“Assist him.” Lord Davan spoke to his son while inclining his head in Tiarnán’s direction. “Bring the longer rope from the horses while you’re about it.”

Tiarnán ground his teeth, setting off on the odious task. Did Lord Davan think him inept? Nature proved cruel. No man nor woman ever held sway over its unpredictable turns. One thing rang abundantly clear, though. He’d not proven slack in his responsibilities.

His thoughts raced through the tasks given him the past two days. Not one shirked. Each done in timely fashion. How could this have happened on his watch?

“Am I to be blamed, then?”

Gideon, who remained doggedly silent on their walk down the hill, regarded him with eyes that appeared black and emotionless in the dim light. “I think their conversation will have little to do with the calf.”

An odd response. Tiarnán scowled.

“Father received word from our band in the north.” Gideon skidded round a crop of stones, his tethered brown hair catching air as it bounced of his shoulders. “Their last bout with the Luimnech Danes went ill.”

Callan? Fear gripped Tiarnán’s chest. “What were our losses?”

“Too many. A hundred. Maybe more.” Gideon glanced back at the woods. “I shouldn’t speak of it. Father cautioned me not to. But I thought you should know. Our brothers are still alive. Ardan…Callan, they’ve made it into Prince Brian’s inner circle. And now that Brian’s captain is dead…”

Tiarnán lagged to a halt. The answer hung in the air. He didn’t need Gideon mac Davan to tell him what it meant. Apart from Gideon’s foster brother, Connor O’Dea, there were only two other men able enough to ascend the ranks of Prince Brian’s warband. Tiarnán’s older brother strove long at Brian’s side. If Callan contended with Ardan mac Davan for the position of captain, he chanced greater honor in the eyes of the Dal Cais. If his honor price grew among their clansmen, so would that of Tiarnán’s family. The turn would force Lord Davan to afford Da greater respect. In time, they nigh well could be equals.

Gideon strode out to a thicket where his and his father’s horses were hobbled in the grass. “Until we know the outcome, Father will show leniency for the loss. ’Tis a blessing in disguise all the same.”

“How so?”

Gideon bent to a pack slumped against a tree near the hobbled horses. The large coil of rope Lord Davan needed lay fastened to it by a leather thong. “Their food stores are spent. We hadn’t the means to provide them any…until now.”

A mixed blessing then. Tiarnán hastened to the cottage, lest his countenance give way the scorn welling within. True, the cow would save Callan and the others from starvation. Its loss also ensured another year would pass that Da failed to gain noble status in the clan. Indeed, Lord Davan would relish that! A tenant of common status kept easier under thumb.

Resting overturned in the grass by the cottage, their family cart appeared a sun-bleached box, worn to a gray that matched the stones of their home. Tiarnán hefted it over on its wheels, its wooden creak effectively silenced the chitter of the birds flitting through the darkened treetops.

“Pssst!”

Tiarnán frowned.

The hiss sounded again from the paddocks behind the cottage. He cocked his head. A thatch of auburn hair dangled between the rails.

“Here!” A pale hand waved from behind their corresponding post.

Tiarnán smiled at his younger sister and drug the cart over to the post she hid behind. “What do you want?”

Nessa glowered from between the rails. “What do you mean, what do I want? You know good and well what I’m after.” She nodded toward Gideon mac Davan. “What’s to become of the cow?”

“They’re slaughtering it.”

Nessa’s green eyes bulged. “They can’t! She’s our livelihood! You know good an—”

“Shhh!” Tiarnán thrust his head between the rails to face her. “Keep your protests to yourself and fetch me the axe.”

She wrinkled her nose and huffed at him, but offered no rebuttal. Stomping to the opposite paddock fence, she clambered over and stalked to the cottage door. In time she returned, axe clenched in hand.

“My thanks.” He took hold of the handle.

Her grasp on the haft remained firm.

He tugged but she wouldn’t relent. Tiarnán sighed and jerked her close, her nose nearly touching his. “I’ll explain later. Now let go.”

Nessa relinquished her hold.

“Is there trouble?” Gideon approached.

“None.” Tiarnán faced the young noble. The scuff of Nessa’s feet through the dirt faded behind him, and he grinned to himself, imagining her haste to hide from Lord Davan’s son. He knew she shared in his distaste for the lot of them. Tiarnán tossed the axe in the cart bed. “Shall we go then, my lord?”