Chapter 5 #3
Finally? Elodie thought to herself. It’s barely light!
“All right, all right,” Elodie groaned. “I’m awake.” With an effort, she swung her feet around and sat on the edge of the bed. “See? I’m up.”
Faye merely snorted and began dishing porridge into two clay bowls.
She handed one to Elodie along with a small wooden spoon.
The smell set Elodie’s stomach to growling.
How long was it since she’d last eaten? She couldn’t even remember.
She scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blew on it a little to cool it, and stuffed it into her mouth.
It wasn’t sweetened like she would normally have it, but Elodie barely noticed.
She finished her bowl before Faye had even touched hers and the healer laughed softly.
“If anything tells me ye are on the mend, lass, it’s that. There’s plenty left. Want some more?”
Elodie nodded and when Faye refilled her bowl, she attacked it with gusto.
“I’m glad ye are feeling better,” Faye said, watching Elodie finish off the second bowl with an approving expression on her face. “Ye are going to need yer strength. I think me that we’re going to have a busy day ahead of us.”
Elodie dropped her spoon into the empty bowl. “Oh?”
“Ronan has called a meeting of the whole village regarding the folks ye brought in last night. If ye’ve finished yer breakfast, we’ll go there now.”
News of the meeting had gone out ahead of them, and by the time Faye and Elodie arrived at the big barn, it was already crammed with people, both villagers and new arrivals alike.
Elodie and Faye squeezed in at the back where there was space.
Ronan was already there, standing at the front of the group with his arms folded, waiting for everyone to file in.
He looked over as Faye and Elodie arrived and nodded a greeting.
Elodie nodded back, feeling a strange warmth go through her at the sight of him.
When everyone had arrived, found a place to sit, and settled down, Ronan uncrossed his arms. “Yesterday was quite the day,” he said, his deep voice rumbling around the barn.
“First, we had Elodie join us. And then a second group yesterday evening. It’s been a long time since we’ve had so many arrivals in one day. ”
His gaze flicked across the new arrivals who were huddled together in the middle of the barn, looking better after a decent night’s sleep but still wary. “What happened?” Ronan asked softly. “What brought ye to the Steading?”
A middle-aged man rose slowly to his feet. Elodie recognized him as Morag’s father.
“There’s not much to tell that ye willnae have heard before,” he said.
“We were all tenants of Sir Richard Clare. He made it clear he supported the Articles of Union. Some of his neighbors didnae and named him a traitor. There’s been strife between them for months but it all came to a head three days ago.
Riders came. Set fire to our village, stole our animals, attacked the lord’s militia.
The manor house was burning when we fled.
What happened to Sir Richard and his family, we’ve no idea. ”
The villagers nodded at this as if they’d heard the story many times before. There was no anger. Only a weary kind of acceptance.
“What?” Elodie said out loud before she could stop herself. “They just rode in and attacked you? With no provocation? They can’t do that! Why didn’t you go to the police?”
The room fell silent. Several people looked confused.
“The police?” someone repeated.
“Or the authorities,” Elodie replied. “Local government. Somebody.”
Blank faces met her words.
Damn it! She didn’t know enough about this time to find the right words. “Surely somebody is responsible for enforcing the law and protecting people?”
Finally, one elderly man snorted. “Ye mean the king’s men?”
“Yes! If that’s who’s in charge.”
“They dinna care,” the elderly man said. “They’ve bigger concerns than us. They’re hunting rebels and ferreting out threats to the king. The likes of us dinna matter. With our lord gone there’s nobody to look out for us.”
The words landed like a punch. The likes of us dinna matter.
For a moment she wasn’t in a seventeenth century barn, she was back in that glass-walled boardroom at Cross Construction listening to executives explain why affordable housing targets needed to be reduced and why profit margins mattered more than people.
The setting, the clothing, the century might have been different. But the message? Exactly the same.
Elodie looked around the crowded room, at the frightened refugees and the children clinging to their parents. She knew nothing about this place, these people. And yet it felt startlingly familiar.
There is always a way back. A way for that person to find their true path if they have the courage to retrace their steps and choose another.
What had Irene MacAskill meant when she’d spoken those words to her? Elodie had no clue, but for the first time since arriving in the past, she found herself asking a different question. Not how do I get home?
But why am I here?