“Sir William?” Her voice shook, and she spoke as though she did not know him. Was that his name? Is that what she called him?
“William,” she said again softly, leaning closer as she spoke. He sniffed her face and hair and knew she was his.
He wanted to push her aside to get to the ones who needed to be destroyed, but she reached out and put her hand on him. Looking down at it, so soft, so small, so hot on his skin, he did not recognize the body it was touching. Blue as the sky with markings swirling over the skin she touched as though moved by the wind. Muscular and strong enough to fight off all these puny men at once, with shreds of clothing hanging over his shoulders and around his waist. And with an arm that held—no, an arm thatwashis sword.
This close to her, he could smell that the terror had eased and the danger was gone. Still he waited on her word.
“There is no need to fight them,” she said, stroking his chest. “I am well. I am safe.”
He looked around. No one was near her now. A few men stood scattered around them watching, and one man, an older man, nodded at him. Had he given the orders to touch her? Did he need killing?
“William, it is over now,” she said in a whispering singsong tone that made him want to let go of the fight. “Come back to me.” Her smile eased the terrible need to kill that bubbled within him. “That is good. It is over.”
He could feel his body changing, shivering and convulsing as it had before, until he could drop the sword from his hand and fit within his skin once more. He felt himself sliding back into control. The red in his vision melted away until he could see her in all her colors, even though the others paled next to her.
William turned as Roger and Gautier reached his side and read the confusion in their gazes and on their faces. Roger grabbed the sword from the ground and held it. Glancing around the group, he noticed that the others wore expressions of horror and terror. He looked back at the only one who did not turn away from his gaze.
“What happened? Brienne, are you well? I heard you screaming.”
“I am not hurt,” she said. Before she could say more, another man spoke.
“Sir William de Brus? I think we should speak.” The older man watching him spoke in a calm voice.
“You did this? You took her? Why?”
When the older man did not deny it, William looked at her for his reply. She held the key. She was the key.
“Let Brienne sit over with the women while we do,” the man offered. “She will come to no harm here, sir.” When Brienne nodded her agreement, a young woman escorted her away. Though she still glanced from him to the others, he allowed it. Seeing the same shock filling Roger’s and Gautier’s expressions, he nodded at her.
“Stay near her,” he ordered quietly. Although they did as he said, he could tell it was more from rote than from agreement. Then he walked after the other man until they stood away from the rest.
“Has that happened before, Sir William?” the man asked.
“Who are you and what are you doing on Lord Hugh’s lands?” he asked back. Studying the man, he noticed several things. He was older, he wore no weapons and, from his accent, he was a foreigner.
“We seem to be at a stalemate,” the man said with a slight laugh. “I am Marcus of Far Island, and these are my kin.”
“Far Island? I have never heard of it. Where is it?”
“’Tis a small island, holding a small community, off the west of Scotland.”
“A small community” made it sound like they were priests, but none wore the tonsured hair of monks and the vestments of priests. That women traveled with them did not say aye or nay, for many holy priests were known to enjoy the company . . . and beds of women.
“A religious community? You do not have the look of priests,” he said. “So why are you here?”
“Sir William, we are priests of the old gods, not the Christian one.”
Part of him wanted to call out “Blasphemy!” at such a claim, but the part of him seeking answers about what was happening to and around him pressed on.
“I see your disbelief,” Marcus said with a nod. “The old gods are not gone, only forgotten. We keep to the old ways and worship and remember them still.”
It was not unusual for fanatics and heretics to spring up out of the wild and secluded places, and William guessed that this was some cult. Even the old Celtic Church and their outdated practices existed out in the Highlands and islands, regardless of the Roman Church’s and several kings’ efforts to stamp them out. But why were these people here now and what did they know?
“We were led to you, Sir William. And to the girl.” He gestured over to where Brienne sat talking with a young woman. “We are traveling on the same journey now.”
“I know not who you are, but I travel on the king’s business.”
“But you know not why he sent you to Lord Hugh, do you?” William crossed his arms over his chest and considered this man. “And the changes that are happening to you make no sense to you, do they?”
