“It won’t be long,” Cree assured her when he saw a shiver race through her.
She nodded and warned herself to keep her head clear as well as her eyes instead of allowing fear to rule.
It was not long before, a quick pace was set, all anxious to leave the woods. Cree kept his arm locked firm with his wife’s arm, concerned she might take a fall. The pace slowed when they entered the village, relieved to have made it home without incident.
The news of the dead man had spread, and villagers lined the pathway with every single eye on Cree. It was not long before they began to call out to him.
“Please, Lord Cree, save us!” a man shouted.
“We beg you, Lord Cree, save us from the devil!” a woman cried.
“Don’t let him take us, my lord,” another man shouted.
“We pledge our loyalty to you, Lord Cree!” came another.
The pleading voices followed Dawn and Cree through the village and continued to echo in Dawn’s ears after entering the keep.
“Double the sentinels, leave no warrior on his own, Newlin,” Cree ordered, once he and Dawn were seated at a table in the Great Hall. “And have the men not only cut more trees down, but thin the trees there as well so that the sentinels at the wall defenses can see into the woods more clearly.”
“What good does either do against the devil?” Newlin asked, shaking his head.
Cree pounded his fist on the table, causing several items on top to jump. “It was not the devil’s work in the woods today, and such nonsense does nothing but spread fear and mistrust.”
Newlin lowered his voice. “What need is there to rip out a man’s heart after he is dead? No sane or honorable person would do such a thing.”
“I have seen worse done by sane and honorable men,” Cree said.
Horrendous tales had circulated about Cree and while partial truth could be found in some of them, most were simply tales that held little to no credence. It was her husband’s endless courage, commanding nature, and fearlessness in battle that had actually earned him such an infamous reputation.
“Tell me of those who have disappeared,” Cree said. “When did most go missing? Morning or evening?”
Newlin tilted his head, his brow scrunching.
Dawn wondered why the man needed to think about his response. How could he not know when six members of his clan had gone missing?”
“I believe it was both,” Newlin finally said.
Cree’s hand stilled on his tankard. “You do not have a large clan, Newlin. How can six clan members of yours disappear and you do not know exactly when? Do you not have men who report to you as to what goes on in the village?”
Chieftain Newlin downed a good portion of ale before he responded. “I do not like to admit it, but things have not gone well here lately. Harvests have been poor, animals have taken sick, hunting has been unsuccessful. It has forced me to do something I had hoped to avoid. I had to wed my daughter to the sole heir of Clan MacShane, Lord Bhric, so that Clan Strathearn could survive. Unfortunately, Lord Bhric is the son of a Northman who won the love of Lord Donald’s daughter, Lady Oriana, and only heir. Rather than lose his daughter completely, he agreed to their marriage as long as their firstborn son was taught what was needed to rule Clan MacShane so he would be prepared to rule when his grandfather died. Lord Donald took ill about eight months ago and recently died. Clan MacShane is not only a wealthy clan but a strong one especially now with Bhric, a skilled Northman warrior and the new lord. His mother proposed a marriage with my daughter and,” —he shook his head— “my clan would have starved this winter if I had not accepted.”
“You should have come to me, Newlin,” Cree said.
“I made a good marriage arrangement for my daughter. She will want for nothing and have a title. She could have done far worse,” Newlin said, defending his decision.
Dawn thought about when she had been given to the then prisoner, Cree, and not in marriage, knowing only that he was an infamous warrior who killed without reason. She had been terrified of him. She had been grateful that he was more of a good man than anyone realized. She wondered if this man, Bhric, was a good man.
She was not surprised to hear her husband question the same.
“This Bhric? Is he a good man?” Cree asked.
“Lady Oriana assures me her son will treat Tavia well,” Newlin said with a hint of uncertainty and hurried to voice his other problem. “I now also have my niece, Flora, to look after. She is my learned brother’s only child. He and his wife died recently of a fever they got while on a journey to heaven knows where. Thank God, he and his wife did not take Flora with them, or she would be dead as well.” He shook his head. “My niece is accustomed to a far different life than what is offered here in the Highlands, my brother not only studied at Cambridge University, outside of London, but taught there as well. As it is, she took ill about a week ago, barely able to speak a word, an oddity for her since she rarely stops talking. I do not know how I will ever find her a suitable husband.” He shook his head.