“You have much to learn of our ways.”
She sighed, making a production of it. “I suppose I do. I think I need to learn something of them now about why these children are here.”
“We are men,” the bolder Chrechte soldier insisted.
Abigail, to her credit, did not gainsay him but merely looked with expectation at Talorc. Obviously, his wife expected an explanation. He just did not know if she was going to like hearing it.
“These warriors do not cede the right to this land or the hot springs to the Sinclair clan.” He gave them the respect of calling them warriors. More seasoned soldiers of their clan had not thought to challenge Talorc’s claim.
If they had, Talorc was honest enough with himself to know he would not have been as lenient. More experienced men that had the gall to challenge him would already be dead.
“They are challenging you?” Abigail asked in confusion. “They don’t respect the wishes of their king?”
“Aye.”
“I see.” She looked at the young Donegals, measuring each one with her soft brown gaze. Then she shook her head. “Brave, but foolish.”
Her words so closely reflected his own thoughts that Talorc found his lips almost curving into a smile before he caught himself.
Showing his first bit of wisdom so far, the Chrechte boy remained silent in the face of Abigail’s observation. His compatriots looked like they were already questioning the intelligence of their actions, but none of them appeared ready to back down.
Again, he could respect that.
“Are you going to accept the challenge?” his wife asked after a moment of silence.
“Yes.”
Five of the six young soldiers flinched, but the bold Chrechte youth merely looked more determined.
Abigail crossed her arms and nodded. “Good.”
“You approve?” he asked in shock.
He would have thought his gentle wife too compassionate to commend behavior so far from her civilized world.
“It is obvious these young men’s honor demands you win the land.”
He nodded, still bemused by his wife’s easy acceptance, not to mention her insight into the ways of their people.
“Besides, you will not kill him.” She did not make it a question.
“I won’t?”
She just looked at him.
It bothered him that she seemed able to read his intentions so clearly, but she was right. He would not make the cost of bravery for these young soldiers be their lives.
Before he could say anything else, the hunting party returned. Though he did not know where they had been. The fragrance of roasting meat told him they had been back to the clearing at least once already.
“Were you able to find anything?” Abigail asked them.
They both looked at him for instruction, having responded to his warning howl.
“My wife sent you on an errand?”
“Aye, she did,” Niall answered for them. “She wanted vegetables and berries for the evening meal.”
“And did you find any?”
The two men nodded.
“Enough?” he asked.
Both men looked unsure, eyeing his wife with something between respect and apprehension.
Niall chuckled, the sound rusty from disuse. “It appears your wife likes her vegetables.”
Talorc nodded. “Then go find more, Earc. Fionn, you will stay to face the challenge these young warriors have made on behalf of their clan for rights to this land.”
He would not have the youths face Niall. None but the boldest Chrechte would be able to do so without pissing himself, and Talorc intended to face that challenger personally.
Both men did as he said without another word.
He faced the six Donegal youths again. “All who have come in challenge will fight, except him,” he said, indicating the Chrechte who had offered his neck already.
The boy who had already offered his submission bowed his head as if in shame. Talorc growled and the youth’s head snapped up. “You are omega, there is no shame in submitting to the more powerful alpha.”
An omega’s place in the pack had not always been a respected one, but when the Chrechte realized their warring ways were on the verge of decimating their people, that changed. Initially, it had been an omega who first suggested the Chrechte should insinuate themselves into the surrounding clans, rather than warring with them. Once the wisdom of the recommendation was acknowledged, respect for the thinking of the omegas grew.
Since then, omegas were given a place of honor on the pack councils. They were considered both wise and level-headed, which in most cases was exactly right. They were also considered strong in ways brawn could not defeat, because omegas had managed to eke out lives among their more powerful Chrechte brethren despite being the physically weakest. Generation after generation. It was not something easily dismissed by thinking men.
In addition, each omega now stood as a living reminder to their pack that no matter how strong the Chrechte might be, they could not escape the weakness among them—that of mortality. They had to respect life in order to continue thriving. They were still influenced by their wolf natures, but not controlled by them. Those that were often died young, and that, too, stood as a prominent reminder for those that came after.
“Talorc, don’t you think you could refer to these young men in more humane terms? Or are there more meaning to the Gaelic words you are using I do not understand?”
“I am not being offensive,” he assured his wife and then wondered at his doing so. Did it matter that his English wife thought him rude?
He wasn’t civilized, damn it, and had no desire to be.
Giving vent to his irritation, he crossed his arms and glared at the other Donegal Chrechte. “Why did you bring an omega to a challenge?”
“He is my younger brother. I cannot leave him unprotected, but he refused to stay in the forest while I challenged you.”
“I will share my brother’s fate,” the omega wolf said quietly.
Talorc’s respect for these young soldiers grew. He had no doubt they would lead the Donegal clan and pack one day. He nodded his acceptance of the explanation. “You,” he said looking at the omega, “stand with Niall and my lady during the challenge.”
The omega dipped his head in acknowledgment of the order.
Niall led Abigail away from the cave and the men squaring off to challenge. The omega followed, taking a position on the other side of Niall. Away from Abigail, as was proper. He showed no fear in the huge warrior’s presence, patently trusting Talorc’s Chrechte honor as the superior alpha. One day he would learn not all of the wolf nature were worthy of that faith, but not today.
Talorc instructed Airril and Fionn to face the four humans.
Then he nodded toward the leader Chrechte. “Come face your challenge, boy.”
“I am no boy.”
“You are no alpha either, not yet.”
He could tell his final two words had given the young soldier pleasure by the expression that flitted across his face before seriousness settled back over his features. “My name is Circin.”
“And I am Talorc, laird of the Sinclairs and pack leader to my Chrechte brethren.”
Then he waited, letting Circin make the first move. Talorc countered it, glad when it took some effort on his part. He would be sorely disappointed in the Donegal laird if the man hadn’t seen to any training in the young Chrechte warrior under his care. Talorc made his own move, explaining why it was a good counter, but how it could be better.
Circin’s eyes widened at the instruction, yet he did not allow the flow of words to splinter his focus. Even so, it was obvious he was listening to everything Talorc said. And in doing so he earned another measure of Talorc’s esteem.
He allowed the sparring to continue long after the human boys had been defeated and submitted to Airril and Fionn. He could have taken Circin down to forced submission at any time. However, he wanted to teach the young wolf moves usually reserved for the Chrechte because they required greater speed, strength and stamina than most human warriors possessed.