While girls her age were still playing games and chasing one another, Elene was at home, cooking every meal and learning how to manage a farm on her own. After being kicked more than once, she learned how to milk their cow. Neighboring men took pity on her for the first few years and brought their own plows and horses to help her till their land. Eventually, she grew strong enough to manage their horse and plow alone. She’d cared for her mother when she was too inebriated to make it to her bed. Elene struggled when her siblings were still very young to hide their mother’s alcoholism from them, but she’d given up after Inburgh flew into a rage at her in front of Johan and Katryne while glugging mead from a wineskin.
Elene glanced toward the door, picturing the Highlanders’ ships docked in the bay. She longed for a means to escape, and the birlinns appealed to her. They would take her away from her life of verbal abuse and drudgery. A life where she took care of everyone, but no one took care of her. She finally let her full gaze rest on the Highlander as he and Androw rose. Their eyes locked, and something sparked between them. They stared at one another for a protracted moment, and Elene had an overwhelming sense that she could trust the stranger. Then she chided herself for thinking she could trust anyone.
She couldn’t trust her mother. She couldn’t trust Gunter. She couldn’t trust that Androw could, or would, help her. None of her neighbors would. Her brother and sister were too young for her to entrust her wellbeing to them, especially since they depended on her for theirs. With an even heavier heart than before the meal, Elene rose and followed Katryne and Johan from the mead hall. They raced together toward the shore while she turned toward their croft.
Elene avoided entering her home, knowing her mother would still be inside. Instead, she made her way to the back of the building, to the lean-to where Bess stood in the shade alongside their gelding,Belget,who she’d named greedy for how he had nursed constantly as a newborn foal. She drew him from the shade and harnessed him to their two-wheeled cart. With the reins in one hand and the wheelbarrow’s handle in the other, she urged the cantankerous old horse out to the fields. She walked along the rows of potatoes, looking for the yellow-fleshed ones that were ready to harvest. She toiled for two hours, gathering a barrowful of the root vegetable, before steering Belget back to the croft.
I would be glad to never see a plow again in my life. I don’t even like tatties, yet here I am, harvesting more of the damn things. They taste like the dirt they come from. Would that I could walk into the sea and float away.
After unharnessing the gelding and transferring the potatoes into baskets, Elene wiped sweat from her brow. She was sticky, and her gown clung to her back and breasts. She wished for nothing more than a dip in the freshwater loch only a half mile from the village. She would have to content herself with a drink from the village well for now, but she planned to slip away to bathe before nightfall.
“What’s happening?” Elene asked a neighbor as she entered the village center. A crowd gathered, blocking her way to the well. In the center, she spied Androw and the Highlander. Androw held a sheet of parchment, presumably the one Elene watched Liam hand to him during the midday meal. Before the neighbor answered, Androw spoke.
“It can come as no surprise that our time as Norsemen and -women has ended. We are now Scottish, and subjects of King David II,” Androw proclaimed. Elene watched as Liam attempted not to wince. It was hardly the introduction she would have offered, even to a man who eavesdropped on her argument, however public, with her mother. “Liam Mackay, Laird Tristan Mackay’s son and heir, and Laird Liam Sinclair’s grandson, is here officially to accept governance of Orkney on the Earl of Caithness’s behalf. He and his family have long ties to the Northern Isles, so it is easy for the Sinclairs and the Mackays to understand our Norse heritage and traditions. We shall celebrate this eve!”
Liam noticed Elene the moment she stepped into the crowd. But his attention whipped back to Androw in horror as the chieftain bluntly announced yet another power that felt foreign to them would rule the Orcadians. He understood the Norse culture felt more familiar to the islanders than anything Scottish, despite how the two cultures had blended as the people from both regions settled Orkney and its neighbor, Shetland. He prayed he would report a smooth transition when he returned to the Sinclairs at Castle Dunbeath. This was the first mission where he commanded entirely on his own. He’d led patrols on both Mackay and Sinclair land, and he’d accompanied his family to court frequently. But he’d begged his father for a chance to prove himself, and it was his grandfather who offered the opportunity.
It shouldn’t have surprised Liam that he didn’t make the announcement, but he’d planned what he would say from the moment he stepped aboard the Mackay ship bound for Rousay, then Mainland, the largest of the Orkney Islands. He’d intended to begin by reminding the Orcadians that the Sinclairs had Norse family ties, just as they did, and that the Sinclairs were a long-established presence on the islands. He’d hoped to remind them that he’d been visiting the islands since he was a child, that he’d taken his first steps in Kirkwall just before his first saint’s day.
Instead, he faced an angry crowd who resented his presence. He understood it stemmed from fear of the unknown. He supposed it wasn’t too late to make the speech he’d planned.
“Hello.” Liam sought Elene, the only familiar face among the crowd. He locked eyes with her, and he sensed she didn’t realize she offered an encouraging nod. But it gave him the confidence he suddenly lacked. “It has been five years since I last visited this part of Orkney, but as you can tell, it isn’t the first time I’ve spoken Norn. I have spent much of my life traveling here. I even took my first steps outside St. Magnus Cathedral in Kirkwall. I feasted alongside your kinsmen in Snusgar, as a guest in the chieftain’s home, the last time I was near here."
Liam paused, surveying the crowd, hoping his speech was well received. When no one came after him with a shovel or a sword, he plowed on with his gaze once more locked with Elene’s.
“My grandfather, Laird Sinclair, chose me for this journey to share the news that after decades of travel and trade, he is now the Scottish king’s designated leader on Orkney. Many of you know my grandfather since he was King Robert the Bruce’s frequent delegate here to represent Scotland in negotiations with the Norse. You know him to be fair and wise, a man renowned not only as a warrior but as a leader. I am honored he chose me to stand here in his stead.”
Liam shifted his gaze from Elene and swept it over the gathering once more. While no one appeared openly hostile, most were dismissive. He assumed they were unimpressed by him or the announcement. If their daily lives changed little, they wouldn’t care that Orkney now belonged to Scotland. However, he noticed several people dash nervous glances at the Norse longboats that left the bay with the tide. Liam had met none of the Norse traders, but he’d seen them moving around the dock when he arrived. Their suspicion and dislike had been nearly palpable.
When he looked back, much of the crowd had dispersed, clearly unmoved by his speech. Androw stood talking to Elene, leaving Liam wondering what he should do. He supposed he would return to his ship and ensure his men unloaded all the goods. He was certain they had, but he could think of nothing else to fill his time before the evening meal in a few hours. He couldn’t very well stand in the village square alone.
“Liam,” Androw called and gestured to him to come stand with Androw and Elene. When Liam neared, he dipped his chin to Elene. He wondered if the heat his cheeks exuded made them match the shade of pink Elene’s cheeks grew as he approached. He doubted it looked as fetching on him as it did her. “Since you have met but only briefly introduced, I suppose I shall perform the courtesy. Liam Mackay, this is Elene Isbister.”
Before either Elene or Liam could say anything, Androw spun on his heel and called out to men near the gristmill. He left the pair staring at one another. Again. Elene wished to melt into the ground. She hardly felt presentable, with her filthy gown still clinging to her. She knew her hair was a mess, and dirt filled the space beneath her nails. She glanced away, embarrassed but unable to escape without saying something. It was Liam who blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“I apologize for earlier. I know I shouldn’t have listened to your argument, and since I did, I should have—” Liam shrugged. “I suppose I should have let you know I understood. I didn’t mean to be rude or deceptive, but I suspect that’s how it appears.”
“It did.” Elene raised her chin, but she struggled to feel imperious when she caught a whiff of herself. “I feared you might, but I told myself there was no way you could. I didn’t know who you were—are.”
“Feared?” Liam shifted, feeling uncomfortable at the notion Elene might fear anything about him.
Elene looked at her feet, miserable that Androw trapped her in a conversation that hardly fit the one she imagined as she worked in the field. This was hardly charming, or even amusing. It wasn’t seductive and alluring. It was humiliating.
“It’s embarrassing that a stranger listened to what we said. It’s even worse that you understood. I should go.” Elene couldn’t bring herself to meet Liam’s gaze.
“I was fearful too,” Liam confessed. “I still am. I didn’t like what I heard. And I admit Androw explained some of it to me.”
Elene was certain that flames danced around and singed her ears. She could only imagine just what her talkative distant cousin shared. It took a moment for her to register that he admitted he was scared on her behalf. She forced herself to look up, and a shiver raced along her spine when their eyes met. The overwhelming sense that she could trust Liam once more flooded her, even though her conscience screamed that she was a fool.
“Is there really no way for you to stay?” Liam’s words broke into Elene’s thoughts.
“Short of marrying someone in the next fortnight, no.”
Elene’s words hung in the air. Neither knew what to say. Liam didn’t want to imagine Elene in another man’s arms, in his bed. But neither could he make an offer. Elene furthered her embarrassment when she feared he thought she expected him to ask. Liam opened his mouth to say he wished he could help, but he feared how Elene might interpret it. “I’m sorry if my arrival complicates things, since the Norse who arrive next won’t be pleased that I’m here.”
“You’re staying for a fortnight?” Elene doubted that was the part that was supposed to catch her attention the most.
“Yes. I have other parts of Rousay to visit, but I shall leave my birlinns docked here. I have smaller curraghs to take me between the closest islands, too. I’m not just representing my grandfather, I’m delivering grain my father sold in the spring.”
