Soon the common room of the alehouse was humming with low voices and the soft, warm glow of the hearth. Padric and Rosheen were introduced to the woman Jileen, who then acquainted them with the herdsmen. Most were older than Padric; simple, honest looking men. They gripped his wrist firmly and looked him square in the eyes when they spoke, asking about his home and his family. They were equally courteous with Rosheen, but their speech became formal and a little nervous when speaking with her. Rosheen, amused and charming, set them to ease quickly and had them all laughing before the first tankard was drained.

The light faded outside as the ale flowed and two of the men, Laoire and Dolan, left to relieve their fellows out in the hills watching over the flocks. Jileen filled Padric’s cup for the third or possibly fourth time.

“So you come from Stone Fort?” she asked. Jileen was a fine looking woman, with a flashing smile and a thick mane of deep auburn. Her nose and forehead were a little broad to call her a great beauty, but Padric liked her capable manner and the way she navigated her curves between the men in the bar while serving the ale.

“Yes,” he answered, his head swimming pleasantly. “But it was not called such when I was a boy. The fort was little more than a low wooden wall surrounded by a ditch.”

“Stone Fort is a freehold, is it not?” Ardal threw in. He was a big man with retreating hair and a thick brown beard to make up for the lack on his head. He seemed to be in charge now Brogan was dead.

“It is,” Padric told him. “The warriors of the fort are fed by the farmers, who rule by council. The warriors give protection, we give food. Some of the farmers in my village were once warriors themselves, laid down the sword for the plough.”

“Would that it were so in Hog’s Wallow.” Ardal lifted his mug to his lips.

“Kederic Winetongue offers you no protection?” Padric asked.

“He did,” Ardal said, draining his ale. “And for years we had no need of it. Then Faabar suffered injury and Kederic sent his men to see us safe. Gone now, of course.” Ardal stared into his mug, Jileen watching him intently. There was an uneasy silence and Padric felt it best to say nothing, turning his attention to the common room. One of the herdsman played a decent wood flute and Rosheen danced with another, standing upon one of the tabletops to give her some height. The other men drank and clapped around them. After a moment, Ardal took a deep breath.