Page 37 of For an Exile’s Heart (Ancient Songs #2)

I n the days that followed, Adair grew familiar with the small holding perched on the edge of the cold sea. His wound healed steadily under the hands of MacFee’s healer, and with sufficient food, his vigor began to return.

He could not keep still and so walked the settlement while Bradana sat with her grandsire, often playing on the harp for him. Wen came at his side, still limping but seeming just as unwilling to be quiet.

Adair became acquainted with members of the guard, who told him tales of Bradana’s uncle and cousin, both of whom had fallen battling to hold their lands not against the native Pictish, but against Mican and the now-perished Earrach.

To a man, they lit up with approval when they learned Earrach—universally detested—had fallen to Adair’s blade, and they swiftly adopted him. They wanted to hear of Erin, from whence their ancestors had come.

Indeed, Adair spent much time thinking of Erin, standing down on the shingle of the shore and staring out in the direction of home. No clear sight line here, for a number of islands lay offshore, huddled like half-submerged, green-backed cirein-cròin . But he knew he could find the way home.

He did not mention the longing to Bradana. She was fully occupied with her grandfather’s plight.

She believed he would not live long. Whatever illness ate at him had him well in its jaws. When they were alone together at night, she needed Adair’s reassurance, not somewhat else to worry on.

So he held his tongue and bided his time, and learned the bones of the place. A settlement in decline, it had once been much more prosperous and could, Adair felt, become so again. With a great deal of work, and a will to defend.

One night as they lay in the sanctuary of their sleeping place listening to Wen’s deep, peaceful breaths, Bradana said, “Grandfather does want to meet ye, no doubt because I speak o’ ye so often. But though I ha’ asked permission again and again to bring ye to him, he does no’ wish ye to find him in his sickbed. Instead he insists that tomorrow he will rise from it and come out to the great hall, where we shall”—she hesitated—“feast.”

Adair frowned in the dark. Most of the friends he’d made among the guard said they did not expect their chief ever to rise from his bed again. As for a feast—he knew all too well the holding had little means to provide one.

“Can he reach the hall?”

“He seems determined upon it. He says my music has healing properties.”

Adair would not be surprised if it did. “Well then. Would it no’ be a wondrous thing if your presence here proved his saving?”

“Of saving, I am no’ so certain. But may I tell him ye be willing to meet him?”

“Pray, tell him ’twill be an honor.”

“And I was thinking, Adair—we might become handfasted here. There is naught, is there, to prevent it?” Before he could answer, she drew his hand to her heart. “That is, ye have surrendered any thought o’ going back to Erin, have ye no’?” As he hesitated, she hurried on, “Ye like it here, I can tell. Ye be happy enough here.”

“I do like the place.”

“Well, then it is settled. After Grandfather meets ye tomorrow, I shall approach him on it.”

And if Mican should turn up here looking for them? To be sure, the possibility was what had pushed Adair to make the acquaintance of the guard in the first place.

It would be far better for Bradana’s grandsire and everyone involved that Mican should not find them here, if and when he did come.

In caring for her grandfather, Bradana seemed to have forgotten that. If they were caught here, it could well mean the destruction of the settlement.

“Bradana, love,” he told her truthfully, “I would like naught better than to handfast wi’ ye.”

Before he could finish what he meant to say, she rushed on, “And for Grandfather to witness it before—While he is still with us, aye? To be joined here among family is all I could ask.”

Aye, then she would have all she could ask. All he could provide. If Mican came with a horde of men after, well, he would worry about that then.

He leaned in and kissed her. “Handfasted we shall be. Ye know my heart already belongs to ye.”

*

Rohracht MacFee’s emergence from his sick room turned into a grand event. Adair gathered that the clan had not enjoyed many of those of late, and everyone from the highest to the lowest threw their hearts into it.

Adair himself helped the men arrange the hall—as of old, they told him—with the chief’s grand chair at its head. The room was swept and new herbs spread. Flowers were brought by giggling young girls.

Morag and Bradana prepared the chief. Bradana had dressed for the occasion and wove flowers through her hair.

Adair waited, kicking his heels, for the old man to be brought in, wondering what he’d think of Rohracht, and what Bradana’s grandsire would think of him.

It took an age. Indeed, everyone waiting together in the great hall began to eye one another uneasily, wondering whether the grand appearance would happen after all. When the chief did come, it was borne in the arms of two stout young clansmen who deposited him with all due care at the head of the room.

If Adair felt shocked by the man’s appearance, he strove mightily to keep from showing it. Rohracht had the frame of a big man, now wasted, a crop of white hair and fierce blue eyes in a face lined by pain. His voice sounded reedy when he spoke to his people, clustered around him.

“Well, this has been a long time coming, has it no’? As all o’ ye ken, I ha’ been laid low by illness and grief since the death o’ my son and grandson. But since the coming o’ my granddaughter”—he reached out and seized Bradana’s hand, for she stood close by his chair—“I ha’ been growing stronger. Her presence has done me a world o’ good.”

Tears ran down Morag’s face, and the rest of Rohracht’s listeners were visibly affected. The old man’s gaze roved the room, touching on many a face fondly before it settled upon Adair.

“Granddaughter, is this your young man? Bring him to me.”

Bradana ran to Adair and caught him by the hand, giving him a beseeching look. No need for it; Adair already brimmed with respect for the old man. He went forward and bent his head courteously.

“Chief MacFee.”

Rohracht took Adair’s measure, eying him from the top of his head down to his hide boots. “Adair MacMurtray, of ye I ha’ heard much. Indeed, my granddaughter has fair assailed my ears wi’ words o ye, so much I just had to get up from my bed and see ye for mysel’.”

“Master.” Adair met Rohracht’s gaze warily, wondering if he would see approval, calculation, or—worst of all—disappointment.

Rohracht smiled at him. “A fine, braw lad from Erin, so I see. Aye, well, we will no’ hold that against ye. Did no’ all o’ our ancestors once come from Erin? Wha’ d’ye think o’ my holding here, eh, lad?”

“A grand place. I like it very much.”

“It has fallen, as I ha’ fallen. As my son and grandson ha’ fallen. Just like me, it may rise again.” Was that approval Adair saw in Rohracht’s eyes? “Some new blood, that is wha’ is called for.”

“I am grateful, Chief Rohracht, for your hospitality and the refuge ye have offered me.”

Rohracht waved a hand. “’Tis no’ refuge when ’tis family. My granddaughter belongs here. So, now, do ye.”

True liking flooded Adair’s heart. He could grow fond indeed of this generous-natured man. Bradana’s eyes brimmed with tears, and Adair had to swallow back his emotions when he expressed his thanks.

“I am in your debt, Chief Rohracht.”

“Come, sit beside me while we eat, and tell me o’ yourself.”

Adair did, sitting at Rohracht’s right hand with Bradana beside him, and Morag on Rohracht’s other side, helping him to eat. Not that the old man did much more than pick at his food.

Indeed, from somewhere the cooks had provided a feast of sorts. The plentiful food, as well as Rohracht’s presence, lifted the mood of the hall considerably.

“I hear,” the old man said to Adair, “ye be the man who took down Earrach MacGillean in a fair fight.”

“Aye, so,” Adair admitted.

“’Twas well done, lad, and I am impressed. ’Twas he who took the life o’ my grandson, Eobhan.”

“So Bradana did tell me, master.”

“Lad, d’ye believe in circles?”

“I beg pardon, chief?”

“I speak o’ life’s wheel, upon which we travel round and round until events circle us back again.”

Adair thought about that. “Aye, master, I suppose I do.”

“As do I. It seems the wheel has made a good turn for me—for us—before I have to leave this world.”

Adair eyed him uncertainly.

“My granddaughter has returned and brought me a braw warrior.”

“And possibly a load of trouble. ’Tis because I slew Earrach that his father wants my head. If he tracks me here—”

“Then we will ha’ a battle. ’Twill be worth it.”

Adair did not say what he wished. How it might be safest for all if he and Bradana were not here when Mican arrived. That his own circle had begun and might well end in Erin.

There would be time for that discussion later, and he would not ruin this happy moment for the world.