Morren hadn’t known of his personal tragedy, for he’d never spoken of an eldest brother. She knew of his other four siblings, for he’d mentioned them a time or two.
“You wanted to kill the Normans,” Jilleen predicted.
“Yes. And my older brother Bevan wanted them dead most of all, for he was the closest to Liam. For a long time, he kept the vengeance in his heart.
“He let it grow, filling him up inside, for he not only lost his brother, but also his wife in that battle.”
A tear had slid down Jilleen’s cheek, and she hugged her knees tighter. Morren felt her own eyes sting, for it seemed that Trahern was no longer speaking about his brother.
“He lived each day, consumed by grief. And we all blamed ourselves.” Trahern lowered his voice to almost a whisper. “But in the end, we had to keep on living. We had to go on with our lives, for that was what Liam would have wanted.”
Morren tightened her arms around Jilleen, the story reaching down inside her. She stared at him, his gray eyes meeting her own. There was sadness in them, and resignation.
“Get some sleep,” she told her sister, easing Jilleen down so that her sister’s head rested on her lap.
Morren lifted her palm to Trahern, offering a brief touch of thanks. She only wondered if, after so much loss, he could let go of his pain and go on living.
Or if she could.
TheLochlannachchief Dagmar held the assembly at dawn the next morning. Morren hadn’t let go of her sister’s hand, and Trahern saw the shadows under her eyes.
The gathering was held in the center of the cashel, and the body of the raider was laid out with his face revealed. One by one, the men and women passed by the man to identify him.
And every last Ó Reilly agreed that the raider had been one of those responsible for the attack. Before the raider’s body was covered once more, Trahern saw Gunnar removing something from the man’s belt. A dagger, possibly.
“He deserved what he got,” Adham Ó Reilly pronounced, as one of the witnesses. “And were he alive, he’d have to pay restitution for the damage he did to our homes.” His gaze fixed upon Morren. “And he’d pay the body prices of our family members.”
Trahern stood, waiting until the angered voices grew hushed and fell into silence. His expression softened when he regarded Morren’s sister. When he spoke, he used the power of his voice to reach out to the people.
“Jilleen Ó Reilly should not have murdered this man, true enough,” he began. “But there is not a man here who didn’t consider taking the raider’s life as a penalty.”
“I believe there should be a penalty,” the chief interceded. Morren gripped Jilleen harder, and Trahern was prepared to argue, before Dagmar added, “but a minor one.”
Rising to his feet, the chief gestured toward the ruined homes. “Over the next month, Jilleen must work with her kinsmen and women, helping to repair the damage. Her restitution will atone for the raider’s death.”
“She shouldn’t have to lift a single stone,” Trahern argued.
“Are you questioning my judgment?” The chief stood and walked to face him. Eye to eye, the Norse leader saw the argument as a personal threat.
Trahern didn’t care. “A girl of thirteen years is not the same as a murderer. We may not know why the raider joined in the attack, but his crimes were clear.”
“It’s all right, Trahern,” Jilleen interrupted. Stepping between the two men, she looked at one, then the other. “I accept my punishment. I’ll help them rebuild.”
The girl slipped her hand in his, to reassure him. The chief stared hard at Trahern. At last, he gave Jilleen a nod of dismissal, turning his attention back to the matter of sending supplies and more men and women to the cashel.
Jilleen broke free and went back to Morren. A few minutes later, Katla approached. For a long moment, she studied the two women, saying nothing. Morren drew her sister closer, not meeting the woman’s gaze.
As if a silent question had been answered, Katla turned back to Trahern. “I will look after them when you leave. You have my word.”
The woman’s face was grim, filled with understanding. But, to her credit, she said nothing more.
It was an opening, a way of leaving them both behind with the reassurance that Katla would watch over them. As a married woman, Katla could open her home, and he felt certain that Morren and Jilleen would be all right.
Still, he felt hesitant. There was a sense that he was abandoning Morren, just as he’d left Ciara behind. And try as he might, he couldn’t seem to push away the feeling of uneasiness.
The crowd began to disperse, the chief returning with several men back to their own longphort. Trahern accompanied Morren and Jilleen, and for the next few hours, they joined the others, working on one of the new huts.
But even the distraction of building couldn’t stop him from catching glimpses of Morren. Her wheat-colored hair was braided, and she kept herbratwrapped closely around her shoulders. Last night, it had rained, and the cashel was sodden with puddles and mud.
