WindWarrior

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  He laced his hands under his head so he could keep it elevated, looking at her with a half-smile. “You're a tough business woman, Maire."

  "I'm a practical woman who has no desire to be labeled your whore,” she said.

  The smile slipped from his face. “Anyone stupid enough to call you that will not live long after I hear of it,” he said.

  Maire looked around, saw a couple of men milling near the entrance, keeping watch over the prisoners, and beckoned one over, asking him in a soft voice if he would do her a favor.

  "Anything for you, milady!” the soldier vowed.

  "I need warm water and soap for your overlaird. He needs fresh clothing, as well, for after his bath. Has Andy arrived yet?"

  "Just a minute or so ago. He'll be bringing the food in shortly,” was the answer.

  "I'm sure the Baron would be more comfortable eating after his bath so bring the water as quickly as you can and ask Andy to join us. I know he's fair frozen in this weather."

  "Aye, milady!” the soldier agreed and hurried away, signaling a companion to accompany him.

  "I should make you a captain,” Dek said. “They'd do whatever you asked without question.” He nudged her with his foot. “You gonna bathe me, Maire?"

  The rolling of the r in her name sent shivers of pleasure through her but she shook her head. “I think not. Only a wife should see her husband naked."

  "Or his Cochianglt,” he reminded her. “You are my Cochianglt even though you won't admit it."

  She stared at him for a long, long time until Dek grew uncomfortable with her steady gaze. He shifted on the straw, vertical lines forming between his eyes.

  "Say something, tarrishagh,” he said.

  "On most men those lines would be very unattractive,” she said as she studied the creases over his nose, “but on you, they are very endearing,” she said in a whispery voice.

  "Lines?” he questioned, deepening them.

  "Between your eyes,” she said. “I find them very endearing."

  The lines smoothed out as he smiled. “Does that mean you are beginning to accept that you are my Cochianglt?"

  "It means when your divorce is final between you and your lady-wife, we will talk seriously about it then,” she said.

  Dek's heart did a funny little squeeze in his chest. “Do you mean it?"

  She nodded, lowered her head then half-smiled. “You have a way of growing on a person, milord."

  "Maire?” he asked and when she looked up, he held out his hand to her, surprised when she took it.

  "Aye, milord?"

  "I really did search for you all those years,” he said. “In every town, every village, every settlement and at every homestead we passed. I had almost given up hope that I would ever see you again.” He tightened his hold on her hand. “I swear to you before the gods I will do nothing to cause you the first moment of pain from this day forward and I promise you I will never let anything or anyone ever hurt you again."

  Her gaze softened. “I believe you,” she said.

  "If I had known he was going to...."

  "Shush,” she told him, shaking her head. “All I would ask is that you never mention what happened that night to me ever again. I have tried to put it behind me. Let us start fresh and become friends. That is the first step and a hard one for I have spent my entire life hating your people. It will not be an easy thing for me."

  Andy took that moment to come hurrying in with two sets of saddlebags slung over his shoulders. “Sorry to have taken so long, milord. It was rough going out there, and then we had to round up a bunch of unruly bovines...."

  "He needs a bath, Andy,” Maire said. “I've got men bringing in water. Could you ask Guy or Jules if they will see the bathing?"

  "I will, milady,” Andy replied. He helped her to her feet then handed her the saddlebags. “One has the bread and the other has the makings for biscuits. Rupert will be bringing in the two hoops of cheese we procured."

  Maire blinked. “He sold you all that?"

  Andy grinned. “After I gave him an entire bag of coins. Threw in four sacks of apples to boot and helped him corral his beasties."

  "Well done, Andrew,” Dek said. “Perhaps I should make you Provisions Master instead of Wallace."

  "I thank you, but no thank you, milord,” Andy said with a laugh. “I'm content to be a grunt."

  "Lieutenant Grunt from here on out,” Dek said.

  Andy's eyes widened. “That's not necessary, milord!"

  "It is to me,” Dek told him.

  "Go find Guy,” Maire said, seeing the grateful tears forming in the young warrior's eyes. “We need to get some food into your overlaird's belly."

  Andy ducked his head, unable to speak. They watched him walk away with his head held high.

  "That was a kind thing you did,” Maire remarked. She sat down beside him and rummaged in the saddlebag for one of the four loaves of bread nestled inside. She tore off a chunk and gave it to him.

  "He earned it,” Dek replied. He bit into the bread and sighed for his belly was cramping with hunger.

  Maire pinched a small piece for herself to nibble on, picking tiny pieces off that small chunk. At Dek's arched brow, she told him she was used to making do on very little. “If I gobble it like I want to, I'd have a belly ache for sure."

  The young warriors she had sent to get the bath water came in, shaking snow from their heads. Between them they carried another wash pot full of water they'd heated over the Widow Barnes hearth fire.

  "Is she still cursing you?” Maire asked.

  The men exchanged looks and one blushed as he replied, “Ah, no, milady. She said not a word to us."

  Maire's suspicions were alerted by a second exchange of looks. “What did Jules do?” she asked, exasperation thick in her voice.

  "Weren't Captain Jules, ma'am,” the young man said. “'T'was Captain Guy what gagged her. Said he was tired of her cursing."

  "He gagged her?” She held out her hand. “Help me up."

  "Maire.... “Dek began, but she waved away his objection, and as soon as she was on her feet, marched toward the barn entrance.

  "Should I go after her, milord?” the young man inquired.

  "Nay, let her be. You don't get between a woman and her mission, Ronan,” Dek replied. He frowned as Jules came into the barn. “Where's Guy?"

  "In the hut with the witch,” Jules said. “Maire, the terrier, just shot past me with the glint of battle in her eyes.” He took off his great cape and rolled up his sleeves. “Let's get you that bath before she comes back with Guy's liver on a spit."

  "Did he really gag the widow?” Dek queried.

  "Better his way than mine,” Jules grumbled as he hunkered down beside Dek. “I'd have soon skewered the termagant as not. Let Maire deal with her."

  As soon as Maire entered Elsbeth's cottage, the woman went wild struggling against the bonds that lashed her to a chair. Fury shot from the widow's eyes.

  "Guy, what have you done?” Maire asked the man who was standing with an arm braced on the mantle. “Remove that gag immediately!"

  "No,” Guy said. Across the room the widow's teenage sons let out howls from behind gags of their own. “And I suggest you don't, either."

  Lips pursed, body stiff, Maire marched over to Elsbeth to untie the gag. “You are not helping things, Guy,” she said.

  "Don't say I didn't warn you,” Guy drawled, not bothering to look around as the gag came off the widow's mouth.

  "Whore! Strumpet! Abomination in the eyes of the gods!” Elsbeth spat at Maire. “Did you spread your filthy thighs for the lot of them? What evil disease have you brought into my home?"

  Maire was taken aback by the venom pouring from the woman's lips. She stared at her.

  "It's a good thing you're leaving with that raping hoard else you'd not live the week out here, you diseased slut!"

  "I told you,” Guy said on a long sigh then turned around, striding over to Elsbeth's sons. Before Maire could gainsa
y him, he drew his blade and put it to the throat of the younger boy, his eyes locked on the widow. “One more word out of you and I'll cut him ear to ear."

  Elsbeth sucked in a strangled gasp—eyes flaring, mouth dropped open in shock. Tears filled her eyes as she clamped her lips together. Those eyes shot to Maire with pleading.

  "Guy, please,” Maire said. “You're only reinforcing their low opinion of you."

  "I'll not have that crazed old bat insulting you, Maire. You've done nothing to warrant it and to have her dare to threaten your life is more than I am willing to take,” Guy said.

  Maire went to him and put her hand over his, drawing the razor-sharp blade from the boy's neck. “Put it away,” she said. “Elsbeth is finished with her curses, aren't you, Elsbeth?"

  The widow nodded quickly, running her tongue over her upper lip. She was breathing heavily, fear for her sons bringing caution and wisdom where there had been none.

  "The Baron's men will do no harm to you and yours,” Maire said. “They'll not damage the barn or steal your rations. All I ask is that you say no more to anger them. Will you agree to that, Elsbeth?"

  Once more, the woman nodded then let out a relieved breath when the warrior finally sheathed his weapon and walked away from her boys. Although she glared at him all the way to the door where he unhooked his great cape from a peg on the wall, she kept silent.

  "The same goes for the three of you,” Maire said as she went to the boys to remove their gags. “Angering a Tarryn warrior is not a healthy thing to do. I can only protect you so far. You must meet me halfway."

  The boys cut their eyes to their mother who gave a curt nod. When their gags were taken away, they kept as still and quiet as their mother did even as they glowered their defiance.

  "Thank you,” Maire said softly. She walked to the door where Guy awaited her. Turning back, she met Elsbeth's eyes. “I am truly sorry you choose to see what isn't there, ‘Beth. We were friends once and I will mourn the loss of that friendship."

  Elsbeth turned her head and spat, leaving no doubt in Maire's mind how she felt.

  Maire drew in a long breath and when Guy opened the door, walked outside without a backward look. She was vaguely aware of the two men guarding the only door in the one room cottage. They were huddled around a barrel leaping with warming flames.

  "That woman is not worthy of your friendship, lass,” Guy told her as he flung his great cape around her shoulders but Maire made no reply. They walked in silence through the cascading snow but when he would have escorted her to the barn door, she shook her head. “I can't believe you were ever friends with her."

  "Our husbands were brothers,” she said listlessly.

  "That hag is your sister-in-law?” he asked, mouth agape.

  "She was. I had no idea she felt as she does about me. I thought I knew her. I didn't.” She slowed her pace. “Guy, I need to.... “She just couldn't say it.

  "Oh,” he replied, realizing what she meant. He stood where he was while she went down the side of the barn and to its back. Making sure there were no men hanging about to interrupt her, he called one of the soldiers over to ask if everything had been taken care of.

  "The horses are corralled, and we've put up lean-tos to protect them from the worst of the storm, Captain,” the man said. “Everyone save the two of us and the guards at the cottage are inside the barn."

  "Change guards every hour,” Guy said. “It's too cold to leave the men out here for very long. The burn barrel will help, but I still want the guard changed hourly."

  "I'll see to it, Captain."

  Stomping his feet to keep warm, slapping his arms around him, Guy waited for Maire to return. When the time dragged on, he grew worried and went around the side of the building, calling her name.

  "Maire? Are you all right?” When she didn't immediately answer, he walked further along the side of the barn. “Maire?"

  "Coming,” he heard her answer and breathed a sigh of relief. As soon as he saw her walking out of the snow with her nose and eyes red, he knew she'd been crying again. He opened his arms and she walked into them, pressing her cheek to his broad chest.

  "Don't let it bother you, dearling,” he said, patting her back clumsily. “The old biddy isn't worth it."

  "I didn't do anything to deserve her spite, Guy,” she said, struggling not to start crying again.

  "Nay, you did not, but there are those who see only what they want to see or aren't willing to accept it any other way. Nothing either you or I could say would change that woman's mind. Best you forget about her and move on,” he advised.

  Sniffing, she looked up at him. “I know you're right. I'm sorry I'm such a ninny,” she said.

  Guy crooked his finger under her chin, smiling gently at her. “Dearling, you're not a ninny. You are.... “He searched her eyes then cocked a shoulder, apparently not seeing what he had hoped to see in her gaze. He stepped back, tugging the front of his great cape more tightly around her. “You are freezing. Let's get inside before we turn into icicles."

  With a hand to the small of her back, he escorted her into the barn. Every male there turned to look at her—even the prisoners who were sitting together now at the rear of the structure.

  "So did you whup ass and take names, then, wench?” Jules inquired dryly. He was sitting huddled in his great cape with his back against the wall of a stall, booted ankles crossed, arms folded over his massive chest.

  Rubbing his ass, Guy said, “I'll not be sitting for an entire week.” The men—including the prisoners—laughed at his remark then laughed again when she playfully swatted his shoulder.

  "Come and have some cheese, tarrishagh,” Dek said and Maire was happy to see he had more color in his cheeks. He looked up at Guy. “How's the snow?"

  "Still coming down in sheets,” Guy responded. “I doubt we'll be leaving here today."

  Handing his garment back to Guy, Maire took the old coat Andy held out to her, poking her arms through the too-long sleeves then dropped down beside the Baron.

  "You can't leave Elsbeth and her sons tied up all day,” she told Dek.

  "I can,” Jules growled.

  "You won't,” Maire stated firmly. “Besides, we will all need at least a decent supper meal."

  "Hells bells, wench, the bitch would poison whatever she cooked for us!” Jules protested, a dark scowl twisting his face.

  "I planned on making the meal, Jules,” she said. “That is if Andy can bag me a few more hares or the like. I brought a satchel of vegetables with me."

  "Why?” Dek asked, those wicked lines appearing between his green eyes again.

  "I just did,” she said in a defensive tone. “We won't need to use any of Elsbeth's store of vegetables but mayhap she could spare a pinch or two of spices, since she and her boys will be sharing in the supper. I'll make the biscuits and what's leftover will go with us tomorrow for our noon meal.” She scooted over so she, too, could lean against the wall opposite Jules.

  "We'll be at the ship with any luck by sundown tomorrow,” Guy suggested. “I'll send Giles on ahead to have the ship's cook prepare a hearty repast for our supper."

  "I'll go in Andy's stead if that's all right with you, milady,” Strom spoke up. “Andy's feeling a bit peevish."

  "Andy?” Maire said, craning her head around so she could see past Guy who was sitting tailor fashion at Dek's feet. “Where are you?"

  "Here, milady,” Andy said. “'Tis just a cold starting, nothing more."

  "You come here right now, Andrew!” she insisted and once again the men laughed.

  Grunting as he got to his feet, Andy shuffled over to where she was sitting. “Ain't nothing but a cold, milady,” he said, running his coat sleeve under his nose. “Just a bit of the sniffles."

  "You sit by the fire until you're warm, and then we'll see about whether or not I'll allow you to go back over there,” she told him.

  "Aye, milady,” Andy said on a long sigh. He sat beside Jules who glared at the young soldier.
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  "You sneeze on me at your own peril, boy,” Jules warned.

  * * * *

  The snow did not stop until just before four in the afternoon. At least six inches had fallen to obscure the roadway. Though it was a pristine sight that greeted Maire as she left the barn to wade through the snow to Elsbeth's cottage to begin the supper meal, she knew it would make for treacherous travel the next morning.

  "You should send someone out right after first light to mark the way, Guy. Maybe take the travois with the goods to clear a light path,” she told him as he walked with her. “I can write down what landmarks he should look for."

  "I will do that,” Guy said. He had already been over to the cottage around noon to have a long talk with the widow and her sons. He made it clear to the Barnes family that they were to keep their mouths shut while Maire was in attendance, driving it home to them, it was only because of Maire's intervention that they were free of gags and bonds. One false move, one hateful word to Maire and they would all four spend a very miserable night trussed up like feast gooses.

  The two guards at the door smiled warmly at Maire and one stepped to the door to open it for her. He grinned broadly when she thanked him by name, his chest puffing out with pride that she had made note when she'd heard it and remembered.

  Elsbeth and her boys were sitting at the hearth but not a one of them looked around as Maire entered the cottage. They kept their backs to her the entire time she prepared the evening meal, even going as far as to refuse their portion of the food when it was offered to them.

  After serving the two guards hot bowls of stewed pork—Strom had found a wild boar and brought it down with one arrow—Maire slathered the biscuits she'd made with a bit of fried meat grease from the boar fat with a bit of butter. Piling the biscuits into a large pan into which a towel had been laid, she had Guy and Strom bring along the big kettle of stew laden with plenty of dried rosemary, parsley and sage as well as all the root vegetables in her satchel.