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  "Unless the wind's behind us and if that's the case, we could make it in two days,"

  Jules said. Maire turned to see him riding on the other side of her travois. “But that wouldn't be good."

  Jules shook his head. “No, wench, that wouldn't be good.” He clucked his tongue to urge his horse forward, calling out to the point men to gain their attention.

  "My brother is a worrywart,” Guy said, chuckling. “If there's nothing to worry about, he'll invent something.” He stood in the saddle so he could get a better view of Dek. “You need anything, Dek?” he asked.

  "A new body,” came the muffled reply. “One preferably without holes in it."

  Guy winked at Maire. “I told you to stop using it for a target, didn't I? Did you listen? No."

  "He needs to drink plenty of water,” Maire said. “And he should eat. There is a cottage about two miles up the road. The man who lives there makes cheese. He should have a loaf or two of bread and a jug of milk you can get for your overlaird."

  "He's your overlaird, too, lass,” Guy reminded her gently.

  "The man's name is Hawkins,” she said, ignoring Guy's words. “Perhaps you can send Andy to fetch the foodstuff."

  "Andy?” Guy called out, twisting around in his saddle to find the young warrior. When Andy came galloping up, Guy told him what was needed then reached into his pocket to extract a purse of coins. “Take Rupert with you and get a hoop or two of cheese if he has it to spare and as many loaves of bread as he can sell us. If he doesn't have all that much just get enough for Dek and the lady. Buy as many jugs of milk as the two of you can carry. Be sure to pay the man a decent sum."

  "I don't need any food, Guy,” Maire said. “I'm used to eating only one meal a day."

  "That will change,” came a strong declaration from the other travois.

  Guy grinned and nudged his horse level with Dek's travois. “You want a swig or two of water?” he asked as he unhooked the canteen from his saddle then dangled it by the strap for Dek to reach. “How you feeling?"

  "Like shite,” Dek mumbled. He took a long drink of water then wiped the back of his hand over his lips.

  "Keep it,” Guy said, referring to the canteen, “and put your arms under the covers.” He fell back until he was beside Maire again. “He's got some color other than fever spots in his cheeks."

  "That's an encouraging sign,” she replied.

  For the next half-hour the troops and horses plodded wearily through the thick snow. The going was slow but the weather held until the travelers were ten miles into the journey and the snow began to fall again—the wind whipping out of the north with a vengeance.

  "This is all we didn't need,” Jules said as he rode back to his brother. “How's Dek?"

  "Dek is fine,” the Black Baron snapped. “You just worry about getting us to the harbor before we freeze to death."

  "Are you cold?” Guy inquired, frowning.

  "No, Yn Baase,” Dek growled. “I'm laying here getting a fucking tan!"

  "We need more blankets,” Guy stated. “Maire, how far are we from the next homestead?"

  "A mile or two,” she said. She tucked her lower lip between her teeth. “Shouldn't Andy have returned by now?"

  "I was just thinking the same thing,” Jules said. “Giles!"

  The warrior thundered up to the travois from halfway down the column, saluting smartly. “Aye, Cap'n?"

  "Take three men and head back the way Andy and Rupert were headed. Keep a careful watch. They could have been ambushed,” Jules ordered.

  "Aye, sir!” Giles answered and wheeled his horse around, lashing it lightly with his reins, drumming his heels into the mount's sides.

  "What kind of person is it at the next homestead?” Jules demanded.

  "It's a widow lady and her three children,” Maire answered, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. “She hates all things Tarryn."

  "So she'll give us shite about taking a few extra blankets?” he asked.

  "I doubt she has any she could give you,” she told him. “But if you could fill some of my cast iron pans with coals from her fire and wrap them in blankets you could put them to either side of him to warm him."

  Jules shot her an admiring look. “That's the best advice I've heard all week, lass."

  "How are you?” Guy asked. “Are you warm enough?"

  "I can make do,” she said. “I'm accustomed to the cold. He's not and he lost a great deal of blood. He's bound to be colder than me."

  The sky seemed to open and the snow began to fall in thick, fat flakes, the cascade of them driven sideways by the onslaught of the fierce wind.

  "This is whiteout weather,” Guy said.

  "Aye,” Jules agreed. “Maire, which way do we go to reach the widow's house?"

  "Will there be any place for the men to shelter?” Guy asked.

  "The widow's house is very small but she has a fair size barn. We could take shelter there,” Maire answered him. “She won't like it but the next closest cottage is another three miles or so up the road if you want to try for that."

  "We'll pay her for...” Jules began.

  "She wouldn't take it even if she and her boys were starving,” she said. “Trust me. She vehemently hates the Tarryns."

  "What about the next place? Would they be any friendlier?” Guy questioned.

  "Not by much if at all,” Maire answered truthfully.

  "And we could get lost if there is a whiteout,” Guy said on a long sigh.

  "Then the widow woman will have to suck up her anger,” Jules snapped. “If she's got a warm fire, Dek will be laid beside it."

  "That wouldn't be wise,” Maire said. “I know this woman. She will not take kindly to having Tarryns in her husband's house. She...."

  "Won't be given a choice!” Jules bellowed, eyes flaring with outrage.

  "Why does she hate us so intensely, tarrishagh?” Dek asked.

  "You hanged her husband,” she replied then after a slight pause. “And her eldest son."

  There was a longer pause then, “We'll make do with her barn,” Dek said.

  "Deklyn!” Jules hissed. “You...."

  "Her barn,” Dek repeated.

  "With a vigilant group of guards watching her and her sons,” Jules put in.

  "That would be wise,” Maire agreed.

  As the snow increased in volume, the visibility lowered drastically. The wind became a howling banshee plucking at the clothing and stinging the eyes, pebbling unprotected cheeks with withering blasts of ice. Plodding with heads lowered into the storm, great capes whipping, the travelers were hard pressed to stay on the road. Had Maire not known what landmarks to search for, the warriors would have been lost in the glare of the blinding snow. As it was, many of the cairns and signs had been covered over, making the trip take longer while the troop stopped to look for them. By the time the feeble light of Widow Barnes’ farm was seen flickering close by, the weather had become an unbearable and unforgiving torment.

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  Chapter Five

  "No!" Widow Barnes screeched. “I'll not have that murdering bastard in any dwelling my Jacob built!"

  The woman was struggling between two Tarryn warriors who were valiantly trying to keep her still while striving not to hurt her. Her teenaged sons were as equally vocal and belligerent but their words carried much less venom and more vulgarity.

  Elsbeth Barnes turned tearful, enraged eyes to Maire. “How could you lead them here?” she screamed. “How could you, Maire?"

  "She was given no choice in the matter,” Guy told the woman who was writhing and twisting in the grip of his men.

  "Once a whore, always a whore!” Elsbeth hurled at Maire. “Jacob warned Phillip about the likes of you! See where it got him?"

  "Take that termagant back into her house and tie her to a chair if you must,” Jules ordered. “Her brats, as well. If she won't shut that trap of hers, stuff it with a sock!"

  "Jules, no,” Maire said, putting
out a pleading hand though she was trembling with cold and the confrontational words flung her way. “Don't abuse her."

  "We should have tarred and feathered you long ‘ere now, you slut!” Elsbeth snarled. “How many Tarryn cocks did you ride last eve?"

  "Shut that bitch up or I'll slit her throat myself,” Dek told the men who were laying him on a pile of hay in the depths of the barn.

  "Aye, milord!” one of the soldiers acknowledged with a clenched jaw.

  "And get my woman in out of the cold!” Dek called out.

  Elsbeth heard the words and her eyes flared wild as she was being dragged back toward her house. Craning her head around, she cackled insanely. “You're the Black Baron's whore?” she hissed then turned her head to spit. “I should have known!"

  Maire's eyes filled with tears that turned to crystals on her cheeks as they fell. Her lips were quivering already and the slight whimper of sound that came from her was pitiful—coming in a sudden lull in the howling gusts of wind. Both Jules and Guy heard the sound and both moved to her as one.

  "Don't, lass,” Guy said, taking her forearm in a firm grip to pull her toward the barn. “She's not worth one of your tears."

  Head hanging in abject misery, Maire allowed him to lead her into the shelter of the barn and to the blanket covered mound where Dek was laying. She sank to her knees beside him and covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook then her sobs came—loud and heart wrenching.

  "I'll cut out that witch's tongue!” Jules barked and turned to make good on his threat. Guy caught his arm.

  "Let it go,” Guy told him.

  "The bitch insulted our Maire!” Jules hissed as he tried to pry his big brother's fingers from his arm.

  "You can't go around relieving women of their tongues, Jules,” Dek said with a long sigh.

  "Watch me!” Jules barked.

  Dek shook his head. “I said no.” He used almost all the energy he had to reach out to Maire, to put a hand on her hip for that was all he could reach. “Tarrishagh, don't cry."

  "You see what that harpy has done?” Jules demanded. “If you won't let me slice out her tongue, I'll fill her mouth with hot coals instead!"

  "You'll do no such thing,” Guy said then shook his brother even harder. “Knock it off! I'm in no mood for your dramatics!"

  "But.... “Jules sputtered. The sound of Maire's sobbing was having a curious effect on the warrior and he looked beseechingly at Dek.

  "I'll see to her,” Dek said. “You see to our men."

  "But...."

  "Come on,” Guy growled, jerking Jules along with him. “Do as your overlaird decrees!"

  Scooting his body closer to the woman beside him, Dek drew in a sharp breath as the wound in his chest reminded him he was an invalid still.

  Maire lifted her head and turned to look at him. The expression of pain crinkling his face brought her hand to his. “Lay still,” she said, tears running down her cheek. “You'll pull the stitches open."

  "Don't cry,” he said, trying to lift his hand to her face but she wouldn't allow it, moving back from his touch. He let his hand fall to the straw. “It breaks my heart to hear you cry. That woman isn't worth one tear."

  "I'm not crying for her you silly man,” she said in between hitches of breath. “I'm crying for me!” She pulled her borrowed gloves off to rub her free hand over her face. “For me!"

  "All right,” he said in a soft voice. “But it still breaks my heart."

  Her shoulders slumped and she moaned. “What am I going to do?” she cried.

  "You're going with us to Tarryn,” he said. “You're going to a place where you don't have to worry about where the next meal is going to come from or if the roof is going to fall down atop your head."

  A bewildered, impatient, and protesting baa sounded from the front of the barn. That baa became an elongated wail of a baa as Jenny caught its mistress’ scent.

  "Baaaa!” Jenny screeched.

  "I'm here, girl,” Maire said and was rewarded with one hundred pounds of wet goat fur bearing down on her as the animal broke free of its keeper's hold on the tether. Jenny rammed into Maire with enough force to knock her flat to her back but the comedy of the moment was not lost on the crying woman. Maire laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes before burying her face in the musky fur.

  "Baaa?” Jenny inquired.

  "I'm okay,” Maire said. She stroked the goat's shaggy winter coat. “We're both okay."

  "That thing smells to high heaven,” Dek complained, nose crinkled.

  Jenny tossed its head, butted Maire once more—seemingly to be very careful with her horns—then lowered its mouth to the straw to begin munching.

  "Strom, take this thing, will ya?” Dek asked, face puckered with distaste at the wet smell of goat fur.

  The warrior mumbled an apology and stooped down to pick up the tether, tugging the once-more protesting goat away from its mistress.

  "'Tis a good thing we don't eat goats,” Dek said, looking up at Maire. “Were you never tempted to slaughter her."

  A smile hovered on her face as she ran the sleeve of her bulky coat over her tearful face. “Jenny is my baby,” she said, “and no. No matter how hungry I've been, it would never have occurred to me to do such a thing. I've always hated breeding her because I had to barter away her kids. I have milked her and made cheese from the milk after I bred her. I have also made yarns from her fur."

  "A versatile companion,” he observed.

  "She's been there to talk to when no one else has,” she told him.

  "We'll need to build a pen for her,” he said. “We wouldn't want her wandering off although any Tarryn who found her would return her to you."

  Maire gave him a long look. “You are so sure they will not hate me."

  "Why would they?” he asked. He reached for her hand and this time she let him take it. “You are not their enemy, tarrishagh."

  "My husband was,” she reminded him.

  "My people don't view yours in the same light that yours view us,” he said. “I am not the ogre I am made out to be and my men aren't the minions of Raphian, though I have my doubts about Jules on occasion."

  She smiled, the last of her tears fading away. “He's not as bad as he likes to pretend he is."

  Dek smiled and that smile took her breath away for it made his handsome face even more so. “You've seen through him, have you?” he questioned, unaware that he was rubbing his thumb over hers as he held her hand. “Don't tell him. He'll sulk for sure. He likes playing the badass."

  Uncomfortable with the look he was giving her, his touch, and their nearness, Maire eased her hand from his and laced her fingers together in her lap. She was trying not to shiver for the cold was seeping through her coat. She glanced up at Strom and another man as they manhandled a large cast iron pot over to where she and Dek were.

  "We'll get a fire going in here straight away, milady,” Strom said. He peeled off his own great coat and even as she protested, flung it around her shoulders. “I'm from Virago. I go swimming in this kind of weather,” he told her.

  "He does,” Dek agreed. “I've watched him do it.” He thanked his warrior as Strom and the other man piled straw in amongst the wood shavings and kindling already nestled in the cook pot.

  Striking a flint, Strom blew on the curling fire until the flames caught. “Andy and the others were spotted a quarter of a click back,” he told his overlaird. “They've got the food with them. They were helping the farmer get his cows in after the snow caved in his fence. That's why they were late getting back."

  "Thank the goddess!” Maire said. “I was worried about them."

  "Once the horses are seen to, I want the men in here,” Dek said. “I know it will be a tight squeeze but we don't need any sick warriors. At least they can share body heat."

  "I'll tell the captains, milord. They're putting up lean-tos as best they can to protect the mounts but Captain Guy is making sure no one wanders too far in this muck. You can't see fiv
e feet in front of you,” Strom reported.

  "Captain Jules wanted to house them mounts in the widow's cottage,” the other man said, lips twitching with humor, “but Captain Guy told him no."

  Dek laughed, wincing only a little as his stitches reminded him they were still there. “That sounds like the Jules we know and love."

  "As if all the horses would fit in that little hut,” Strom said with a snort.

  "If he could get away with it, he'd stack them horses one atop the other from one side of that cottage to another just to piss off.... “The other man blushed and ducked his head. “I beg your pardon, milady, that weren't the right language."

  "No it weren't,” Dek said sternly but his eyes were dancing with laughter. “Captain Jules would do it to annoy the widow, is that what you meant?"

  "Right, milord,” the other man agreed, bobbing his head. “That he would!"

  "Come on, Talbert,” Strom said. “We need to fetch more kindling to keep the fire going."

  As the two warriors walked away, Maire held her hands out to the warmth. “How are you feeling, milord?” she asked.

  "Like I had my chest ripped open and my lungs pulled out,” he said, “but I think the fever's gone.” He shifted his legs. “Can we take whatever it is you have plastered to the bottom of my feet off now?” He made a face. “It feels awful."

  "It helped, though,” she said.

  "I'm sure it did and I will be eternally grateful to you for what you did, but it feels awful, tarrishagh,” he told her. He watched her as she moved to his feet to begin tugging off his boots. “You don't have to do that. One of the men can."

  "It's not a problem, milord,” she said as she pulled off one boot then peeled down the heavy wool sock to remove the poultice, wrinkling her nose at the smell.

  "It's Dek and my feet have never stunk like that,” he made the effort to lift his head. “That's terrible."

  "I'll have one of the men fetch me some warm water and I'll wash away the odor."

  "You don't have to do that,” he repeated. “You're not my servant, tarrishagh."

  She looked up at him as she pulled the other boot from his foot. “No, but I will earn my keep, milord. I have no desire to be your kept woman.” When he opened his mouth to protest her words, she held up her hand. “I will take in mending, do needlework, and if you would loan me the money to purchase a few head of goats to keep my Jenny company I'll make cheese and sell milk, perhaps spin yarn to make sweaters for the soldiers. It will either be that way or not at all and I will pay you back whatever you invest in me."