Page 16 of The Unencumbered Warrior (Highland Wishes Trilogy #1)

T he merchant’s cart rattled over the uneven road, its wheels groaning as it came to a halt just inside the village.

The children who’d been playing with sticks and stones scattered, their laughter drying up in the sudden hush.

Word of a merchant’s arrival always spread quickly, and before long a small gathering had formed, faces cautious and eyes curious.

Raff stood among them, his arm around Ingrid.

The merchant climbed down from his seat, a wiry man with sharp shoulders and a keener gaze. His cloak was dusty, and his boots crusted in mud.

“I bring goods for trade,” he called out, “but it’s not just cloth or metal you need to hear about today.”

Anxious murmurs rippled through the crowd.

He tossed a glance over his shoulder as though worried he’d been followed.

“It’s the witch frenzy,” he said low but clearly.

“It’s spread. Clan MacMunn set the first torch, and now the flames are catching everywhere.

Even clans that once scoffed at such talk are sending word to those who hunt for coin. ”

“Mercenaries?” someone asked.

The merchant nodded grimly. “Aye. They’re calling themselves cleansers now, as if the name gives them honor. They come bearing contracts, offering to hunt witches for a price and not just in the woods. They’re stirring up fear in every village they pass through.”

Latham spoke. “They haven’t been here.”

“Not yet,” the merchant said with a quick shake of his finger.

“But they will come. They go where rumors linger. If your village is thought to harbor a healer too skilled, an old woman too solitary, a strange mark or disfigurement—they’ll come.

You’d do well to rid your village of anyone suspect before they do. ”

Gasps filled the air. A few turned to glance at old widow Enid, who stood leaning on her walking stick, her head wrapped in wool despite the warmth of the day.

“No one here is a witch,” Raff said loud enough to cut through the growing whispers.

The merchant shrugged. “It may not matter. Truth’s not what they hunt. Fear’s enough to fatten their purses. But enough of that, I have a variety of things to trade. Who is interested?”

He traded briefly, bartered for bread and dried berries, and left without ceremony.

“This isn’t good,” Latham said. “This frenzy will see innocent people put to death.”

“Which is why we stand strong,” Raff said. “We protect all in our clan. We don’t allow them to frighten us and make false accusations. We must stand together, protect each other if we are to survive this foolish frenzy.”

“Raff is right,” Edith said. “Trust will be lost if we falsely accuse anyone among us of being a witch. We will lose all trust in each other if friends turn into foes.”

“What if they don’t believe us and take an innocent among us?” Tolan asked.

Raff spoke up. “We defend the accused until we put enough doubt in their minds that they release her.”

“And we pray such nonsense doesn’t touch us,” Agnes said, and heads bobbed.

“Stay alert and keep your eyes watchful, and no one go off by themselves,” Raff advised, and the crowd dispersed, whispers trailing along with them.

Raff hugged Ingrid. “Stay where I can see you and where I can easily reach you.”

“I will. I need to get the last of the cloths ready to take on our last trip to market before winter sets in,” she said.

“We may need to cancel that trip with what’s going on. It may not be safe.”

“I can’t. This trip is when I get the last of the food supplies that we need to get us safely through winter, especially if a heavy winter storm hits.”

“We get there early and leave early and keep to roads less traveled,” he said, wishing the trip wasn’t necessary.

“I agree. We will make it a quick trip and be home before supper.”

He kissed her and though he didn’t want to leave her side, he had no choice. They both had chores to tend to.

It was after midday when two mounted men arrived, their horses bearing the dust of long travel and their mixed garments of cloth, leather, fur, and numerous facial scars easily marking them as mercenaries.

Raff hurried to his wife’s side, and they joined the others who gathered in the heart of the village.

The men dismounted with slow purpose, one sauntering toward the cluster of villagers. “We heard talk of a woman here,” the taller one said. “An old one with a crooked eye and a tongue that speaks to birds. Seems she’s been healing those who should be dead.”

“No such woman lives here,” Raff said, his strong voice carrying out across the crowd.

The mercenaries cast a glance around and one pointed at old widow Enid. “That one. She reeks of witchcraft.”

Before anyone could speak, Raff stepped forward. “She’s no witch. She’s a widow who’s seen more winters than either of you. You’ll not lay a hand on her.”

The second mercenary sneered. “You defending her? Sounds like someone’s hiding something.”

The first one reached for Enid’s arm.

Raff moved faster. His fist struck the man’s jaw with a satisfying crack, sending him stumbling backward.

The second drew a blade, but before he could lift it, Raff tackled him to the ground.

The crowd erupted, shouts filling the air as the two mercenaries scrambled to regroup.

But Raff stood with fists clenched, the threat in his stance unmistakable and several village men stood with their reaping hooks raised in support of Raff.

“You bring harm here again,” Raff growled, “and I’ll bury you both.”

“Aye!” the crowd shouted in agreement.

One of the mercenaries spat blood and cursed. But they did not draw again. They climbed back on their horses, battered and humiliated, and rode off with dust trailing behind them.

When the dust cleared, Raff turned to Enid. “Worry not, you’re safe here.”

“I am grateful, Raff, but fearful as well. They may not return but others will come,” Enid said tearfully. “And the old are always an easy target for them.”

Raff tried to reassure her. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Enid.”

Villagers thanked him and some women circled Enid to comfort her, Raff’s gut twisted. Enid was right. They hadn’t seen the last of such men.

The sun dipped lower, bleeding gold and rose across the sky as the village finally settled after the disruption. Fear had not left, it had merely retreated, pacing just outside the circle of torchlight.

Raff had kept an eye on Ingrid since the mercenaries left, ready to reach her quickly, if necessary, but presently she had slipped out of his sight, and he panicked.

His glance rushed around the village searching for her.

He finally spotted her at the edge of the woods near her cottage gathering kindling. He hurried to her.

She stood, her hands tight around the small bundle of wood she held and her shoulders tense.

“You shouldn’t be doing this alone,” he said softly.

“I needed to do something that would help clear my head.” Her voice held no tremble, but neither did it hold peace.

Raff stepped beside her. “Did it help?”

She shook her head. “I fear what this witch frenzy will do to our village. It took one accusation to plant the seed and now, like a weed, it grows out of control and not just one innocent, but many may lose their lives because of it. And I fear there will be no stopping it.”

He reached out and gently took the bundle of kindling from her arms, setting it down beside the door. Then he took her hands in his, his thumbs brushing lightly over her knuckles. “Aye. But I won’t let them take anyone from this village.”

Ingrid’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You know as well as I do that my fused fingers mark me as a witch. How long before someone reports me to Laird Chafton?”

Raff drew her close, his brow resting against hers. “Then I fight. I fight until there’s no one left to take you from me.”

For a moment, she said nothing. Then she pressed her cheek against his chest, where his heart beat strong and steady. “I don’t want you harmed. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he said, hugging her firmly as if his arms alone could shield her.

“We could leave, but our friends would be questioned, and torture can make people talk. We need to stay and do nothing to draw suspicion to you or others. We live our lives as we have been only with a more watchful eye.” He reluctantly eased her away from him and smiled. “I am starving, wife. Is supper done?”

His smile brought a smile to her face. “Almost. You have time to wash up.”

He grinned. “Are you telling me I stink?”

She ran her hand slowly along his chest. “It is a pleasant-smelling husband I expect in my bed tonight.”

“I won’t be long,” he said and kissed her cheek before hurrying off.

His smile faded as he kept a quick pace to the stream where he intended to go, and thanks to his wife, he hadn’t had to make an excuse. She sent him where he wanted to go. He was impatient to speak with the witch and see what might be done to stop this madness.