The visitor. She bit back a grimace, as the expression would hurt Marcellus’s tender feelings. But she did look him square in the eyes as she gripped his arms. “Marcellus. Stay far away from the storage chamber. He might hurt you, so donotapproach him unless I give you leave. Do you understand?”
His eager face crumpled, and his chin dipped. “Oui.”
The look pierced her chest with a stab of guilt, but she didn’t have time to smooth things over just now. The council waited for her, and Marcellus had to steer clear of the stranger for his own safety. And maybe that of the entire village. She wouldn’t let another poor child grow up motherless.
“Good man.” She patted his shoulder and turned away.
When she reached the gathering of men, they parted to allow her into their midst. She aimed her focus at the two figures in the center. The pair stopped speaking as she halted before them, and she met the weary gaze of her father.
She dipped her chin to them both. “Papa. Erik.”
Her father acknowledged her with an answering nod, then motioned toward the crowd around them. “What can you tell us of the stranger?”
She had her answer ready. The long walk through the tunnel passages had allowed plenty of time to prepare. She detailed her actions with the man in succinct order. How she’d given him time to turn aside from the gateway before resorting to violence. The manner in which she’d apprehended him. The few words he’d spoken when he awoke in the chamber.
“Did he give any sign of his business here?” Despite the concern in his eyes, her father’s patient tone was the one he used when considering all sides of a matter.
“Only that he was not from this area.”
“You think he knew of our village?” This from a voice in the crowd. Bisset, if she wasn’t mistaken.
She turned to find the man. “I can’t be sure. He never spoke clearly on the matter.” In fact, his words had been more like riddles, bending each question she asked in a way she’d not meant it to go.
He’d been intriguing at the time, but now her neck heated at the lack of detail she’d been able to ascertain from him. She straightened her shoulders. “I will use stronger means to learn his purpose here.”
Her father motioned for her to pause, then looked to the other man in the circle’s middle. “What say you, Erik? What states the law on the subject?”
The tall man’s brow puckered, no doubt because his mind sifted through all the laws he’d memorized throughout the years. “He has not violated any laws, save that of secrecy. Weare to keep the presence of Laurent secret from all except the Dinee people, who have proven to be friends and welcome partners in trade.”
Her father turned back to her. “Do you believe he will keep silent about what he has seen if we send him away?”
She struggled to keep her expression poised. “I do not.” Had Papa taken leave of his senses? Had he not also endured the awful repercussions from the last visit of Englishmen to their village? He of all people...
She’d sooner spend a winter with no furs than turn the man loose with only a simple warning. “Unless one of our healers can create a potion to make him lose his memories, I strongly advise against freeing him until we are certain of his purpose here. Even then, I’m not sure we can trust him.”
Papa gave her one of his looks that contained so many layers that she would need a lifetime to wade through them. The sadness she recognized. And perhaps a wistfulness? And resignation.
He’d endured too much through the years, raising not only his three motherless children but an entire village. He shouldn’t have to face this stranger who resurrected so many painful memories.
“We should kill him. The risk he brings is too great.” Audrey’s father spoke with a bitterness that tightened Brielle’s middle. Surely he hadn’t imbibed so early in the day.
She didn’t turn to look at the man, but Papa’s gaze honed that direction. “Death is not something to be taken lightly. Especially when he hasn’t broken any of our laws.”
Silence settled in the wake of his words. Papa’s voice usually had that effect, especially when he used his wise chieftain tone. Usually Brielle agreed with him. But in this case, herthoughts churned in such chaos and his statement struck a sour note in her belly.
Papa straightened and turned his focus to the circle of men. “I propose that we keep this stranger—Evan—under guard. We need time to pray for God’s guidance to help us discover his purpose and whether he’s trustworthy. In a few weeks, we’ll meet again to vote on what to do with him. Speak with your families and make sure you represent all those in your clans for the final vote, not only your own opinion. Do any oppose this plan?”
Murmurs of assent rumbled all around her. Not even Martin, Audrey’s father, raised an objection. These council members would have their work cut out for them, finding a decision everyone approved. Especially those from families who didn’t always agree amongst themselves.
Papa turned to meet her gaze again. “Brielle, I am trusting you to oversee his guard and find out his purpose here. The people depend on you to oversee the protection of Laurent. I leave you to discover everything you can about him and report back to us.”
Brielle inhaled a steadying breath, released it, and then nodded. This meant they’d have to assign guards for night and day. One less warrior would be available to protect the village or hunt food. But she’d rather have control over the stranger’s whereabouts than allow someone else the responsibility of keeping the people safe.
With that, Papa nodded, effectively ending the meeting. As voices resumed their normal volume around them, he started toward her. Except someone else called out to him, pulling away Papa’s attention.
Good. She wasn’t quite ready to face the voice of reasonher father always tried to be. Peace and forgiveness had been so ingrained in him, maybe by his own father, or maybe when he became the village leader, replacing the previous chieftain.
Peace was an excellent notion, but the concept didn’t unite well with safety. Keeping the village from danger required wariness and keen senses. Not to mention the ability to make quick decisions and strike hard before the prey attacked first. She’d learned that lesson well at the hands of a bear on her fourteenth birthday. And lest she forget, the scar on her cheek served as a daily reminder.
