Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“How ill is the man?” Bhric asked.
“He can barely stand,” the warrior said.
“He needs help,” Tavia said. “We must offer them shelter and food so he may heal.”
“Sickness can spread if not careful,” Bhric warned.
“They can be isolated in a cottage,” Tavia said.
“They can shelter with the animals,” Bhric ordered.
Tavia gasped. “It is cold. The man needs heat. You cannot be so cruel.”
“I know not what ails him and I will not have him spread anything to my people,” Bhric said and shook his head wondering why he was explaining himself to his wife.
“I can speak with him and see if he poses any risk to the clan,” Tavia said.
“You will do no such thing,” Bhric said.
Tavia had no intentions of giving up. “At least give the couple a chance to speak with you and judge for yourself if they should stay or go.”
“And I suppose you wish to be with me when I do this,” Bhric said, having every intention of taking her with him and seeing what she thought of the couple.
A smile lit her face. “I would love to accompany you, my lord. Thank you for including me.”
His wife had a quicker mind than he first thought. He had focused only on her limp when meeting her, nothing else, though her lies had not set well with him. But why had she lied? Did he look for excuses to dismiss them? How could trust be born of lies?
“Something troubles you,” Tavia said a sudden scowl marring her husband’s fine features.
“We will talk of it another time,” he said, after he had learned more about her.
They walked to the edge of the village.
Bhric went to inquire about her leg and stopped himself. As she had said herself, if she paid her leg heed she had no trouble. He would leave it to her, for now.
The old man sat on the snow-covered ground and his wife stood beside him, her frail hand on his shoulder. Both were thin and appeared weak, the man more so than the woman. Their garments were worn, their cloaks threadbare offering little protection against the cold. Their aged faces betrayed the harshness of their life and Tavia’s heart ached for them.
“A few days of food and shelter is all we ask, my lord,” the woman said, a tremble to her voice.
“How ill is your husband?’ Bhric demanded.
“He is weak from barely having food to eat and trying to do work better left to the young to keep us from starving,” the woman said, the tremble in her voice extending to the hand on her husband’s shoulder.
“A day of rest, my lord, and I can work for our shelter and food,” the man said, raising his head slowly.
Tavia turned to her husband and kept her voice low. “We must help them. They are too weak to continue walking and they have nothing to protect them against the cold.”
His wife had a caring heart and he a skeptical one, but he would not turn the aged couple away. He turned to his warrior. “Take them to Bowen’s cottage, he needs it no longer, having moved in with the widow Olga. See a fire is set for them and food brought to them.”
The old woman looked about ready to collapse with relief.
“Bless you, my lord. Bless you,” she said, her eyes tearing.
“We are grateful,” the old man said.
The Northman warrior offered his support to help the old man walk after a nod from Bhric.
“That was generous,” Tavia said.
Bhric said nothing, as he continued walking with his wife. He had not offered the couple shelter out of generosity. He had done so because he wondered what brought them here. Why had an old couple shown up in the dead of winter at his home at this particular time? Instinct had him cautious and he would see if he was right in paying it heed.
CHAPTER 12
Bhric found sleep difficult. He rolled back and forth on the bed not able to find a comfortable position, the blankets twisting around him and causing his annoyance to flair. He could not get his wife off his mind, having spent a pleasant day with her. They had not lacked for conversation. He had found himself telling her of his plans to extend the planting fields in the spring and add a longhouse for his warriors where they could gather.
He played the conversation again in his head.
“My warriors would appreciate a longhouse where they can gather to talk and drink.”
“And the MacShane warriors? Where will they gather to talk and drink?” Tavia asked, a crinkle to her brow. “A laird usually entertains his warriors in the Great Hall. Is that where you will meet with them, separately from your Northmen warriors? How well will it serve you to keep a divide between them?”
“My tribe have their ways as do the clan warriors, but they are one.”