Chapter 15 #3
“I am not simply a blacksmith. My father was the Earl of Newborough.” A collective intake of breath swept the crowd and Ronan rushed on before he could lose his nerve. “My elder brother Bryce inherited the title but part of my family’s lands came to me. I abandoned them many years ago.”
He looked at the faces before him. “But my lands are still there. They’re fertile. Sparsely settled. And far from the troubles.”
The noise rose again as everyone started muttering. Yet it had a different quality to it this time. It sounded more like hope. An older woman who Ronan recognized as Elspeth, one of the refugees Elodie had found, screwed up her face in a frown.
“If these lands of yers are so wonderful,” she called. “How come ye walked away from them?”
“Hush, mother!” said a younger woman standing next to her. “There’s no need to be rude!”
“There’s every need!” Elspeth snapped back.
“Just when I thought I’d found somewhere to rest my bones for my final few years, he ups and tells us we’ve got to leave.
Well, I want to know exactly where it is he wants us to go and why he left in the first place!
This smells like three-day-old mackerel to me! ”
The daughter began to speak again, but Ronan held up a hand to cut her off.
“Elspeth is right. Ye all have the right to know the truth. There was a...dispute. But those lands still belong to me.”
There was silence for a few seconds as the crowd digested these words. Then Elspeth narrowed her eyes at him, unconvinced. “So how do ye know we’ll be welcome?”
“Because I’ll make certain of it.”
“And if yer brother refuses?”
Ronan met this question squarely. “Then I’ll remind him those lands were never his. Under the law they belong to me. He has no right to stop us returning.”
The quiet confidence in his own voice surprised even him.
“How far is it?” Someone else cried.
“Several days travel to the east.”
“Can we manage it?” Morag’s mother asked, looking around worriedly. “With the children and the old folk?”
He knew this question would come and to be honest, it was the thing that worried him the most. “We’ll travel carefully, in stages,” he said.
“We’ll scout ahead and those who have trained with me will be tasked on keeping the vulnerable safe.
Unless the lands have completely degenerated into lawlessness, the king’s roads should still be safe to travel. ”
But Morag’s mother looked worried. “What if we’re attacked?”
He saw the same fear etched on other faces and after what these people had gone through to get here, he could hardly blame them.
“We’ve prepared for that.” He glanced at Elodie. “Thanks to the plans we’ve already made and the training many of us have undergone. I wouldnae be suggesting this if I didnae think we could do it.”
People began looking towards one another and the sound rose up again, some voices panicking, others talking through their options, some flatly refusing to even consider what he suggested.
Then Faye stepped forward. “Shut up and listen! I’ve lived in this valley longer than anyone.
Longer even than Ronan. When I first came here, I was running for my life.
Because of my skill with healing I’d been branded a witch.
Turned on by the very people I had always served.
I didnae want to be around people anymore.
I didnae want to be part of a community anymore.
But when Ronan arrived and began encouraging others to join us, a community is exactly what we got.
” She looked around the gathering. “This valley became my home and I never thought I’d willingly leave it.
” She raised a finger and pointed at Ronan.
“But I trust that man with my life, and if he says he can safely get us to his lands, I believe him. So how about we stop griping and complaining and figure out exactly what we need to do?”
She harrumphed, crossed her arms, and stepped back. Several people nodded at the healer’s words.
Then Eamon grinned. “Well. I’ve always fancied seeing a real laird’s house.”
Scattered laughter broke the tension.
“I hope it’s a bit grander than his one here!” someone called.
“Aye!” somebody else added. “With a proper roof!”
Ever so subtly, Ronan felt the mood shift. Not completely, of course. There was still fear and uncertainty, but beneath it Ronan sensed hope.
“We leave in three days,” he said. “That should give us enough time to prepare. Between now and then we need to mend every cart. Gather provisions. No one will be left behind. What say ye? Will ye trust me one final time?”
To his surprise, Elspeth was the first to answer. “All right, lad. Ye’ve seen us right so far. I’ll trust ye to do the same again.”
“Me too,” another voice said.
“And me.”
Soon the entire gathering echoed with agreement.
Emotion caught unexpectedly in Ronan’s throat.
He had wanted to be worthy of their trust ever since the first frightened refugee had turned up in the valley all those years ago and asked for his help.
Looking at the people before him, he silently made himself a promise.
Whatever awaited him beyond the valley, he would not fail them.
Not this time.