited him without my permission,” Royden accused.
Penn shook his head. “No, I would never do such a thing. Fergus comes of his own accord.”
Royden waited, his sword remaining firm in his hand, and watched the small troop approach. Fergus sat erect on his horse, his posture one of pride, strength, and confidence, which often signaled a skilled warrior. He looked to be of average height and though he wore a dark, wool cloak draped over his broad shoulders, it was easy to see he was of solid girth. His long hair was a golden red and braids hung on either side. His features were plain, nothing that would turn a woman’s head. The warriors that followed behind him sat with the same degree of strength and purpose, though one caught Royden’s eye.
A cleric.
What was a cleric doing with this troop?
Fergus stopped the troop a short distance from Royden. He dismounted and approached with a forceful stride.
“I don’t wish to intrude, but I’ve wanted to meet with you and welcome you home,” Fergus said, extending his hand.
Royden didn’t offer his hand.
Fergus dropped his hand, his face pinched with annoyance. “Thurbane sends his regards. He would have come with me but he hasn’t felt well lately.”
“Or you didn’t want him here,” Royden said.
Fergus blew out a hefty breath. “I know this can’t be easy for you, but I’m here to stay. We can either be friends or enemies, the choice is yours.”
“The choice is mine?” Royden laughed. “When did you give Thurbane a choice or his daughter Alynn? Your leader stole from all the surrounding clans, so don’t tell me the choice is mine that we are to be friends or foe. You are my enemy until proven otherwise.”
“Then let me prove otherwise,” Fergus said. “It looks like you could use some help around here. Let me send some men to help you with your fields and make repairs to your village as the weather allows.”
Royden wanted nothing more than to refuse his offer, but with so few men to see to all that needed to be done, it would be foolish of him to refuse Fergus. He needed to make sure sufficient food was made ready for the winter months, the storage sheds stocked, and their shelters sound. He’d never be able to do it all with the amount of men he had. Like it or not, he needed the help.
“Let me prove I am more friend than foe,” Fergus said and extended his hand again.
“Prove yourself a friend, only then will I extend my hand to you,” Royden said.
Fergus shook his head as he dropped his hand once again. “You’re a hard-headed one.”
“Cautious is more like it,” Royden said.
“The day is young and my men are ready to help. Put them to work while we talk,” Fergus offered.
Penn spoke up. “The fields desperately need to be finished in time for planting.”
Royden didn’t like that Penn let Fergus know the clan was desperate for anything, but the ground needed to be made ready for summer planting or the oats and barley they depended on to feed the clan wouldn’t be plentiful.