“We need more men to get these fields fully prepared for summer planting of the oats and barley,” Penn said, looking out over the unfinished fields. “You also can use some extra hands with getting the keep in shape, not to mention all the repairs to the village.”
“We have who we have. We’ll have to make do,” Royden said, annoyed that he’d lost so many of his clansmen to the mercenaries.
“I can get extra hands. I know Chieftain Fergus of the Clan MacDonnegal and many of the warriors who chose to stay and make a home with the clan. They would help if I asked.”
Royden turned a murderous glare on Penn. “You want me to beg for help from those responsible for the destruction of my home, my clan?”
“It’s not begging and those men are not your enemy now, they’re your neighbors. They aren’t even the warriors who attacked here. If you’re not comfortable asking Chieftain Fergus, then Lady Learmonth would surely lend her clansmen to help us.”
That infuriated him even more. Even the thought of asking Oria for help struck a blow to his pride. But he had discovered that pride didn’t always serve one well.
“Chieftain Fergus has wanted to meet you since your return home. Why not meet with him and judge for yourself,” Penn suggested.
Royden folded his arms across his broad chest. “Tell me, is this what your leader had in mind? Infiltrate the area with his men and eventually take over without having to lift a weapon?”
“I don’t know what he had in mind. I do know, though, that he was only interested in claiming this particular area. We were to attack no other clans but the ones designated.”
“What specific clans?” Royden asked, eager for another piece to the puzzle.
“Clan Learmonth, Clan MacDonnegal, Clan MacGlennen, Clan Macara, and Clan MacKinnon.”
All the clans he mentioned bordered one or more of the others somewhere along their borders. Clan Learmonth was the oldest of the clans and had owned much of the land before battles but disputes changed that.
“You claimed to know nothing yet you tell me this now. Is there more information you’ll tell me as time goes on?” Royden asked. Penn seemed like a decent enough man, but it would take time, if ever, that he would trust him.
“I do my best to prove my loyalty,” Penn said.
“But who are you truly loyal to?” Royden asked, having wondered that since meeting him.
“Men approach,” Penn said, pointing in the distance.
Royden followed where Penn pointed, though kept in mind that he never responded to his question. Had it been convenient or on purpose?
There were three men. As they got closer, it was obvious from their slow gait and soiled garments they had been traveling on foot for a good distance. When they drew even closer, Royden recognized them as members of the clan.
He greeted them with strong hugs and he understood the tears that welled in their eyes. He had felt it himself when he had seen the keep and had seen a familiar face. He knew then he was finally home just as these men did now.
“We were told you were home when we were released,” John said.
Short and barrel-chested, John was thicker in the arms and legs than when Royden last saw him, which had been about three years ago when his clansmen had been separated from him.
“And we heard more men are being released,” Angus chimed in, hurrying his hand over his eyes before tears could fall. “Some from the Clan Macara and from the Clan MacDonnegal.”
Angus had been thick in the middle from all the sweets he’d sweet-talked out of Bethany. No more. He had slimmed down, though his long, dark hair was heavily sprinkled with gray.
“Did anyone tell you the reason you were being let go?” Royden asked.
Stuart, a tall man with bright red hair, said, “I didn’t care for the why. I just wanted to get home to my Sara. She was heavy with child when I was taken away. Please tell me she and my bairn are here and safe.”
Royden was relieved he could give the man good news. “Aye, Sara is well as is your son, named for you. And the little lad’s a hard worker too, helping wherever he can.
Stuart didn’t try to stop the tears. “A son. I have a son.”
The men slapped him on the back, congratulating him.
“I’m dying for some of Bethany’s sweets. I sure did miss them,” Angus said.
“He missed Bethany as well, but the stubborn fool won’t admit it,” Stuart said, and the men laughed when Angus’s cheeks blossomed red and he mumbled as he walked off toward the village.
The men followed him and Royden was glad to see the smiles on their faces and hear their laughter. Smiles and laughter were needed here again, though neither would come easily after all they had suffered.