Enemy Territory-On Hiatus

Chapter Two-Milk and Honey

"What is it?"

Briefly glancing at each other, the two men nodded.

"We found land flowing with honey."

Chuckling, as he opened his mouth for the woman holding onto a bunch of grapes to pop one in, the Chief was amused. Loudly chewing on the juicy citrus, he chuckled.

"Flowing with honey?"

"Yes, sire. Land for miles and miles. Strong and healthy crops. A large number of wild animals. It could feed us hundreds of times more than now."

Grinning like a fool, the lanky man was flapping his gums. His voice, filling with excitement. Continuing to chew on other grapes, the Chief raised an eyebrow. Pointing in the slim man's direction, he was intrigued by the report.

"What say you?"

"The women, sire."

As he burst into laughter, his port belly jiggled. The grape he had pushed into his mouth smudging on his black beard.

"The women? What of ours that does not satisfy you?"

A glance at the woman offering him the leg of pheasant, the slim man shook his head.

"The women are robust with wide hips. Better suited for childrearing. Healthy. Ours has fell victim to misery and poverty. Lost the sense of life."

Slapping his lap while throwing his head back with glee, the Chief was indeed interested.

"What else in this land had caught your attention?"

"The wealth, sire. Their dressing and grooming. They are unlike us."

Nodding his head, he took a long swing of the wine, some sliding down his beard towards his chin.

"Why do you say that?"

"They are happy."

A frown slowly formed on the Chief's lips.

He slowly brought the empty goblet onto the table.

"Are you saying I cannot take care of my people?"

"That ain't what I meant."

"Then why speak of this place?"

Glancing at each other with nervous looks on their faces, the men quickly bowed.

"It is the best opportunity, sire!"

Nodding, he suddenly stood from the chair that gave a loud creaking sound.

"Gather my neighboring clans."

Jumping to their feet with blooming cheeks of merriment, the men bowed. "You ain't be disappointed, sire! Over me bag of soft gold, you will not!"

The lanky man cried.

Dismissing their bootlicker attitude, the Chief was not in the mood to entertain.

"Stop your frolicking, and get me the men."

"Aye! Aye!"

Barking in sync, the men rushed out of the room as if they had wheels underneath their feet. Huffing, as he looked in the bowing woman direction, his facial expression changed into irritation.

"Get with it, woman! Prepare me more food!"

"Aye, sire."

In a squeak, the woman rushed out of the room.

"Lousy, female."

Scoffing, he roughly grabbed another peasant's leg and dug in its juicy, rich spiciness and flavor. Moaning, he sat back into his chair.

A long wait after, the woman with her companions brought more food, wine, and fruits to the table. The door was thrown open by the same lanky man and slim man, but behind them were his four lords--Knox, Malcolm, Glenn, and Hamish. They were all neighboring clans whose ancestors joined his eons of years ago. Their loyalty was absolute, at least for the first three, Glenn's own dwindling.

Bowing, they awaited their Chief acknowledgment, which he gave as a brief nod. Taking their accustomed seats at the long table, and with no words needing to be shared, they dug into the food with gusto, except Glenn, who took his time.

"Did they inform of your summoning?"

Pointing his peasant leg in the direction of the two men digging into the food like hounds, the Chief glanced at every man.

"They have, sire."

Barely forming the words with the food in his mouth, Knox was the first to speak, the others following with nods of confirmation.

"Good. We will attack this place."

Everyone nodded, except Glenn, who was not pleased with the sudden decision.

"How long will the journey take?"

Pursing his lips, for he had not bothered to ask of this himself, he turned his attention at the lanky man.

"You heard the man. What will it take?"

Bowing, he quickly answered.

"One moon, sire."

"One moon...that is a long time, sire. Are our men well feed and equipped for such a journey?"

Glenn further inquired.

The Chief eyes narrow.

"Are you saying my men do not get fed and trained, Chief Macmillan?"

"Of course not, sire, but the weather and..."

Feeling the muscle of his jaw ticking with anger, the Chief suddenly shouted.

"YOU ARE NOT THE KING HERE, CHIEF MACMILLAN, I AM! SO SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"

His anger did not stop. He swiped the number of platters and goblets of wine onto the ground. Glenn shuddered with anger but obeyed the order.

"GATHER THE MEN, HORSES, AND DOGS!"

Directing his words to the rest of the men, the Chief was still cross.

"Yes, Sire!"

In unison, they barked, including Glenn. Satisfied with their obedience, he turned to the lousy woman.

"Start preparing food, blankets, clothes, and the like for the departure, and do not make me repeat myself."

Hastily, she bowed, then called the women out of the room so that they could all rush into the kitchen. Still breathing heavily, the Chief glared in Glenn's direction, for he had opened his mouth to ask another question.

"When will we depart, sire?"

Pursing his lips, the Chief snared.

"Tonight."

Widened eyes, Glenn refuted.

"But sire, me family..."

Standing from his seat, the Chief marched towards Glenn, and despite his short height and obese size, stared him down.

"It appears my word is not the law to you, Chief Macmillan. Do you want me to depose of yer family you speak of to get you to obey me?"

Feeling his heart spiking in his chest, Glenn bit his lip until it bled. Knowing the greedy and wicked man's length of violence, he bowed underneath his unwavering stare.

"No, sire."

"Good. Now shut yer mouth, and comply. THAT GOES FOR THE LOT OF YOU!"