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The man, Osmod, fell silent as he glanced from Brand to where his fallen companion lay. His eyes were wary it seemed and no answer was forthcoming to Incana’s question. Brand rubbed the back of his neck, an unthinking attempt to release the tension that knotted his shoulders.
‘Leod will see to your friend,’ Brand said, not pressing the man for any further information. He nodded in the direction of the burned village. ‘And yes, we know about the village to the north. We . . . we paid the villagers what honor we could with the pyre.’ He looked down at the ground, shaking his head at the remembrance. ‘My companions and I also know the fear that such a fate might be visited on our own village.’
He could see Leod and Dorran approaching the camp. ‘That older man, there, is Leod. He was the burned village’s healer. We are lucky to have found him, seeing that our few skills in healing are really meant for our flocks and not for us. It was he who dressed my wounds and tooke the fever and the fester from them.’ Brand rolled up his sleeve to show the long furrows from the cat’s claws that had scabbed over well now and were no longer reddened. His cheek still bore the bandage Leod had applied to it. ‘And Athwen . . .’ he looked about the camp, but could see neither her nor her horse. ‘She was the blond haired young woman, no taller than a cricket hardly, who lured you and your companions into our campground. She’s the only other survivor we found.’
‘Anyway . . . come have something to eat and drink with us while we wait for Leod to see to him. There’s some tea in that post set near the fire. You can use that cup to the side of it. It’s mine, but I’ve done with it and it’s rinsed out. Help yourself to one of the fish, if you’re hungry. We’re smoking some of them to take with us.’ He was about to ask Osmod if the two of them wanted to ride with them . . . strength in numbers, and all that . . . but he thought perhaps it might be too presumptuous to think the a man they’d nearly done in would want to trust them enough to travel with them. ‘Sort it out later,’ he said to himself.
Dorran and Leod had entered the camp as he finished speaking with Osmod. Dorran hung back a little until Brand was by himself, then spoke somewhat nervously, saying how sorry he was that he’d been wrong. ‘You weren’t wrong, at least from where I stand, Dorran,’ he told the lad after he’d heard him out. ‘You’re no more some wizard as can see into the future than I am. These really could have been those Easterling men you told us of. And where would we have been if you hadn’t warned us and they had taken us into slavery or killed us?’ He looked Dorran in the eye. ‘I’m sorry, too, that we had to find out in this manner that they were men just like us. I’m not sorry that we took action to keep ourselves safe and alive. I just don’t know how we could have done it any other way.’
Brand paused for a moment to consider Dorran’s questions. ‘He didn’t say too much,’ he answered, nodding toward Osmod. ‘About where exactly they are from. Not the burned village, though. His village is about a day’s ride from the river, though east or west I’m not sure. And whether there are any more than these two, he did not say. For my part, I told him what we were about. We’ll have to wait until they trust us a bit more, I think, before they tell us what they are doing here.’
He gave Dorran a reassuring grin. ‘I see you’ve been busy getting us some more wood. Let’s get the fire built up a little. By tomorrow noon, we should have enough fish smoked to travel on. If Master Osmod and his companion wish to come with us, we’ll welcome them. If not, then we’ll say our farewells and be on our way.’ He glanced northward briefly then back to Dorran. ‘We must think of ourselves, of Wulfham and our families’ welfare first.’ He shook his head slightly. ‘It sounds harsh doesn’t it? I wish it didn't have to be. But wishing won’t make it so . . .’
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