The Warrior's Salvation (Warriors of Eriu Book 1) Page 2

  Looking over her shoulder and staring at Jeoffrey’s son still laying in the bed Harrold had carved left her feeling bereft. Where was Jeoffrey now? What was he doing on this night? Had he fallen in love with a lass of his own station? Did he have a family? Was he out there right now cursing her for running off into the night with his cousin? Perhaps he had discovered the truth that she was only fleeing to save his life. Perhaps he never thought of her at all.

  Guilt ate at her soul. Gregory accused her of murdering Harrold. And she could not deny that, in some cruel twist of fate, she was to blame. Had she not been a naïve lass filled with hopeless dreams of what could never be, mayhap she would have been able to stay in Ériu and Harrold would never have given up everything to save her and his cousin. Mayhap he would still be alive today.

  A sigh escaped her lips as she stuffed the only spare woolen dress she had into the satchel along with Wee Jeoffrey’s spare trousers and tunics. Thinking about what could have been was foolish. No force of nature could have ever pulled her away from Jeoffrey in their passionate years…no force besides his father threatening to slit his own son’s throat. And had their love never existed, neither would Wee Jeoffrey and she could not abide by a world where her precious child did not exist.

  “Mama?” His wee voice spoke again from his bed. “Where are we going?”

  Putting the satchel down, Clarice walked over to his bed and kneeled in front of him. “Away, Jeoff. Away from here. To a safe place.”

  His small freckled nose crinkled up as he tried to imagine another place, but his entire three years of life had been lived within the walls of Caledonii. His innocent mind could not even imagine life outside these walls.

  “Trust in Mama, Wee Jeoff,” she said as she shoved a bar of lye soap and a spare wool blanket into her satchel. Time was running out. She had to bide her time. If she left too soon, someone may spot her leaving. The guards at the gate would be sure to notice no matter what time she chose to leave. Fortunately, she had become rather close with many of the Caledonii warriors due to Harrold. She hoped they would let her pass without a male escort. There was no other way in or out of their village, so she had to hold her breath and pray that whomever was on guard this night would not give her trouble.

  After waiting a few more hours, the voices died down, as did the fires. It was time to make her escape. Picking up an extra wool blanket, she draped it over Jeoffrey’s already cloaked shoulders then clasped her own cloak around her neck. “Tis time to go, Jeoff,” she whispered with a smile and his instinctive trust for her showed as he placed his small hand in hers without hesitation.

  The door creaked as she slowly opened it and peeked around the corner. There was no sign of movement, so she clutched Jeoff to her side tightly and stepped out of the house with her satchel hanging from her shoulders. She dared not go to the stables and try to secure a horse. She was no more than a serving lass. She owned nothing but the worn leather shoes upon her feet and they would just have to do.

  Staying within the shadows, she crept along the perimeter of houses hoping to avoid being seen. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. Fear unlike anything she had ever felt flooded her veins. The last time she had fled, her heart was breaking into a thousand shards to have to leave her beloved Jeoffrey behind. But now, she had her child to protect, the only person in this world who truly mattered. One wrong move and Gregory would kill them both.

  Voices filtered out into the starlit night as a group of men stumbled out of the gathering hall. There were three men leaning on each other, swerving as they walked in her direction. Grabbing Wee Jeoffrey by the shoulders, she tried to press their bodies against the white washed walls of the closest roundhouse, but she dared not move. She recognized the burly build of the red-haired man coming their way. It was Gregory. He would not dare hurt them as long as other men were in his presence.

  “Nay, man,” she heard one of the inebriated men say to Gregory. “Me wife is home awaiting me. She will have me bollocks if I do not make it home soon.” The man swerved again and then started walking off in the opposite direction.

  “Same here, Gregory. I have nay more time tonight. I am due home to my wee wife.”

  Gregory scoffed at his two companions and kept walking in her direction, not yet seeing her hiding in the shadows. “Do as you wish, fools. I am out to have me some more fun with a willing lass tonight before I take a less willing wife in the morn.” His two companions grumbled and walked away, leaving him alone as he kept walking in their direction.

  Her breath hitched and she closed her eyes as she pressed her and Jeoff further into the wall. Gregory was coming their way. If he saw her satchel, he would know what she was up to. Sending a prayer up to the gods, she tried not to breath.

  Opening her eyes, she watched as Gregory strolled passed them, looking straight ahead with a smirk across his face. Wherever…or whomever he was heading for clearly had all his attention and she was glad for it. He had not seen them. All they had to do was stay still and quiet for another moment and freedom was theirs.

  Wee Jeoffrey sneezed. Clarice felt all the blood drain from her face as she knew the moment Gregory’s dark brown gaze found them huddled against a house. She heard each step he took in her direction as his boots crunched over the gravel path.

  “Run, Jeoff!” she whispered in her son’s ear, but before she could move again, Gregory’s strong palm came down hard on her shoulder with enough force to knock her to the ground.

  “Where are you off to, Clarice?” Again, his calm, smooth voice was more frightening than if he had shouted in her face. He was cold and unfeeling as he glared at her through narrowed eyes. His red beard shimmered in the light of a dying fire behind him and he appeared more beast than man as he hovered over her.

  “I asked you a question!” he suddenly shouted and Clarice flinched in fear. He lifted her up by her arm, slapped her across the same cheek he had earlier, then shoved her back into the dirt. If her cheek had not bruised before, she was certain it would now.

  “Mama!” Jeoffrey cried as he came running toward her.

  Gregory turned his heated gaze on Jeoffrey and she saw in slow motion as his hand came up to swat at her son. All her fear was washed away and buried under a pure all-consuming rage. Nobody would ever lay a finger on her child! Clarice got up to her feet and charged at Gregory with all her strength. He was a huge man compared to her small form, but with the force of her need to protect her child combined with the affect too much ale had had on his body, Gregory stumbled to the ground.

  “Run!” she hollered to Jeoffrey when she saw Gregory starting to rise to his feet again. Jeoffrey took off at a run toward the front gates of the village. Clarice began to chase after him but was pulled down by the ankle when Gregory’s large hand wrapped around it and jerked her back. Pain flared in her knees as she crashed to the ground but she refused to give up. Flipping onto her back, she kicked and screamed, half hoping someone would come out to save her and half hoping nobody would come to her aid. If they did and Gregory spewed his lies about murder, they would take her away.

  That thought spurring her on, survival for her and Jeoffrey was the only thing that drove her to fight. Swinging her leg out as hard as she could, she brought her heel down to his face, feeling the moment cartilage crunched and his nose broke. Gregory let go of her leg and bellowed in pain, blood spurting down his face as he cradled his wound. “I will kill you, Clarice!” His threat hung heavy in the air as she stumbled to her feet and raced ahead to catch up with Wee Jeoffrey. Her entire body trembled and her knees throbbed with pain. She was certain she felt blood dripping down her leg but she pressed on.

  Catching up to Jeoffrey, she bent low and swung him into her arms, cradling him like a wee babe as she ran to the main gate with single-minded determination. As predicted, two men guarded the gates with their bronze horned helms and long spears in hand. She had no time to stop and explain. She vowed to run past them and never stop. Would Gregory give chase? She hones
tly was not sure if she was worth his efforts or not, but she also was not willing to take the risk.

  Feet pounding against the cold hard winter ground, she slipped on a pile of wet leaves, but readjusted her stride and kept pushing forward. Jeoffrey sobbed in her arms as he was jostled about and her heart ached for him, but she could not stop. She would not.

  “My lady!” a guard called as she frantically sprinted past him. Nay, she was no lady. She was naught but a serf and would never be anything more than that. As long as her son survived and she found them shelter, she cared not for her own pathetic existence.

  “Clarice!” the other guard shouted.

  Turning her head as she ran, she recognized the familiar face of Harrold’s best mate Àdhamh as he stood at the gate in bewilderment, watching her run.

  She would not stop. But she could respond. Breath puffing from her chest, she hollered over her shoulder, “I must go, Àdhamh! Please! Nothing he says about me is true!” He looked at her as if she was mad but he did not give chase, nor did he respond. Àdhamh would let her go. She was a widowed servant and nothing more. There was nobody left to keep her at Caledonii and Àdhamh knew it.

  Where she would go, she did not know. Never had she traveled outside the boundaries of her new village, but she would run for her life and for the life of her innocent son until she came upon another village. She would not stop until Caledonii was a distant memory.

  ***

  She had traveled for an entire day with Jeoffrey in her arms. They stopped only to feed on the safe wild berry bushes they came across, drink from the cool running stream almost frozen from the winter chill, and to relieve their bladders. Sleep was not an option. She had no time to waste and in truth, the cold Alba winter was so relentless that she feared they would freeze to death if they stopped. Snow had begun to fall again and it became thicker the further north they traveled.

  Jeoffrey slept soundly in her arms with his cloak and a wool blanket wrapped around his wee body. Though her feet ached, her lungs burned, and her knees threatened to give way, the warmth their bodies shared was of some comfort. They were alive and she vowed never to stop until they found a safe haven.

  Hour upon hour passed as she trudged through soft, unpacked snow, leaving a trail she was certain Gregory would find if he followed unless more snowfall could cover her tracks. Would he follow? If he tried on horseback, he would catch her in no time. Nay…she must not think on that.

  Finding a thickly wooded area, she veered to the east and decided to use the shelter of the trees. Hardly any snow could get through the tight cluster of barren tree branches above her head. Not only was it easier to travel, she would leave fewer tracks. The sounds of wild beasts surrounding them caused fear to clench up her throat. Would they fall prey to a pack of hungry wolves? Mayhap the woods were more dangerous than the wide-open plains where at least she could see what lay ahead.

  As night fell on their second day of travel, she was beginning to lose hope of ever finding another village. They were so very cold, hungry, sore, and tired. All she had seen was snow and more snow. Trees and more trees. It was black outside and the moon hung in the sky, the only guiding light as the stars were cloaked in a heavy layer of clouds. Her breath came out in wisps as she panted, tiring from the extra weight of carrying Jeoffrey, who slept much more than she thought was normal. He would freeze or starve if she did not find help soon.

  Just as she came out of the thick woods, she saw lights twinkling in the distance. Were they fireflies? Did fireflies come out in winter? Deciding she had nowhere else to go, she followed those lights, watching as every step brought her closer and closer to what appeared to be fires burning in the distance. A village! All doubt fled her mind. There was no room to second guess whether or not the inhabitants would be friendly or hostile. She needed help and would not stop until she found at least once decent soul to take her in. She was a skilled worker. She would cook, clean, tend the garden, work the loom, help with herbs…anything that was required of her if someone would just feed her child.

  The large iron gates of the village were closed and two men stood guard with brown trousers, blue and red plaid tunics, swords, and shields. Slowing down as she approached, her knees finally gave way and she fell into a pile of snow, clutching Jeoffrey and rolling to the side so he stayed dry.

  One of the guards came up and helped her. She flinched at first, afraid he would strike her, but the look of concern on his face erased that fear. “I…need…help…” she croaked through dry, cracked lips. Her mouth felt like it was on fire with chapped skin. “My son…”

  The guard looked down at the bundled up wee child in her arms and lifted her to her feet. “By the gods,” he whispered as he took in her bedraggled appearance. She knew she must look a fright with a large bruise on her cheek, torn blue dress, and wildly disheveled hair. She cared not as long as they helped her son.

  “Get her to the gathering hall for warmth and food!” the other guard shouted as he pushed the iron gate open.

  “I cannot leave my post…what if this is a trap? We leave our post to help the woman and child and a raid of men comes through the gate? Nay I cannot leave.” He sounded regretful at not being able to help directly.

  “Not…a…trap…” she forced out as she clutched Jeoff to her. Tears welled in her eyes. She wished to tell the truth, but telling them she ran from a violent man may only bar her way. Would they let her in knowing a madman could be following her? What could she say? “My husband died. We cannot go back…” That was at least partially true. Harrold was not her true husband, but everyone believed him to be. She hoped they would accept this answer. She was a heartbroken widow who needed help.

  “The gathering hall is just that way,” the guard said compassionately. “I cannot leave my post. I am sorry. Can you make it there alone?”

  She followed his finger and saw a long rectangular building straight ahead. Small fires flickered all around, the same fires she had seen from a distance to guide her here. Strange faces stared at her wearily, but nobody looked hostile. Could she make it that far? Aye, she could. She had already come this far. Praying to all the gods that there would be at least one kind soul in that rectangular building who would take her in, she nodded and breathed deeply to calm her pounding heart. Swiping at her tears she whispered, “Aye. I can make it.”

  The guards nodded at her and stepped out of her way as she hobbled toward the door of the building that hopefully held her future. Though it was only a few yards from the gates, every step caused her to wince. Her entire body throbbed in pain. She would be fortunate to make it one more step. Her arms ached from carrying Jeoffrey for an entire day and night.

  Reaching the large front wooden door felt like it took forever, but once she did, she used all her remaining strength to shove the door open while holding Jeoffrey in the other arm. It swung open with a bang and suddenly she was bombarded by the many faces of strangers staring at her as if she were a crazed woman. Candles flickered inside as a gust of wind tailed in behind her.

  Tears leaked from her eyes in a torrential downfall. She could not see through the blur and panic overcame her. Had this been a terrible idea? It was too late now. Spotting a kind-faced man with worry in his eyes, she stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulder, half in desperation and half to keep from falling. “You must help me! Please!”

  In the sudden silence of the room, one laugh, a very familiar one at that, boomed loudly and seemed to echo, catching her attention. “I think the gods are trying to tell you something, mate.”

  Looking in that direction, her eyes skimmed over the familiar face of the man who had laughed and then landed on the face of the man she would never forget for the rest of her life. She gasped loudly and clutched Wee Jeoffrey tighter in her arms. “Jeoffrey?”

  Could it really be Jeoffrey? Her Jeoffrey. Nay, he was no longer hers. But in her heart, he would always be hers. Was she delirious from her journey? “Clarice.” When he said her name, all the memori
es of the past came rushing back to her, tearing at her heart. He used to whisper her name reverently as he made love to her under the stars at night. Now, her name whispered on his lips sounded more like a curse, as if she were the last person in all Ériu or Alba he would wish to ever see again.

  Shifting her sleeping child in her arms, she tried to take a step closer to Jeoffrey, but her knees buckled beneath her weight. Now that they had reached safety, her body was shutting down, telling her it was time to give up. No amount of strength or will could keep her on her feet. Clutching the arm of the man next to her, she leaned on him and felt his arms go around her and Wee Jeoffrey tightly. “Help my son,” she implored to the strange man as consciousness left her and she prayed he would catch her before she fell.

  Chapter 2

  “I cannot believe it. I would not believe it if I were not looking at her. Clarice is in your bed, mate!”

  “I can see that,” Jeoffrey snapped as he looked away from Alastar and back down at the last woman he ever wanted to see again. She had torn his heart to shreds the day she left him for his cousin. His father had told him that she was leaving on a boat bound for Alba with Harrold. At first, Jeoffrey could not believe it was true. Not his Clarice. Not the woman he had held in his arms so many times and promised to love forever. She had agreed to wed with him. She would never leave. But alas, she had left and though he dreamed of her face every day of his life, he never actually thought to see her again…nor had he wanted to.

  “Tis a foul bruise across her cheek. How do you suppose she came to receive it? She appears to have been traveling for days.” Why was Alastar so adamantly stating the obvious? Had he nothing to add to this ridiculous situation, besides simple observations?

  “Aye, Alastar. I can plainly see that.” Instinctively, his fingers went to her face to gently trace the swollen, bruised skin but he pulled away just before he made contact. When she collapsed in Hamish’s arms, the poor ironsmith had no idea what to do with the wee lass. As much as Jeoffrey did not want to see or speak to her, he could not leave her and her child dangling in the poor man’s arms.