“I shan’t believe you did that!” Kenna scolded furiously, wringing her soaked hair, unable to believe the nerve of the man who had treated her, no differently than one might a child. “To first tie me to that monstrosity, then to throw me into the Firth! Why, if my husband had treated my son that way, or had Corin done so I would-”

  “All men treat their children that way, milady,” Arran replied airily with a great bellow of laughter, “Why, I imagine that this Corin does so at every opportunity, just as your husband did ere his death.”

  Kenna fumed.

  All around them, the vast majority of the people of Glasvhail and the Gormcruach sniggered at her expense. Joining in Arran’s merriment, this in spite of the reddened cheeks of the seamstress, not all of those aforementioned folks laughed warmly. Rather their sniggers were mean-spirited, as in the case of Pàdair, or Thormvrain who was still for his part sore towards her for her ‘betrayal’.

  Though bitter towards them in return, Kenna did not do much more than scowl at those who passed her by, and laughed in that humiliating manner. Practicing what she had long preached to Daegan and Indulf, to ignore those who sneered at you, and to simply toss one’s hair and hold one’s head higher.

  Cursing at him, for trying to be playful, she was to push Arran out of her way.

  Having ridden with the horse until it had turned abruptly, the reins coming undone with Kenna thrown into the Firth of the Forth, in what was one of her most humiliating moments of her life. She was only thankful; Cormac, Corin and Tormod had not seen her as she was tossed about the air, ere she was thrown into the sea.

  Rejoining Doada and Helga, who hurried forth with many a glares towards Arran, and to wrap a large wolf-fur cloak about Kenna’s shivering shoulders, for the water had been ice-cold.

  Rubbing at his neck, Arran appeared to genuinely feel bad for her, and with a sigh rejoined those on the north-eastwards march.

  *****

  “We must discuss where to establish ourselves now,” Freygil said when next he called for a village meeting, this one to determine what they should do. It was called the day after the incident with Kenna and Arran, and was called shortly after they had chosen to stop for the night. With the children already put to bed, with a few of their mothers or fathers still putting theirs to bed, he had the meeting called with Kenna only informed of it due to Helga having overheard two mothers conversing over it.

  Apparently, he had had no wish for her to join it, though she was disgraced there were no laws or rules stating she could not attend, and so she had decided to. If with the purpose to simply watch, for she had had quite enough of interfering in Glasvhail’s future, pulled from her brooding thoughts by Freygil’s next words she jerked her head up. “We have hitherto this moment, lurched from disaster to disaster, due to unsound leadership.”

  His words made her cringe, and made Helga tense next to her. The two of them sat near the edge of the meeting, on the precipice between it and the encampment to the slight west of it. The camp was nearer to the Firth, and the meeting was taking place to the west-side of the road.

  Sensing what her friend was intending to do, Kenna gripped her hard by the arm, shaking her head as she did so.

  “What do you mean Freygil? Establish ourselves where? We have nowhere to go,” Salmon interrupted sharply, “As to unsound leadership, aye we have had that and for that the whole of the council takes the blame. But fear not lad, we forgive ye for to err is human as they say.”

  Freygil became red-faced; this much was clear in the rapidly diminishing light cast by the twin-suns, with the mountains in the distance looming behind him. His fury was quintupled by the sound of the great chortles and sniggers that resulted, in response to the Salmon’s jest.

  Kenna for her part marvelled at his skill; for he had in one simple gesture deflected blame from her, onto the new Headman, and brought into question his future decisions.

  Freygil did not remain without words for long, saying in response, “Well now that we all know how humble I am.” At this remark Solamh of all people snorted, which drew a wounded look from his father and an irritated one from his brother. “I suggest we head north-east, to the lands of Gratnach, rarely in recent years have they been included in the wars of the past thirty years. There must be peace there, and I am certain that we are more liable to find justice there than, with the king.”

  It fell upon Solamh now to speak. The eldest of the brothers of Indulf, demonstrated just how much of his parents’ blood coursed in his veins, and how alike he was to his noble younger siblings.

  “Nay! Father, what of our duty? We are Caleds! Caleds and therefore we must warn the King of Badrách’s betrayal, of his besmirching the lands of his vassals, the laird áed!” Solamh bellowed so that all could hear him.

  “Why must we help Mael-Bethad? Let us remember that politics rarely end well, for us peasants,” Eachann muttered stridently.

  It was Doada who hurried to support her as always, “And what of our duty? What loyalty do we owe to a usurper of the crown? Nay, our principal duty was to MacDuibh’s vassal but he broke his word to us, therefore I say we are free men, to do as we please.”

  “There can be no freedom, in a land where injustice stalks the land!” Solamh shouted back, red-faced and furious. “The King will see the righteousness of our cause, and it is he who will punish Badrách.”

  Such was the fury and passion of the youth’s words that a great many, in particular the youths began to mutter and rally to his cause. Enchanted and moved by his words, so that some such as the Salmon’s grandsons struck him upon his back, or cheered him and roared their defiance towards Freygil.

  Others such as Eachann and Mairead, and even Doada’s husband Bhàtair were shaken and distraught at the fervour with which Ida’s eldest had spoken.

  “My brother spoke true, and I say we must discuss our delegation to the High-King, rather than where best to plant ourselves.” Freygil’s own daughter, Finella said having been seated by her father’s side ere she spoke up. A young lass of fourteen summers, she was fair to look upon with buck-teeth and a strong-chin, one that informed all who looked upon her, who her brothers were. For they shared the same formidable chin and strong features that she had.

  “Finella! You also?” Ida asked of her daughter.

  “It is truth mother, Indulf and Trygve set out and they would never stomach the crimes inflicted upon us!” the lass retorted defiantly, with a helpless look to her father. “Neither would father, if he were to but comport himself, as he once did.”

  Freygil was genuinely shaken, as was his wife. For a moment Kenna pitied her friends, it was not easy to lead.

  Rallying himself, Freygil now dedicated himself to attempting one last time to dissuading his kith and kin, from the road they wished to travel down. “Heed my words; my son we know not how long it will take to persuade the High-King to do what is right! We also know not where he currently finds himself. He could be in Duntealach, or in his northern keep of Inverdúnis or he could be visiting Strawthern as he is wont to do, or the tomb of his ancestors upon Sistine. We do not know where he is, and do not know when he will return. We must look to ourselves, and are likely to only find enemies in Sgain, if we attempt to force ourselves upon their compassion, as we did in Nordleia and Bj?rndun.”

  His words of reason appealed to few, though they began to have an effect upon those around them. Solamh unsure of how to best argue, preferred to glare and defiantly raise his chin.

  “Regardless if he is not at hand, the abbot of Sgain will know to contact him,” Muirchadh the eldest of Salmon’s grandsons and one who bore the same name as his grandsire insisted.

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  “Aye, but how long will we have to wait for? And what will the people of Sgain, do whilst we wait for his arrival?” Elspet countered only to pounce on the uncertainty, her words inspired. “Remember this, my people, none are more reasonable or just than we, and they are not wholly like us. We will not long be wanted, or accepted and therefore can only rely upon ourselves!”

  These last words served to divide all, as bellows followed and a heated quarrel began which saw the supporters of Salmon and Solamh, pitted bitterly against those of Elspet and Freygil. Some such as Helga and Ida appeared decidedly indecisive, in marked contrast to the men-folk of their family or those who surrounded either Salmon or Freygil.

  Given the violence with which some in each faction spoke with, it might well have ended in violence. As brother turned upon brother, and sister upon sister, all appeared lost.

  It was then that Thormvrain and Arran arrived.

  Advancing thither through the crowd they were initially astonished, only to become infuriated at the division that had taken over the people of Glasvhail. “What is this? Why do you quarrel so, in the middle of the night, you fools? Can you not see that now is the time for rest, rather than for blood?”

  Most fell silent, and none dared to meet the old man’s furious dark eyes. Glaring through the lot of them, he easily towered over every man and woman present.

  Weakly, Elspet sought to defend her faction, stuttering as she did so, “We-we-we have the right to call for a village m-meeting!”

  Arran studied her coolly, a hint of disdain in his eyes and in his posture. Kenna knew what was coming, as did most of those who surrounded the old woman, save for Ealar and Doada’s unwise husband, both of whom held steady to her sides.

  He did not strike her, but he did say dismissively, “Regardless, you may hold your meetings but we Gormcruach will not tolerate them after dusk, when we are attempting to sleep, or when the children seek to do so.” In a louder voice he added, “All of you, to bed! We have a long day on the morrow; therefore I would have you all in bed at once.”

  This enraged many, including the Salmon who attempted to argue back when Thormvrain unsheathed his sword, tapping his right-shoulder with it, as he quirked an eyebrow at the fisherman. Stunned, Salmon retreated a few steps, as swiftly as the likes of Ealar and Freygil both did, the latter pulling his wife and daughter along with him, placing himself protectively before them.

  Pleased that his closest-friend had communicated from where he derived his authority, Arran turned away, unprepared for Elspet’s last complaint. “This is unjust, you were hired to protect us, and guide us on our way, not to take us prisoner!”

  Kenna could not deny being impressed by the old woman’s gumption, admiring her for her courage in the face of the threat of violence.

  Arran for his part did not share her awe, turning away from the old woman he stepped away. “Nay, we were hired to escort you to Sgain, not to guide or any such nonsense. Besides we were under-paid, with what we were given little more than half the payment, with the High-King to my knowledge in possession of the other half.”

  This was a blatant lie. Exchanging a startled look with Helga, the two of them searching through their memories for the exact wording, they had used in the forest.

  Kenna could only conclude that it mattered little after a moment of thought. Arran had long since taken command, and Elspet along with Freygil had forgotten or failed to take notice of it, when he had agreed with them. But now that they were in command, of Glasvhail they were made to face the naked power he wielded through his steel.

  Such was always the way, of those who prefer to give authority in its entirety to their protectors, without due consideration of the nature of said protectors. This was the lesson that Kenna, had learnt long ago, having had it imparted to her by her father in her girlhood.

  *****

  Returning to her bed, she was to be held up ere she could sleep, by Eillidh who stared at her drowsily, from where she lay in the grass. Feeling guilty for the lass having been shaken from her rest, by the heated argument of the rest of the village, Kenna urged her to go back to sleep.

  The wee lass though resisted all such efforts, saying as she blinked sleepily up at the seamstress, “What is it? Why were you all fighting?”

  Unsure of how much to tell her of what Ainsley or Conn would have done, Kenna chose to treat her as she might have Rhona under the circumstances though that lass would have resented this approach. “Go back to sleep lass, there is naught to worry about.”

  “If such is the case, why were you all fighting?” Eillidh demanded sleepily, with the seamstress biting her lower-lip.

  “Because- never you mind lass, it is not your concern nor will it be, until you are older,” Kenna retorted firmly, “Now tush lass, it is time to sleep.”

  Reluctantly the lass did as bidden, complaining bitterly as she did so. It was with a glance in the direction of the lass’ sisters that she let slip a weary sigh.

  The two older sisters were as reluctant as their youngest sister to fall asleep, both though understood the message thrown in their direction by the seamstress.

  *****

  His authority shattered, Freygil was to subside into miserable silence throughout the whole of the subsequent day. The shock at the fact that Arran and his followers were wholly willing to resort to violence against them had revealed to those of Glasvhail that their protectors, could rapidly become their captors. Not that this completely destroyed all good relations between the two groups, with Eillidh still taken with Caileann, whom Kenna was told felt that Thormvrain and Arran had gone too far. His loyalties divided, the Wolfram was keen to restore peace and harmony among the divided fugitives.

  She wished him the very best of luck, the seamstress however had little faith in his abilities, or anyone’s, when it came to the restoration of tranquility. Arran had bared his fangs, at long last.

  Distraught at this, many of the women took to Elspet and Ealar to complain of this, while the men sunk into sullen silence. Unknowing how to best respond, or how to reassure their women and children, of their safety, the men simply brooded. This was not to say that all bore hostility towards the Gormcruach, for Solamh and a number of the other men did not feel resentful towards them. In their short-sighted gratitude for his support towards them, it was those who supported Kenna’s plan who now became convinced of the virtues of the sell-swords.

  “Quite why Solamh thinks it wise, we continue travelling with the Gormcruach is beyond me,” Helga complained miserably, still full of misery and in possession of a longer memory than most. While she had appreciated Arran’s rescue of Kenna in Nordleia, she had never forgotten that he was originally their enemy.

  “Solamh has his own vision for us,” Kenna replied quietly.

  “A foolish one,” Bhàtair muttered to himself, having made his peace with his wife he now walked once more with them. As to the woman in question, she appeared to be labouring under considerable hardship. Recently ill much of the time, and hardly able to walk for as long as other women, her husband had taken to carrying her, with one of the Gormcruach one named Thom, having offered up his horse to the man to carry her. The show of chivalry one that the man had sought to refuse, out of pride only for Kenna to have accepted it on his behalf hours later, as she could not endure Doada’s complaints.

  “One no more foolish than to wander the countryside, with no true plan save to place ourselves, at the mercy of whichever laird would like to enslave us all, or sell us in Thorsteinn Crow-Feeder’s markets.” Kenna snapped back with more bite than she had intended, growing weary of his many petty complaints against Solamh.

  Bhàtair fell quiet, properly chastened. He eventually muttered to himself, “I just do not like them baring their steel against us.”

  “Such is the way with many men who live by the sword, and who have little to protect; they always come to die by it, and seek to enforce its might against those without steel.” Kenna explained morosely, her feet feeling sore also.

  “I for one will be grateful to see Sgain,” Helga muttered in a neutral voice, her eyes avoiding those of her friends and family, “I only wish mother and father had lived to see it.”

  Rubbing her back as gently as she could, Kenna could only smile grimly. Feeling pity for her, she could not think of anything to say to her, neither could the rest of those around them. The losses of Conn and Ainsley hung over all as a pall, along with all the other losses that had been inflicted upon each of them.

  Sgain when it at last appeared before them did so as though it were a mirage. It appeared shortly after lunch, after a great many had begun to groan and complain, of how it would never come.

  Once they beheld the great city in the distance, many fell to their knees praising the gods, reciting great words of thanks to the goddess, Scota. Others such as Ida called for them all, to visit the local temple first, before all else.

  It was Helga though, who along with her sisters joined strangest of all Finella, in song. This one, which several of the Gormcruach joined in. The song being one that was a psalm from the book of Meret, and that was special to all Caleds and which they had all been taught, in their cribs.

  “O fair Sgain, Queen of Bretwealda’s cities,

  Most excellent of ladies,

  To you alone do we Caleds bow,

  You whom the goddess Scota bless throughout all ages.”

  Half the psalm sung, what surprised all involved then was how Arran as he brushed past Kenna, with a small smile with the same unconditional softness and warmth Cormac might have shown, joined in the singing of it. His voice was deep as always, yet it was also beautiful, leonine and one of the most captivating sounds any of them had ever heard.

  Though he did not tell anyone, he had been taught to sing old songs by the great Gargans of the Highland-peaks in his youth. These Gargans, or ‘Night-folk’ as some called them, were amongst the finest of dirge-singers in the whole of the world.

  His voice reminded Kenna for some reason, of the time in her girlhood when she raced about the banks of the Wend-river, giggling and running about, ere she would curl up after-dusk next to her pa’.

  “O fair Sgain, lady of Firths and islets,

  Who did unite Sistine to the Wend

  And to the Highlands and Lowlands,

  Does now and always honour Scota!”

  The emotions of joy and relief that all felt at that moment, did away with any hopes to search elsewhere for a home, for all were convinced that this was indeed the promised-city. For the moment they were certain that the city would, as Sgain the Golem had done millennia ago for the Pechs shield their descendants from harm, the woes of the world.

  “Praise be,” Kenna ended the psalm softly.

  “Praise be, indeed lassie,” Arran murmured sincerely.

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