Brothers Campfire A Niggle-An Ongoing Tale Chapter 74

I was reading an article written by Pete Johnson and learned a new word yesterday. “Niggle”

nig·gle

/ˈniɡəl/

verb

cause slight but persistent annoyance, discomfort, or anxiety. “a suspicion niggled at the back of her mind”
noun

a trifling complaint, dispute, or criticism.(Oxford)

Thank you for the education Mr. Pete!Benjamin

Emerson Berengar sat by the fire. He was unaccustomed to the new armour and looked forward to proving it during drill. John had not yet arrived, which was not his nature. 

The men of Northwich arrived for the first time in their splinted, thick leather armour, round shields and spears.

Gisbert and John were not present.

Many times it is in the nature of formerly incarcerated men to keep things to themselves unless asked. The phrase, “handle your business” was common amongst the 16. Fights, disputes, sickness and other concerns were seldom known to Emerson because the 16 were close knit and tight lipped. Indeed they lived up to their motto. 

“Where’s Gisbert?”  Emerson asked.

Everyone looked straight ahead. 

“Nicholas?”

Nicholas knew it was his duty to speak. He was conflicted with his incarcerated past of telling authorities about a problem.

” he won’t be in, it is handled, Brother.”

Emerson was irritated. ” men, listen up. I have worked with you for a little over a year and built trust with you. We have built homes here and brought our families. I have showed you how to plant and have ensured you have been paid for your work in Northwich. When I ask a simple question, It’s my expectation that I get an answer. Is this clear?”

Lulach, of the 16 spoke.

” Brother, Gisbert had a long week. He fought with two Heron warriors when they demanded a portion of a deer he hunted and was kicked in the back by one of them. He was beaten pretty badly and has been laid up for several days now. John has been treating him.”

Emerson was angry. ” WHY did I just hear of this?” 

No one replied.

A dragging sound was heard. It was a travois pulled by John. Laying on a narrow and carefully lashed frame was Gisbert. He looked awful. His face was puffy and his arm was in a sling. John had made a glue from willow sawdust and patched a cut on his eye with it. Gisbert saluted and smiled. “sorry I am late. I am feeling a little niggly, but I am here for drill!”

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