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  Vevila led Lord Jaspin and his son into the parlor. Aine could tell that both men were uncomfortable. Keegan had always dealt with Lord Jaspin. She led them into Keegan's office. She didn't want this conversation to be overheard by her daughters.

  Lord Jaspin had known the O'Byrne family all his life. This section of land, O'Byrne land, had been deeded to an English Earl during the time of plantations. Funny thing though, they tended to forget about it. Lord Jaspin's family—loyal Protestants—had always been the perceived governors of this particular area. The two families had lived in peace for generations, and tried to keep themselves separate from the various fighting fractions.

  "This is Corin, my oldest son," Lord Jaspin introduced.

  "I am Aine O'Byrne, Keegan was my husband," Aine introduced herself to Corin.

  "I was sorry to hear about your husband," Corin told her sincerely.

  She liked Corin instantly. He was well mannered and had a calmness about him which she found soothing. He was nervous about her, but willing to meet her eyes—her purple eyes. She had seen him in a vision caring for their people. Maybe, the village could survive their upcoming problems.

  Corin had pale hair and sunny blue eyes like his mother. It contrasted charmingly with his father, who had earthy brown eyes and dark wavy hair. The image of the two together was very striking. They looked more like friends rather than like father and son. She could imagine the notice they would receive from the lady fair when they strolled around together.

  "A senseless tragedy, I trust that the murdering scum has been brought to justice?" Lord Jaspin asked.

  "Thank you, Lord Jaspin. Of course, by O'Byrne justice," Aine noticed a nervous sweat forming on his forehead.

  "One of the sons of the Earl of Keatonway, our benefactor, has recently discovered this little area of prosperity—and wants it. He has been asking questions of the villagers," Lord Jaspin told her nervously.

  "There was an Englishman running around with those who killed Keegan. Could that have been him?" Aine asked them.

  "It was him," Corin confirmed, "I had a slight run-in with him at Mickay's. He was still drunk and bragging about killing some ignorant peasant with a boar stick. Mick chased him out with a fish bludgeon. He'll be back."

  "He won't be back," Aine told them, "he's probably witless by now—hallucinations can do that to a person," she shrugged.

  "Keegan asked us to meet this day," Lord Jaspin swallowed nervously, "Did you need something?"

  Aine studied the faces of the two men before she could begin. She hoped they would be receptive to what she had to say.

  "In about six or seven years the potato will disappear from the lives of our people for a few years. It seems like a long time away, but time will move swiftly. There will be mass starvation and disease. The English will continue exporting our goods instead of feeding our people. We will be forced to buy maze, an inferior corn, just to feed our people. If our people are to survive—you must start now to prepare. It will take time to stealthily gather what you will need. It will take even longer to get our proud people to eat something else—besides a potato. That is unless you plan to stand by doing nothing and watch as hundreds of thousands of people die. We cannot save but a very small fraction, but a fraction is worth saving."

  "But what of the Manor?" Lord Jaspin asked. "It is doing splendidly. I hear that it is only a fraction full."

  "The manor was build to support 800 people," Aine told them. "That will only hold a smidgeon of the needy."

  The Manor, was an O'Byrne fashioned workhouse. It had been finished two years ago from O'Byrne resources and management. Unlike other workhouses, it did not operate under the premise that people were lazy and deserved to be treated disrespectfully. It had not been designed to discourage dependence. It was a house where people could get the needed resources to survive, and in return were given tasks to perform.

  It was the Macpherson's responsibility to match abilities to tasks. Aine reflected that they were very good at it. Since the manor was supported solely from the plantations resources, they did not have to follow the English dictations on how to procure the poor tax. They did however have to account for all monies spent and received for tax purposes—English tax purposes.

  "What about the O'Byrne's? Your family has always taken care of the village," Lord Jaspin was appalled. He knew to always believe Aine O'Byrne's visions. He had been witness enough times to know to listen carefully now.

  "This is bigger than our small village," Aine told them sadly, "we, the O'Byrne's, have been given a new direction. We will be moving our archive to America. Our family—like so many others—has dwindled down in size. This constant fighting is killing all of us. Only a small part of the family may choose to remain." She looked directly into Lord Jaspin's eyes. "You may wish to leave Ireland. The good landlords will probably bankrupt themselves. The rest will probably end up dead! There is no shame in running—most of Ireland will run with you. At least you have a home in England to return, too."

  "What about you? Are you going too?" Corin asked.

  "My daughters will be sent to create a new O'Byrne conclave," Aine answered, sidestepping the question, "they are the only future we have left. My sister will most likely hold the house and the land. Keegan and I have planned for this event for many years. There are storage rooms set up in the house which will aid with what you need to do. The girls will not leave for a few years—but leave they will—then Ireland will have to stand on her own."

  She stood up. The stress of the meeting and Haley hammering on her ribs caused her to blanch. Corin was instantly at her side. Yes—she liked him a lot. Too bad she couldn't keep him for one of her daughters.