Highland Warrior by Heather McCollum (the rosie project TXT) 📗

at Hillside? Joshua sighed softly. It probably would not have mattered to the man.

“Our meat supplies? And dairy?” Kára asked.

Another man stepped forward as Calder retreated. “The limited hunting grounds have made it difficult to catch rabbits, but we have sufficient fish dried to keep families going if we ration well and continue to bring in fresh catches through the winter. We could also resort to digging up voles. My wife says they make a reasonable pie.”

“Each family must understand their ration of food until more food can grow,” Harriett said, looking at Kára. “Unless our chief has a different plan for us.”

All eyes turned to Kára. Silence filled every nook and cranny of the cottage. She took her time letting her gaze move from person to person. “Lord Robert has begun a new fortress near Kirkwall for…his son, Henry Stuart. At the first sign of spring, he will once again force our people to labor without pay, giving false promises of easing up on hunting restrictions. But his taxes of grain and crops will continue, and his tyranny will not end.”

“We should end his reign here,” Osk said, and several of the warriors Joshua had been working with for the last week nodded, including Torben.

Kára looked directly at her brother. “I want Lord Robert dead as much as you do, brother.” She let her gaze move to the others. “But who comes after him?”

“Henry,” someone said.

“He is missing,” another said. “His brother, Patrick, has been riding the isle looking for him.”

Kára held up her hands. “After Henry comes Patrick, and then John, James, the youngest Robert. The number of children and grandchildren continues to grow between his wife and mistresses, and they are all raised to be tyrants to replace him. ’Tis like a wretched disease spreading across Orkney.”

“We kill them all,” Osk said, crossing his arms over his not-yet-filled-out chest. “Wipe out the disease completely. Like burning a corrupted barley field.”

Kára gripped the arms of the chair. “Before, when Erik led our people, I would have said that, too. But charging into Birsay to battle and kill, to seek the satisfaction of revenge… It is good for the individual. Even if I were to die, I would feel good in the sacrifice.”

Kára stood slowly out of her seat. “But as the one responsible for our families, the one who must consider the repercussions of bringing the Scottish crown to Orkney if we kill Robert and his family, repercussions for not just me but for all of you… I must not give in to the desire to see our dead revenged, which could very well send us to the grave with them. I must think of the future of our people.”

Her gaze slid to Joshua, their eyes seeming linked. “A future where we can survive in peace. Where we will have food and homes. Where our children can sing and play without constantly watching for riders who could steal, molest, or kill them. Where we are not looked down upon as if we are less than.”

“You would have us abandon our isle, our home?” Fiona, Torben’s mother, called out, her arms crossed over her bosom.

Kára looked straight at her. “Aye.”

A murmur rose in the room, but she continued to talk, her voice strong and overriding. “I would have us abandon Robert’s tyranny and disrespect of our ways. I would have us abandon the worry each autumn that we will not have enough to survive the winter.” Her voice grew in strength to easily override the murmurs. “I pray for us to abandon a land that cannot protect our children and wise ones dying of cold and disease because we haven’t the resources to keep warm and fed.” She held the woman’s stare. “Aye, Fiona, I would have us abandon Orkney.”

“Where will we go?” Hilda asked, her voice strong as if she already knew the answer and wanted Kára to tell them all about Joshua’s home.

“Scotia,” Kára said. “The mainland of Scotland, over the sea to the south. There are trees, deer, fish, good land for crops, and protection.” She looked to Joshua.

“Aye,” he said, nodding. “I pledge to help the people of Orkney settle on Sinclair land. My brother is the chief, and we are at peace with the two surrounding clans. The land is stable, and life will be better for ye if ye make it so. That, of course, is up to ye.”

“And we will have to work for your brother and the Sinclairs?” Osk asked, bitterness showing that he had already judged his clan. Joshua likely would have, too, if their circumstances were switched.

“We have over five hundred horses and warriors who take care of and train them. Ye would be welcome to join our armies, swear fealty to Cain Sinclair, and benefit from the protection our clan has to offer ye and your families. But there is no forced labor within my clan. Wages are provided, as well as food, friendship, and respect.” Joshua shrugged. “But if ye wish to journey on from our lands, ye are free to go. Or to come back to Orkney in the spring if ye find the mainland inhospitable. No one will stop ye.”

“I do not trust you,” Osk said, and several of the men looked like they agreed.

“Then trust your dróttning,” he said. “Do what she said. Decide on your own. If half your people decide to leave Orkney, those who remain will have more food for the winter. If Robert does not let up on his pressure against ye, follow us to the mainland of Scotland in the spring.”

“Our ancestors are here,” a woman said from the corner.

“Their bones are here,” Joshua countered. “Their spirit goes with whomever remembers them.”

The woman gave a little nod, her gaze turning to meet the eyes of the man next to her, her husband perhaps.

Kára turned to take in the gathered people in a slow rotation. “Everyone, speak with your families. We will reconvene here tomorrow. If you wish to go