The Viking's Daughter (The Viking Series Book 2) by Marti Talbott

Author:Marti Talbott [Talbott, Marti]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: M T Creations
Published: 2013-11-19T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

There simply wasn’t enough time for Catrina to tell her father what Muriel said about Ronan. Conan fell down, skinned his knee and needed her attention. Garbhan came running in for his hug and Aileen broke the head off her doll. A little water and mortar would fix that, of course, but by then, Karr, Steinn, Magnus, Hani, and Stefan, had ridden away. Catrina shrugged and went to dip the broken neck of doll head in the mortar bucket.

*

It didn’t take long for the brothers to patch the roof with enough thatching to see that it didn’t leak again for quite some time. At least they hoped so. The three youngest, Nikolas, Almoor, and Obbi, were excited to go on the hunt with Grant, who was more than willing to take them. Hopefully, they could bring back enough fresh meat to feed the clan for a day or two, at least. Grant waited until they gathered their bows and arrows, and then led them up the side of the hill to the vast forests north of the village.

*

“We normally barter for wheat and oats from the Limonds,” Stefan explained on the way to the Macoran village, “but buying from the Macoran’s might yield more than what we need to survive.”

With coins from Anundi’s sack in a pouch tucked in his belt, Karr rode beside Stefan, and once more looked over the rich farmland. Before long, he could also see the river on the other side. “You mean, it might better secure an alliance?”

“Aye. Laird Limond is a good lad like his uncle before him. The Limonds and the Macorans once fought over the salmon in the river, for they each bartered them to the English. Now, the two clans work together.”

“Will that end if Ronan is the Macoran laird?”

“I cannae imagine the Macoran’s would make Ronan their laird, but if they do…” They were halfway there when Stefan called a halt.

“What is it?” Karr asked.

“The farmers are not in the fields; their hearths have little smoke, and only a few children play.”

The brothers took a long look around. Stefan was right.

“Follow me,” he said, turning up the path that led to the top of the hill. From there, they could see both the village and the ocean below without being detected. As soon as they reached the top, they stopped and got off their horses. They could hear distant voices, but not the shouts expected when men were preparing to fight. With Stefan leading the way, they made their way through the trees until they had a good view of the village below. The Macorans were gathered in the courtyard, but oddly, none of the men looked like they were preparing to fight. Instead, they appeared to be looking at something up the beach. Stefan motioned for them to follow and moved to a place where they could see the water’s edge all the way from the graveyard to the beginning of the village. Not far from the graveyard,

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