"Since ye’re still here, I suppose ye actually care about yer hard work." Gawain picked up his bucket before stepping back to assess his situation. He had ten and three men, ten were farmers, three were guards. He had to be careful to keep the farmers closer to the edge to avoid injuries, he and the guards would have to take the more severe parts. "How far is the river?"
"Not far, sir. The well is the closest source of water fer now." Gawain nodded at the guard before turning to the farmers.
"Four of ye, head to the river. Get water as fast as ye can. Two of ye, stay by the well and fill the buckets, the rest of ye will be joining me in putting out the water. If ye can run fast, head to the river. If ye arms are strong, fill the buckets, the rest of ye, get to work. As for the guards, we take water from the well. It will be best to take off anything that might slow ye down now. And please be careful. The last thing I want is any of ye going home with any sort of injury. If ye understand, then get to work!"
* * *
The moon was at its highest when Gawain dragged himself back to his chambers, completely worn out from his task. He had completed his side of the fields luckily with no harm caused to the farmers. He and the guards retired with as much as a few cuts and burns. They were short on men, so they finished later than the rest.
Caillen wrinkled his nose at the sight of his soot and dirt-covered brother. "What happened to ye?"
"Yer men. That's what happened to me. They all left! The guards did nae want to listen to me, and the farmers lost all hope of recovering anything from the fire! That is what happened." Gawain managed to stop himself from snapping as he recalled the words of the guard from earlier. Many still saw him as the traitor that was exiled all those years ago. There was a chance that they would never see any more than that, no matter how hard he tried. If this was how things would be, how difficult would it be for him to choose the men he wanted to work with in the clan. How was he to choose subordinates when no one trusted him enough to assist him in putting out a fire.
What if they did not want to help because they thought he had set fire to the fields?
Gawain's eyes widened at the realization. Of course, it would not be hard to suspect him. He was the traitor who was allowed to come back, and he would want to spite them for exiling him in the first place. Gawain just knew that was what ran through the head of the guards at the moment. Perhaps even until now. Who else thought of him like that? Scott? Hector? His brother? What did Caillen think of him?
"Caillen…" Caillen hummed in response as he continued to look around the hall. "What are ye looking fer?"
"Hector. His men are back, but he’s nae."
"I’m sure he’s on his way." A moment of silence passed between them before Gawain spoke again, "How do ye think it happened?"
"I cannae say. We had a feast, we were exposed to many people."
"The people who came were all clan members. The only ones that do nae belong to the clan are Lady Flora and her husband."
"I’m nae saying it is them, but ye’re also right. Everyone present were clan members. Then it was someone in the clan. But who? And why? Why would anyone destroy what we would all benefit from?" Gawain's heartbeat quickened at his brother's words. All fingers would point at him, and knowing his clan, they would only agree with what they thought was right. Caillen met Gawain's worried gaze before patting his brother's shoulder. "That is fer tomorrow. Ye have done well despite the setbacks ye faced. Thank ye, Gawain. Go and get some rest. It will be a busy day fer us tomorrow, and I promise ye, brother. I’ll find the bastard who has done this. As yer brother, I’ll find them."
As much as Caillen tried to put Gawain at ease, his attempts were futile. Gawain took himself back to his chambers, a stormy cloud over his head. At the entrance of his chambers stood Davinia waiting with a basin and a cloth, her eyebrows knitted up in worry.
"Gawain, are ye alright?" He came to a stop in front of her with a shaky breath. "Gawain…"
"They think I did it, Davinia." She blinked in surprise as he leaned against the door.
"What do ye mean?"
"Davinia, I ken what they think of me. They think I did it. They—" Davinia hushed him before she nodded in the direction of his chambers.
"Let us talk inside." Neither said a word until they were both on the other side of the door where Davinia set down the basin next to the bed. "What do ye mean by that?"
"I mean, they think I set fire to the fields!"
"Who would think that?"
"Who would nae think that? Even ye should think that. ‘Tis common sense. I’m the traitor who came back, and to spite the clan, I set fire to the fields. ‘Tis what any sensible person would think!" Gawain groaned in annoyance before falling back on his bed while Davinia way he'd him mutter continuously to himself.
"Well, I do nae think that, so excuse me if I’m a wee dense in the head." Gawain shot up to reach for her.
"Nae, that is nae what I meant. Ye are nae dense, I just meant to say I—" Davinia placed her finger over his lips, and he fell quiet.
"I understand yer fear, and ‘tis completely understandable, but I want ye to ken that nothing can be judged if valid proof has nae been given. Yer brother runs things a bit differently than yer father did."
"Ye do nae even ken if I did it or nae." Gawain looked down at his soot-covered hands with a sigh. "Ye have so much trust in me, it terrifies me."
Davinia only laughed as she lifted his head up again. "I ken ye would never do such a thing."
"It seems ye keep forgetting the reason I was exiled."
