Jirvel's cottage had burned to the ground.
Stunned, he stayed where he was and stared at the ruins. In all his months of worry, he never once considered that the cottage had burned or that his women were in it when it did. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and tried to push the terror out of his mind. Please God, do not let her be dead. At length, he moved closer. But he could not make himself look inside … not just yet.
Even the shed was burned. Slowly, he walked around what was left of the cottage to the remains of the shed. Even the three walls of the chicken pen were scorched. Burned stubs still remained of the posts that held up the front of the roof and when he dug down, the pouch with his father's gold and silver coins was still there.
Stefan stood up and shook the dirt off the pouch. Then he checked the contents, hung it around his neck and slipped it inside his tunic.
Finally, he forced himself to look at what remained of the cottage. There was little left but the outline of the walls and the hearth. He went back, paused at the doorway and then stepped inside. Jirvel's little basket of salt still hung on a hook on the hearth, but the outside of it was black. He could see the charred remains of everything that had been made of metal and carefully stepped over them toward the small room the women used as a bedchamber.
He did not want to look, but he had to know if there were any recognizable human remains. When he saw none, he was comforted. Then he realized Macoran would have seen to a proper burial of the bones and ashes and his relief dissipated.
Stefan made his way back toward the wall where their weapons once hung. He leaned down and picked up his father's blackened three-pronged spear minus the long wooden handle.
"What does a Limond want on our land?"
Stefan dropped the spear, spun around and put his hand on his sword. The man already had his sword drawn and it took a moment for Stefan to look from it to the Macoran's face, "William?"
"By God in Heaven, 'tis it truly ye, Stefan? We thought ye buried by now." William quickly shoved his sword back in his sheath.
Stefan stepped out of the ruins, walked to him and locked forearms with his old friend. He was afraid of the answer, but he had to ask, "Are they dead?"
"Nay, just moved. The cottage burned not long after ye went missing. Macoran insisted they live in the village and make belts. With ye gone, they could not make a go of the place anyway. I asked Macoran to let me have the land, but he feared Kannak and Jirvel would see it as a sign ye were not coming back." He slowly looked Stefan up and down. "Ye fell in the river I see. Ye are all wet."