Annis had to agree.
Iver joined them, smiling. “We could use some of those.”
“Risley,” she said with a nod to the man, “would like to join our clan.”
His smile faded some. “That would be grand, but, first, he needs to know about our clan.”
Una’s excitement faded more and more as her father explained about their small clan and how the condemned lord was helping them.
Risley scratched his chin. “It would be amazing and challenging to help build an entire village. I would like to be part of it.”
“There is one more thing,” Iver said, and Una’s returned excitement faded again knowing what her da would say. “Our village is not far from where the witch of the hills supposedly lives.”
Risley brushed it off with a wave of his hand. “That is a myth. Whenever you are ready to leave, I will go with you.”
Una’s excitement returned.
Annis smiled, happy for the lass. “How much do I owe you for the chisel?”
“You do not need to purchase it since all the tools will be available to the village to use,” Risley said.
“I always wanted my own,” Annis said.
“Then consider it a gift from me to you for allowing me to join your village,” Risley said and chuckled. “I will deliver it to your home for you.”
They all laughed, and Annis thanked him. She walked off with Iver, leaving Una to talk with Risley.
“I have no words to thank you for this,” Iver said teary-eyed. “My daughter has a future because of you.”
“It is Lord Brogan’s doing, not mine,” Annis said.
“If you had not come to our village and been so insistent, Lord Brogan would have never come there. It is your doing and no other,” Iver said, “and I and the others are grateful. Though none say it, we hope you will stay and make your home with us and bring your sisters to live with us as well.”
Annis got teary-eyed. “I would like that.”
Iver was approached by a man he had not seen in years and Annis left them to talk. She wandered through the market and saw Una still talking with Risley and looking happier than she had ever seen her. She was thrilled herself, but for a different reason than Una. It was the prospect of having all those tools to use that put a wide smile on her face.
“My baubles,” she whispered with a laugh.
She looked to the keep and wondered what was delaying Brogan. If they were to return to the village by dark, they would have to leave in the next hour or so. She decided to go to the keep and find out.
Annis entered to find no one about, then she heard the terrifying screams and took off. Horror at what she saw stopped her dead. A woman of importance, from her fine tailored garments, was striking a servant lass with a stick repeatedly as she lay in a ball on the floor, protecting her rounded stomach. She was with child.
Fury raged through Annis, and she did not stop to think. She ran to the lass being beaten and flung herself over her.
9
“This is a gift, son. You will live long and see the clan prosper and grow.”
“While I watch everyone die around me, Da,” Brogan argued. “And what of me, Da? What happens when I grow old and feeble and there is barely anything left of me? Do I spend eternity rotting away yet never dying? Have you thought of that? Is that the gift you speak of?”
“You do not know if you will age like others and that is why you will sire many children. They will be there to care for you,” his father said as if his words would make it so. “And why haven’t you told your wife that you are her husband? It is time she learns to obey you.”
Brogan almost laughed, Annis and obedience was not synonymous. “My decision, Da.”
The screams penetrated his father’s solar, and Brogan shook his head. “Mother still beats the servants?”
“Only when necessary,” his father said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “When you get your wife with child, you will come here to live and begin to take more of a role in running the clan.
Brogan had no intentions of returning to live here and he had no intentions of arguing with his father about it. He let it pass, for now.
“How goes the trouble between Clan MacFarden and Odran’s clan?” Brogan asked.
“Not good. Clan Loudon has been charged with sending warriors and it grows more heated.”
The screams grew and Brogan shot to his feet and went to the door.
“The servants are for your mother to handle,” his father shouted and followed after him.
Brogan hated when his mother flew into one of her rages and took it out on any servant in her path. There was not one servant who did not fear her. He had stopped her a few times and he intended to stop her now.