It was a deep source of anger and guilt, failing to keep her from harm, that he harbored. One that would not leave him soon, if ever.
He added a few logs to the fire pit in the middle of the hut after he finished dressing and without a word to the woman he had been so intimate with last night, whose name he did not know, he left.
Royden bundled his wool cloak around him, the pre-dawn day cold. While spring had arrived, it was still cold this high in the Highlands. His breath came out in large puffs and his stump ached as was its way when too cold. He walked through the village, if it could be called that, the area comprised of several huts, a few storage sheds, and a longhouse.
The amount of warriors that occupied the area had thinned of late and there was talk the few who remained were to be dispersed to other groups. He and Arran’s plans to attempt to escape had quickly been brought to an end when all the captives were told the rules.
Attempt to escape and one of your clansmen will suffer for it, attempt again and your clansmen will die, succeed at escaping and you will be hunted down and you and a family member will die. It wasn’t until one brave captive attempted an escape that he and Arran knew escape wasn’t a viable option. The man was found and returned and all watched as he’d been forced to pick who in his clan that had been taken captive with him would be punished. The man chosen was left chained outside for two days and nights in the cold without food, given only a hot brew. He survived, though barely.
The captives had been given an offer of freedom. They would join the band of mercenaries and fight, earning their freedom, but that would take years. Or they could remain with the group and share in its wealth. Sometimes if one was lucky, a captive was released without explanation, though that was a seldom occurrence.
That’s when Royden had begun to discover the power and influence of the person who had forged a band of unwanted warriors into highly-skilled mercenaries for hire.
He entered the longhouse to find Platt there. He didn’t like the man. He had been the one who led the attack on Royden’s clan, leaving several of his clansmen dead or wounded. He had discovered that Platt owed some kind of allegiance to the overall leader of the mercenaries and followed his command without question.
“I will miss our morning talks,” Platt said with a snarling grin.
Royden sat on the bench opposite Platt at one of the many tables, not because he wanted to, but because it was closest to the fire pit. He didn’t acknowledge his humor, he and Platt having shared no morning talks only silence when they had eaten.
Unless he was going home, what did it matter where he was sent? Still, he asked, “Where am I to be sent this time?”
Platt retained his smile. “Aren’t you going to miss me?”
“You’re not going with me?” Royden asked, actually enjoying the small bit of good news.
Platt laughed, a seldom heard sound from him. “You really want to take me home with you?”
Royden wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly or if he misunderstood. He eyed Platt skeptically, but said nothing.
“He has no use for you anymore. You are free to return home,” Platt said and raised his tankard, toasting Royden’s good fortune.
Royden was still skeptical, Platt not always truthful, and he also wondered if he was possibly dreaming and yet to wake.
“Can’t spare you a horse, but I can see you have food for a while, since it will take you a good month or more to reach home.” Platt shook his head at Royden’s skeptical glare. “It’s the truth and I’m glad to be rid of you.”
“My brother, Arran?”
“I don’t know about him, but with you being set free I don’t see why he wouldn’t be as well, but then again, he could be dead for all I know.”
“That’s an outright lie,” Royden challenged. “You know more than you ever say.”
“The reason I’ve survived all this time. I keep my mouth shut.”
Royden stood. He didn’t care if his belly was growling. If he was free, he wanted to leave now. He wanted to get home.
“I’ll get that food and leave now,” Royden said and went to turn.
“Royden.”
He stopped.
“A price was paid for your release. A steep one that few, if any, would pay. You’ll need to remember that one day.”
Royden turned and walked away. Never had Platt offered any information. Why did he do so now? He didn’t bother to ask who it was who had bought his freedom. Platt wouldn’t tell him. He’d probably get satisfaction out of not telling him. He wondered, though, who had paid a steep price for his release, what that price was, and why had it been paid?